#'This is making me miserable and unpleasant to be around actually'

[bonefall]

ever think about how in tnp bramble is suspicious of hawk until the /moment/ they visit tiger together? and then gets mad at squilf for expressing an opinion he used to agree with?

Actually! The moment Bramble stops being suspicious of Hawkfrost is when he's jealous of Squilf's magical telepathic bond to her sister. It's like spite. It fascinates me that you can read it as though Brambleclaw is being consumed by jealousy, trying to have everything that Squilf does, as though his "hatred" of her is coming from envy.

[aclockmaker]

steddie established relationship argument (mild on the actual arguing) under the cut. ~1700 words. cw discussion of having kids. no teaser because it starts out kind of E rated lol

also on ao3

“Pretty baby,” Eddie said, nose in the back of Steve’s hair, dragging against his scalp. “You’re so sweet, you were so sweet with Emily earlier.”

They’d been playing with Nancy and Jonathan’s 3-month old for the first time.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, grinding the swell of his ass back against Eddie.

“Yes,” Eddie rumbled, lips against a shivery part of Steve’s neck.

After nearly a year of dating, Steve was used to this flavor of praise from Eddie, but it still worked to calm something deep inside him. And it was exactly because he did feel calm that he said, “So do you finally wanna talk about it?”

Eddie made an inquisitive sound into Steve’s skin.

“Eddie. You know,” Steve said gently, holding himself still. He thought if he played his cards right he might be able to get Eddie to mess around a little, ask him if he wanted to get a baby put in him, that sort of thing.

But when Eddie just kept frowning into Steve’s neck Steve went on—“Kids?”

“Uh huh. What about them?”

“Come on,” Steve said, squirming and then flipping over when Eddie let up.  “You know I want kids, right?” He said it softly, because of course Eddie did know.

Except Eddie froze, just a little, and the whole thing began to feel decidedly unsexy. “Uh,” he said, a notch too loud for the situation.

“Okay, not right,” Steve said, mostly to himself. He’d thought, for sure, that he’d been making no secret of it.

“I mean,” Eddie said, trying to recover. “I totally, yeah, I guess, I know you—like kids and everything.” He chewed his lip like he knew it was lame. Steve rarely saw him so wrong-footed.

“Well, yeah,” Steve said. “I do, but—like last weekend, remember when that dad was arguing with his kids about milkshakes? And I said I wouldn’t make a big deal out of a milkshake with my kids—what’s the point?”

Eddie sputtered. “Okay, that was a hypothetical! I thought! I just thought—and you never said—” Eddie shook his head. “Oh. Six little nuggets.”

“Yes, as you’re so fond of reminding me.” Steve rolled his eyes to show he was joking.

“But, Steve,” Eddie said, sitting up.

Slowly, not wanting to do it, Steve followed.

“I mean—what does this mean? You would want to, what? Marry a woman?” At least Eddie seemed baffled by it. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean I want to do it with you, obviously. Dumbass,” Steve added for good measure.

“With me,” Eddie said, not able to hide the way his eyes went wide.

“No, with Jonathan,” Steve said, annoyed. “Obviously you, man, who else am I in a serious relationship with?”

“Okay, Jesus, give me two minutes to catch up here!”

Guilt made Steve want to let him off the hook but he didn’t think he should have to, really. Steve frowned at his lap, feeling miserable and stuck. He had the unpleasant sense that this wasn’t going anywhere good.

“Is it really so bad?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know!” Eddie said. He stood up, paced restlessly to the opposite side of the room and back. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and he reminded Steve of a caged animal before he even started throwing on his clothes. 

Steve sat quietly in bed as he dressed only partly because he knew it was the thing he could do that would annoy Eddie the most. And Eddie was the one who was leaving, he deserved it. He also did it because he really didn’t know what else to do. Begging Eddie to stay wouldn’t do any good. They both needed space sometimes.

“I don’t even—it’s not that easy,” Eddie said, picking up his wallet and then putting it down again to punctuate it. “It wouldn’t be that easy for us.”

“I get that,” Steve said carefully. “But I thought… it doesn’t have to be a baby. Maybe an older kid.”

“Steve,” Eddie said, looking almost choked up. “Can we—talk about this later?” His voice had turned brusque. “I just need to—clear my head.”

“Yeah, course,” Steve said, feeling stupid and vulnerable still in the t-shirt he slept in while Eddie was dressed. The fight had gone out of him. Eddie just needed to deal with the revelation in his own way. He’d come back. Steve owed it to him to be patient after, apparently, springing this on him.

Eddie paused at the door. “I do love you.”

“I know. You too.”

And then the door was shutting behind him. Steve’s fingers itched to call Robin but for the first time it felt so personal that he decided against it. It was personal for Eddie, too. It belonged to both of them, and, for right now at least, no one else.

Now, if Eddie wasn’t back by the morning, all bets were off.

Steve gave up on sleeping after a frustrating 45 minutes and resigned himself to sitting up at least until exhaustion won out with worry. And right now, worry was putting up a good fight.

Steve put the water on for tea. He wasn’t stupid—he knew that Eddie might not come back. Or, well, he’d surely come back to the apartment either way but he might not ever really come back to Steve after this.

They were serious about each other. A consequence of the years of charged friendship before they’d so much as kissed, maybe, or just a consequence of how well they usually worked together. They talked about spending the rest of their lives together. Something like whether or not they each wanted kids was a big deal—the kind of thing that changed things. Steve had given Eddie an ultimatum. Part of him wanted to backtrack, call Eddie up and say just kidding, I can be flexible about this. But he couldn’t, and besides, he didn’t know where to call (except for how, realistically, he knew Eddie was at his uncle’s or Jeff’s place.)

In the morning, Steve called Robin.

“Oh, babe,” Robin said when Steve explained it, her voice crackling just a little down the line from New York where she was always up early. “Did you sleep at all?”

“About four hours,” Steve admitted. He’d been too wound up for any more and he was sure as hell feeling it now, exhausted and eyes aching. He hadn’t cried, and he spared a thought for the fact that maybe he was kidding himself by not really examining the worst case scenario. “Do you think—I mean, obviously this isn’t a good sign. That he left. But do you think there’s a chance or am I delusional?”

Robin snorted. “There’s more than a chance. He loves you, obviously. But—yeah, he might decide he wants to end things. We know that’s an option.” She said it gently enough that now Steve did feel a little hot behind the eyes.

Today was a Sunday. Their only plans were hanging out with Jonathan and Nancy and Emily more while they were in town. If Steve had to go see them alone—

“I wish there was something I could do,” Steve said miserably. And then the front door opened and there was Eddie, close across the small apartment, looking a little out of breath in the yellow morning light that was pouring in through the window, too cheerful for Steve’s heavy heart. “Oh, shit, Rob, I have to go.”

“Is it—”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“I love you, call me, that’s a threat—”

Steve hung up the phone.

“Uh,” Eddie said. “Robin?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, Robin,” Eddie said dutifully toward the hung-up phone.

“I’ll tell her,” Steve said, so giddy with relief that Eddie was back that the nothing joke made him want to laugh. “Hi.”

Eddie looked at him. “Hi.”

Steve took a breath. “I’m sorry. For bringing it up during sex, and all. That was stupid.” He’d been feeling guilty some more and that, at least, was a legitimate reason for it.

But Eddie just shrugged. “No, it’s…” He searched for the word. “You thought I knew.” He wore his hair short these days, and it looked like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“Yeah. Eddie, listen—”

“No, just—give me a second,” Eddie said. And then he was going down on one knee, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it out to Steve. It was a simple gold band. It looked well-worn, but it shone in the light.

He cleared his throat. “Steve, I—“ his voice broke. “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring box. I went to the pawn shop as soon as it opened and I didn’t want to wait for another place to—I love you. I got scared when you started talking about kids, because it seems so big. And I just didn’t realize you felt that way, even though, okay, I guess I should’ve. But the more I thought about it the more what really scared me was losing you. I love the idea of you as a dad. You’d make any kid so lucky to have you. I can’t believe you want to do it with me, but if you really do—I’m open to it. So—will you?”

“We can’t even get married, though,” Steve reminded him, perilously close to tears again.

“Psh,” Eddie said. “Fuck the government, I’ll marry you anyway.”

“Eddie, get up,” Steve said, and then the tears were coming. He swiped at his eyes while Eddie stood hesitantly. “Save it, okay? Save the ring. I don’t want it to be like this—to end a fight. I want it to be its own thing. And it’s too soon anyway. It hasn’t even been a year. But—” Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand before he could put the ring back in his pocket. “Yes. Of course I want to marry you.”

Eddie touched his knuckles to Steve’s cheek, pushed aside a tear. “Getting some mixed signals,” he said, looking between Steve’s eyes with his own so full of love it hurt to see. “I’m sorry. And for worrying you.”

Steve sniffed. “I was worried but—I knew you’d come back. I know you.”

“I know you do,” Eddie said. He was still holding the ring. “Do you want to at least try it on? You could wear it on a chain or something—”

Steve put the ring on, and he didn’t take it off until the day in Joyce’s backyard when Eddie held it safe in his pocket until it was time for him to put it back on Steve in front of everyone they loved in the world.

