#I Am Not Responsible for them choosing to hurt or disregard me!

[void-tiger]

Warning: Sandman Spoilers.

(I’d plop a Read More here except I can never remember how to do that in mobile, mobile is much friendlier in layout to how my brain functions than the full web-on-computer will ever be, and Readmores flatout break my ability to edit, say, tags after I hit that Post button.)

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Right. Okay.

…I think what irritates me about the Endless Siblings?

Delirium Can Do No Wrong Because She Baby (which is true. We dunno what shit happened to her that forced her to shift from Delight to Delirium, but we know it was BAD) even when she torments mortals for her Games (just less maliciously than Desire and Despair; it’s debatable if she’s fully Aware of the consequence of what she’s doing), even when Delirium’s (understandable!) demand to have Destruction back actively kills people!

Or Destruction—who LEFT and almost demands the others to leave as well despite Not All Of Them CAN Leave (and to be frank? Him abandoning his post despite having Creation as his counter-domain is probably why, say, warfare became SO destructive SO rapidly followed by a technological boom)—and literally planted what might as well have been BOMBS in his closest friends if any of his siblings tried to find him.

Or Desire—who fucks around and NEVER has to find out. Who actively targets Dream and blames Dream for their bad relationship with their older brother…and never takes any accountability for their own part in it and continued active antagonism and actively trying to DESTROY Dream either by spilling family blood and igniting the Kindly Ones’ Wrath and using Dream’s Own Function against him…or by risking Dream shifting into something Not Dream Any Longer. (And the absolute Irony of Desire being the one (1) sibling to EVER help, then gets pissed off and antagonizes further. Gee, Desire. I wonder why Dream doesn’t ask and if he asks you he asks you last!)

Or Despair. Who plays games beyond her function, and this aspect of Despair seemingly ignoring her counter-function of Hope, and is a co-conspirator albeit passive co-conspirator in Desire’s torment of Dream in much the same way as a pair of school-aged Mean Girls

Or Destiny. Who so rarely shows that he cares, uses his Book as a Defense Mechanism Excuse in a similar way as Dream does his Pride (and being prickly by-nature but most of his standoffish-ness is honestly a defense against Holding ALL Of Subconscious + His Family’s A Bunch Of Assholes (Too)). And if he does anything “outside his Book” or “finally acts within the Book” …he denies it’s because he cares. It’s to berate for showing up in jeans or someone else leaving their stuff in his room (even when someone else left it)

Or Death. Who had her own Edgelord Phase that lasted for eons before her younger siblings even existed. Who never once actually came to help yet berates Dream for not asking her when he wound up in Serious Trouble…again. (And not by his own fault, unless you want to count fixing a past mistake seriously draining him to the point he could he snared by Desire’s (and Despair’s but mostly Desire’s) Trap.)

…They’re ALL Assholes, Jared!

But only ONE of them is held to a standard none of the rest of them even bother to live to and gets actively punished for it at every turn, even when he tries to reach out, do better. (And yes, Morpheus!Dream has some serious fuckups. But. So do the rest of them. And he’s kinda the only one held accountable for them + some things that really aren’t his fault or are actively traumatic and he doesn’t really have a way to safely recover from without, y’know, affecting the Dreaming and all the dreamers! And it’s not for a lack of trying or continuing to try, despite his natural stubbornness, prickliness, introversion, and avoidance!)

[melsmodernlife]

So I am really surprised and humbled that my post about Crowley always being there to protect Aziraphale has generated so much interest!

Today I wanted to dive deeper into why I think these two behave the way they do. And while nobody has accused me of hating on Aziraphale, I do want to take this opportunity to clarify that I love him and Crowley quite equally! I just believe that both show signs of trauma responses and as such, here is a content warning/trigger warning that this post will discuss signs/symptoms of trauma and abuse. Please note that I am not an expert in this topic, but I speak from experience and some information I have learned over the years. Also, of course, this is all theory and meant for discussion purposes.

Let's start with Crowley.

To me, Crowley shows signs of Abandonment Trauma from his Fall.

Signs of PTSD from Abandonment can include:

Fear of being left behind or abandoned.

Low self-esteem and feelings of self-worth.

Anxiety and insecurity.

Depression.

Feelings of helplessness, inadequacy, being “not enough.”

“Checking out” of relationships or friendships, feeling unattached or emotionally unavailable to connect.

Holding on to a relationship, even if it is unhealthy or abusive, so as to avoid any feelings of abandonment or loneliness.

Fear of conflict within a relationship, or avoiding the conflict at all costs.

Reacting to situations on one extreme or the other, for example, reacting too much or not at all to difficult situations.

Emotional flashbacks, leading to feelings of panic or intense emotional distress.

Sound familiar? Consider the extreme moods that Crowley exhibits (smoking and generating lightning perhaps?). His reactions when he and Aziraphale DO have a fight. His unwillingness to share the impact that "rescuing" Aziraphale has on him/the amount of danger his is actually putting himself into. His solution to issues being to runaway together instead of fixing the problem.

Moving on to Aziraphale..

To me, Aziraphale shows signs of Trauma from Emotional Abuse by Heaven.

Common emotional abuse tactics may include the following behaviors:

Frequent and extreme criticism

Gaslighting

Name-calling

Threatening harm

Belittling words or behaviors

Encouraging the target to give everything up for them (the abuser) or their relationship

Disregard for personal boundaries

While there are many responses to emotional abuse, victims may show signs of hypervigilance, and extreme worry that something bad is going to happen to them.

I see the abuse in the way that the Archangels talk to Aziraphale. They mock him for choosing to eat and drink, they threaten Crowley, call him soft, pop in whenever they want, gaslight his concerns, etc. You can see Aziraphale's response in how he is constantly worried about getting caught fraternizing with Crowley. He's always worried that Heaven is watching them or will check up on their activities. I think this explains why he reacts so irritably to Crowley's desire to run away and tends to verbally clap back to him. It's why he makes quips about his side versus the bad guys.

Interestingly, those with either of these traumas can often have issues with trusting people so it speaks volumes how much our ineffable duo trust each other.

So yeah. I think that explains WHY they behave and react the way they do. They've both been hurt and while they seek solace with each other, the problem is they haven't fixed their problems.

NOTE: If you or someone you know is in crisis, contact the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or dial 911 in case of emergency.

[comicaurora]

I don't wanna stick my head into an ongoing argument especially as a non-artist but it frustrated me how quickly you got dismissed out of hand despite. Idk. Also being a content creator and artist who relies on people seeing and engaging with your work, both with Aurora and OSP

I was not expecting a full adult blogger whose posts I like and respect to publicly dunk on me for things I did not say and opinions I do not hold because my two-sentence post about something unrelated pinged the little "this is about me so I am justified to scold" sensor, and I was not expecting them to double down into condescension, and then I was further disappointed to conclude that they probably blocked me, because my two attempts at reblogging with a de-escalation and apology vanished into the tumblr error dimension and I didn't have it in me to rewrite the whole thing a third time.

Tumblr's reading comprehension is poor for sure, but I think the larger problem is how the platform is optimized for sweeping statements to be read as intensely personal. If a generalized statement crosses my dash that could be read as in some way negative or dismissive of me or an identity I hold, it's easy to feel like there's nothing in the world but me and that poster purposefully sniping at me personally. If that were the reality, maybe it would be fine for me to retaliate. But the fact is, that poster doesn't know me, the post is presumably about what it says it's about, and reading farther into it would require context it's impossible for me to know.

In this case, for instance, this person doesn't seem to know anything about me, so they don't know that I am myself an artist, that I know a little something about building an audience, and that I enjoy having a platform that enables me to draw attention to lesser-known but extremely high quality work. Instead, they saw my flippant two-post "kinda rude and entitled when this very specific rude thing happens" and decided I was an ignorant child who needed schooling because I was being rude and dismissive to the struggles of them and theirs.

I know why this happens. Tumblr, for all its size, feels intensely personal. It feels significantly worse when it actually GETS personal, like their responses were to me. Their post makes good points and I'm glad it's raising awareness for lesser-known artists and workers in need of support, but I don't enjoy being turned into a strawman and paraded for ridicule, especially by someone whose experience on this platform runs deeper than mine. Frankly, I expected them to be experienced enough to be kind.

It feels very shitty, obviously. Like many neurodivergent people - not to play that card, but, ya know - I am very, very used to being misunderstood and then bullied or ridiculed for whatever misinterpretation is funniest or sounds the snappiest for a crowd. I am prone to overexplaining to avoid this - in case this post didn't make that obvious already. Of course, overexplaining is not a healthy solution and it doesn't even work. It took me a very long time to even begin to accept that ultimately I had no control.

The conclusion I eventually came to, after years of trying to find the perfect way to comport myself so I would never, ever be hurt in this way again, is that there is no way to do that. People can always choose to read you in the most uncharitable way possible, to disregard your personhood and turn you into a posterboy for whatever crack or hot take they want to use you for. However, the flawed premise I was operating under was that, if I failed to be 100% understood, I would deserve whatever shittiness followed because I had failed to prevent it.

