#Gad Whip

[g4zdtechtv]

FULL EPISODE: Anime Unleashed - Gad Guard Ep. 19: A Road Companion

Arashi just wants to take a walk alone. But his Dad is back in town?!

[kydrogendragon]

"I simply said I believed he was lonely. And that was the reason for the games he had played with me back in Port Townsend," Edwin says, sitting with one leg resting on the knee of his other.

It's late in the New Inn and Hob just finished cleaning up the lobby. The Dead Boy Detective group—or as Hob joked, the Scooby Gang—have taken up a near permanent residence here now, given that Hob doesn't mind their presence and lets Crystal stay with them rent-free. In return, she helps out with designing the chalkboard ads he keeps outside the inn.

"And how'd his royal highness take that?" Charles laughs.

"Quite well, actually," Edwin replies. "I do believe we parted on good terms, given everything that happened. He gifted me that lily and parted amicably."

"Huh, weird. Figured he'd be the kind to get grumpy about being called lonely," Crystal says, circling the rim of the glass in front of her with her finger.

"Oooh, maybe he really is lonely and by you saying that, and him giving you that flower, that was his shy way of agreeing with you and wishing you would stay so he could be un-lonely!" Niko chimes.

"You do remember him, right? Same Cat King? That man does nothing shyly. Man? Cat? Whatever." Crystal says.

"Well, I think it's romantic," Niko replies. She whips her head back to Edwin, clapping her hands together. "You should have said you were lonely too, Edwin! Then it would have been the perfect moment to lean in for a kiss cause you both could be lonely together!"

Edwin clears his throat. "Well. I did, perhaps, say something along those lines, but I assure you there was no kissing nor being 'lonely together'."

"Yo Gad-man? Everything alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost," Charles says with a smirk. Hob realizes, in that moment, he's stopped stacking chairs half-way. His mind, lost both in the kid's conversation but also playing his meeting from 1889 on loop.

It's not often, he imagines, that one calls a supernatural being lonely, with the intent of telling them you're lonely as well, but clearly it went much better for Edwin than it had Hob. He's trying not to feel jealous over it. It's an irrational emotion. And it was clearly a different situation to him and Dream.

But still.

He shakes his head and stacks the chair back on the table, where it should have been minutes ago. "Fine, fine! Just running low on steam. Long week."

The kids shrug and return to their conversation, drifting away from the Cat King and onto their latest mystery. Hob retreats to the back and sighs. He never did get to explain himself properly to Dream, who also happens to be a king. What is with this weird amount of similarities? Maybe that's just guaranteed to happen if you live so long. Regardless, they never did talk much of that meeting. Or much of before, honestly. Hob wonders if Dream even knew what he had been trying to say back then. It certainly wasn't to accuse him of being lonely or to somehow gloat that Hob wasn't. Because he was. He was lonely, too.

Now, unlike Edwin's story, he'd have loved if his conversation had ended with that kiss like Niko said. Course that would never happen but he would have taken a smile. Or parting amicably. Literally anything else than storming out into the rain.

Hob rests his head against the cool metal of the fridge and sighs. Maybe one day he can try and redo that day with Dream, though he'll probably make the man swear he won't storm out again first.

[vanessamooney]

The Age of Us Pt. 2 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 1. Part 3 coming soon!

In Second Year you're starting to stand on your feet properly. You've come to Diagon Alley with Draco and his father just before the semester has started to collect the year's new spell books and props. The list sent out by Hogwarts was longer than last years and you'd become increasingly worried about being able to keep up between 'Gadding with Ghouls' and 'Holidays with Hags', all written by Gilderoy Lockhart no less.

The alley streets were bustling with witches and wizards of all sorts, pointed hats bouncing around comically and brooms alike. You had already run into fellow classmates from Hogwarts and stopped a plethora of times for polite conversation and familial introductions. Lucius has now excused himself from the two of you, trusting Draco with a satchel filled to the brim with gold galleons, instructing you two to meet him in front of Flourish and Botts with the books ready in exactly thirty minutes. 

'I trust you'll be on time, Draco,' he sneered at his son, tapping his back with the serpentine cane he never parted ways with. When he turned to give you a polite nod and pat on the head with a heavy hand, he did so with a strange upturn of the corners of his lips. He had always liked you. 

You weren't sure what Lucius had gone off to do or where he was doing whatever exactly, but you relished in the freedom because you'd been eyeing Magical Menagerie the second you all floo-powdered into the shopping district and had been scheming to convince Lucius and Draco to take you there.

Glancing at Draco with softened eyes, he's looking a little bit low-spirited and the weight of the galleons makes one of his arms hang lower than the other, so you pull him along by his shorter hand and shoot him a smile that lights up your entire face and makes his heart oddly skip a beat.

'Come on, Draco,' You egg him on, scratching the inside of his palm with your nails because you know he is ticklish there, and you know it will cheer him up, even if only momentarily.

He lets out a giggle only you can hear but you don't pay much attention because when you arrive outside Magical Menagerie you're bewitched by the sight before you: a grey kitten small enough to fit into your hands locked in a cage at the storefront. You coo at it, immediately forgetting about the blonde boy awkwardly trailing behind you. 

'Wolfcat,' you read aloud the silver tag on the front of the rusted iron bars, 'female, 10 galleons,' 

You whip around to your best friend and grab his free hand, squeezing it in excitement for all that you've got. 

'Draco, how incredibly adorable she is!' you squeal, watching his stormy eyes soften at the sight before him.

He walks up to the front of the cage, poking a wiggling finger in through the bars to antagonise the creature and he is pleasantly surprised to find it rub its head against him, her yellow eyes big and glaring. 

'I suppose she is,' He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a sulking Y/N along to Flourish and Botts in spite of your silent protests in the form of your pouts and glances off into the distance.