[toskarin]

So, I don't mean this in a rude way, but I genuinely don't understand the appeal of Fear & Hunger outside the fetishistic angle, and I was hoping you might be able to tell me what you like about it. Everything I've heard and seen about it seems to not be particularly scary, but rather just a sequence of gore and sexual assault related scenes that everyone assumes make a horror franchise because Bad Things are happening.

Oh? You killed someone? Well, congratulations, pal, you learned the masturbation skill! You lost a fight? Whoops, looks like that genie is going to fist your anus until you die! You're fighting a guy who tried to sexually assault your character? Now he turned into a horrible penis monster and is telling you to choke on his balls!

I know those examples are all from the sequel, but my impression is that the first one is very much like that as well. I'm totally willing to believe that I'm wrong, but from the outside, it genuinely looks like the fandom is a bunch of people insisting to each other that this is Actually Very Deep, when it's ultimately just weird porn that's honestly kind of sophomoric in its delivery. Again, I'm willing to believe there's something there, but I haven't been able to find it in anything I've seen of the franchise so far.

And to be clear, I'm not coming at this from the angle of someone criticizing people for being into weird porn, and I'm by no means unfamiliar with or against the concept of sexual horror. If people are into games where the penalty for losing is their character getting fucked to death, more power to those people. I guess what I'm saying is that it just feels like at least a portion of the fan base isn't being honest about what they get out of it. Like, if someone is really into the considerable amount of horny stuff in Fear and Hunger, that's fine, but own it.

I guess I'm ultimately hoping for either some clarification as to why I'm getting the wrong impression, or, like, confirmation that a lot of the appeal is the sexual stuff.

ramble below the break

so, before anything else, it should definitely be clarified: even through the lens of ryona and eroguro, Fear and Hunger isn't actually very much of a fetish game. it's got lots of gratuitous violence, a lot of which is sexual, but the actual content of the game is more like a splatter film than a guro doujin

it's a very silly qualification to pull, but I've got more than a passing familiarity with the other side of things and don't really think the game has that going on (I tried the game because I thought that's what it was lol)

a lot of it comes down to the fact that not only are those scenes unpleasant, but you also know they're paired with material consequences. kind of like how playing survival games in hardcore mode gives them an otherwise absent tension. you've gotta make hard choices, and sometimes those choices make you miserable

most players don't want to see those scenes, which is why it ends up being an effective (albeit absolutely not tasteful, no argument there) horror element. it has to be taken along with the restrictive saves, the harsh atonal music, and the fact that everything you run into in these games looks disgusting

the end result is a game where you have a number of saves that most generously can be counted on one hand with room to spare and spend your time running around a world where nearly everything wants to kill you, do something horrible to you, or some baroque combination of the two

Fear and Hunger's horror works because, unlike a lot of splatter horror, it forces the player to be in a prey mindset just as much as the protagonists are. it's really scary when you're rationing your saves, think you're almost in the clear, and then the game asks you to call a coinflip

if Fear and Hunger were presented in any other medium, I wouldn't think it makes for good horror. it's extremely silly to read about and is frankly either "Berserk with the labels sanded off" or "Majora's Mask but fucked up" depending on the game. the user-hostility of the mechanics turns those incoherent masses of scares into paranoid nightmare simulators

the abstract dread of "this character is about to have their arms twisted behind their back and their organs pulled out of them" becomes very tangible when the player is actively trying to avoid a consequence. the tasteless sexual horror lands in large part because it's using the mechanics to force you to take the threat seriously

when you've got an infection on your arm and know that you could theoretically treat it but that it also might kill you in the time you're trying to find the medicine, you feel like a hunted animal asking yourself "maybe I should just saw it off"

or at least that's my read!

[evesburden]

Tormentum Tactus [Ominis x F!Slytherin Reader]

Part two of Malogranatum. In which Ominis learns very swiftly what it’s like to be an idiot. Something he previously had only the honor of seeing others excel at. As usual this isn’t proofed so please don’t yell at my mistakes. I’m going to blame the adhd.

It had been several weeks since you both had your chat in the common room. Ominis had been sure to take alternate routes to any classes you both shared, stealing end seats next to Sebastian as a makeshift barrier, and keeping his attention into books to avoid conversation. Fingers gliding along pages, ridges meeting the pads of his fingers, brows neatly knitted somewhere between concentration and irritability. A firework sign of ‘do not interrupt me’.

However, he was never actually getting any reading done.

He had tried, of course, but all he could focus on was you. The looming anxiety at the mere prospect of having to talk with you. His frustration that he needed to act this way at all. Your chiming voice and his own swearing that he could feel your gaze on him. It always left his neck as it did after reading outside during summers in Feldcroft - hot to the touch and no doubt lightly burnt in an uncomfortable splotch.

He hoped to Merlin it wasn’t outwardly discolored to where anyone else would notice. If it had been, everyone had been charitable enough not to bring it to attention. Lest of all, yours.

History of Magic was different, and it was the class that he both thrilled and dreaded. A makeshift of his own personal Hell, no doubt fabricated by the very universe to achieve nothing but to torment him. Ominis always walked through that threshold every day feeling like he had swallowed a bogart, and it was attempting to claw its way through his ribs and up his throat. Clenching his heart and lungs beneath grasping feral hands.

It was the class you were assigned to sit next to one another.

Ominis would have sent an owl weeks ago to request his family say something, anything, to get him out of that class entirely. Unfortunately, he also knew that there would be no way headmaster Black wouldn’t be so tactless as to confidently tell you why you no longer had any classes with the Gaunt child.

If there was anything worse than his masochistic situation at hand, it would have been you knowing about it.

So be it. If the halls of Hogwarts had deemed it worthwhile a mission to make Ominis miserable, he was at least going to sleep through the dull hour that was Professor Binns’ drolling.

Or, rather, he would be if it wasn’t for the off beat fidgeting you were assaulting upon your thigh. It was overwhelming his sense of hearing entirely — Barely being able to make out the pre-course chatter of your peers around him.

Tap-tap.

Tap.

Tap. Tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

Ominis felt his brow twitch as he automatically reached over and firmly pressed your wrist down against your thigh, voice tumbling through a pale clenched jaw, “Your incessant tapping is driving me mad.”

A thrill sparked uncomfortably through his chest, down towards his stomach, his lungs feeling a tad tight. Ominis could have sworn his heart stuttered as well, but the feeling was so fleeting it was difficult to discern.

That’s new.

Ominis pulled his hand away abruptly, turning his head as if he were capable of accidentally making eye contact. He had never felt his screened eyes as vulnerable when it came towards reading his emotions — but now it was a worry. With his hand now neatly concealed under the table, he stretched the sinew of his fingers at an attempt of exorcising the ghost of your flesh from his.

The sensation was…oddly unpleasant. Yet, he could feel something inside him wanting to replicate the feeling over and over again. Was he the only one who felt that?

He couldn’t possibly.

“Oh, sorry Ominis,” You sounded so reprieved, “I’m just worried about Sebastian.”

Ah.

He cleared his throat, as if it would dispel the new, much sharper pang of discomfort at your mention of his friend, “Yes, well…That makes two of us.”

Thankfully, neither of you got to continue your conversation as Cuthbert Binns hovered at the chalkboard — marking the start of the lesson.

Ominis was sure to gather his things quickly once his personal torture was over and make haste away from you.

For once, he was not able to feign sleep during the lecture.

——————————————————————————

“Why won’t you come with us?” Sebastian tempted, his voice sparking upwards that suggested he was entirely excited by the prospect. The auburn haired Slytherin had been pestering most of the day for Ominis to join you both at Honeydukes.

“It’s tumultuous. Aside, I don’t want sweets.”

“You think we’re loud?”

No.

Ominis equated the notion with confusion, uncertainty, and turbulence. A metaphorical potion that only Garreth Weasley himself could have concocted in all of its very disruption to his senses. However, Sebastian’s take on the word was what he had so hoped would be the interpretation.

To be honest, Ominis wasn’t sure what to make the three of you as a group. You always knew what to say to soothe his own anxieties, and when to push or pull him to an end. However, you also brought something out in Sebastian that greatly worried him. While you made Ominis feel uncharacteristically mortal and vulnerable, he could tell that you made Sebastian feel unrestricted.

It was a troubling thought.

“I just don’t think your new friend and I are well suited,” Ominis explained with a small gesture.

Ominis was prepared for a cheeky comment, the reeling of a line that he didn’t even know Sebastian had set. Usual playful banter and perhaps a hand quickly clasping upon his shoulder. What he was met with instead was just silence. Ominis let it marinate for a moment. And then another. A few beats of nothing but the shuffle of their robes as they walked down the halls.

It was out of character enough that he turned his head, “Sebastian?”

“Ah,” his voice meekly punctuated, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “She heard you.”

Ominis’ heart crashed several stories beneath him, leaving a ringing in his ears so loud he would have been shocked it wasn’t audible to others.

His roaring anxiety became outwardly camouflaged by anger, his tone sharp and accusatory, like it would transfer both his guilt and panic to another, “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“How was I to know? She was coming right around the corner! Besides, you usually sense her coming before I even do.”

That much was true, as embarrassing of a fact it was. He wasn’t even so much sure if it was a sense, or if he had subconsciously committed the slightest sound of your gait and scent to memory without realizing. Just like the touch of your wrist this morning, pieces of you seemed determined to haunt him without his consent.