And I don't. Nobody does, ever. Pain is not a thing made okay by deserving. I understand why they reacted the way they did to me, but what they did was wrong. It was unnecessarily cruel and harsh and it came unprovoked. I feel bad right now because someone hurt me because they thought it was morally righteous to do so, and even if I didn't comport myself flawlessly and beyond reproach, I didn't deserve to be hurt.

So I feel shitty right now, but I managed to have a nice evening regardless and hopefully I can digest this bad mood fast enough that I stop dreading checking my notes. Thanks to the people who unprompted sent me cute pet pics.

[damianbugs]

i know you love the dynamics between bruce and his kids as they are, but alot of it is also due to iffy writing lmao.

in your IDEAL scenario, what would bruce parenting look like? would he still be as abusive as he is in canon? CAN he even change?

the short answer to "can bruce change?" is... no 😭 but let me try and explain!

its not because of who bruce is as a character or batman as a hero, but because it is basically impossible for a popular character like him to have any consistent writing. we've seen it before where he's a great father and mentor for a few issues, and then less than six months later he does something horrific and takes ten steps back in that regard.

it's why this conversation (to me) is a very complicated one, because i can't for sure say who bruce is as a person without taking into consideration the literal decades of almost hundreds of different writers, runs and universes. of course, he has made some terrible and very harmful decisions, but again, so much context is required to truly comprehend those situations. that doesn't remove the fact that he has hurt his children, both accidentally and purposefully.

do i think bruce is a bad dad in canon? no. do i think he is a good dad? also no. depending on where in time you're reading him, who's writing him etc — he acts like completely different people. my head spins trying to come up with a simple answer to this otherwise simple question.

a good example i think is the current zdarsky batman run. arguably some of the best bruce wayne as a father introspection we've had in a LONG TIME, the story doing well to remove the 'child soldiers' narrative that frank miller infamously popularised to main continuity despite it not being from the canon timeline. but who's to say this sort of perspective will last before being completely disregarded by the next writer?

it's no secret i pick and choose what i (personally) view as canon, my own personal bias against Certain writers making me ignore their writing entirely, but i am also not ignorant to the fact that bruce can and desperately NEEDS to improve as a parent.

sorry for rambling but back to your original question about what my ideal parent bruce would like and to that it's two very simple words; honest and communicative.

that's really all he needs to do. almost all his shitty decisions can be linked back to him lying or purposely evading the truth and just refusing to communicate to his children, which in turn makes them not want to communicate with him. this then leads to much larger problems and much more devastating outcomes.

bruce needs to realise that his children don't owe him anything more than the very little he's given them emotionally. this whole "soldier-team" mentality that he adopts when he's batman filters into his dynamics with them as family and as bruce wayne, and that is why he keeps hurting them and not taking responsibility for it.

they should not be vigilantes before they are his children. but to do that, writers also need to make the distinction that batman is also bruce wayne, but that is an entirely different conversation.

again, current batman writing (mark waid batman vs robin, zdarsky batman, ram v detective comics, tom taylor batman etc) seems very promising in giving bruce a chance to be a better father, so we can only hope it continues this way. maybe, we'll even get bruce actually holding himself accountable one day.

i try not to discuss this topic too much because in my experience it's far too nuanced to explain in short text posts on the internet but i hope this answered your questions <3

[sumire-no-nikki]

Grow Into

It has been a rainy week over here. Only 8 days into February and I feel like I’ve lived four lives already. It has been awfully busy. I’m doing a million things and planning on doing even more. I’m not complaining though. I feel very present and engaged with every project I’m working on. It has been a very productive year so far.

I’m here in my study, lounging on my reading chair and sipping coffee (inexplicably at almost 19:00! don't worry it's decaf!). I feel enveloped by the silence as I reflect on the past couple of days that have been quiet on my end. It’s not out of sadness or anything painful like that. There are just periods of time when I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I've always been this way, I think. My inner world just feels so much more enticing that it doesn’t feel necessary to venture out. I’m thankful that my friends and loved ones understand this. I suppose an extrovert might read this and think, oh how pitiful. But there’s nothing sad about it. I feel very nourished swimming in the lake of my own mind. There’s never anything to explain or justify, and I feel thoroughly fulfilled going about my days and getting things done this way.

At any rate I think I’m coming out of it now. I feel like my internal gauge is reading “ready to socialize again” so I’m crawling out of my personal wonderland to say hello.

I will say that something rather shocking happened to me recently. Shocking, sad in a way, but ultimately triumphant.

To make a long story short, I found out that someone had wronged me, for the millionth time, despite all the reassurances and chances in the world. It was something juvenile enough on its own. And it wasn’t the act itself that was upsetting to me, but the intention and effort to lie about it. This person hurt me with the attempt to misrepresent facts, and in doing so has communicated to me that they don’t think I’m important or worthy of consideration. When it mattered, they would choose to run me over. With every “I’m sorry” and every “I forgive you,” my affection for this person is diluted.

In the past, I took incidents like this very personally. When I wasn’t chosen by a friend group, it was some sort of judgment against me. When my mother compared me to other girls, it was an indication of my shortcomings. I always felt alone. Everyone else had an ally while I was left to starve for someone to fight my corner, to acknowledge my worth and defend it. I saw another person’s inability to value me as my personal responsibility. I thought I had to work hard to earn someone’s attention and investment. And because this is inevitably a fool’s errand, the result was always the same. I renewed my self hatred with every disappointment. I was sure there was something inherently unlovable about me.

But in the moment in which the truth hesitantly came out from this person, I saw very clearly that I had nothing to do with it. That while it was hurtful to me, while it was a blatant disregard of my own wellbeing, there was nothing I could have done to prevent this. No amount of loving harder, understanding better, or caring deeper would have changed the situation. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the other person.

While the conversation was unfolding, I was struck by the growth I noticed in myself. I have myself. I am my greatest ally. Yes, this person hurt me, but it doesn’t matter in the end. I will not be consumed by someone else’s failings. These were the thoughts I had, and I haven’t felt this proud of myself in a long time.

I don’t need their consideration if it’s not something they can provide. You wouldn’t go to the desert for snow after all. And that’s not a judgement against them. They are who they are. They can only be who they are. They make their choices. We’re just all different. And I’m at peace with that because I have all that I need right here. I have me.

I saw myself in that moment, reading someone’s apologies for something they’ve shown to not have any intention of changing or correcting, and felt such possessiveness over my heart and mind. I saw the woman I am and thought, you’re mine. You’re mine and I will take care of you. I smiled even after that shocking confrontation—all the unpleasantness just slid off my back. I held myself. The love I had been looking for all my life was right there. I was enough.

Perhaps this is very elementary to some people. But it meant a lot to hear it come from me. Not as an advice, not from a therapist, not from a self help book. It came from me because I wanted to tell myself that I love the girl I was, the woman I am and will be after all.

I was listening to a political podcast last week and the host brought up the fact that strong people are not those who can maintain an extended period of stability, but those who can go through all manner of changes. There’s a focus on making sure we don’t disrupt our lives as much as possible. We enter adulthood seeking a city to claim as ours, a career to specialize in, a partner to settle down with. A divergence from that path is widely considered as a bad thing, or worse, a failure. But I’m more convinced now than ever that if things don’t go well for me, I’ll be just fine anyway. I’m not worried anymore. I’m shedding the years of anxiety and control, and I’m giving way to a version of myself that’s even more liberated, resilient. I am growing into strength. I will keep on going no matter what. It’s in my nature.

Anyway, here are two books I’ve started reading recently. Water by John Boyle which is a book I bought last year while I was in Bath, and the other one is Nobody, Somebody, Anybody by Kelly McClorey. Both books are on my 24 books for 2024. I realized I hadn’t read one book from the list in January as I was feeling rather spontaneous then, so I’ve got to catch up with the list this month. I also plan to reread The Searcher by Tana French at the end of the month because the sequel novel is coming out first week of March and I want to be prepared. As a Tana French-stan (as the young ones say these days—how do you do fellow kids? lol) I cannot tell you just how excited I am for this new book. I’ve pre-ordered a signed copy and I am shaking with anticipation just typing this. Tana French novels represent a very specific feeling and time in my life, so I always welcome the opportunity to jump back into her written world. This is funny, now that I think about it, because her books are actually pretty damn bleak. Oh well!

Reading has been going in a somewhat slower pace, in comparison to how it was in the last quarter of last year. I’m fine with it so long as I’m on track to complete my annual goal. I do wish I would have more time to just devour more books though. Someone on Reddit calculated how many books they have left to read if they live up to a certain age and read a certain amount of books annually. That mildly alarmed me. I obviously have a handful of decades ahead of me (if everything goes well lol) but to have a concrete number of books you’ve got left to read in your lifetime is such an existential experience. But it’s a bit silly too, honestly, because all sorts of things could happen. You could die tomorrow, you could live longer than expected. You just never know.