You had spent the entire time shopping for school books talking Draco's ears off about the kitten from earlier, so much so he was having to double check you were picking up the right copies of the books as you had placed the wrong ones in the basket too many times.

'Oh Draco, she was the sweetest thing' you went on, lazily dropping a copy of 'Intermediate Transfiguration' into the basket you tasked Draco with carrying.

When the two of you waited patiently out of the front of Flourish and Botts just as you'd agreed prior, you continued chatting as Draco seemingly zoned out, a heavy head in his hand. He thought about a peculiar bit of conversation he had overheard in your family's manor just a mere few weeks before first year began: 'The family owl is enough trouble,' your father would groan, his fingers squeezing the top of his nose bridge.

Draco himself didn't bring one of the three permitted animals to Hogwarts because he himself thought it was all too much effort for a companion and he already had his hands full with Crabbe, Goyle and you, not that he minded having his hands full with the latter.

With a sudden thought, he handed you the pile of textbooks that mere moments ago sat in his lap, practically shoving them into your hands.

'Ow, Draco, that's heavy, what are you…' you trailed off, watching his retreating form as he ran in the opposite direction of the meeting point. 

'I'll be back soon!' he yelled back, but you were left all alone, confused and surrounded by hoards of strange witches and wizards.

Lucius finds you sitting on the stairs outside Flourish and Botts with a puffy pout on your lips, the stack of new books placed carelessly to your side. You've got your chin resting comfortably in your palms just as Draco did and you look to be in deep and confusing thought. He's got with him his own leather-bound book now clutched hard in his hands and he scans the rest of the crowd, but his son is no where to be seen. Pah. Of course. 

'Y/N, where is Draco?' He askes, lending you a firm hand to help you up off the steps and you carefully slip your hand in his and jolt up, dusting off your robes with a sheepish smile.

"I'm not sure, he left some minutes ago and went that w…' you trail off when you glance in the direction Draco ran, gasping as you see the devil himself running towards you, eyes wide as dinner plates when they land on his father whom by now has turned to see his son making a fool of himself. He is clutching in his arms something that appears to be squirming and you squint to try and make out what it is.

A grey wolfkitten lands into your arms and Draco is so out of breath from running when he looks at your dazed expression but he still manages a smirk as you press a well-earnt kiss to his rosy cheeks.

Lucius taps his son on his back softly with his walking cane, raising an eyebrow and managing his own twinge of a smile tantalising the corners of his lips. He watches his son proudly as he is watching you.

The blurs of the everyday witches and wizards spinning around you don't catch your eye because you're mesmerised by the creature in your arms; mesmerised by your best friend, too. You catch a glimpse of the blue sky and see within it the night. 

'I think I'll name her Cassiopeia,' your eyes twinkle like the constellation that falls from your lips and Draco watches the stars swirl within you.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're running through the hallways, Draco's hand in yours as you lead him to the Clocktower Courtyard. You are giggling and glancing back to him to make sure he's still keeping up with you and the opulent perfume in your hair blinds his senses. You shiver into him from the bitter winter breeze that stalks you through the castle and he grips your hand harder when he feels your vibrations.

You come to a stop when you're surrounded by greenery taking over archways, absorbing the glory of the courtyard with your eyes closed, taking in its sweet earthy aroma. An old water fountain lays in the middle of it all, guarded by four magnificent stone gargoyles on each corner. Moss and water has stained them a muddy grey, but your eyes are still enchanted from the view; you always liked coming here. 

'Why are we here at this dingy old fountain, Y/N?' Draco groans, stretching a gloved hand to lean on a gargoyle. You gasp as his disrespect and you click your tongue, making him flail his arms as he tries to regain his balance. 

'A dingy fountain?' You're scolding him like his mother usually does, repeating back his absurd view of the world around him. 'This isn't just any fountain,' you say, slithering around it, dancing your fingers from stone to stone, your gaze never leaving Draco's. 'Legend has it if you flick a knut into it while making a wish, it'll come true,'

 The plush rabbit earmuffs on your head rises slightly as you speak, and with a gentle sigh Draco tenderly adjusts your earmuffs back down while anxiously avoiding your eyes as he tenderly touches you.

'Is that so?' he mumbles. 

You nod eagerly at him, presenting two knuts in your gloved palm that you'd been saving in your pockets. He reluctantly takes one, giving you a strange look but you beam in elation anyway, enchanted by the glistening promises of the fountain. Draco holds the knut in his hand, his expression a mix of scepticism and curiosity. He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of his wish on his heart.

With a mischievous grin, you look into Draco's stormy eyes and say, 'Alright, on the count of three. One… two… three!' 

Simultaneously you both flick your knuts into the fountain, watching as they disappear beneath the surface with a small splash. You pat your flushed face with an awkward flutter of fingers, seeing if you feel any different, inspecting the grass below your feet just a little closer. The moment stretches, filled with anticipation and hope from the both of you. 

'What did you wish for?' your voice is barely above a croaky whisper but you're unable to contain your excitement and ask anyway.

Draco hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the fountain. He doesn't dare to admit he wished for you and the weight of his silence crushes you.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Gilderoy Lockhart's charm filled the air like a sweet perfume, ensnaring the hearts of the young Gryffindor girls who hung on his every word. With a flick of his cape, he shed the garment, letting it fall carelessly into the eager crowd below, who scrambled to catch a piece of the famed hero.

You, however, had never been taken by Lockhart's facade. Even in the best of times, you found his antics grating, feigning ignorance whenever your dorm-mates gushed over his supposed heroic feats. One night, out of curiosity, you had reluctantly flipped through his autographed autobiography, but each boastful comment and exaggerated deed only served to deepen your disdain. Despite your love for reading, you couldn't bring yourself to admire a story painted in lies and arrogance.