Ominis groaned. He did want to avoid you for his own benefit, but the last feat he had set to accomplish was to hurt you. His thoughts drifted to what your expression must have looked like. Did your face fall? Did you force a obviously deceptive smile as you walked by? Did your eyes meet Sebastian’s or had you opted to avoid them?

Were you looking at him instead?

And why did he not realize you were so close?

He was near cursing himself at his catastrophic demonstration of idiocy, “I…I should apologize.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Sebastian? Kindly shut up.”

[fuck-customers]

I would like examine the brains of (well...most customers to find out wtf is wrong with them, but this one customer specifically) this one regular.

I do not know why this miserable old bat keeps shopping here. To make our day worse? Probably.

There's this one regular that I call Butthole Face, because she's always pissed off and her mouth is always scowling and scrunched and it formed lines around her mouth making it look like a bootyhole, so...Butthole Face is her name in my head.

(Her real name is actually Karen, which is...so fitting)

ANYWAY, Butthole Face has been shopping at my work/my particular location for at least 5 years, probably more. I know this because I had coworkers who worked here longer than me who told me she had been coming in since THEY started. She complains about anything and everything. Every. Single. Time she comes in the store.

Her main "complaint" 99% of the time used to be that "the bathrooms were FILTHY!!" but it was her who was full of shit, because every time she bitched and moaned, we (a lot of times I, personally) would actually go and check it to see if we needed to clean or close them. And every single time, the "huge, FILTHY mess" was...a single piece of (CLEAN) toilet paper on the ground. Or a (CLEAN) paper towel on the ground that someone missed throwing in the garbage can. Thank fuck the bathrooms are closed now.

Butthole Face would also complain that the store itself was "filthy" or that a specific area/aisle was "filthy" when 90% of the time, there was one item out of place.

Her other stunt was never "understanding" the sale signs and always bringing up items that were not on sale and insisting the were when really they were just NEXT to the sale items. The first time, that's an honest mistake. The 100th? We don't buy it, bitch. (And to be clear, it was always stuff that was not even a little bit similar to the sale sign. The sale sign would say the yarn was bogo and she would bring up a thread and blame us when it wasn't on sale) Every time, Butthole Face would demand a manager to "prove" to the manager that she was right and every time, the manager or another coworker would bring up the paper sale sign, prove to the bitch that those items were not part of the sale, then she'd claim that we were breaking the law for "false advertising" which....is not how that works. lmao You misunderstanding a sale sign isn't false advertising. And even if we were actually false advertising...so? You really think anyone is gonna bother prosecuting me, personally, a lowly employee for it? Get real.

I'm not sure if she's just a heinous bitch with no life or hobbies and has nothing better to do or if she's trying very, very badly to scam the store. Which, if she is....give up? You've fucked up by making yourself so noticeable and unbearable that every employee recognizes you on sight because they've had an unpleasant experience with you in the past and you're an known attempted scammer/complainer so we keep an eye on you. (I, personally warn the new hires about her, so even new people who haven't had an interaction with her yet know of Butthole Face)

Posted by admin Rodney.

[cat-astro-pick]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝐸𝑧𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

There are all kinds of people in the world. If I could pick and choose people like the flavoured jellybeans in Harry Potter, I would. Contrary to what an elderly first-rate novelist once told me, my youth was not beautiful. There was no youth. And so, with a cigarette that tasted the bitterness of the world on my tongue instead of the sweetness of the jelly, I made my way to the basement. The stiff iron door wouldn't open with my hands, so I pressed my body against it and let the familiar music I'd heard so many times before blare through my ears and earbuds. With the door open, the next thing I did was put out my cigarette. I knew that if I didn't put out the cigarette, Sett or Kayn would argue.

If someone asked me if a flower garden that is neither fresh nor fragrant exists, I would say yes, of course it does. Because that barren, miserable flower garden was right here. If someone can passion were a flower, even these would be flowers. But as it turns out, passion doesn't bloom like a flower unless it's lucky. I hated the fact that I had a few stupid friends who were full of enthusiasm, full of things to do, but who couldn't shine, who were playing electronic instruments.

Actually, I didn't hate that fact; I hated myself for taking comfort in it, for seeing them as water. Their misfortune had become my good fortune. I leaned back on the couch, the worn leather sagging, yellow sponges protruding in spots. The floor was gleaming and shiny from daily oil mopping. When the soles of my shoes touched the floor and made an unpleasant squeak that sounded like a toddler's shoe, Yone stopped drumming and looked at me.

"What are you looking at?"

It was …suck. But it wasn't my feelings for Yone, it was my feelings for me. Yone raised an eyebrow at the harsh words that came out of my mouth. Yone reacted as if she was used to such harsh words. It wasn't just for Sett or Kayn's words. Nothing that came out of my mouth was what the Heartsteel members would consider soft and gentle. Maybe it's better to admit it, the words that came out of my mouth didn't go through my brain. It's only now, years later, that those around me have come to the conclusion that "she doesn't think when she speaks," but there was more going on in between. I hated being rough. So I'm always the one who loses when I play nice. I didn't want to lose, so I became more aggressive.

"...Where's Ez?"

"He's in there."

Yone's tone was gentle. Even those thin, fine fingers pointing across the room. Someone had said. People who have been through all kinds of winds and trials have rather rounded personalities. Friction and grinding make them more rounded. Yone might be one of those people, too. A gentle nature. It was an ideal I had been striving for all along, but I couldn't hope for it, it was too much of an…ideal.

"...Thank you."

I just wanted to mimic them, to think about what they would say in a situation like this. I always have a hard time saying thank you, I don't even have the strength to think of good words, so I just bowed my head to show my gratitude. I was so envious and jealous of people with such docile personalities. I didn't know if someone had put drugs in my cigarette filter or if I had finally lost my mind that day.

Even on a freezing cold day, Ezreal's voice was warm. As far as I can remember, Ezreal was always that way. He was playful, liked to flirt with girls, and was sensitive to other people's feelings. Timid, or worse, nerdy. I didn't think anything of him then. Well, I certainly didn't think anything of him now, too.

"Ez."

Even when I didn't speak loudly, Ezreal always heard me. I attributed it to his thin, light ears. To be honest, I projected myself onto him as I watched him hit the big time and then crash. Actually, I crashed before I could achieve anything called success. After my edpair, he was more aware of my moods than anyone else. It was the first time I cried in front of others, which I had always thought of as having a proud and stoic personality. Staying friends with Ezreal wasn't just because I liked him. It was because I don't trust people. Because if I turned my back on this stupid kid, he might unlock my past, and I'd be a stupid idiot again. Ezreal's soft-spoken nature was a disadvantage.

"You're early, aren't you?"

I hated his flirtatious smirk, the way his handsome face. Even the way he seemed to know he was handsome. I reached out and tugged futilely at a strand of green hair.

"Ack! What's wrong?"

"Nice job dyeing your hair. It's pretty."

"Really?"

Ezreal was always silly. Even now, when he sees me doing something rude like tugging on his hair, he smiles innocently at a compliment. His attitude made me feel like a stack of books was pressing against my heart behind my laughter. I couldn't tell what it was. It seemed to be something like guilt. My throbbing heart hurt more than my throbbing head. The heart reacts honestly. My head analyses my emotions coldly, but my heart beats faster. So, if we're being really honest, I am afraid of Ezreal's, my one and only friend's success.

I was afraid being pathetic of myself, and I was afraid of him. I was unhappy with my life, with a trashy personality that saw my friends' successes as my own misfortune, and I was unhappy with the fact that I would never show it. I didn't feel like a real friend, and that's why I was afraid of Kayn, and that's why I was afraid of Yone. I was afraid of Sett, I was afraid of K'sante, I was afraid of Aphelios. I was afraid of them all. It seemed that knowing that my feelings for Ezreal were not love, not friendship, but a crude mixture of envy and jealousy, would naturally tear me apart.

"So, Ez."

"When's your debut?"

In times like these, it's good to cover your mind with words.

"Next week? Since I'm so busy, I feel like I can get something done."

"My heart is beating really fast, touch it."

I was disgusted by the heat I felt between my hands, by the passion that radiated through his thin T-shirt as I held it to his heart. In hindsight, that feeling of disgust was not a disparagement of his passion; it was a disgust at my fear of it.

"...It's real."

"You must really like singing."

That doesn't mean I was faking my love of music. If anyone told me that my failure was simply due to a lack of passion for singing, I was prepared to smash them over the head with a porcelain water bottle.

"...Well...I envy you."

I whispered it without thinking. At this point, I might as well have been a shaman, foretelling Ezreal's success. Ezreal laughed softly. But what I noticed more than the laugh was the awkwardly lowered eyebrow and the sympathetic twinkle in his eye.

"I want you to see my show from the front row."

"You're my bestie, right?"

I nodded. I knew it was lip service. Friends, I didn't know if our relationship could really be defined as friends. Though if you truly consider me a friend, I would consider you a friend. Ezreal was social butterfly. He had a lot of good connections, and in those connections there would be people whose tastes overlapped with his own. In the midst of that wide, wide circle of relationships, he found me, the most insignificant of them all.

"Sure. Who else is going to put up with all your stupid behaviour?"