Here’s a recent addition to the vinyl collection. It’s the deluxe edition of Billie Marten’s first album on colored vinyl. I have a copy of the first pressing from 2016, and I will say the main differences here is that the first pressing came in a nice sturdy textured cardboard gatefold, and the booklet has more pages and artwork. The packaging just feels more luxurious. It’s on a standard black vinyl and it sounds just fine. The repress on the other hand is an MOV pressing, which means it’s digitally mastered and not by the original label. The audio quality is very clean though, and it comes with deluxe edition tracks. It’s also numbered and limited to only 1000 copies. I plugged in my headphones into the receiver the other day to do an up close listening and it was a delight to listen to. It was like being in an amphitheater. I’m so happy to have this in my collection, relieved I snagged one before the scalpers hoard all the copies and start selling it for $300 a piece lmao. (Ah, vinyl collecting is just god awful nowadays… but that’s a topic for another day.)

Alright, that’s all for now. Here’s a Faye Webster song I’ve been revisiting a lot lately. It makes me want to be in silky pjs and walk around my house with a cup of coffee whenever I listen to this song. It feels like gentle morning sunshine, don’t you think?

I’m going to read now until my eyelids can’t stay open. I’m very cosy here. I hope you’re also keeping cosy wherever you are!

Toodeloo!

[l-lend]

Do you think that, perhaps, the reason you are not as popular or payed attention to as you'd like to be is because of your response to not getting what you want?

Do you think sending your friends to attack people who reject your requests fosters a loving community?

Do you think calling people out for the smallest mistakes without properly looking at all the facts or trying to properly solve conflict makes you a saint?

Do you think giving unsolicited writing and characterization advice makes you superior and that you're really teaching anyone anything?

Do you think that just because you've surrounded yourself with people just as toxic as you that you are somehow valid in attacking anyone who upsets you with intent to hurt them?

Do you truly think that pretending to be so kind and sweet while spreading poison with your actions planted in envy and hate is contributing anything more than a growing number of people who see you as nothing more than the fandom-wide bully?

Because I have some news for you, if you do.

Alright Anon, let's talk about this point by point.

My response to not getting what I want. You're gonna have to be a bit more specific. If you're referring to my spirals during depressive episodes then yeah that's shitty behavior and I'm in therapy for that. Oddly enough, they're a lot less severe.

In regards to 'sending my friends to fight for my honor', I don't dispatch my friends like flying monkeys. They have the mental faculties about them to make their own decisions. If they act out it's on their own accord and I do not and have not condoned such behavior.

So onto the writing and characterization advice. I don't think it makes me superior, but sometimes it helps to have fresh eyes on a project. In fact I welcome constructive criticism in my own works. In addition, my advice can always be disregarded. That's the great part about advice: you can take it or leave it. If a writer wants to just see my reblog as just a happy little reblog and not read anything further than that, who am I to tell them no?

And onto *check notes* being toxic and the "toxic" company I keep. Look, if you and I have issues, we can talk. I don't need nor ask anyone to be a mouthpiece for me. I speak pretty decently on my own. As for my homies, I don't think they're toxic. They're pretty nice, but it's an opinion. Just like you think your homies are pretty swell, Anon. While we're here let's talk on the "intent to hurt". Now, for everyone seeing this I have it narrowed down to two people. I'll black out names and I can release the screenshots of the DMs where I've been shitty. I'm also happy to apologize for my behavior and attempt to move forward if the individuals so choose. But as for my judgement, people can draw their own conclusions. If I'm the one in the wrong here so be it.

Finally, the master mind fandom-wide bully comment. Just as with the last statement above, I'll let people draw their conclusions about me. If I'm this bully, so be it. However, if it's been deemed that I am innocent in this, are you and your friends going to apologize Anon? Getting an idea of your identity, I believe you and your cohorts also disapprove of sending anon hate, am I correct in that statement? In conclusion, I welcome anyone to pass their judgement on me, but I ask you get to know me first. It's only fair right?

I never claim to be flawless. I have my bad days just like anyone else, so Anon I hope you're not living in a glass house with all these stones you're throwing my way. I'm free to talk it out if you need to vent it out some more. Bring your friends too; I'll pass over my Discord handle and you all can take turns spitting on me and telling me how awful I am.

I hope this can help you and your friends heal and forgive, Anon. I'm not saying forget because I have acted shitty in the past and I need to remember that so I can be better than those times. But I hope you and your friends can move on to bigger, brighter, and better things. It's my hope for you at least.

[adhbabey]

My abuser was definitely mentally ill in a similar way to me, but pathologizing her behavior won't change the fact that she still abused me and didn't seek help.

She was someone that I desperately wanted to help, I wanted her to smile, I wanted her to be happy. I would sacrifice my own self worth just for her and I thought that would make her care. But you can't save someone that doesn't want to be saved, and you can't help someone that isn't actively seeking help themselves.

Because y'know, I thought she died, I talked her back from suicide multiple times, I was fucking devastated to think she was gone. And that could probably be a symptom of a mental illness, but she didn't seek help, she pushed away every instance of me wanting to be closer, and it doesn't matter if she was mentally ill. People should take responsibility for the way they cause other people harm, especially harm towards themselves.

And I forgave her, every single time. I forgave her for the way she disregarded me. I forgave her because she was just traumatized, she was mentally ill, she didn't mean it, because she was abused and hurt and shit when she was young. But that's not an excuse for taking advantage of someone and abusing them and neglecting them. I made a trillion and one excuses for her, and it didn't make it better. Knowing she was mentally ill and traumatized didn't stop the suffering that I faced.

The only thing that helped was confronting what she did to me, that I am angry and hurt, and holding onto those feelings until I could ultimately leave. Because if you see someone like that, and they don't get help, it's either that they can't or they just want to blame everyone and everything else for their own fucking shitty behavior.

She fucking hated it when I called her out and fought her and was openly honest about the way she treated me. She was fucking pissed and told me to move the fuck on, and that I was just bringing shit up over nothing and that I just was overreacting and making everything a big deal. It was a fucking big deal. And I still hold onto my anger because I cannot move on. I will keep holding onto it until I can process it. Until I feel safe enough to exist and not being haunted by that fucking bitch.

So if you guys need to learn ANYTHING from my experience, know that you can't save everyone and pathologizing abusive behavior does absolutely fucking nothing. It won't make you feel better, it won't make the trauma go away, it won't make you heal, it just gives the damn abuser an excuse to be a piece of shit. They chose to hurt you, so don't choose to hurt innocent people either.

Because your healing journey is about you, not about them. Don't center their bullshit and behavior in your life. It doesn't matter what they went through or what they're struggling with. You do not have to empathize with your abuser. So don't try to justify what they did to you. Unless you want to make fucking amends and help that person get better, then leave their bullshit behind.

I know what it's like to want to give a label to your experience and abuse, but they are not abusers because they are mentally ill, they are abusers because they don't fucking care that it hurts you. Find someone who will actually listen to you and turn towards you. Focus on your healing journey and not theirs. They can handle it. This is how you can move on. Holding them accountable for their shit or leaving their ass in the dust, or both. (Also loving yourself, but that's when you're actually starting to heal).

[sweetbunpura]

Meeting the Headmistress.

Here it is, I wrote a fic featuring my OC’s that’s based on the Headmistress Rosehearts AU that @adrianasunderworld and @mangacupcake (sorry for the @’s just in case). The AU has held my intresest and given me these ideas as to how my OC’s would react hearing or interacting with Mother Rosehearts.

Enjoy!

Also OC bios will be added in at the end of the fic.

No response.

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

“Excuse me.”

“Excuse me.”

A single ear flick but no response.

“Excuse me, young man!”

J.J. growled and opened his eye, peering down at the woman standing at the base of the tree who was looking up at him with folded arms and a tapping foot. Her short hair a shade of red that reminded J.J. of his dorm leader, she wore a dark red pants suit with a white undershirt. Her large silver eyes stared holes into the student.

“What.” Came the near snarl from the 4th year.

The woman looked offended. “How dare you speak to me in that tone.”

“How else am I gonna speak to you?” He snapped, red and black eyes glaring at her.

“In a proper and respectful tone,” She placed a hand over her chest in a way that mimicked Riddle. “Is the correct way to address your headmistress.”

“Headmistress?” A thin black eyebrow raised as J.J. moved away from the upper trunk his back was against. “You ain’t our headmaster.”

She smiled almost smugly. “I am now and you shall address me as Headmistress Rosehearts.”

‘Rosehearts... shit, she’s Riddle’s mother.’ J.J. nonverbally groaned and felt his body slump it’s way out of the tree, where he landed on his feet in front of her.

Rosehearts grimaced. “Must you be so uncouth?” 

“Where’s Crowley?”