But as Draco Malfoy was summoned to the stage by Snape to duel Harry, you found yourself eagerly pushing through the crowd of Slytherins to get a better view. You cheered when Draco sent Harry flying across the stage and winced when the tables turned, but it was when Draco summoned the snake that your heart skipped a beat. Watching in horror as Potter seemingly controlled the creature with a strange tongue, you were pulled away from the midst of the chaos by Draco's urgent grip, and he whisked you into the safety of the Slytherin common room.

"That Potter is downright evil, I'm telling you!" Draco seethed, his frustration palpable as he slammed his fists onto the desk. He was a hurricane when he wanted to be, pacing around with a heavy energy, turning from a constellation into a supernova. Potter did this often to him, and although the others insisted he was masterfully exaggerating, you never seemed to think so - something wasn't right with Harry, and now this.

Motioning for him to join you on the worn leather couch, Draco sank down beside you, his head falling heavily into your lap as he let out a weary sigh. You gazed down at him with wide eyes, offering silent comfort as you gently traced circles on the back of his hand. You were always there to trace circles on the back of his hand.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

When Draco tells you he has made the Slytherin Quidditch Team you're sat on the banks of the black lake. The sun is dancing upon the surface of the water, casting reflections within it that didn't quite seem to match with the gentle surroundings you're enveloped in but you pay it no attention because as Draco's words sink in, the world around you fades into insignificance. 

The muggle book he despised that was grasped within your fingertips moments before hits the ground with a soft thump and the paper warps, staining with the green and brown of the ground. There is no room for a pregnant pause because before you can think of a congratulations worthy of Draco's achievements, you've already tackled him in a hug and twigs and dandelions have already intertwined in your hair and clothes; you're already grinning with glee, your faces already inches away and Draco has already licked his lips in anticipation but you press an adoring kiss to the side of his cheek and whisper to him how proud you are of him, in a way intended only for him to hear.

You don't notice the flash of disappointment in his eyes when your lips miss his, or how awkward his movements become. Nothing else matters, because your best friend is Slytherin's brand new Seeker and you can't possibly think of anything else.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Christmas morning brings with it a myriad of thoughtfully wrapped packages from your family and friends, appearing under an evergreen pine decorated with baubles and ribbons in the Slytherin common room. You yawn audibly, rushing to flatten the wrinkles out of your Christmas pyjamas before you run down the stairs from your dorm. Draco is already waiting for you in the common room, leaning patiently against the oak table, his hair slicked back and his own pyjamas ironed completely straight. When he spots you paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes soften and he stretches his arms out in anticipation of feeling you nuzzled into his chest.

The decision to spend Christmas at Hogwarts this year didn't come easy, and you recall with a smile how you and Draco were making fun of students who did just a mere few weeks ago - after all, what else shows your parents love you other than stuffing you away in school over the holidays? But between the entertainment from the Chamber of Secrets being opened and the winter travels your parents embarked on without you, you and Draco both agreed to spend winter this year together at Hogwarts - despite Narcissa and Lucius' best wishes. 

Crabbe and Goyle had also decided to stay the festive winter season to keep Draco and you company - despite your best wishes -  and they now watched with narrow eyes from the couch as your petite figure floated down the girl's staircase and straight into Draco's arms. When he twirled you around the room they audibly wretched in disgust, but you felt like a princess anyway and they became TV static in the background of your mind.

To find a gift for Draco did not come easy. The lead up to Winter break was spent with hours of frustration and punctilious reading in the castle library as you diligently worked to fabricate from the thin Yule air a charmed snow globe containing a singular, shared memory: 

Perched atop the dew-kissed grass surrounding the grandeur Malfoy Manor, air heavy with the scent of blooming night-flowers, the myriad of stars scattered across the heavens blinked like diamonds strewn upon midnight velvet. You saw within the stars a constellation that bore his name, the boy laying so arrantly next to you: Draco. And with a quiet reverence, you pointed upwards in awe, seeing within the stars him, and within him the very stars he had been named after. 

With a soft smile tugging on your lips, you direct Draco to the pine, breaking your gaze buoyantly when you lean down to cradle the parchment wrapped globe that sat so patiently beneath the tree, a swirl of memories replaying in it persistently under its cover. 

'For you,' you hand the package to him, biting your lip in anticipation, and you feel within you a twinge of constraint but your eyes gleam anyway, 'Merry Christmas, Draco.'

Draco couldn't break his gaze from your glowing face. As he tore the parchment away he did so neatly, mesmerised by the mere existence of you. The background of Christmas morning occupied by the calamities swirling in the black lake just outside the common room windows and the intrusive nature of his friends meant nothing to him because in that moment when his eyes found the memory you so tenderly illustrated within the snow globe, he could think of nothing else - and he didn’t want to.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're standing in the castle's greenhouse, its windows fogged up with humidity cut through by the slow paths of common snails as they journey into the unknown. The air outside is cool, Winter has started to take its course and the frost of its greedy air snaps; but inside the safe haven of the greenhouse the air is warm and pungent with earthly aromas. 

The vastness of the greenhouse is filled with magical plants and fungi alike stretched out before you but you're humming as you tend to a healthy collective of starthistle, mushing its millets between your fingers to release the powder contained within them. You carefully collected the fine dust in tiny cork bottles and placed them neatly in organised lines on the gardener's desk, just as tentatively asked by Madam Sprout. 

With a flick of your quill, you've checked off another task on the consciously written list and you whip around to work on the next task: watering the asphodel and pruning their tender leaves as needed. You'd been under the instructions of Madam Sprout for the last few weeks, working diligently in the greenhouse and taking care of the housekeeping for the hoards of students taking herbology. 

You couldn't quite put into words why the greenery drew you in, perhaps 

it was the sense of tranquility that enveloped you as you worked among the plants, or maybe it was the reward of nurturing life and watching it thrive under your care. Whatever the reason, the greenhouse had become your sanctuary, a place where you felt truly at peace and you'd often visited to escape the chaos of the castle.