I reached out. Ezreal's hair was soft between my thin fingers. It felt puppyishly soft, and I wanted to tickle his chin, to touch him, to hold him, and that stupid feeling tickled my chest, swelling and bursting. It felt like I was darting a dart through my swollen heart like an advertising balloon. A shiver ran down my spine, from my heart to my shoulders and down to my lower abdomen. It was an irritatingly awkward feeling.

"...Ez."

"Huh?"

"...nothing."

How can I love you when you're so stupid?

[dilatorywriting]

Question! regarding vil and perhaps, leona as a s/o, i'd like to ask if you have any angst thoughts abt them?? do you think vil would be controlling or leona being too 'i-dont-give-a-fuck' type of person? TRUTHFULLY, i feel like vil being too controlling would be because he wants to bring out the best in someone he loves which Yuu/Reader would understand while Leona is someone who is more 'subtle' or shows his affection or care thru words or actions.

ANOTHER QUESTION I'M SORRY IF YOU'RE OVERWHELMED but, if you ever continue your Heroes Vs. Villains stories.. would you make a Mufasa-like character to be the 'Hero' in the story? (i've been wondering for a while if you ever did think of one! cuz i assumed that Heartslabyul would be Alice, Scarabia = Aladdin, Ignihyde = Hercules)

LASTLY IN MONSTER MAYHEM, what 'monster' do you think Vil or Riddle would be? 👁👁

Oh my I have so many thoughts on these poor bois and they would have So Many Issues.

Which of their habits would be more 'angsty' I think would depend on the individual and their own preferences--because they basically sit at opposite ends of the same sliding scale (Vil caring objectively far too much, and Leona not enough. All based around the same fear of themselves not being worth it). Personally, Leona's apathy would sting far more for me than Vil's obsessiveness, but everyone vibes differently.

For Leona, I feel like he's so ingrained into the 'why try when I'll never get anywhere' mentality that it would cause a lot of issues. Because it's one thing already to not be putting effort into a relationship. It is another entirely to very openly and actively show that that's your intent. Like I know for me, I would absolutely break if I went to talk to someone about how I feel like they don't actually care, and they just scoffed and were like 'yeah no why would I? What makes you worth it?' Whether they mean it or not (and surely Leona wouldn't actually mean it. He's just lying to save his own sorry skin), feeling like you're not worth anything when you care so much in return is a genuinely miserable experience, and in my opinion, it's very very hard to come back from that unless said reciprocating person is super chill and understanding. For someone who had, say, already pre-existing self-worth issues, that would just be the end of it. So I think in turn to counteract that, Leona would need someone who was very sure in themselves. Not like egotistical, but someone with a very strong sense of self and independence that could handle that weaponized apathy of his. Because that is just a recipe for absolute disaster--a perpetual spiral of being ignored, feeling upset about being ignored, being ignored harder out of making a point that he really doesn't give a shit, and just ack. An absolute nightmare.

As for Vil, I see a lot of his inevitably controlling behavior being born of that same sort of 'I'm not good enough' fear Leona has, just... being terribly misdirected. Like, he would certainly push you in a good way! Doing his best to keep you healthy, and happy, and moving towards being the best you that you want to be. I just think with him one of the big things is that when you have so many of your own confidence issues, cruelty starts to feel like white noise. When your own head is constantly spewing all kinds of vitriol at yourself, you start to think it's normal. So I'm sure he'd accidentally casually say something absolutely bitingly mean. And maybe it'd only really hit when you were already having a bad day. But it would, and it would suck. And he would feel terrible about it. Which would unfortunately just feed into the rest of it. Because he has to be better, to make up for it. And that means taking his role as your guardian and self-proclaimed instructor up to the nth degree, because he has to be the best for you to also be the best. Which might only exacerbate the unpleasant comments or controlling behavior. The big difference with Vil I think though, or at least what makes the difference for me, is that I don't think there would ever be any doubt there that he does care. It's that he cares too much and too hard that's the problem. While Leona pushes away, Vil claws in as close as he possibly can. And depending on how you deal with that sort of codependence, it could definitely cause a lot of strife. If you're someone who isn't particularly independent or strongwilled, someone who likes being given direction and purpose (*cough* like I may or may not be *Cough*) then you're going to probably be able to handle that a lot better than someone who was already very strong in their own sense of self and where they stand in life.

But ahh!! Sorry for the absolute SLOG of a ramble. I just love both their Problematic Personalities SO MUCH, and Vil in particular is my favorite.

For the rest of the ask!

The thought with Leona for a Heroes vs Villains was to have it be a Him vs His Family sort of situation majoritively, with a surprise guest in the form of a Twist-ififed character I shant say. In case I do ever get around to writing it. (but I will go hint hint and say there's only so many villainous animal characters in disney movies. so like. do with that what you will. And also like, lions vs tigers--always a vibe 😉 anywho!)

For Monster Mayhem, I've decided Vil 100% is a siren. Have the outline for it ready to go and everything. Riddle I picture as a Sphynx sort of creature, with a massive penchant for trapping people with his strange, archaic, laws

[astarionfreak]

10 w shart and astarion. Uncommon pairing but it could be interesting??????

Immediately yes. Big yes. Thank you !! This was supposed to be way shorter and way smuttier but it spiraled out of control. Oops. 🖤🩸

10. "You don't have to stay the night. Just fuck me."

Snippet for the smut ask game. | Other answers here

One foolish move in the heat of battle and everyone knew the truth. That Astarion was a vampire.

They took it . . . surprisingly well, actually. Gale warned him not to bite (as if), Lae'zel threatened his life -- but Shadowheart, well. The cleric had been kind -- or stupid -- enough to offer her blood. What kind of vampire would Astarion be if he turned down a free meal?

Besides, even though her attacks seemed to miss more often than not, her healing spells had proven to be quite the asset. If she'd allow him a taste from her delicate veins, perhaps she would also be willing to remain at his side when he faced Cazador. This little exchange could be well worth his time. If he played his cards right.

Astarion waited until the others were asleep before he made his way through camp to Shadowheart's tent. He had been so sure of himself just moments ago, but now he hesitated as he reached for the flap. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

There was still time to turn around -- hunting in these woods was miserable, but he usually had some level of success. He'd eaten worse things than boar. He'd been hungrier for longer too.

Astarion shuffled his feet as he started to turn around, making more noise than intended. Shadowheart must have heard him. Her heartbeat quickened. Astarion's mouth began to water at theb mere thought of the promise she'd made.

Shit. He really was going to do this wasn't he? He put on his best smile and ducked into her tent.

Shadowheart sat up on her forearms. Perfect body laid out in front of him. For him.

His eyes went to her neck, the gentle movement of her pulse just beneath her tender flesh. Then his gaze dragged along her body, slowly drinking her in. Her camp clothes hugged her figure in all the right places.

"I was beginning to think you'd found a better offer," Shadowheart whispered.

"Ah. No." Astarion laughed quietly as he gracefully dropped to his knees in front of her. "Lae'zel already threatened my life twice today. I don't fancy my chances with Karlach at her current . . . temperature. And there is something distinctly wrong with Gale's blood. I got an unpleasant whiff during that fight with the spiders."

"Wyll, then?" Shadowheart sat up completely and pressed closer to Astarion. She smelled faintly of incense.

Astarion swallowed thickly. Trying to ignore the desire to forgo niceties and just sink his teeth into her throat. "As charming as I'm sure he finds me, I do believe I would be wasting my time trying to convince the Blade of Frontiers to offer himself up to a vampire."

"And here I was, believing I was special when all the while I was merely a last resort," Shadowheart said.

Astarion found it difficult to tell how much of what she said was her searching for the truth and how much was just meant to tease.

"Darling," he purred. "You are anything but a last resort. Surely you're well aware of your allure." Astarion placed a hand on her shoulder, when she didn't flinch or pull away, he pushed her onto her back and settled himself on top of her.

Shadowheart's heart was positively racing. Her eyes blew wide with desire. Her breath caught in her throat when she spoke. "I'm only joking, Astarion. You don't need to use that voice on me."

"What voice?" Astarion asked playfully, slotting a leg between her thighs. This was almost too easy, really. For a woman with so many secrets, she'd truly given herself away to him.

"You know precisely which voice I'm talking about." Shadowheart licked her lips, eyes searching his face.

Astarion pouted, staring down at her with a sly smile. "I can't say I do," he purred. "This is the only voice I have."

"Then just shut up and feed." Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

Astarion nestled his face in the curve he her neck, lips brushing over her throat as he spoke. "Are you comfortable? This may . . . hurt a little."

"I can handle pain. Do it, Astarion."

Astarion wasted no more time. His teeth sank into her neck with a faint pop. Blood rushed into his mouth.

He hardly had time to register the sound of her moan before the rest of the world faded away. Only her blood, her breath, her life remained. And she had chosen to share it with him. A precious gift.

Astarion had never tasted anything as perfect as this. As her. He drank in desperate, needy gulps. His hand instinctively cradeling her head as she writhed beneath him. Even through his blood-drunk gaze Astarion could taste her arousal.

Shadowheart grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his skin as he drank. Her hips jerked up, seeking contact with his thigh. He allowed her that much, let her rut against his body like a bitch in heat as he drank.

"Astarion." Shadowheart's grip on his arm tightened. She was struggling to catch her breath. "Astarion, that's enough."

Her words managed to reach him despite his euphoria. "Shit -- sorry, I -- I got carried away," Astarion said.

"Shut up and kiss me." Shadowheart grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a bruising kiss.