“Gone. The students here need to be properly taught and he wasn’t doing his job. Which is evident because you’re the only 4th year still on campus.”

“Evan came back, didn’t he? So why am I being singled out?”

“Because you’re the only one with a track record.”

J.J. snorted. “So you know me?”

“I read your file. You’ve caused quite a few problems, for the school and for my son.”

The fae opened his mouth but shut it, choosing instead not to say anything about Riddle’s overblot. “So, if that’s the case, why come to me?”

“I’m introducing myself to all the dorms here and you weren’t at the meeting Riddle called.”

J.J. shrugged. “Whoops.”

“Such flagrant disregard for the rules!” She screeched, causing J.J. to flinch from the sound. “How could your parents have raised a child such as yourself? Surely they must not know a thing about parenting.”

“Hey.” The 4th year glared. “My parents raised me just fine, thank you very much. And I don’t take kindly to someone insulting them.”

“It’s not an insult if it’s fact.”

J.J. felt something inside him snap and he let out a growl, smoke passing through his clenched teeth. “Listen here-”

“Mother.” Riddle has chosen at that time to appear. “Shouldn’t you be off to the other dorms?”

“I had to find this ruffian first and reprimand him for his rule breaking. Shouldn’t you have taught him better by now, Riddle?”

“I’m sorry, but he’s been... very adamantly against the rules. I’m teaching him to respect them more.” Riddle sent J.J. a look, eyes telling him to calm down before he sets anything on fire. “Go on and apologize to the Headmistress, J.J.”

J.J. crosses his arms in a huff and snarls out a “Sorry.”

Rosehearts seems to take it as she announces she’s leaving and makes her way to the Heartslabyul mirror. The pair watch as she departs before Riddle turns to J.J.

“J-”

“Don’t. Nothing you say could make what she said hurt any less.”  His eyes moved towards his dorm leader. “Then again... like mother, like son.” He turned on his heel and made his way into the dorm, completely ignoring Riddle’s attempts to call him back.

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

“Heard the new Headmistress is causing problems for the dorm leaders.”

“I heard she forced Shroud to start attending classes without his tablet.”

Xavier listened to the various whispers around him as he looked through a selection of books at the library. He thumbed through a few of them before the whispers got too distracting and he left. Dusk had hit Sage Island as the 1st year began his trek back to the Scarbia dorm. Students passed by him, a few called his name which he gave a simple wave and a smile in return. Passing by Sam’s shop, a familiar voice called out to him. 

“Yo Xav!”

Xavier stopped and turned, seeing someone sprint up towards him from the shop. His long navy hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he wore the dorm uniform of Octavinelle. His mouth was stretched in a wide smile, showing up his rose of sharp teeth. His gray eyes were bright and happy as he slowly approached him.

“Hello, Rascal. Are you picking up stuff for the Lounge?”

“Nah, I just got off and I didn’t have time to change cause I forgot to pick something up from Sam’s.” Rascal waved a bag up before looping an arm around Xavier as best as he could. “Where ya coming back from?”

“The Library. I was studying but the whispers got too much for me.”

“Eh, I guess. Dude,” Rascal leaned forward. “The Headmistress is a total dictator though. All this stuff she’s making the ghosts and the teachers do, like yikes man.”

“Hmm.”

“I’d hate to have a mom like that for real. I mean my mom can get a little too much sometimes, but Rosehearts has to deal with that every time he comes home and stuff.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Xavier sighed. “I’d like to go an hour without thinking about this stuff.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Rascal leaned away from him and the two walked in silence for a bit before he spoke up again. “Hey, wanna come over and play some cards or play games or-”

“You two!”

The pair of them froze as a yell came from behind them, followed by the telltale sounds of heels clicking against the pavement. Both of them slowly turned to face Headmistress Rosehearts in all her fiery glory.

“Mr. Gallucci.” She spoke, hands on hips as she stared at Rascal.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Why did I hear a report of you casting illusion spells on students to make them see giant spiders?”

“Just a prank.” Rascal laughed but stopped upon seeing Roseheart’s glare grow in intensity. 

“I’ve come to confiscate what’s in the bag.”

“Uh, no.” Rascal put the bag behind him. “That’s my business and not yours.”

“How dare you!”

“Ma’am.” Xavier stepped in. “His brother asked him to pick up some medicine due to him not feeling good. If we’re late in delivering it-”

“And you are?”

“Huh?” Xavier blinked in confusion at being interrupted. “X-Xavier Soria.”

“Soria... Soria...” She frowned. “You’re the son of the Ruffians who live to the south of Queendom, aren’t you?”

“R-Ruffians? My parents aren’t anything of the sort, ma’am.”

“I beg to differ. That stuff they call ‘music’ is nothing more than attracting the bad side of the Queedom. The riff raff side.” 

“My parents make wonderful sounding music, ma’am. They bring joy and happiness to the people who listen.”

“And poison their brains. They can spend their time being more productive.”

Xavier frowned and closed his purple eyes in an effort to calm himself down. He felt Rascal reach out and grab his hand.

“If that’s what you think of my family, Headmistress, then I am sad to hear that. Now if you’ll excuse me and Rascal, we’ll be on our way back to our dorms.” Xavier all but pulled Rascal away and made a fast track towards the hall of mirrors.

“Xav-”

“How dare she speak that way about my family.” He muttered. “They’ve done amazing things for the Queendom, donated to multiple charities, and did a non-profit concert to help those in need. And then she insults them, right to their son’s face.” 

“Xavier, calm down.”

Xavier sighed and let go of Rascal’s hand, choosing instead to drag them through his light brown hair and fiddle with his braid. “I’m sorry, she just... had no right.”

“Want to come over? Or I’ll come over to your place, maybe we could hold our own mini concert?”

“I’d... I’d like that.”

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

“She’s getting out of hand.” Rouge muttered to themselves as they watched Rosehearts reprimand a set of Savanaclaw students in the hallway. “Wish someone would just put her in her place already.”

They turned on their heel and quickly walked away before they could be spotted by the Headmistress. Alast they weren’t fast enough as they heard their name being called.

“Rouge Willow.”

“Damnit.” Their ears fell as they turned to face her. “Yes?”

“You and the other one attached to you-”

“Ruggie.”

“Yes, him. Are the pair of you not Kingscholar’s caretakers?”

“Caretaker is a strong word.” Rouge crossed their arms as their tail flicked behind them. “Why?”

“It seems he didn’t heed my warning about going to classes.”

“To be honest, miss, not even Ruggie and I can get him to do that on a good day.”

She made a sound of exaggeration. “I see. So it would seem I have to cancel any Spelldrive-”

“Woah, woah, cancel?” Rouge blinked. “All because Leona ain’t going to class? Ain’t that a little extreme?”

“One must be punished for not heeding when warned.”

“But one person?”

“Yes. This is how it works in the real world, Willow.”

“Yeah but don’t punish the whole pack for one bad hunter.”

She stared at them. “You and Bucchi said the exact same thing.”

“Cause we’re both right.”

“Sure, you are. I may refrain from shutting down the club if you and Bucchi get Kingscholar to his classes. Am I understood?”

“....Crystal.” 

“Perfect, and one more thing. You and Bucchi get proper fitting uniforms.”

“This is all we could afford, Ruggie and I don’t come from a place of money, yea know.” 

“NRC is a prestigious school, they don’t need people like you and Bucchi weighing it down.”

 Rouge let out a faint growl and their ears fell sideways as they watched her walk away. “Yeah, she needs to go.”

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

Goliath adjusted the flowers in his vase while he hummed to himself. Next to him, sitting on the floor, was Night. The Diasomnia student, snapped photo after photo of the various flowers the pair of them had managed to find on this last hike the mountain lovers club had gone through. The pair had already bid a farewell to Jade as he had left earlier to attend to stuff at the Lounge. 

“Goliath?” Night’s soft voice broke through the peaceful night in the botanical garden.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of the new headmaster?”

“I have not spoken to her yet, but from what Rascal has told me, she is not good.”

“I’ve heard bad things too. But I can’t speak ill of her.”

“Mmmh.” Goliath put the finishing touches on his arrangement and snapped a picture of it. “Then don’t. I’ve heard she’s been catching students who talk bad about her and giving them detention.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I heard it from a few in my dorm.”

“I see...”

The pair began to pack everything up and headed to the hall of mirrors, quietly chatting to one another as they did.

“You two are certainly out late. I believe the curfew was an hour again.”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Rosehearts sood in front of them, blocking their path back home. Night shrank back, and fearfully glanced up at Goliath.

“Our apologies, Headmistress, we were busy finishing up some projects. It shall not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” She paused and stared at him. “You wouldn’t happen to be the brother of one Rascal Gallucci, would you?”

“I am.” Goliath spoke firmly.

“Atleast your parents raised one of their sons correctly.”

Goliath gripped the vase in his hands and took a deep breath. “Our parents raised us to be ourselves, Headmistress.”