As you carefully watered the asphodel and delicately pruned their leaves, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of nature. Each plant seemed to have its own unique personality, its own story to tell. Some were robust and hearty, while others were delicate and fragile, requiring extra care and attention.

Lost in a swirl of thoughts, you didn't notice the approach of another or the creak of the greenhouse doors until a familiar voice broke through the silence of the mist.

'Slaving away to pass herbology?' Draco coaxed, his tone teasing yet warm as he stepped into view from behind swarms of the alihotsy tree foliage.

You glanced up, offering him a smile as your hands continued to prune. Draco had taken to visiting you in the greenhouse whenever he could steal a moment away from his studies or Quidditch practice. Though he often teased you about your love for plants, you could've sworn to see genuine fondness nestled in-between the specks of blue in his eyes.

'Someone has to keep these plants in line,' you replied playfully, gesturing to the lush greenery around you.

Draco chuckled, stepping closer to inspect the asphodel with interest. 'I must admit, I would much rather attend Sprouts lessons than McGonagall's,'

'They're all the same anyway,' Draco grumbles, reaching to absentmindedly mush a leaf between the pads of his fingers.

'Are they?' You beckon, giving him a knowing stare as you pat the soil around the asphodel a little harder than before. 

'Potter,' he sneers, gaze lowering. Something must've happened. 

But instead of delving deeper into the matter, you decide to shift the conversation to something lighter, knowing it is best to not scratch at fresh wounds. 

"Well, since you're here, how about lending me a hand with the watering?" you suggest, flashing Draco a mischievous grin, your eyes sparkling as they always do.

Draco raises an eyebrow, but a playful smirk dances across his lips. "I suppose I could manage that," he concedes, rolling up his sleeves as he joins you at the watering cans.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco entered the Slytherin common room cursing the puffing lady in the painting, his steps quiet against the plush carpeting. Crabbe and Goyle had snuck out in the middle of the night to threaten house elves for leftovers again, despite Draco's orders. In spite of his best efforts, Snape had already caught his cronies, muttering scolding admonitions, and sending the trio back to the dorms; but not before confiscating a pile of blueberry muffins nestled into Crabbe and Goyle's arms.

The dim light of the flickering fire cast a warm glow over the room, and the henchmen were ordered upstairs, their heavy footsteps shaking the dungeons. But as Draco made his way upstairs after them, he couldn't help but notice a figure slumped over one of the tables, surrounded by a scattering of books and parchment.

Curiosity piqued, Draco approached, recognizing you, nestled amidst your study materials. Your head rested on your arms, your breathing steady and deep as sleep claimed you in the midst of your studies. Draco couldn't help but smile softly at the sight, finding a certain charm in your dedication to your studies, even if it meant falling asleep in the common room and spending less time with him.

With gentle hands, Draco carefully gathered your belongings, setting aside your books and parchment before lifting you into his arms. 'A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' he scoffed gently and to this you stirred slightly, murmuring soft nothings in your sleep, but didn't wake as Draco cradled you against his chest, your head nestling against his shoulder.

With practiced ease, Draco made his way through the common room towards the staircase leading to the girls dormitories, your soft purrs of sleep tickling his chest in a way that shortened his breathing and sent a flutter through his heart.

As he reached your dormitory door, Draco hesitated for a moment, admiring the peaceful expression on your sleeping face. Gently, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, carefully laying you down on your emerald bed and tucking the blankets around you.

For a moment, Draco lingered, watching you sleep with a soft smile before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving you to rest peacefully in the warmth of your bed.

Unbeknownst to him, Pansy lay awake in her own bed, observing the scene with narrowed eyes, her mind already scheming with endless possibilities. 

[gaymaramada]

HCs: Puss dealing with anxiety post-TLW (ft. insomnia)

As someone with GAD, anxiety is the worst at night. Falling asleep and/or staying asleep can be an absolute nightmare (no pun intended). That being said, how would our favorite fearless hero handle such a situation?

In the daytime, when Puss begins to feel that familiar tightness in his chest, distractions are everywhere. Perrito rambling on about god knows what, Kitty offering to spar with him, etc. But in the dark stillness of the night, when everyone else is asleep, there are fewer things the cat can comfort himself with. If he can’t fall asleep, he gets frustrated, which then starts the domino effect as the minutes turn to hours and he still can’t sleep.

With every minute he spends practically forcing himself to go to sleep, his nerves shoot more and more. Suddenly, he’s shaking almost violently, his body feeling cold yet no blanket is enough to warm him. His mind screams at him that something’s wrong, that he needs to get up, but he’s so, so tired and his body just doesn’t have the strength. He just wants to sleep.

One night it becomes too much to bear, and without thinking, Puss throws himself out of bed and steps out onto the main deck of their ship, desperately hoping to get some air. His body wracks with tremors and his eyes are wide but so heavy, but the idea of going back to his bed makes him want to throw up.

He’s not sure how long he’s out there, mindlessly pacing and wringing his paws, when he hears a soft, “Puss?”

His head whips around to see Kitty, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she walks over, “¿Qué te pasa?”

Puss wants to lie, the impulse familiar to him, but he’s just too exhausted to think of a fib right now, and instead holds himself pathetically as he shakes like a leaf, “…can’t sleep,”

There’s a moment of quiet, and then Kitty takes his paws into her own, stilling them to the best of her ability. When Puss meets her face, there’s warmth in her expression, and even more so: understanding.

Kitty takes him back into the cabin, and the next thing he knows, he’s lying with her in her bed. He almost protests, telling her he already tried that, it did nothing, until she presses her chest against his back and wraps her arms around him, purring softly.

And Puss is left to assume that the woman is some kind of enchantress, because the way her warmth envelops his body, chasing away the tremors until he finally stops shaking, is nothing short of magical.

Perrito hops up to join them, spinning around a few times before lying down with a deep sigh, his chin resting on Puss’s thigh.