The blood on his lips and chin smeared on her face. Astarion only broke the kiss to lick at the mess on her lips.

"That was . . . unexpected," Astarion whispered, nipping at her lower lip.

"You're not really surprised, are you?" Shadowheart asked.

"I suppose not completely surprised. Though this isn't exactly what I pictured when you offered your blood." Astarion leaned back to study her face.

Is this what she wanted? Clearly. Is this what he wanted? Why not?

"How unfortunate. Your imagination must be severely lacking," Shadowheart teased.

"I promise I can be quite imaginative when it counts." Astarion ground his hips down, pressing his half-hard length against her thigh.

"Prove it," Shadowheart said.

They kissed again. Another bruising, needy kiss shared between two people who knew their futures were uncertain.

"And if the others wake to find me in your tent? I'm sure they'd have a lot to say on the topic," Astarion whispered against her lips.

Shadowheart huffed out an annoyed sigh. "You don't have to stay the night. It's best for both of us if you just fuck me and leave."

"Ah, when you put it like that it does sound like a rather good offer," Astarion purred. "Do try not to keep it down though. Let's give them something to gossip about tomorrow."

[animeisforanimation]

The Apothecary Diaries vs SpyXFamily

What to even compare here you ask? Well.

“A bunch of snakes”.

In my mother tongue, that’s a phrase to describe a group of female coworkers. Although snakes actually bundle up to procreate (which makes the simile kinda queer lol), this is meant to express the idea that women have zero comradely and are always ready to bite each other or spit metaphorical poison.

And we see these unpleasant squabbles in both stories, but the way it’s shown is drastically different.

-

In “diaries” these relationship are the consequence of the way these women live: in a constant struggle for the power male (namely Emperor’s) attention can give them. And the stiles are as high as they get: all these women are no more than political assets and beautiful decorations for the court. Their lives depend of how well they play by the rules of the palace.

Plus class segregation is a thing.

So, it’s clear why maids of higher rank and of a different, even opposing mistress, would treat the main character poorly.

Moreover, these very interpersonal conflicts are the main focus, if even say appeal of a show like that. It’s a game of thrones kind of story. And the way Maomao reacts is adding to the story: she understands, she’s irritated and even worried for her social stance and very life - but can’t actually do anything and this tells us so much about her!

And when she snaps it’s not some personal gripe, but the anger of a doctor, whose patient is actively being killed by mundane ignorance.

“Spy family”, however, is a totally different beast. It’s a comedy. Light-hearted, told mainly through perspective of a child. It generally ignores serious topics but in the rare monologues of the westerners (credit where credits due: the handlers words to a young terrorist were heart-wrenching).

So, when we see these women belittle Yor, in s1 even jokingly (?!) threatening to send her to the secret police, try to humiliate and physically harm her - and then Yor gets them perplexed by her naivety and smiles and asking their help it reads as… also comedy? Except it’s not funny at all.

One can argue, that they are supposed to represent the inner turmoil of the society, inability to trust people - it is Cold War after all. But because of the way Yor reacts - with smiles and seemingly genuine childlike honesty, and especially because of that episode when one of them helps Yor Learn to cook - I just don’t see that.

It is a joke to the creator. Haha, funny ladies funnily bully their coworkers. Ah, women.

And it is horrifying because such people are monsters.

One may remember Les Miserables and the horrible fate of Fantine, brought on her by the “virtuous” women around her.

I live in a country with a history of delations. I live in a time I’m afraid one may call the police about my beliefs. It’s a constant creeping horror, not a comedy beat.

The other thing is context.

In “The diary” there’s a lot of time for Maomao to talk with different people, a lot of them are women, most of them help her, some don’t. And so when a problem arrives, the antagonism is between people who happen to be women.

In “Spy family” Yor almost never deal with other women, even their neighbors mainly talk to and about her husband (don’t even get me started in that nightmare of a lady spy obsessed with the male lead). And so these moments with her coworkers ring not just ill-used for comedy, but also kinda misogynistic.

-

There are nuance, of course. Difference of genre conventions and the amount of time and attention characters have - but none of it changes the fact that when I say bullying in “The apothecary diaries”, I was intrigued and wanted to see how the story will play out. Seeing it - again and again! - as a joke in Spy Family makes me grit my teeth and think of ditching the show for good.

[hopeymchope]

Trying to endure the unpleasant characters of "Bakemonogatari"

After receiving numerous recommendations that I should check it out over the years, I've finally started watching "Bakemonogatarai."

It's... weird, for sure. Interesting at times, definitely. But the two focal characters thus far make the series so incredibly hard to watch.

This is Koyomi Araragi, who is evidently our primary protagonist. The most important thing you should know about him is that he will endure the worst verbal abuse imaginable while only BARELY ever bothering to push back even a smidge, to the point that he infuriates me. This bitch has ZERO self-respect. It might even be in the negatives.

Now, maybe something will change with him! After all, I'm only five episodes into the series! He has plenty of time to grow a spine and stand up for himself. But right now? He spends most of the series hanging around — and getting cruelly abused by — a girl named Hitagi Senjougahara.

Senjougahara seems to be our secondary lead. Araragai spends the first two episodes going out of his way to help her with some difficult problems, which makes her declare herself to be his "dear friend" immediately thereafter. However, in ALL FIVE episodes to date, Senjougahara just brutally abuses him. And it just makes him depressed. He doesn't fight back, he doesn't get upset or angry... he just gets really sad and hangs his head silently, ultimately agreeing with her horrible put-downs.

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

The dialogue in this show is seriously like this—

Senjougahara: You're a very dear friend to me, Araragi. I owe you a lot. It's sad that you're a disgusting little bitch baby, but I'll still repay my debt for your kindness regardless of how odious of a person you are.

Araragi: ...thank you.

Senjougahara: Seriously, I can't imagine having to touch anything you've ever touched. The thought is so abhorrent. And the thought of ever touching YOU? Christ. I could vomit.

Araragi: Yeah.

Senjougahara: You look like a pedophile with that greasy hair over your eyes, you know that? In fact, I bet you ARE one. You fuck little kids, don't you??

Araragi: Come on... I'm not like that.

Senjougahara: Shut your nasty, hideous excuse for a mouth. Don't try to deny it. I can tell you fuck little kids.

Araragi: ...okay....

Senjōgahara: You sickening child molester. Rapists are the lowest of the low, but you? You're lower than they are. You're more vile than a gremlin's shit-stained taint, Araragi.

Araragi: ...sorry. It's true.

Senjougahara: If I wasn't such a wonderful and forgiving friend to you, you wouldn't have anyone else breathing the same air you've spoiled with your repulsive, loathsome presence. You'd be all alone. Which is all you'll ever deserve, of course.

Araragi: .......of course.........

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

I get that Sejougahara is just a massive, miserable asshole. That's at least very consistently portrayed. The bigger problem to me is that Araragi will go out of his way to help literally anyone in need but will do NOTHING to stand up for himself with this asshole.

The worst part is that I think these two are supposed to be possible love interests??? I THINK she's supposed to be a thugdere or something. I hope that I'm either wrong about that or something RADICALLY changes, because right now I only want to see Araragi remove her from his life forever.

Which is pretty unlikely.

Man, even in the second story arc, Araragi could've just taken the incessant abuse he received from the newest character he met as adequate reason to leave her the hell alone, and WOW, that actually would've solved everything instantly!

[sophie-frm-mars]

I'm supposed to write for a living and for the last two weeks all the thoughts in my head have been about my shitty abusive ex, so what can I write? Maybe if I wrote down some of the things I'm thinking I could go back to thinking about Alex Jones or Elizabeth Holmes or any of the other terrible people I enjoy thinking and talking about. Maybe if I wrote it down I'd stop twitching when I'm falling asleep or trying to rest or sitting at my desk or waiting in a queue because I suddenly zapped back into the things that she did and the ways that she treated me.

I keep writing a letter to her in my head that I've affectionately titled 'Notorious Abuser'. I'm not gonna actually write it anywhere

But the thing that I think I'm trying to capture in that idea is how tiny and pathetic it makes me feel that people tried to tell me how bad she was before and I still fell for all her lies, I still let my guard down, I still let myself get hurt because I didn't think I was worth anything.

I tried to help her get better and she assaulted me, gaslit me and told me she would hurt herself if I didn't act like she wanted.

I keep wanting to break into saying the pointedly cruel things I say in this letter in my head, but all of them sound petty and small or ugly and not who I want to be. I'm not writing the letter, I'm writing down my thoughts so I can stop hyperventilating and crying once a day. I wrote what she did to me in another post on mastodon, and that helped a little. It feels good spreading the thoughts out a little, so there isn't just one intense trauma blog. I'm writing down my thoughts so I can sleep before 5am tonight

The thought that keeps ringing around in my head is like "what the fuck could someone have said to me that would have helped me understand sooner". I have to check the premise this comes from. A lot of people have been quite unpleasant about the fact they tried to tell me about her at the start, treated me like I've let them down somehow by being manipulated and abused. I've thought really hard about this for a long time, and there are three parties in the question of people around her being informed about the things she's done: me, her, and everyone else. I've really spent a LONG time thinking about this and it's not everyone else's responsibility, and it's not my responsibility, it's actually only one person's responsibility, and she fucking lies all the time. Trying to apportion blame anywhere else is just treating her like a morally absent person who can't be responsible for her actions, and she simply has to be responsible.