“Well your brother was raised wrongly it would seem.”

Goliath handed Night the vase before he could break it. “Forgive me for speaking up, but perhaps every parent is different in how they raise their children. Some raise theirs to be perfect while others raise their children to be happy.”

Her eyes narrowed, sensing the jab at her parental skills. “What was that, Mr. Gallucci?”

“Simply using an example, clearly not one that happens to be true after all.”

Night hid his smile behind the vase, knowing that Goliath was basically insulting Rosehearts to her face but in a more polite way.

“Get back to your dorms.” Was all she said as she stormed off past them.

“Goliath, that was mean.” Night teased and handed the vase back to him.

“And yet it was the truth. I can see why Rascal does not like her, insulting families left and right without a care in the world. I simply feel bad for Riddle now, to live with such an unpleasant mother.”

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

Evan crossed his legs in the plush chair in the Pomefiore Lounge as he listened to the complaints of his fellow 4th year.

“And then Rosehearts, Riddle by the way, says he’s basically training me to follow the rules!” Evan ducked as J.J.’s tail lashed around. “And sevens! It made me so pissed, I could've transformed right there and bitten her head clean off!”

“Think of the mess that would’ve caused, my dear.”

“Yeah, but who would’ve missed her?”

“Riddle, the Queedom once they learned their prestigious doctor was murdered by a dragon fae.” 

“Oh please, I’d probably be doing him a favor.”

“You’re saying that because you’re angry.”

J.J. growled. “And how are you so calm about this!?”

“Because I haven’t had a negative interaction with her yet.”

“Cause you haven’t run into the she-devil.”

“Oh I have, multiple times in fact. She seems to believe I'll help her whip the school into shape. How naïve of her.” Evan messed with his long white braid that hung over the side of his right shoulder. “I work for no one but myself.”

“There’s the manipulative asshole.” J.J. slumped down in the chair across from Evan and used his tail to point at him. “Can’t you and Schoenheit get rid of her? Or hell even Draconia or Kingshcolar? You guys got lawyers, they’re princes. Surely you can figure something out.”

“Regrettably, she hasn’t broken any major laws yet. She’s keeping everything above the books, not a single hair out of place.”

“So...” The fae leaned forward. “We just gotta make her do something illegal, right?”

“J.J., at the rate she’s going, I predict she’s bound to hit a lawsuit somewhere. I mean the worst she could do is shut off all communication we have with the outside world.”

“Ain’t that illegal?”

“For us? No. For the 2nd and 1st years? maybe, given they still need to be able to contact their guardians in case something goes wrong.” Evan smiled. “And my, have things gone wrong in our absence. Truly a shame, since it looks like the school won’t contact the guardians about the things happening here.”

“Damn, even out on tour, you never missed a beat, did you?”

“J.J., no one messes with my cute underclassmen and my darling without something happening to them in return.”

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

Night Alexander

Rouge Willow

Xavier Soria

Rascal Gallucci

Goliath Gallucci

J.J. Tulgey

Evan Montgomery

[oblivionlotus]

Guilt trip to followers to play with your OC isn't cool that's the real t x

//I'm sorry but I don't guilt-trip anyone into doing anything, Nonny. I'm not responsible for how you choose to perceive what I say but I can tell you that my intention is not what you think. Let's get down to brass tacks & be really transparent so you can understand my meaning.

I feel guilty about leaving peeps hanging. I also feel guilty about switching muses to focus on, especially when a certain muse is a long-standing one that's built up adoration from those that write with them. All I can do is apologise to those writers but I refuse to cage myself or write for the sake of others & overlook my wants. When I say I feel overshadowed by a muse of mine, I mean that I personally feel that muse is superior to my other muses & want to create a muse that I'm confident in. They're like my own personal standard for what I can achieve if I work hard. I want to do my best & break my own insecurity.

I don't want others to feel guilty about loving a certain muse of mine - I encourage them to love any muse I write & hope they continue to support their preferred muse. I don't want pity follows or interaction. I don't expect follows or interaction from anyone. Everyone is free to do whatever they are comfortable doing, no offence taken. I want only those interested in interaction to follow me but even if someone follows me just as a means of saying they support my endeavour, I'm grateful.

Personally, I as a writer want to follow & interact with all my friends & writing partners across all their blogs - if I enjoy their writing, I want to write with them regardless of muses. I'm invested in their talent & couldn't care less about the packaging, if you get me. That's the person I am. C'est la vie. We're all different. We all write according to our comfort & interest levels & hey, maybe two muses just aren't compatible regardless of the muns. Maybe a mun has a preferred verse or canon. Maybe they have an issue with a faceclaim or a character's personality. There's so many reasons why they may not write with me & I respect that, even without actually knowing their reasons. I don't hound them demanding to know why - if anything, I respect the boundary I sense & limit / cease interaction in case of any of the above.

Yes, at first it's a little hurtful for me emotionally because I love my writing partners &, as stated, want to write with them no matter what. Do I hold a grudge though? No. I get over myself & carry on. I can't control them. I pour my love on them with the muse they prefer. But again, I know that others are different; they might, subconscious or not, dislike a muse just because that muse is currently being focused on. So I apologise & ask them not to do this. Any issue they have shouldn't be made into a personal vendetta & it shouldn't reflect on a character. For instance, I can love a writer (professional or not) but dislike a character of theirs - but that doesn't make me disregard the writer's skill or my love for them.

Hopefully I've cleared up your misconception & gotten my intent across clearly. I suppose the actual really real tea here is this: it's rude to assume or deface someone's integrity based on an ill-conceived assumption or otherwise condemn them with only your opinion as evidence. But whoop, you're entitled to an opinion just as I'm entitled to supply the facts as I see them.

Thank you,

Max x

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi! I am an ISFP and I have a girl who is on my floor who is an INTP. We have talked a few times and hung out once or twice, but were never close. All of a sudden, she acts like we are best friends. Everytime she sees me she hugs and follows me, and she randomly comes into my room very often without asking me. When she does, she touches everything in me and my roommates room because she said she wishes she had our room, and she sits on my roommates bed with shoes on and touches her stuff even though I tell her to not do so and express uncomfortableness.

The girl spends a long time in our room and I can’t have her leave until there’s a situation where she’s forced to. Internally, I get really agitated and annoyed each time, especially because I don’t get along too well with her, but I don’t know how to tell her. I’ve been trying to be distant and show discomfort, but I don’t think anything changes.

She recently saw and followed me and my friend into my room, where she proceeded to do what she usually does. After she left to get something, my friend and roommate who came (i told her the girl was on her bed + other things she did) were complaining, and we all expressed that we were upset. I think she might have heard us, because the next times me or my roommate or friend saw her she didn’t say anything and looked away.

Hours later, she texted me that she knew I was annoyed with her and apologized. She only texted me though, and not my roommate or friend. However, I am worried that if I respond and say it’s okay, she will continue and/or want to be close friend. I feel really bad because I don’t know if I would fare well in a friendship. I was told that she’s really clingy but also mean/cold to people that “get on her bad side.” What should I do? I see her often because she is in my dorm. Thank you so much.

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

Reflect and figure out what is stopping you from doing what you know is the right thing to do.

- Is it because you fear hurting her? What about the ways in which she hurts you, e.g., by not respecting your needs, your space, and your boundaries? If she were just a shy/awkward person with poor social skills, then it would be understandable to be empathetic and grant her some leeway. However, she has continually shown a disregard for you, completely ignoring your requests to change problematic behavior. You don't owe her anything. You don't experience any benefits but only drawbacks from being in a relationship with her. You have every right to choose your friends, don't you?

- Is it because you fear negative ramifications? Does she have the inclination and power to make your life difficult? If there's no tangible threat, there's no reason to worry. If she does go out of her way to hurt people, what do you think she would do? Has she done things in the past that indicate a pattern of retaliatory behavior? Sizing up the threat properly would allow you to plan or prepare yourself better.

- Is it because you fear being disliked? If so, it's your problem to resolve. Do you really want to spend your life trying to please and appease people all the time, unable to handle any kind of negativity? You have to accept the reality that you can't be friends with everyone.

Everyone's got their own way of interpreting things and they sometimes misinterpret situations due to irrational hangups and triggers. You're not responsible for anyone's hangups and triggers except your own. Obviously, it's not good to purposely aggravate people. However, if someone is determined to dislike you for spurious reasons, it's out of your hands. All you can do is behave ethically and let go of the things you can't control. Try your best to not be mean, but remember that there is no way to communicate such that you never offend anyone. Miscommunications happen and it's up to you to handle them gracefully.

You could leave things as they are now, let the feelings die out, with no further communication other than what is demanded by civility. You could speak calmly and straightforwardly about how the relationship isn't working for you, giving reasons such as how you have nothing in common or how her behavior doesn't align with your needs and boundaries, etc.