And now, with his heartbeat finally slowing down — with Kitty’s purrs and murmured whispers of comfort and Perrito’s gentle weight on his leg, his tiny body moving up and down with every breath he takes — Puss’ mind begins to pleasantly cloud over, any and all worries that he may have had already long forgotten. He’s only lying down for five minutes before he finally slips into sleep.

[asktheartpone]

Day 17- Robot

Beep! Boop! Bop! Gad (@ask-gadzooks) comes in looking like a robot tonight! Now is that paint that he used or did his brother whip up a potion or spell to make his fur and feathers look like that?

[end-fall]

My fiance and I got a vr system and I'm so excited! It was mostly meant to give them a way to exercise that was safe for them, but honestly after playing pistol whip in melee mode for a bit this might just be the thing I was looking for too! I've always wanted to get into kickboxing or something like that because I crave punching things, but never could for disability reasons and today I did more of a workout then I've gad since highschool! I love it! I just need to find some good rhythm punching games and then I can channel my inner Jax and go to town

[ask-gadzooks]

Gad, how confident are you in a fight against the meanie Jessi-ka? She looks very strong and might give you a whipping instead!

@the-starry-traveller is taking bets on who would win.

I have invoked the dreaded words, "How bad could it possibly be".

@n-o-nv2, I think them's fighting words.

[yelenadelova]

Diagnose Nancy Wheeler do it

bet. I am ignoring my schoolwork for this because if I whip out the DSM-V for this then I basically am doing schoolwork, right?

Also necessary disclaimer: I'm not a professional psychologist and this is a fictional character so none of this is actually fact. These are just my silly little headcanons.

Also, I'm not as familiar with Nance as you are so if any of this is way off base let me know.

That all being said, in my (not) professional opinion Nancy Wheeler is such a GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) girlie. Maybe this is projecting because I am also a GAD girlie. But I feel like she is checking all the boxes. We see her worrying about a wide variety of stuff like school, the future, social life, family, etc. even before the trauma of the series. And she generally seems to have that restless worrisome nature that you often see with GAD.

Aside from that she also likely has PTSD from the events of the series (who in that show isn't traumatized at this point). You can definitely see the impact of the trauma in a variety of ways including both intrusive and avoidant symtpoms.

[kenobster]

6 and 13 for the unhinged star wars meme pls

Your Pal’s Star Wars Ask Game

Thank you for the ask friend!!!

6. What is your favorite Star Wars meme?

Lmao, I spent an unhealthy amount of time scrolling google images the other night to refresh my memory on the memes available. ‘Twas worth it because I remembered my absolute two favorites!!!

The I Could Fix Him meme applied to Anakin. Apparently I never reblogged this, but it’s been the subject of many of my conversations lmao.

Anything involving the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise. Pretty much any of them slay me dead, but here’s some notable examples:

The one about "Kids These Days"

The one where Anakin flunked a Jedi course

The one about proper theater performance etiquette 

And then of course the totally off-topic ones, like the heirloom seeds one

Honorable shoutouts go to any meme about Obi-Wan being a slut (example); this specific “unwell about this man” variant; ILU vs IDLSICARAIAIGE; the Jedi Council Chamber Master Tantrum memes (first example, second example); and the classic Anakin & Padme Four-Panel.

13. What is your earliest Star Wars memory?

Star Wars was pretty much my first hyperfixation (not sure which came first, that or LOTR). I had a very active imagination as a kid. So I was reading the Jedi Apprentice series by Jude Watson, and I, like any kid, played pretend that the Force was real. I got super into Jedi philosophy. In fact, I prided myself on being able to not cry out whenever I stubbed my toe or some such because I would acknowledge the pain and “let it wash over me” like in those books. My pain tolerance skyrocketed and lasts even to this day, haha. 

Sound kinda weird but generally like the typical fun kid stuff, right? Well, funny you should say that (at least, funny to me XD). Because believing in the Force (you know, the way kids do) meant that I also believed it was possible to sense when things go wrong. Which, when combined with my active imagination, meant that if kid!me got, say, a Bad Feeling, then kid!me would believe that something bad was actually happening (or that something bad was about to happen). And I’m pretty sure some of y’all are already whipping out your DSM-V copies and crossing off the criteria for Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). And you would be absolutely correct. 

One particular afternoon, while at swimming lessons, I (an 8-10 year old) got the Worst Bad Feeling Ever (which I now understand was a panic attack but really had no idea that's what it was and didn't know to tell anyone). Something felt seriously wrong to me. I actually had to stop swimming that day because I was terrified I was going to drown—which was freakishly unusual for me. Like, I can’t even begin to explain how much I do not have a fear of water. I not only love to swim... I was actually an incredibly good swimmer. At that point, my next step would have been to start competing! But that afternoon, I was terrified like I'd never been. 

Coincidentally, it turns out that my grandmother (who had been planning to surprise us by showing up at our swimming lessons that day) had gotten in a really bad car accident and needed to be taken to the ER by ambulance. She ended up fine, but… suffice to say, this experience did not help to slow down my growing belief in Force powers… nor my rapidly developing GAD. :’) 

I actually quit swimming not long after this experience, partly because I continued to have what kid!me didn’t know were breathing-related panic attacks while I swam. After a few weeks, the panic attacks stopped (for twenty years anyway), but by then, I had become interested in other things. Plus, I was going through a depressive episode at the time (again, kid!me was completely unaware of this and did not know to explain to anyone what was going on). Funnily enough, this depressive episode was also jumpstarted by a Jude Watson book. I literally remember sitting alone under a tree on the playground, crying to myself, and wondering what "the point of life" was... as an 8-10 year old. All because I’d just finished reading the book where Siri Tachi dies. Can’t make this shit up, hahaha.

Anyway, so those are my first memories of Star Wars. XD And I guess you can feel bad for me if u want, but personally I find it hilarious lol. In some way or another, I’ve always been fucked up about these men.