Should we try to warn people when we think someone could get harmed? Yes, I think so. I haven't experienced a lot of that. I didn't get warnings, and I'm not blaming anyone for that, because she told me that she was telling me about the full scale of what she'd done, and of course she wasn't becauss she just fucking lies all the time. So she told me that and I told people i already knew what she'd done and they didn't know what I didn't know.

I'm obsessing because it's late and I can't sleep and concerned anonymous messages get under my skin more than they should

She agreed to not date anyone new until she'd been through a process and then she messaged me on lex the week after

I want to get back to my question, because its something I've already thought about for a long time. I have a close friend who suffered intimate partner abuse for years. My best and oldest friend, actually, and we didn't speak for years because their life was being made so miserable by their abuser they couldn't reach out, and after I found out I hated myself for not knowing and i hated myself for not doing something and I hated myself for not knowing the magic thing I could have said that could have helped. They deserved for me to show up on a beautiful motorbike with a spare helmet and a warm hug and drive away into the sunset with them, and I hated myself every day for weeks and months and years for not having been able to somehow do that, and they've told me a dozen times now not to be sorry, but it still hurts, because someone hurt someone I love and that feels like something wrong with the universe.

Anyway, the magic words.

"the way she is treating you is wrong, and I'm not telling you to break up with her, and to be clear, the reason I am not telling you that is because I'm afraid that'll make you push me away and then you'll have fewer people around to help, but nonetheless that is not what I'm telling you. I'm just telling you that you are being harmed and that it is wrong when you are harmed and you deserve better"

It's a mouthful but I think that might have done it.

It took me 2 months to tell my long term partner that my abuser had assaulted me. It took me another 2 months to break up with my abuser, and another month after that to tell my partner the parts that made her say she wanted to "scratch her fucking eyes out". If any of these thoughts are helping you right now, don't think that not reacting strongly and quickly means you weren't actually harmed.

I want to think about the terrible people I enjoy thinking about and not the terrible person that thinking about makes me wake up panicking. Here's hoping writing this helps empty Notorious Abuser out of my head and makes more room for my precious terrible boy Alex Jones

She told me to change a line about him in something I wrote. I said Alex Jones may never deserve sympathy again, and she wanted me to change it because she didn't want me using my platform to say that anyone is ever irredeemable. I don't think that. But I said "may" for a reason. Alex Jones is someone who's done horrible things and shows no sign of doing anything even remotely like changing, or taking responsibility for the harm he's caused, or doing anything to put any of it right. Someone like that could perhaps do things to become deserving of sympathy, but the actual reality is that Jones has done nothing to change or put things right, and lies about the things he's done, the reasons they're bad, the things being done to make him take responsibility and the character of the people making that effort. Alex Jones may never deserve sympathy again

[nerves-nebula]

so as someone who lived in an abusive household that has since then moved into my own apartment the one thing i always hated was how dirty the house was and how unkept it was and it has made me so particular about cleaning and how things should be cleaned so basically what i want to ask is how are their living conditions? i know its a sewer but is it really dirty because of lack of care (splinter not giving a shit unless its his room) or is splinter really really strict about how nothing should be dirty and out of place

it's dirty but in a kind of "raph is a kid and can't keep everything clean so he mostly focuses on picking up after the parts of the house Splinter cares about" kind of way.

kind of alluded to it here with the turtles sleeping setups, but their furniture situation isn't great either. Splinter is the only one with an actual bed set up and like, good furniture. most of the tables/shelves in the boys rooms are either cheap fold out stuff or pretty broken. the better furniture is usually claimed by splinter or Leo, and if not they decide who gets what amongst themselves.

cleanest places are Splinters room, the dojo, the dining "room"/table, and I wanna say the kitchen but lets be real here that place is a mess. barely any counter space at any point in time. RIP.

everywhere probably has cans and cups and grime and stuff around the edges of the room. forgotten books shoved behind furniture. trampled paper, piles of clothes that don't fit anymore. holes in the walls and floor that people just get kinda used to. the works. (basing it off of my house lol tw for unsanitary living conditions i guess?? Idk it's just poor person shit. house collapsing, this aint even really a negligence thing but there are other parts of the house that FOR SURE are)

sidenote: I'm kind of the opposite. I just learned to live in filth and now my acceptable standards of filth and decay are way higher than other people's. this irritates everyone because it means I get grouchy about cleaning (cause it's like, I'm not even the one who cares if things are clean like im ok with FILFTH) and my gf gets annoyed cause like. im being gross.

and i know im in the wrong here so when i stay at her place i try to clean anyway lmao. doesn't stop the bitter gut reaction i have about cleaning tho (i'd probably be better at it if my mom didn't make cleaning so unpleasant and miserable that now it's something I avoid habitually)

anyway the brothers probably get into fights about cleaning and stuff when they move out together cause some of them might be really particular about cleaning (I'm thinking Donnie and possibly Leo, which would be weird for them to be on the same side) and some of them are kind of just ok with living in a bit of filth (Mikey for the most part)

Raph is fine with whatever tbh, he's more concerned about everything being easy to access than like, how many dishes are on the table. especially now that he doesn't have to pick up after everyone anymore :) he's let himself relax a bit.

[sea-owl]

Okay, so the Addams family (yes, I will make this reference even though the Featherintons are not gothic in this AU) are an ancestral and powerful family in the world of magic. And Penelope's mother just happened to be born in this family.

Portia Featherinton went to Hogwarts and had wonderful years in its halls, laughing at the ghosts and paintings on the wall. Somehow, she ended up in a marriage with a muggle.

Penelope grew up in two worlds, one full of magic, where her mother was actually happy, and the world of her father, surrounded by the restrictions of the ton, but she had Eloise, she had the Bridgertons, and most importantly, she had Colin.

On her eleventh birthday, she didn't pray, she didn't know which world to pick, so destiny choose to her. Weeks later, her mother woke her up, smiling and giggling. Penelope was going to Hogwarts, even with her obvious lack in talent in magic. So, she packed her bags, promising her mother she would never tell a soul about the school, and trying to calm Eloise nerves about being separated from her close friend. She didn't get to say goodbye to Colin, him starting his travels and not being home.

And the thing is, she adored the school, and even made friends who weren't Eloise. There's Simon, a former Slytherin who now worked as a teaching assistant in potions, and Kate, the brave Gryffindor that shined bright on the quidditch team, Sophie, a kind Hufflepuff with a talent for divination, and Gareth, her fellow Ravenclaw, a year younger, whom she took under her wing. Then there's Phillip, a sweet Hufflepuff who spent his days in the gardens, and Michael, a talented in transfigurations Gryffindor who spent his trying to get him out of there.

In comparison, she just kinda hated going back. She missed Eloise, just like someone misses their limb, but she hated the ton. Hated being looked as if she's weird just because she goes to an unknown school with her sisters, hated being ignored, just an unpleasant feeling by being there.

At 18, she graduates and starts working at the Daily Prophet, and spends most of her days away from her dad's side of the world. Away from Eloise, and the Bridgertons, and Colin.

In her 28th birthday she apparates to her mother's birthday party, only to be discovered by Colin.

Chaos ensues as her, her friends, with the addition of genius Lucy, a Slytherin who is claimed as the brightest witch, and who somehow likes arithmancy, and her family try to gaslight the boy into thinking he's crazy. Colin falls in love amist this.

Wait, I somewhat have a Harry Potter au! Link

The post is more to do with Michael kidnapping, I mean force befriending, I mean adopting, Phillip and Penelope at Hogwarts. Still applied the whole spouses only thing for the magical world but this a great expansion for it!

Again, fair warning everything I know about Harry Potter was absorbed through the fandom with random videos popping up on my tiktok. So this is highly me just winging it. I might tweak this though just a little bit.

Penelope, for all her life, had heard the whispers around her about how weird her family is. Even when others weren't making a sound. They say her family dressed oddly, that her mother miserable old bat, and that she was so unnoticeable it was creepy how she somehow always seemed to answer others even without them saying a word.

It was true that her mother dressed her daughters differently than others, but what they don't know is that citrus colors were to hide the reminisce of the magical world her mother was born into.

Yes, her mother was miserable at times, but wouldn't you also be miserable if you were forced to hide the one part of yourself that you loved the most? Her mother's misery was derived from being forced to stay in a world that forces her to supress herself.

As for Penelope herself, she can't help she hears things others say. Maybe they shouldn't be speaking if they don't want her to hear.

The truth was Penelope's mother, Portia Featherington, was not from the world of the ton. Born Portia Addams, Penelope's mother was a witch, born into the Addams family, a powerful and old magical family in Spain. During Portia's childhood she was brought to England's wizarding world, and later attended Hogwarts. Portia adored her time in school, and she adored magic. Things after Hogwarts became murky but somehow, she ended up married to Penelope's father, Lord Featherington. This marriage forced Portia to stay in her husband's world and hide her magic. Now the only time Penelope sees her mother smile is when they visit their Addams family members or during the nights when Portia brings her daughters outside and teaches them about magic under the moonlight. If Portia could, she would leave the ton behind and fully rejoin the magical world.