People naturally come together and move apart for a variety of reasons. To have good communication skills means that you don't blow things out of proportion or get drawn into melodrama. If necessary, work on your communication skills, see the article on Communicating through Conflicts.

[wounds-seen-and-unseen]

Augusnippets Day 10: Path of Hurt- Begging for Mercy.

For @augusnippets day 10: Path of Hurt- Begging for Mercy

This snippet takes place in the same universe as my snippets for days 2, 5, and 8.

Word Count: 783 words.

There is fairly gratuitous use of French in this snippet, as well as a word of High Valyrian. Translations will be right above the cut.

TW: Humiliation, self-sacrifice, graphic description of physical injury, begging.

Translations:

French

S’il vous plait, je vous en supplie. Ce n’est qu’un enfant.- Please, I beg of you. He’s just a child.

Je parle francais.- I speak French.

Recommence, ce que tu as fais a mon ami.- Continue/do it again, what you were doing to my friend.

Bien.- Fine

Mais, qu’est ce que tu as à donner à la place?- But, what do you have to give in his place?

Je ne sais pas. Mais, je suis son commandant, sa sécurite est de ma- I don’t know. But, I am his commander, his safety is my-

Rien.- Nothing

Alors mon ami prendra ce qu’il peut.- Then, my friend will take what he can.

Please correct me if my French is wrong, I am not well-versed in the language, what I have used here is with liberal help of Google Translate.

High Valyrian

Ilagon: Prostrate. I mean to use it in the way of (I) prostrate myself (before you).

Tagging @ba-bhump @dreamer-in-sleep @starlightasteria

Snippet under the cut.

Jaime hates that he cannot stop them, not for want of trying. He has tried many times to bodily shield his men from their captors’ cruel mercies, but they only ever found it funny and shove him aside. As cold, tired and hungry as he is, he’s barely able to move, try as he might.

He tries, still, for they were beating Podrick, the boy who Jaime has long suspected is younger than 18, just a child. A hungry, sick, child. Jaime’s eyes widen as the assailant draws a loaded gun, knowing he must do something, but at a loss on what to do.

A Lannister does not bend. Father’s voice reminds him. You are responsible for the welfare of your men, Lt. Colonel Lannister, reminds his Colonel’s voice in tandem.

Jaime has always learnt that honour stands above all, that he is a soldier and a leader. For his men, if Jaime’s Lannister pride has to fall, so be it.

Jaime tries to blink past the fever that is blurring his vision. Reaches out and manages to hold the booted feet of the man kicking Podrick. The man looks at Jaime, his hands almost cradling the boots. “Please,” Jaime breathes hoarsely, trying to communicate his desperate plea. The man does not understand, or perhaps he does, simply choosing to disregard Jaime, for he moves his leg.

Jaime clutches on all the tighter. “S’il vous plait.” He tries in French. “S’il vous plait, je vous en supplie. Ce n’est qu’un enfant.” Podrick is turning wide eyes up at him, gasping painful breaths. Addam, his closest friend, has closed his eyes and looks likely to plug his ears as well. The other man, Jaime’s hand still curled around his foot, merely looks curious. Lost of any other options, Jaime reaches for his limited knowledge of Valyrian. “Ilagon,” he says, bowing his head as well, swallowing back the humiliation he is helpless against, fighting against the blush he knows would be visible on his cheeks. The man’s face clears, and his hands are just the wrong side of gentle as he pries Jaime’s shaking hand off his boot.

Jaime manages to smile at Podrick, helping the boy up. For lack on any other supplies, he ties his old handkerchief to staunch the bleeding wound on the boy’s shoulder. “Sir…” he hesitates. “My Lord, thank you. I am sorry for…” Jaime keeps his hand on the boy’s head. “It is nothing to be sorry for. I am responsible for your protection, and what little I can do, I will.”

The booted man enters once more, accompanied by a friend. Jaime blinks up at them, moving in front of Podrick. His friend comes forward. “Je parle francais.” He says simply. Jaime tenses, waiting.

“Recommence, ce que tu as fais a mon ami.” He commands. Do it again, what you did to my friend. Podrick flinches, looking down. Jaime swallows, but nods silently. When he tries to stand, his shaky, bruised legs do not support his weight, and he falls to his knees. Both of the men in front of him look faintly amused. Jaime grits his teeth against the pain, supporting himself on his hands and knees. Just as Jaime is swallowing the last of his pride and dragging himself forward in a slow crawl, the booted man comes forward, stopping just in front of Jaime’s hand, gun held just above Jaime’s head.

Jaime does not hesitate. He cannot afford to. He reaches out and holds the man’s left boot in his right hand, supporting himself in a kneel with his left, head bowed, gaze on the ground. “S’il vous plait.” he breathes, voice cracking. “S’il vous plait, je vous en supplie. Ce n’est qu’un enfant.” The man turns to his friend. Their words float above Jaime’s head until he recognises the French. “Bien,” he says, and Jaime almost collapses in sheer relief.

“Mer”- before he finishes even a word, the other man continues to speak. “Mais, qu’est ce que tu as à donner à la place?” But, what do you have to give in his place? Jaime answers with the only words he can. “Je ne sais pas. Mais, je suis son commandant, sa sécurite est de ma”- the man cuts him off. “Qu’est ce que tu as á donner á la place?” Jaime, heart in his throat, answers in a whisper. “Rien.” Nothing. “Alors mon ami prendra ce qu’il peut.” his translator replies with a soft smile, nodding at his friend.

The man’s foot simply presses harder than Jaime can silently withstand. He can see Addam’s eyes fly open at the crunch of breaking bone, and Jaime screams, unable to stop, to bear the pain.

[hussyknee]

I'd forgotten the extent of the Bat fandom's Bruce Wayne apologia. I like reading fic about Bruce being a good father, but I have nothing but blistering disdain for people who insist he's anything like it in canon. I've never forgotten how one of them told me that "even though Bruce had his faults", he must be a good father for the kids to love and admire him so much, because "these aren't stupid kids".

One of the first things I learned as a child was to dread being loved and cared for, because of how much I had to pay for it. My father loved us more than anything, and because he was an avoidant, egotistical, controlling man, nearly all iterations of that love were traumatic, suffocating and toxic. I would know he loved us in my bones while starving for his affection and praise, and being sliced open by his disapproval and lack of acknowledgement. When my siblings and I were visibly wounded and angry because of him, people would tell us sorrowfully that he didn't mean it, he was just worried for us, of course he felt bad for hurting us even though it wasn't in his nature to say it. We must always remember how much he really cares, despite his terrible words and silences and casual disregard of our own feelings.

And so I grew into an adult accepting that I didn't matter. My feelings and needs are always supposed to be afterthoughts to someone else's, my hurts and injustices my own to manage. I would never be the kind of person who gets apologies and gratitude. Any care, consideration or compliment I do receive is a debt I must repay by giving up my boundaries. And no matter what, compensating for someone else's flaws is my responsibility. I am responsible for everyone else's failures, for my parents' failures, for my failure to make do with what little I'm given. Because that is the least I can do to repay the grace of being loved.

I see so much of that in the Batkids. Dick kills himself trying to look after everyone in the world. Jason willingly gives up his soul to do what is necessary to protect lives. Tim makes a living sacrifice of himself, not knowing how to live except for others. Cassandra is driven by the need to atone for mistakes she made before she knew right from wrong. Damian is terrified of failure, of not deserving the love and acceptance of his father, every mistake a strike against his worth as a son and heir.

It's so gaslighting when people say that this is not love, this could never be love. Love is only worth as much as it's expression, a light filtered through the prism of the person doing the loving. A good love chooses to look beyond its own fears and ego, talks to you in gentle and honest words, treats you with trust and respect, and prioritizes your confidence and happiness. A bad love focuses on its own fears and anxieties, and becomes jealous and paranoid. You become a possession to keep safe according to its own wishes, even at the expense of your self-respect and happiness.

When you measure love's worth on the strength of the emotion, rather than the impact of its actions and words, you just make victims of the voiceless and vulnerable. When you measure love in the weight of things unsaid and undone, you make it cheap enough to barter with nothing.

[supernovafeather]

Just To Be Sure (18+)

Duke Leto Atreides x F!Doctor!Reader

Warnings : smut, prostate exam (anal fingering, male receiving), glove kink, slight dom/sub dynamic, mention of prostate cancer, mention of needle.

Bodies can be considered as sacred, dead, or alive. Mythologies from all over the galaxy emphasize its importance between the flesh dwelling an entity to supreme gods made of several animals. Mortals worship the ones looking healthy or attractive and despise the ones looking unhealthy and unattractive. Tombs, rituals, the way of mourning the ones who passed away vary with no end, evolve, but still have the aim of showing respect to them. Some people choose to bury. Some to turn them into ashes. Some are punctual cannibals to devour this sacred flesh. Still, they have this ultimate goal : honouring the dead ones.

