#I’m now incapable of functioning without you

[minnnoru]

i'm here to apply for the codependent bond

Wdym I thought we were already halfway there. My first question would’ve been if you have experience ignoring red flags and calling it love but I already know you do. Congratulations. You’re already too important to me 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

[mariasont]

side effects of garcia's advice

spencer tries to hide his panic when you debut a swimsuit garcia assured was perfect

pairing: spencer reid r x shy!reader warnings: fem!reader, post-prison!spencer, reader wearing bikini, spencer having some non-descript inappropriate thoughts, reader being insecure prompt: here wc: 0.7k

Spencer’s halfway down the steps and mentally two-thirds of the way debunking the latest conspiracy theory Rossi shared over coffee this morning — something involving dolphins as government spies — when he suddenly stops cold, foot hovering awkwardly mid-air.

All prior intellectual inquiries vanish in a humiliating instant, displaced by the infinitely more pressing inquiry of how he’s supposed to function normally now.

You’re in the kitchen, folding a towel into your already overflowing beach bag, and Spencer is certain, beyond any doubt, that he’s never seen you wear anything remotely resembling that.

His eyes skate quickly, almost involuntarily, down the length of your body — the curve of your waist, the soft swell of skin exposed along your hip, the tiny ties that hold together whatever passes for fabric.

For six painstaking days, he’d grown accustomed (though that’s admittedly a generous use of the word) to seeing you in swimsuits that were charmingly modest. Vintage-inspired one-pieces that, despite covering a reasonable percentage of skin, still left him tongue-tied and desperate for air.

This is a drastic departure from that.

This is a swimsuit whose existence seems to defy several laws of physics and at least one ordinance of common decency. 

He finds himself staring far too openly at places he’s only imagined, and yet now, confronted with their very real existence, he’s almost offended by how utterly incapable he is of maintaining decorum.

You turn, eyes landing softly on his, and Spencer’s mind helpfully informs him that, yes, this is objectively much worse.

He wasn’t prepared for you to notice him so soon — truthfully, he wasn’t prepared at all — but now you’re staring right back, blinking shyly and pulling him into a reality where he’s expected to communicate. To form sentences. To act, God forbid, like a functioning human.

His eyes flicker downward without permission, and he immediately regrets it — because now your breasts are center stage.

You immediately fold upward, shoulders curving defensively, eyes darting away as you misinterpret his prolonged silence. 

“Oh, god, it’s way too revealing, isn’t it?” You clutch a towel protectively to your chest. “Garcia said I should step out of my comfort zone, but I told her — I said everyone would probably think it was inappropriate or something, and now you’re clearly uncomfortable —”

“Whoa, slow down,” Spencer says quickly, raising a hand as if physically halting your words. He clears his throat, meeting your gaze directly despite the persistent flush across his cheeks. “I’m not uncomfortable. Surprised, sure.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer blinks, momentarily frozen. His mind races, searching for any plausible, non-mortifying explanation.

“I — uh, I was just calculating your chances of sunburn,” he blurts, then cringes instantly. “You, um, should probably wear sunscreen. A lot of it.”

“Oh, right!” You nod, clearly grateful for a sensible explanation. “I already packed two bottles, but maybe I should get another just in case.”

Spencer almost laughs out loud, partly in disbelief at your earnest acceptance of his absurd excuse, but mostly because he knows he’s exactly the kind of overly concerned nerd who would genuinely calculate sunscreen rations. 

He accepts this minor humiliation graciously, stepping hesitantly forward into the kitchen. “Two bottles should suffice, unless you plan on spending more than twelve consecutive hours outdoors, which… seems excessive.”

“Okay,” you mumble softly, eyes darting away before returning shyly to his face, voice tentative. “You’re sure I don’t look… you know, like I’m trying too hard or anything?”

Spencer swallows thickly, wishing his mouth didn’t feel so dry every time you looked at him like that. If he were capable of speech right now, he’d tell you just how crazy it was to think that you could ever look like you were trying too hard.

Because the reality — the excruciating, undeniable reality — is that you look effortlessly pretty, the kind of pretty that has his heart stumbling in his chest and his thoughts drifting dangerously toward territory he should not explore.

He clenches his jaw slightly, internally chastising himself because the mental images his brain insists on conjuring are entirely inappropriate for a kitchen at 10 a.m.

“Completely sure. You look…. beautiful. Really beautiful.”