Penelope herself wasn't sure what world she would prefer to live in. Despite the whispers and restrictions of the ton she had her best friend Eloise, and her family the Bridgertons, who sometimes felt like Penelope's second family. Of course, there also Colin Bridgerton, Eloise's older brother, and the man Penelope was secretly in love with. But the magical world was also quite fascinating to Penelope, and there were times that she found herself smiling more in the magical world than she did in the ton. Even though Penelope does not have the same accidental magic bursts that her sisters displayed she knows her mother is hopeful all her four of her daughters will go to the same school she did.

On Penelope's 11th birthday she did not pray for one way or another. She was still unsure what world she wanted to be in. She decided to let destiny take the wheel.

About a month after Penelope's 11th birthday she was awoken with her rmother laying next to her, giddy as a child.

"Oh Penelope," Portia sang. "You have a letter."

Turns out Penelope was going to Hogwarts after all. With a promise to her mother to not tell a soul about the magical world, and reassuring Eloise that they will write to one another Penelope found herself in a carriage on it's way to her mother's world.

Once Penelope was at Hogwarts she found out why her mother loved it so much. There was something freeing about magic and Hogwarts felt like endless possibilities. That hat hesitated when sorting her, it had debated between Ravenclaw and Slytherin before ultimaly deciding to put her in Ravenclaw. Penelope also found out why she kept hearing whispers in the ton at Hogwarts. Turns out she had an affinity for legilimency and what she thought were whispers was really her going into people's minds and reading their thoughts. Oops.

Sorted into Ravenclaw Penelope found herself quickly making new friends too. It started with her fellow first year, and fellow Ravenclaw Edwina Sharma. Edwina proceeded to introduce Penelope to her older sister, Kate Sharma. Kate Sharma was a Gryffindor, a talented quidditch player, and had an affinity for magic associated with magical beasts. Next came her kidnapping, okay fine surprised friend adoption, from Hufflepuff Michael Stirling, who has a talent for transfigurations. Through Michael Penelope met one of his other surprise adoptees Phillip Crane, a fellow Ravenclaw who spends more time in the herbology greenhouse than he does in his dorm. While being dragged by Michael to the Huffelpuff common room Penelope met Sophie Beckett, another Huffelpuff who had a talent for healing spells. It was a slow build to friendship with Simon who was a Slytherin graduate at Hogwarts and now assists the arithmancy teacher, hiding from his father Penelope will accidentally learn later. During Penelope's second year Kate came bounding in the group study session with a nervous looking first year Gryffindor Gareth St Clair, who turns out was semi related to Simon and had a talent for charms. The last one came after Penelope's graduation in the form of Lucy Abernathy, a Huffelpuff divination specialist, who Penelope's sister, Felicity, had befriend.

During her time at Hogwarts Penelope found she did not want to return to her father's world of the ton. She found the longer she was away from it the more she came to hate it. She found even less reason to keep coming back when her letters with the Bridgertons lessened until they were practically non-existent, then her father died too when she was 14. Without a son Penelope's father wrote in his will that whichever of his daughters had the first son would inherit the estate and their son would become the new Lord Featherington.

Portia raged that it was one final jab at her, another reason to force her to stay around the ton.

When she was 17 and graduated Penelope had begged her mother not to debut her like she did with Prudence and Philippa. She argued that there was no way she would have the first grandson since the ton didn't even notice her for one thing, and Penelope wanted to stay in the magical world.

Portia gave her daughter her blessing and Penelope fled to the magical world, finally staying. In the magical world Penelope had a well-known novelist under the name Lady Whistledown. She's known for her characters being so lifelike and the enchantments she used to let readers hear the voices of the characters as they read. Penelope doesn't mention that the reason her characters are so lifelike is because she'll study people and with her legilimency she can casually hear their passing thoughts as they walk by her.

When Penelope is 19 and getting ready to write her next book Edwina drops a bomshell on her.

"You want to what?" She could not have been hearing Edwina right.

"I want to participate in a London season as a debutant," Edwina repeated.

"Why?" Penelope asked beyond confused. "And why do you want me to join you? What of Mr. Bagwell?"

Charles Bagwell was a scholarly man Edwina had met as she continued her studies at University. Since their first conversation Edwina has been infatuated with him, possibly love him. Penelope could not think of any reason why her friend would want to give up a rarity like that for a London social season of all things.

"Actually, it's all for research," Edwina answered. "I am researching on how enchanted instruments sound to muggels vs witches and wizards. I figured the balls of the London social season would give me both instruments to enchant and a group to study off of with the debutants."

Penelope raised an eyebrow because Edwina still hasn't explained why she wants Penelope to run the London social season with her.

"And I was hoping my very good friend with knowledge of the social season and the ability to hear others' thoughts would join me so I know what the debutants internal thoughts are when they hear the enchanted music."

"Edwina!" Penelope exclaimed.

"What? I'm not asking you to dig into their minds," Edwina said. "Just do what you normally do and passively listen."

Penelope stared down her friend, and Edwina stared right back.

"Fine," Penelope said," but I want that nice new quill set, the one with the raven feather."

"Deal," Edwina said.

"And," Penelope stressed. "You must get all of our friends who are of age to come too. So that means Simon, Michael, Phillip, Sophie, and of course Kate."

Edwina's jaw dropped. "How am I supposed to drag Simon and Phillip to London? And why do we need all three? Can't we just get Michael?"

"A debutant can only dance with a gentleman twice my dear Edwina, and you know the ton does think my family weird," Penelope said. "If you want me to gather as much information as possible we'll need all three."

Edwina groaned and plopped her head against her friend.

Somehow by some miracle (probably Kate) Edwina had gotten all their friends to come. She even got Gareth and Lucy. Though those two are on a break from Hogwarts and came with Felicity to laugh at them.

Portia had to hide her laughs when Penelope informed her of Edwina's research and that Penelope must debut to help her. With her husband dead Portia was much more relaxed. While she was still forced to stay within the ton until a grandson was born, she was now free to do as much magic as she wanted in her home. The staff to the Featherington home has dwindled as well but those who are on staff like the butler Briarly, and Mrs. Varley the head maid, are witches and wizards themselves.

Penelope had already sent her luggage ahead to her mother's house and was just grabbing a new journal to draft her new story in with her new raven quill.

"Here we go," Penelope sighed as she apparates to the Featherington House in Mayfair.

Well, not exactly to the house, but on a corner of it where one would have a hard time seeing her. While most should still be in bed or at breakfast before morning calls, one couldn't be too careful.

"Pen?"

Penelope froze. It's been years since she's heard that voice. The last time she heard it she was 16.

Turning around Penelope's horror grew as she saw Colin Bridgerton on his horse, most likely returning from one of his travels.

"Colin, it's been so long." Penelope said, her voice too high.

"Did you just appear out of thin air?" Colin asked, bewildered.

Damn, damn, damn! Deny, deny, deny!

"Colin don't be silly," Penelope said. "Humans appearing out of thin air? It's only the stuff of fantasies."

Penelope began to walk back towards her house. "If you will excuse me, my mother is waiting."

Once inside Penelope ran to the drawing room. Thankfully only her friends and Felicity were in there. "I fucked up! I fucked up!"

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

The sun is low when a shout goes up from the lookouts. Long shadows stretch across the mountains. The evening light catches on a sunset-bright red head against the snow. She’s trekking up the faint and winding path more slowly than usual.

“Is that a… stick?” Baurus squints, shielding his eyes for a better view as they venture out to meet her. “Is it from the Deadlands?”

“It looks very much like a normal branch to me.” Martin cups his hands around his mouth. “My friend! Are you limping?” She’s tied something to her leg below the knee; he thinks it resembles a splint, a bit.

Her face scrunches up in a scowl. The stick thuds into the ground with a little more force than before on her next step.

Baurus offers an arm. Martin does not tell him he should probably be closer if he actually wants to help, because she does very much look like she might bite right now, fox in a snare. “Is it closed? Did you get the stone?”

“Yes,” she says, leaning heavily on the stick, “but, um. It hurt. A little.”

---

“Even a simple healing spell would have kept it from getting this bad,” Martin says reproachfully, unpicking the splintered bone where it’s begun to fuse back together the wrong way. The faint golden glow warms his cold fingers, crooked like a child making shapes with string.

Around the pair of socks stuffed between her teeth, Molly croaks, “Yep.” It comes out more like yet. The muscles have gone rigid, misplaced and inflamed, around the bone to try to hold it steady; he rearranges the layers as carefully as he can. She slams a fist into the ground with a strangled little noise anyway.

“You should have said sooner that you didn’t know any restoration. I can teach you at least a—”

“Understand the theory behind it just fine.” Her face screws up as he slots a piece of bone into place with an unsettling, grinding creak. “Nnngkk—just can’t do anything with it. Never have. —can’t you get it over with any faster—!” One of the smaller pieces snaps into position. She doesn’t yell, but she does jerk her knee towards her chest to pull the leg away from him.

“Stop that. Give it back. What do you mean you can’t do anything with it? I thought,” he starts, and then stops, because she’s cracked one eye to shoot him a monstrous, bloodshot glare.

“Don’t.”

“It’s just that,” he attempts more delicately, hands hovering over the fresh bruise blooming on her shin (he’ll have to be more careful; he’s usually very good about not causing new bruising), “I would have thought… er.”