As a doctor on Arrakis, you have seen many strange things about these visions of what a body is, how intricate it is. Some feel good with it. Some are shy. Some take care of it compulsively. Some disregard it. Some use it as a weapon. Some use it to seduce. And getting underneath this hard shell, this limit between the outside and the inside - the Others and You - can be hard for some. Even for their own good.

"Please let me know if you don't feel comfortable." You say as you put a medical glove on behind the back covered by the blue oversized gown turned to you, the sound of it making the Duke's muscles tense up. "It won't be long and I will get the result shortly after, my Duke."

"Don't worry doctor." He answers as you watch his pants falling to his ankles, the large medical gown covering him down to his knees. "Tell me what to do."

"Please rest your hands on the table." You say as your mind focuses on your responsibilities rather than on his boxer now joining the ground. "I am going to lift the gown and start the examination."

You do as you said, holding the hem of the fabrics above his curves with your free hand while rubbing your gloved one with some lube.

"Please breath in, relax. And don't feel embarrassed if you get an erection, it is a normal reaction."

He hums as you kneel down, and you place your forefinger on his anus, caressing this area to makes it easier. It's not painful, just uncomfortable for most of your patients. You suspect some of them to like it. You don't know if Leto Atreides is one of them. He comes regularly - once every three months or so - to get tested but... he does go through all the other ways to detect any potential cancer or other illness : blood tests, examination under anesthesia, digital rectum exam like today... there is no known case of this illness in his family but he must be afraid of it. After all he is a tough ruler. He neglects his sleep schedule as much as he wants to keep control over everything. No wonder why he demands you to do it this often.

Still kneeled behind him, you smile with satisfaction as you feel his anus starting to relax under your touch. Just enough to start pressing without the worry of hurting him. You are really delicate with your patients in general, but even more with him.

"Good, my Duke, keep going." You encourage him as you frown, focusing on the sensation as you deepen your touch now. "It will be over soon."

You look away with your eyes closed as your finger reaches the point interesting you, a shaky exhale leaving his mouth. It is not especially comfortable, yes but at least it won't last for long. Slowly, you make little circles, checking the volume and the possible presence of anything suspect there. His flesh reacts to your intrusion, and he clears his throat as you keep going.

Nothing wrong. So less than twenty seconds later you start to remove your finger as you already stood up, only to be stopped by a firm hand grabbing your forearm. And grabbing it hard enough for your heat to skip a beat out of unexpected surprise.

"Make sure everything is right." He groans still looking in front of him.

"My Duke... there is no mass. Your blood tests are normal as well." You articulate in a low voice as you have some experience with dealing with annoyed patients. "There is no reason to keep going."

"Are you a doctor or a merchant ?" He snarls. "Stop arguing and just do your job."

You grimace. He may be the Duke but you hate when they start disrespecting you. You studied for years - even decades if you count the fact that you keep learning about new illnesses and technologies in the medical field - and in some way they know everything better than you do.

"As you wish, my Duke." You answer in an emotionless voice as you out your finger back to where it was, his buttocks tightening around your hand. "Who am I to put your life in danger ?"

Actually, now you are certain he likes this part of the exam. Normally you don't do it much, for several reasons. The first one is that patients often refuse it and prefer blood tests, or the needle test under anesthesia. The second one is that with this physical examination you can only feel the masses. A cancer can still be there, spreading without getting noticed. But yes, you do think he likes it. So you circle slowly with your finger, a raised eyebrow as you send a deadly glare at his nape covered by some of his curled hair. He wants to have a bit more ? Great. He will have to beg. After all you could stop it right now.

"Just make sure there is n-nothing wrong." He stutters as you give a slight thrust, his walls tightening their hold around your finger. "Absolutely nothing."

A Duke in denial. Maybe he is not so different from most of men. He wants it ? He'll get it.

"Sure, my Duke." You add in a neutral voice as you notice the goosebumps on his tanned skin as you give two gentle frictions. "Breath deeply, this could get uncomfortable after some time."

To add some spice, your other hand goes underneath the gown, rubbing his back up and down as you feel his muscles tensing up at this contact.

"Breath deeply." You repeat as your triggered professional ego makes you act more mathematically than originally planned. "Relax my Duke."

"I am rel..." but he chokes on his words as a second finger starts to rub against the entrance. "Shit."

"Let me be in charge, I know what I am doing."

This time he understands what you know of his reactions. It is obvious to the way he stops talking at your sentence, yielding to your touch as he leans on the table a bit more, palms rubbing the surface as he starts taking in the second finger finding its way inside him.

"Do I need to continue ? Just to be sure ?" You taunt him with a smile he can't see but can certainly hear.

"Yes. To be sure." He mumbles before sighing as your ministrations resume. "Perfect."

Your motions quicken as his breath gets louder. Now your other hand is holding his hip firmly, his fingers holding your wrist as he melts under your care. Then a strangled moan leaves his lips as you stop thrusting, your glove still deep inside him as the pulp of your finger keeps circling.

"Guilty pleasure, my Duke ?" You taunt him before retreating your hand from his warmth as he straightens his stance.

If you receive a cold glare from him, you don't care. He knows who leads here today. And you make it even clearer as you give him a towel to clean himsel and the inside of this poor medical gown.

- - - -

Thanks for reading, please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

@abelslittlebunny @ophelialoveshandsomemen @salome-c @anetteaneta @dilfoscarisaac @letoatreiides @huxdameron

[restnowyourhardshipisover]

More personal than I usually get on here but the way this fandom treats boundaries can be weird? Or confusing to me as a person with limited social skills? Like respecting what someone does and doesn’t want: I understand that. 

But like... near as I can tell Ranboo mentioned he doesn’t want people speculating or digging for personal information, because he values privacy (in a context of being an especially private faceless streamer) and offhandedly enumerated sexuality as falling under personal information. 

 So the response from the fandom was to aggressively shove him into the closet under the assumption that hearing it when he directly referenced finding men attractive was breaking his boundaries? That’s not digging or speculating. That’s just respecting information he was repeatedly choosing to explicitly give. Wouldn’t it be more speculating to repeatedly assume he’s straight ignoring that? 

I guess what I am confused by more generally is statements are made in context and then that context is removed or disregarded to create clean lines. And comments that might not have been made with the expectation they’ll be pinned to a person forever are locked in as gospel. Even after they’re long forgotten by the creators that made them. 

It sometimes feels like books are being compiled the creators have no control over of everything they’ve ever made an off handed comment about and then treated like gospel rules of etiquette. Which can end up being hurtful and rude, both to fans and to the creators. 

Am I being dumb?  I’m probably just not understanding something very normal. 

Anyway it’s very important everyone remembers beating Ranboo at Risk is against his boundaries and anyone whose done that is terrible for it. 

[amedetoiles]

i just finished the drama and i'm having severe emotions about jiang cheng's sacrifice, i am begging for any thoughts you have on this!!

@ first anon: I’m so sorry, and we welcome you to this hell. But also, hey, how did you know to come to my humble blog like this? Has my vocal incoherent crying become this famous across the vast MDZS tumblr spaces? XD I’m extremely amused by this development.

BUT DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT JIANG CHENG’S SACRIFICE YOU BOTH ASK? OF COURSE I HAVE THOUGHTS LMAO!

Every single day I cry about this. For the majority of the story, we have Wei Wuxian’s sacrifice, downward spiral, and vilification at the forefront. This makes sense. He is the narrator. The main character. The one whom this story is about. We don’t learn about Jiang Cheng’s sacrifice until the very end. Until the moment we, the audience, think all the pieces of Wei Wuxian’s story have finally been neatly picked up and tucked away and Wei Wuxian gets the happy ending he most assuredly deserves at long last, we discover that one of the driving catalysts of Wei Wuxian’s entire story is actually because of this singular moment right here:

A little brother who loved his shixiong so fucking much. A little brother who, in the wake of losing his home, his parents, and his entire clan down to his very last shidi, consumed by grief and anguish and vengeance, with the burden and responsibility of rebuilding the honor and memory of his family’s sect now on his shoulders, looked at his brother in danger and chose his brother. He fucking chose him!

The haters of this fandom can argue again and again that Jiang Cheng did not choose or stand by Wei Wuxian “when it mattered” or whatever cockamamey logic drives the anti-grape agenda, but the fact of the matter is, Jiang Cheng absolutely did. He absolutely unquestioningly fucking did. Despite society, despite his awful parents, despite his insecurities telling him that they are not brothers, that they are not blood, Jiang Cheng decided Wei Wuxian was his anyway. Jiang Cheng looked at his brother and decided getting hurt, losing his core, and dying, hurt far less than watching Wei Wuxian get hurt. Just look at this fucking face! The grief. The sadness. The concern for his brother’s life. The resolve when he comes to his decision. The realization of what he is about to do. The fact that he can’t say goodbye to either his brother or his sister and neither of them will ever know why. The fact that he knows he will die and that is okay because his siblings will live. Take care, he says. I’m sorry and thank you and I love you.