[seemslegitflapjacks]

Cold Blooded Murder.

This is just a short story. I’m currently deciding wether or not I actually like this concept enough to give it a follow up. Hope you guys enjoy it regardless!

Also for reference I changed the setting to Northern California where in borders Oregon.

Also this is not proofread I’ll probably get around to doing that in the future but right now I’m just getting over the flu lmao.

WARNING! This work contains depictions of murder, descriptions of death, and other disturbing things. This may not be the work for you. Watch yourself, I’m not your babysitter.

Jeff coughed, wailing as he laid one the cold ground. His face felt numb and swollen, he couldn’t breathe through his nose. The snow rapidly fell on his dying body as the night stretched on. He wasn’t sure how far off from the house he was. He rolled, listening closely to make sure they’d gone. He was terrified, maybe they’d come back to try and bury him. He regretted trying to play hero and stomping outside to try and protect his home. Thanks to his idiotic bravery he was dying.

Earlier that night he’d been tucked in the safety of his family’s home. It was December and Christmas had passed by then. His parents and brother were out until the following morning due to some party at an aunt’s home that Jeff had no interest in attending. He wasn’t a Christmas person, and had quite enough of turkey thanks to the surplus left after both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner.

It was nice having the house to himself for once. Especially on a peaceful winter night. The ambient noise of the fireplace and the gentle snowfall outside set that comfy cozy winter atmosphere. Jeff was by no means a winter person, he actually hated the cold. But if it meant he could have the whole house to himself for the night he was perfectly fine with it.

The blonde lounged on the couch accompanied by the family cat, who nested himself into a little sour-dough looking ball on his stomach. He had the TV playing, but wasn’t necessarily watching it since the snow caused the signal to wig out. Jeff was more so thinking on the events that had occurred the month prior on thanksgiving break with someone who he used to consider a buddy of his, a best friend even.

Randy Warren. That douche left a bad taste in his mouth after a little stunt he pulled at a tailgate party Jeff had hosted. The ginger had walked up all confident looking for a fight with Jeff for no reason. Jeff had remembered Randy having the balls to shove him into the side of his brand new Silverado to provoke him. The blonde’s instinct led him to breaking a beer bottle and threatening the crooked faced frat boy to get the fuck out of his tailgate before he turned his eyes into a bloody kaleidoscope. Thankfully that gad been enough to send Randy back to wherever he came from.

Now thinking about it, Jeff had no clue how he didn’t just resort to violence first thing. He figured it was the amount of beers he’d had beforehand, he was always said to be a very calm drunk. That also surprised him, Jeff had managed to chase Randy off with a broken beer bottle of all things, not even a good weapon. Part of him wanted to take pride in it, but the other was also disappointed in that stunt. On the bright side, police never came to question, so at least nobody snitched or was too drunk to remember.

Everything seemed fine, until he heard a loud thunk from the front door.

Jeff sat up, whipping his head around to the noise he heard. Then it happened again. It sounded like some dick was throwing rocks at his front door.

Well that jerk had another thing coming to him, and that was a metal bat.

The blonde stood up, marching to his room where he snatched the weapon, storming outside. All he could see was pitch black, the porch lights only allowing him to see maybe fifteen or so feet from where he was at the door.

“Who the fuck is that?!” He hollered loudly, but the only thing that came back was the echo of his voice bouncing off the trees.

Jeff glanced at the ground, catching footprints in the snow. Like a hound he followed them, confident with a bat alone he could stick it to whoever thought it was a funny idea to mess with him.

After a few minutes of following the footprints he came to the tree line, squinting to see. Nothing.

Just as he turned around to go back inside, he felt something sharp sink into his back.

Jeff screamed and attempted to swing his bat, successful in hitting one of the perps. However he failed to notice the accomplice on his blindside who snatched him by his hair and threw him down into the snow.

Jeff could feel weight on top of him, and looked to see the faces of people he would only expect in a sick dream.

Randy and Troy.

“Bitch.” Was the only thing Randy said before he began to stab him.

Screams erupted from him as the pair stabbed him, Troy even going as far as to hit Jeff a couple times with the bat.

Jeff tried to fight back, he really did. It was like his hands just couldn’t coordinate properly with what his brain was desperately telling them to do.

After a heated two minutes of half a struggle and a ton of screaming, Randy and Troy deemed it done. Jeff wasn’t going to live long enough for an ambulance to come. The two jogged off, leaving their former friend turned victim to bleed out in the snow.

All of that led to Jeff where he laid now. Cold, dying, and laying in snow colored by his own blood. He waited until he couldn’t hear them, desperately praying they wouldn’t come back to bury him or hack him up or to do whatever sick things killers did to the bodies. Once he was sure that they’d gone, Jeff adjusted himself to be able to crawl.

He first tried his best to wash off his bloody hands in the snow, he didn’t want to make his mom upset that he got blood on eveything. After that he began his crawl away from the tree line. His head felt so fuzzy, his body was numb and throbbing at the same time.

Jeff had only managed to crawl about twenty feet from the driveway before succumbing to blood loss and dying in the snow.

On the morning of his family’s return, Liu had found him.

[fragrancefish]

Wavo Gad

Wavo Diceclay

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Wavo Paid

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Wavo Weekend

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[trauma-healingcore]

Welcome!

In an effort to think more positively, i've decided to make a blog about healing. You can call me/us V, and we use he/they.

I detest the idea of going into my specific medical history but for the purposes of this blog, a lot of my content may center around what plagues my brain.

Diagnosed with: ADHD, OCD, (C)PTSD, GAD, Depression

My therapist agrees I have a dissociative disorder, (work in progress) and I suspect I am autistic as well.

I follow from my main blog!

I am also a new fan of precure which helps me cope in a positve way so you may see some of that here as well! When cure whip said "You can't have my feelings!" it really resonated with me, so she is the blog mascot!