“No, fine, go on now you’ve started.” She yanks the wadded socks from her mouth, rubbing at her jaw. “Maybe if I’m benevolently reminded there’s a Breton or six in every mage hall from here to Blackwood, my lifelong incapability will be overcome at last, miraculous—”

“Alright, alright. You are very unpleasant as a patient, you know.” Cross, he sits back on his heels. “Try standing now.”

She props herself up on her elbows, bracing herself for the lurch forward and upward with a grimace. “Did they already take the stone off to—wherever they put them?”

Rising to his own feet and offering a hand she doesn’t take (and she may never take it, he acknowledges, but he doesn’t know how to stop offering, all the same), he says, “Yes. They’re very keen on the enchanting properties, it seems.”

It takes her a moment to answer, all her focus caught up in the act of standing. After a series of movements reminiscent of some barely-born wobbly-legged animal and a truly impressive dedication to pretending he is not standing there with his hand patiently outstretched, she manages it, panting and tentatively stretching her leg out in front of herself, leaning on the table beside her. “Good for them. Have these stones got—souls—in them?” And then, before he can reply, she says miserably, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Thank you.”

“Oh,” he says, eyebrows shooting upwards. “Does that mean it doesn’t hurt now?”

“No, it does.” To prove it, she puts all her weight on the leg and jumps back to the other almost immediately with a hiss.

“Don’t do that, then. You ought to get some rest.”

“Hm.”

“At least try.” He folds his arms as she sits on the edge of the table and pulls her leg up to poke at the bruise. “Stop.”

Making a face, she pokes at it again anyway. “It looks smaller than I thought it would be.” She leans over the table to drag her bag closer. “I will try,” she says, “to sleep. Before I forget, though.” Emerging with a small paper-wrapped and string-tied… something, she holds it out, not quite meeting his eyes. “Tried to keep it from getting crushed.”

He takes it, curious. “What, is this from Dagon as well—”

“No, Skingrad. Just—I don’t know what it’s like when I’m not here, but they never seem to have anything sweet. Blades, not bakers, or something like that.”

A sweetroll. He almost laughs. “They don’t,” he admits. “You broke your leg and stopped to buy a sweetroll?”

“Brother Martin,” she says defensively, “you should think better of me. I broke my leg and stopped to buy two sweetrolls. I ate mine already.”

This time, he does laugh.

[foxydivaxx]

Look What You Made Me Do Chapter 7

We learn how Zoro and Sanji finally hooked up or at least what led to it. Warning: mentions of suicide and abuse.

Zoro’s POV

The first tale sign that all was not well with the cook was when we got our first bounties. The way he reacted to the poorly drawn photo of him to the amount was quite hilarious. I remember making fun of him and the manner by which he fired back. It made for some entertaining moments on the ship.

But what I failed to realize at the time was just how much my words impacted the cook.

Two weeks after that incident,I discovered a bloodied blade by the sink in the bathroom. Later that day, I saw some cut marks on Curly’s arms and legs whilst he was napping. That made me put two and two together. Curly began to eat less than normal, and whenever he ate, he would race to the bathroom soon afterwards and would puke everything down the toilet.

I remember our confrontation regarding his behaviour. I remember the way he screamed and yelled at me. Oh I remember the words he screamed at me that day. Not helping matters is that I kept making fun of his low bounty that very same day.

What really made me feel kind of guilty and shocked was when he said in the msot chilling and tearful manner ever. “KEEP GLOATING MARIMO!! SINCE YOU ARE THE BEST AND OBVIOUSLY THE MORE IMPORTANT CREW MATE!! I NEVER FUCKING MATTERED TO ANYONE ANYWAYS!! I AM BETTER OFF DEAD!!”

He pushed past me that day and walked off. Everyone noticed the tension between us because Sanji was a lot miserable and unpleasant that day. He went off on everyone. What broke the camel’s back was when Usopp mentioned his flirty ways. What Curly said that day more or less says a lot about the man we are talking about.

“LIKE YOU EVER HAD ANY ISSUE ATTRACTING ANYONE OR GAINING ANY FORM OF RESPECT FROM ANYONE?!”

There was silence at the table that day. This was way before we found out about his birth family. I had to step in and dragged the crying cook away. Another sign was his perviness. Maybe spending time on that island drove him insane. Or perhaps a side effect of Ace’s death because I saw a guy sucking him off on the island we went to weeks after Ace’s death.

Then he would chase after women after that and actually slept with some women at different points in time. The guy must have been confused about his sexuality otherwise he would have been open about it by now. I have also seen him touch himself on more than one occassion. I will admit that I got aroused during those times but chose not to approach him about that out of respect of his privacy. But I did tease him on more than one occassion on his perviness. Heck, I have seen Ace fuck Sanji a few times. Oh how I wanted to push Ace away and bend Sanji over and fuck him senseless.

I think maybe Sanji knew how much I desired him because he would occasionally up the ante to fight me. Or rather use that as an excuse to tease me. Whenever both of us were alone with no one around, he would often start touching himself suggestively and would rub my crotch, moaning like a bitch whenever he did that.

I read something deeply disturbing in his diary which happened shortly after the wedding and before we got to Wano. He said in that entry and I quote:

Life has since lost its meaning ever since my beloved firecracker died. Oh how much I miss him. My heart aches for him, my body yearns for his touch. Yet he is truly gone.

Just like Charlie before him. Oh why? Why does life have to be like this? Women do not desire me and the men that I welcome into my life either die or they treat me like shit. Yes Pudding I am still deeply hurt by what you did.

Why me? Why can’t someone tell me that they love me?! The rare few that do end up hurt because of me?!

This pain. Agh….this pain is getting out of hand!! I apologize Ace but I may have to break my promise here.

You stopped me from trying to end my life one night. But now I will do it a different way. I will just go find a random guy with a huge dick. Nope not a crewmate. Certainly not Zoro. I do not want to burden Marimo with that task. He deserves better than to kill a worthless man like me.

No. I will just choose a random guy at the nearest village. I would spread my legs wide and have him fuck me one last time and then kill me on the spot. What better way to kiss life goodbye than one final round of sex? I will make sure he fucks me hard enough that I die cumming and screaming. It will be painful but it will be worth it because I am tired of life..,.

See what I mean? I told the others about it and we made sure Sanji did not carry out his plan. How? Well, we arrived at the nearest island. Myself and Robin hung out at the bar, watching as Sanji flirted with one of the guys there.

This was the first time Sanji would be open about his sexuality. Usually he would play it coy but today was different thanks to the plan he had in mind.

I watch in disgust as Sanji threw himself at the big muscular guy who was obviously getting intoxicated by the minute. Robin nods and I take it as my cue to get Sanji out of there.

I get off my seat, ignoring the ladies ogling me and walk up to the bar.

“So how do you want it Hm?” The guy asked. Before Sanji could say anything, I slither a hand around his waist and pull him away.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yells once he sees him. He shoot a murderous look at the other guy who bolts away from there.

“Isn’t it obvious Cook? I am trying to stop you from doing something reckless.” With that, I take him out of the club and towards the ship.

“B-but the fun hasn’t even begun!!”

“You wanted that guy to kill you didn’t you?”

His eyes widen in shock. “How did you know?” I look him dead in the eye. “Your diary.”

He then looks away. “Why do you even care? I mean, you hate me anyways.”

“Quite the opposite actually.” He blinks. “Huh?!” I take in a deep breath and pull him into a soft kiss. He was taken aback by this but still let me do it.

“Sanji. I am not letting you throw your life away okay? You may not see your value but remember this, we your crew mates do.”

He was deeply moved by this and hugs him, tears flowing down his eyes. “I…I am glad you finally called me my name. Thanks Zoro.” I smile and kiss his forehead.

[shirtsstuff]

Personal shit after the break, will probably delete later.

I recently started taking anti-depressants and overall they've been really great, I'm feeling so much better in general, I'm not miserable all the time anymore, I'm actually able to enjoy myself even small things like playing games online with some good pals have been amazing. Another thing it's done is, kinda grounded me in reality more, like I felt before, at my worst, it was hard to see other people and even my self to a certain extent were real, it allowed me to be really mean and say hurtful things because I thought i could get away with it and that there would be no consequences. I've been reflecting on my past actions recently and I hate the way I was, I just remember all these times, I was just mean or weird or strange towards people, even people I really truly care about and I wonder why I thought this was an acceptable way to act, even for a second, suffering and feel so bad all the time, doesn't really give me the right to be hurtful to other people. And worst of all, it plays on my mind so much I'm finding it hard to sleep lately. It also affected me in a different way, I've been feeling really lonely and like I'm a nuisance to everyone, which is something I often felt even well depressed, but it kinda makes it feel justified, like yeah of course everyone hates me, look at the I treated them especially the people I'm closet too, I can't expect people to want to spend time with me because I'm just a deeply unpleasant person to be around.

Sometimes I feel like apologizing to the people I was mean to, at least those I still talk too and I'm still very close with, but I'm almost certain they don't remember and at that point it would be for me and not really them, just another selfish act in a long line of selfish acts.

Now I feel like I should say, just to make it clear, I am, in general much more happy and feeling much better 90% of the time,I feel like now, I have a few things that are bothering me and I'm able to more clearly identify them, so they feel more intense because they're not just one part of the overall overwhelming awful feeling I had constantly. I don't know, if you've read all this sorry to complain, normal posting will resume shortly.