Fuck it all to hell. The greatest and worst things Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian do to each other were out of love. And Jiang Cheng never fucking tells him. It pisses me off so much that he never tells Wei Wuxian, but it also breaks my heart into thousands of suffering pieces. Because even at Jiang Cheng’s angriest, at his most cruel, even in the face of Wei Wuxian’s most hurtful words and moments and actions, Jiang Cheng never once holds this moment against Wei Wuxian. A man known to say the absolute worst things at the absolute worst times buries this secret so deeply in his heart and doesn’t say a goddamn thing ever. And Wei Wuxian never tells him about the golden core transfer. Granted Wei Wuxian’s secrets are by far the most detrimental, but GOD THEY’RE SO STUPID YOU GUYS! SO SO STUPID.

And I get why Jiang Cheng doesn’t tell Wei Wuxian. I do! There’s so many factors to his decision to keep this secret, the fact that he wants Wei Wuxian to choose him for him instead of out of some guilty obligation notwithstanding! And @howdydowdy wrote an extraordinary meta about it all. BUT HEY, you dumb ass grape, I think maybe your equally bruised and insecure brother would also very much like to know how much you loved him! That it would also help him understand even if it hurts, even it paints the back end of your entire first lives together in a terribly excruciatingly painful light. Even if he gets extremely pissed off at you! Hey, maybe it would do some good for you both if the roles are reversed and Wei Wuxian gets mad at your reckless disregard for your life. Huge, huge, absolute losers, and I love these idiots so much.

Basically, everything is Jiang Cheng and everything hurts. MXTX/MDZS/CQL was like, hey, here’s a wonderfully complex story about an idealistic chaotic kindhearted little gremlin who would dig his own heart out of his chest for the people he loves and how he finds the love of his life, but spoiler alert, you’re actually going to spend most of your foreseeable days crying about his extremely well-dressed and prickly purple grape little brother instead! SURPRISE!

Anyway tl;dr Jiang Cheng loves Wei Wuxian so fucking much, pass it on.

[zazzander]

Some Lar!Octavian content no one asked for

Fandom: Heroes of Olympus

Timeframe: Set during / immediately after Trials of Apollo

Characters: Vesta/Hestia, Octavian

Octavian held his hand to the hearth flame within the amphitheatre. The sensation was strange. A buzzing feeling branching out along his hand. The fire reach deep within his fingers but failed to truly touch them.

It reminded him of his death. He had been burning. Yet he hadn’t felt it.

It was late. And Camp Half-Blood was asleep. But he was a ghost and ghost don’t sleep.

Despite the lateness, the fire in the amphitheatre burned brightly. It’s glow had attracted him, though he could not have said why. He had been avoiding people not that they could see him. He could choose to be visible. He could choose to interact with the world.

And he choose to remain unnoticed.

He knew that wasn’t what Jason had intended when he suggested Octavian look around Camp Half-Blood. He had wanted Octavian to meet people.

But Octavian hated people. Especially ones he didn’t know.

People were trouble.

He blinked and saw something through the flames. He frowned, and realised it was a young girl. No more than ten.

He circled the fire, until he could see her fully. She watched him. Her eyes reflected the flames of the hearth. Her hair swirled around her head, black and shifting, like a dark smoke. He recognised her as Vesta… but different.

“Hestia.”

She gave him a soft smile.

He didn’t know what to do with that. He had not expected to encounter a goddess here. Especially not Hestia.

“Is this the Greek’s flame? They keep it out in the open.” He frowned, “Is it like ours? The one that sustains everything?”

“Who knows?” she said with a shrug.

“Isn’t your fire?”

“In a way. In another way, I am the fire. Do I sustain it – or does it sustain me? Do you know your nature?”

“Not really.”

He was a Lar, that much he could determine. But usually Lares couldn’t leave the limited of their domain, whether that be a house, a street, or a building. Some few were strong enough to represent broader concepts – the legion, for example. The legion had dozens of Lares.

But how he could be at Camp Half-Blood… that he hadn’t determined. He could imagine it was related to his promise to Jason. But how Jason knew, Octavian would never know.  

“A little…” he said, at least. “But you’re a god.”

She nodded, slowly. Her form shifted a slightly. She was still a young girl, no more than ten, but she wore a white hoodie now. Her eyes harder though no less wise.

Vesta.

He had never met her.

Back home, Vesta is the only goddess to have her temple within the boundary of New Rome. Sometimes female members of the legion will choose to join her cult after their service to Camp Jupiter. It is a thirty-year commitment. But in many ways her cult is more sacred than any other in New Rome, more so than even Jupiter. A priest is a priest, regardless of their god. But a Vestal is something more. They are Rome’s last line of defence against the chaos of the world.

The Vestals and their flame was the reason why Camp Jupiter has a city, why they have families year-round, why they are structured like a military and not a summer camp like Camp Half-Blood. All to protect them.

“A Lar is closer than a god than a mortal,” she said. “Though not the same. Similar. Many gods were born as demigods before they ascended: Dionysus, Asclepius, Aristaeus are just three. Is it so strange than we all know ourselves, but do not? Many of my brethren act within their nature without a thought of why.”

“Those gods you listed aren’t like me. They were great in their mortal life that’s why they ascended. And the Lares of New Rome. They’re all leaders, or skilled creators, people with wisdom to share. I’m not any of those things. I failed. I tried to be like them. I couldn’t do it.”

“Do you want to sit?”

“Sorry?”

“Sit with me. We will tend the fire together.”

He sighed, settling on the ground beside her. He didn’t look at her, instead followed her gaze to the flame. It was so strange to see it outside, unguarded. Was Hestia the only one to tend it?

He felt disgust and hatred climb up his throat like bile. It was much like these Greeks to disregard their minor gods. They had no true connection to their past. They were boats unmoored.

Before he could say anything, Vesta said, “Do you dislike it?”

“Dislike what?”

“Being as you are now?”

Octavian isn’t respond immediately. He felt like he owed Vesta a thought-out response, though he had no idea why she would want to know. He was dead. And he had become a Lar.

“No. I don’t dislike it,” he said. “In many ways its more comfortable. I have no blood, so my anaemia isn’t an issue. I don’t have to eat, so the fact I found eating difficult doesn’t matter. My insomnia can’t bother me since I don’t sleep anymore…

“And, more than that. I’m dead. And that’s… liberating. I have no more duties. And my ambitions can longer be achieved. I can move around as I wish, and no one can judge me. No one can even see me – but for that child of Hades.”

“Would you go back? If you could?”

“Back to living?”

She nodded.

“I don't know. I… I miss one thing. I miss being able to hug my sisters. I hated being touched so much in life, I avoided it, now… I miss it. But would I trade that for everything else? I don't know.”

They sat in silence for a long time. Vesta tended to her flame. Octavian watched her, observing.

“I remember,” he said, “just before I died. When the Parthenos came down, there was this feeling of warmth. Of calm. Was that your influence?”

“It was.”

“Do you hate me? For bringing an army here – for trying to kill your other half?”

She shook her head, “I find hate to be a painful emotion. It feasts on your happiness, hurting you more than it hurts any other.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So much of life, so much of decisions had been driven by hate. Hate for Kronos. Hate for the Greeks. Hate for the gods.

And it had ruined him.

It had killed him.

“I’m sorry.”

She did not reply.

“When I was alive, I had so many dreams,” he said, finding that he wanted to tell her everything. To explain to her why. “So many goals. I wanted to fix so much. I didn’t want kids to have to fight any more. I wanted to force everyone into change – including the gods. I know everyone thinks I’m just a power-hungry monster, but I didn’t see any other way. Things had to be fixed. They still do.”

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“But in the end? I didn't do anything. I saved no one and fixed nothing. I'm at best a footnote in history, at worst a crazed villain.”

“One of my followers once wrote, ‘well behaved women seldom make history’. It is a line that is often used to prove to women that they must act out. That they must misbehave to make the pages of a history book. And that is a helpful take away for some, but it is not the original intent. My followers, those who tend the hearth, those who protect the warm and closeness needed for a family to thrive. Or an empire to thrive. Those people? There are no sagas about them. No sonnets or epics to speak of. They are not remembered.”

She looked at him then.

“That doesn’t mean their existence had no value. Heroes don't win without the efforts of the unspoken.”

He stood, suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s not me. That never will be. Those people you’re talking about accepted that they were… I didn’t. I don’t. I just can’t do anything about it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Here?”

“Should you not have returned to Camp Jupiter? To New Rome?”

“I… It’s in ruins now. The emperors attacked it. They didn’t win, true. But it still hurts to see it. And… I couldn’t prevent it,” he sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all done.”

“That is not true. Life is never done.”

“I’m not alive.”

“Am I not alive then? Is this fire not alive? Life is more than just the domain of humans and demigods, young one.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you are young. And you are wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“About being unable to fix things. And about no longer having a duty. The hearth is my domain. What is yours?”