[hhbridgertonau]

10 - Uproot

Not the chapter you're looking for? Check the Masterlist!

Gab explored the gardens, turning east in hopes to go unnoticed by the king’s party. He came across a flowering courtyard adjacent to a lake. He could see Jellie in the distance: a white ghost moving rapidly against the green shrubs and hedges. When Gab finally caught up to her, she had trudged into the waters until she was waist deep, her mint green dress darkening with lake water. Her shoulders shook from the growing cold. The stillness of the lake was unnerving, especially against the pleasant weather and the pristine powdered sky. Jellie seemed to stare into the distance, beyond the vastness of moss and mirrors.

“What are you doing?” Gab shouted.

“Thinking of drowning,” she shouted back. “Don’t try to stop me. If you tell them, I’ll haunt you from the grave.”

“You are welcome to try,” he shed off his coat, tossing it onto the grass, and rolled up his sleeves. If she tried to drown herself, he would drag her out. “You are in enough trouble as it is.”

Her head whipped around to face him. “If Papa loved me, he wouldn’t do this,” her voice cracked. “Does he not love me anymore?”

“Ainsworth wants you to be safe, provided for—”

“As some stranger’s wife,” Jellie scoffed. “And in exchange I am to be subjected to the prisons of motherhood? Did it not even once cross anyone’s mind to ask if I liked children? If I had other plans for myself aside from yours?”

Gad sighed. “At least give his highness a chance. Perhaps he will not be as dreadful as you think he is,”

“And if I don’t like him?”

“Ainsworth will expect you to bear with it, perhaps you may find something else to be happy about.” There was the option of divorce, but Gab doubted Jellie would want to engage in scandal if it meant tarnishing Ainsworth’s good name. “Surely even you understand how society is unkind to unmarried women—”

”For God’s sake Gab, put yourself in my shoes. Put yourself in Daleon’s shoes. Do you think Daleon would be happy if Dancel told her to marry someone else she did not want?”

“What does Da- Miss Morningstar have to do with this?”

She crossed her arms. “If you won’t think about it the way I feel, maybe you will for someone you actually care about,”

Gab sneered. “I don’t care about her,”

“That’s not what your face said at tea this afternoon,” her distressed expression changed to something of mockery, as if she had forgotten her own strife for just a spell. “You’re jealous of Tomo, it’s clear as day. You haven’t taken your eyes off her since you saw them this morning.”

His upper lip twitched at the memory of Tomo kissing Daleon’s hand. Gab admitted he was less focused on the discussion of business at tea, and more on the ghastly display of interest and affection. That did not mean he was jealous. What nonsense.

“We are not talking about her, we are talking about you,” his chest began to close in on him, like a vise. A familiar image of pink began to front in his mind.

“Wouldn’t you want Daleon to be happy?”

“I—”

The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, but he did not want to reveal anything. Not to Jellie, not to anyone. He didn’t even want to face it himself; that growing feeling of familiarity. But he could control it, that he was sure of. Feelings muddled the mind, and confused one’s purpose. Daleon’s persistence of the importance of her feelings was enough to drive a man mad. It frustrated Gab, and yet-

“As troublesome as she is. I would not want her to suffer,”

“If I marry, I am going to suffer. I’ll suffer at the hands of my husband, my in-laws, even Papa will be upset if I don’t do as a woman should. I want to make Papa happy,” she picked at the lace of her soaked gloves. “But not like this. I don’t want to be kept in a cage for the rest of my life. Please Gab, don’t make me do this. Please.”

She bit her lip, but it did little to prevent the downward tug of her lips, and the blooming redness in her eyes and cheeks.

Gab didn’t know what to feel knowing he was equally powerless in this situation. But more precisely, he could not understand nor empathize with Jellie at all. He felt sympathy, perhaps, as one would for a family member.

Jellie did not move, and Gab knew she wasn’t going to come quietly. He marched into the waters, uncaring for the water, seeping into his boots, his pants, and shirt. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and hooked the other under her knees, lifting her until she was in his arms, and water dripped steadily from the hems of her gown. Now that brute force was involved, Jellie did not resist, but perhaps she had simply grown too tired, emotionally and physically. Still, a soaked dress and her body weight proved to be a struggle. Better her alive than dead, Gab supposed.

He set her on her feet the moment they were out of the water. He picked up his coat and draped it over her shaking shoulders.

“You can cry on the way back if you’re so petulant,” he said. “But you better stop in the presence of company.”

As Gab gently guided her away, Jellie’s lips trembled and her eyes misted over. She buried her head in the crook of his neck as he guided her out. Her quiet sniffling and hot tears on his neck pierced through the quiet afternoon.

By the time they returned, Gab was as much a sopping mess himself, chilled to the bone that his teeth began to chatter behind his closed lips. Tomo graciously whisked them to separate rooms for a warm bath. Gab would have been honored for the opportunity - if he could admit the reason for it with something actually honorable.

Alone in the large and fairly lit room surrounded by small Greek statues of goddesses whose names he could not recall, he sunk deeper into the bronze tub until the milky water covered his shoulders. By now, a servant might have informed Ainsworth of what happened. He could only imagine the kind of reprimand he would receive, or better yet, the sermon. Gab was admittedly used to them, but he was probably more ashamed of the fact that he couldn’t keep Jellie under control. Something told him that things were only going to get worse. Gods, today was horrid.

“Gab,” Daleon’s voice from beyond the door almost made him jump. “Are you alright?”

“I am well enough,” he shouted, just enough for her to hear. Surely she realized that he was in a rather vulnerable position at the moment? He rose from the tub and reached for a towel hanging on a rack next to it, quickly securing it around his waist. “Is his highness with you?”

“He’s gone to fetch something for Jellie, and a servant has been sent to Stewart Hall for your spare clothes. I… I thought I could keep you company. Is that not good?”

No. He’d rather be alone for the next few minutes, thinking about how to deal with the coming days. Without question, he would be the liaison and chaperon between their family and Prince Lakas’. And if it was to be, there was a possibility that he and Prince Tomo would meet often, possibly with Daleon by his side. His chest began to feel hollow, as if there were gas expanding inside him until there was no room to breathe.

“With all due respect, Miss Morningstar, you have a terrible tendency of getting yourself involved in matters that aren’t your own,” he could feel his head getting lighter with the heat of shame and rage rising in him.

He could see it: him standing beside Jellie trying to make conversation on her behalf, Daleon and Tomo within his line of sight - a perfectly normal image, and yet it bothered him, so much so that the more he thought of it, the more it dug into him like roots thriving and reaching deep, deep into the earth, taking hold of him with such insignificant festering tendrils that could easily be uprooted.

“I- I’m sorry. I’m simply…worried for you…and Jellie. I’m worried for what’s going to happen to her,”

He breathed deeply to calm himself, stepping out of the tub before his toes pruned. He grabbed a second towel for his hair.

“I suppose you have nothing better to do than meddle in the affairs of other families,” he said, sarcasm coating his tone.

“… I know it’s none of my business. But you and Jellie are my friends. I would not wish to see you distraught. And as a lady, I can’t help but put myself in her shoes…That’s all,”

He sighed. “She’s going to be alright. I’ll make sure of it,”

“…And you?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“Are you…truly alright with all of this? Aren’t you worried for what will happen to her?”

He wasn’t. In his eyes, it would do everyone a little service if Jellie actually married. She would be someone else’s problem - unless some scandal would happen with her future husband, then Jellie would be in some terrible spot of trouble.

He found it ironic that Daleon would feign concern for him. No one else ever cared about how he felt. They dragged him out of the comfort of his home and into the society his parents no longer needed; throwing him into gatherings where people tried to insert themselves into his personal affairs, Daleon especially. Though he had no one to blame for himself for her presence, that didn’t mean she could treat him like an open book, or pry into what he felt or thought.

There was a hush at the door, followed by a knock. “Your grace, your spare clothes have arrived,”

The door opened a sliver, allowing in a servant Gab recognized from Stewart Hall. After he dressed, he left to find the prince, only to see him with Daleon outside the chamber.

“Your highness, I am most grateful for the kindness you have bestowed,”

Tomo raised a hand. “Think nothing of it, your grace. Miss Morningstar here was as worried as I was,”

She turned pink at the mention of her, and there it was again: the roots crawling deep into him, clutching at his chest and stomach. “I thank you, but it was highly unnecessary,”

“On the contrary, your grace, I believe it is an honor to be acquainted with such a wonderful lady,”

Gab’s fingers twitched at his words. “Yes, I share the sentiment,”

Tomo took Daleon’s hand and affectionately patted it, her face brightening at the gesture. That image of Daleon’s hand in someone else’s would etch itself into him for days on end. And in his good conscience, now that the forward path was clear, he could not allow those same baseless, ridiculous thoughts to consume him.

By the good graces of the sun setting in the west, and with night fast approaching, his majesty bid his fair guests farewell. He told Gab to come see him on the following week, naturally, with Jellie in tow.

“Your grace!”

Gab and his company were about to board their carriage when Daleon called him. Honestly, how daft can a woman be, calling for a man’s attention when there were people watching? He clenched his jaw and approached her, out of earshot of both their carriages, yet still in perfect view of them.

“What on good earth could you possibly want now?”

Daleon, taken aback by his reproach, stepped back. “I simply hoped to wish you off—”

“Again, highly unnecessary,” he retorted. He took a deep breath before adding on. “You cannot afford to put me and or anyone else above you now.”

She blinked in confusion. “What—”

“Your friendship with me distracts you,” as much as it apparently distracted him, he wanted to add. “If that is the case, perhaps it is best if we go our separate ways now.”

Daleon’s mouth opened and closed, and he could see the poor thing trying to make sense of his words with little avail. “What are you trying to say?”

He breathed out through his nose. “I believe it’s best if we terminate our agreement,”

There was a pause. “But…Jellie isn’t married yet.”

“Her engagement to Prince Lakas is set in stone. And you must set your sights on getting yourself engaged to Prince Tomo,”

She shook her head, her eyes widening with bewilderment at Gab’s words. “It’s still too soon to tell,”

His emotions began to bubble up inside him, spilling forth from his lips as he continued.

“This display of so-called concern is unbecoming, for multiple reasons I might add. If you will not think for yourself, then I will. If you fail to maintain the prince’s hand now, your reputation and desirability will diminish should he choose to end this season without you as his wife. Even if I am by your side, if we do not marry, which we both admit we would never do, your dream will never be realized. People will find you undesirable then, Daleon. Do you want that?”

Her lips tensed and straightened. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to speak with you as a friend,”

“A friendship between us will not work,” he said with bitterness.

Daleon’s eyes began to gleam and twinkle, not with the naive brightness he once associated them with, but with clear, crystal sorrow.

“So, this is goodbye?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “It is for the best. For what it was worth, Daleon, my time with you was…lovely,”

Gab was sure he would never forget her heartbroken expression. Her face was going to remain engraved in his memory for the rest of his days. And while the rational part of him wished to forget, he had a sick, twisted feeling his heart would not.

[bestreasonstowriterecordreviews]

GAD WHIP In A Room 12” (ever/never - 2017)

Practitioners of rural angloid dark arts with acid tongued talk/sing vox, low end dominatrix scaffolding and scabrous guitar roosting, Gad Whip is yet another excellent find by the ever/never empire. This label should have a holiday party or something, they’d be the talk of the town.

[ever-never-records]

Zero budget diy video for title track on upcoming 12′‘ on ervis/nervous . OUT Oct.13/

[thedappleddragon]

Dream