Your eyes widen, a soft, embarrassed laugh slipping out. “Oh. Thank you. Um, did that come across like I was fishing for compliments? Because I swear I wasn’t trying to —”

“Relax. You weren’t,” he says. “Even if you were, you’re allowed. I’m happy to indulge you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and Spencer means every word — though he silently acknowledges that he really, really needs to send Garcia a very pointed message about the unintended effects of her advice.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

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[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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You awaken.

It's a strange feeling, to go from complete darkness to a world of bright, shining artificial lights. The sudden exposure sends your senses into overdrive and causes you to blink repeatedly, to the point that your eyes start watering. 

“...I can’t believe it,” you hear someone mumble. “It actually worked. I’m a genius!”  

There’s a man in front of you. He’s got a bushy mustache and a pair of distinct, thick-rimmed goggles that prevent you from seeing into his eyes clearly. An elderly man, although it’s hard to tell his exact age. The only other noteworthy thing about him is that he’s wearing a white lab coat. 

And based on how widely he’s grinning, he seems to be rather pleased about something.  

He quickly clears his throat. “Ahem. I suppose I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. I need to test all your senses first. You can hear me, I’m assuming? You’re certainly reacting to visual stimuli, like the light shining in your eyes. If you can hear me and understand what I’m saying, nod your head once.”  

At first, you just blink, still disoriented and confused, but soon enough, his words sink in. 

You nod, and the man—Dr. Garaki—seems even more pleased than he was just a few seconds ago.  

“Excellent!” he exclaims, and you watch as he scribbles something down onto a clipboard. “Language comprehension is working just fine too. Although now it’s time for the real test. Listen closely, please. I’ve decided I want to call you [Name]. Can you try saying that? Try saying your name for me, little one.” 

You stare at him for a few moments, and even though you understand what he’s asking of you, it still takes a while for your mouth to move the way you want it to.  

But eventually, you succeed.  

“[N-Name],” you repeat, sounding a bit uncertain at first. You knit your brows together and try again, and this time, it’s far less shaky. “[Name].” 

“Oh, marvelous!” Dr. Garaki praises. He even claps his hands together, incapable of hiding his excitement. “Yes, what a truly wonderful job! Well done. It suits you, too. I really have a knack when it comes to naming my creations.”  

He doesn’t ask you to say anything else, so you sit perfectly still, just staring at him. However, you’ve just learned something. You have a name. 

For some reason, it makes your heart clench, and you’re not quite sure how to describe what you’re feeling.  

Perhaps that’s another thing you have yet to learn.  

“You really are a masterful, prodigal creation,” Dr. Garaki says, stroking his mustache. “It’s incredible. All of your senses appear to be fully functional, and not only that, but you can understand things and communicate, just like a real human would. I always thought that creating Nomus would be the greatest exploit of my career, and I failed so many times before when I tried to artificially engineer a human without a corpse as a base... but you managed to surpass all my expectations. Perhaps I should call you my little miracle.” 

You don’t understand what he’s trying to say, but once again, he seems rather pleased.  

“Best of all is your appearance,” he continues, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Just looking at you, everyone would assume you’re an ordinary little girl! I truly have outdone myself this time around. The Nomus are beautiful in their own way, but you are a carbon copy of the human race. A perfect replication.”  

This man sure likes to talk a lot. Or maybe he talks a perfectly normal amount, but you just don’t have any other frame of reference to compare it to.  

Dr. Garaki steps closer to you and smiles. “Now, then. I still have some tests to finish running, so be a good girl and sit still. Don’t worry. It’ll only take a moment.” 

You don’t really have any idea of what’s normal or not, which is why you don’t move a single muscle as he straps your limbs down to the chair and makes sure to tighten the fastenings shut, so that you can’t break free.  

You are ignorant. You can’t possibly know any better. So, when Dr. Garaki inches towards you, gripping a scalpel between his fingers, all you do is stare at him quietly.  

And then there’s just pain.  

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you scream out at the top of your lungs as Dr. Garaki slices into your flesh, showing zero remorse.  

You’ve only ever spoken your name, so you’re not quite sure what to say to get him to stop, but eventually, the words bubble up to the surface.  

“S-Stop... stop it! It... hurts...” 

“Oh-ho!” he muses. “Already assembling sentences on your own, I see. You register pain just like a normal human would too. It’s truly splendid!”  

Despite your outcry, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even bother to apologize. He just keeps carving you up, ignoring all of your tortured, anguished screams, as well as the look of sheer desperation on your face.  

It feels like you’re about to die. You’ve only known what it’s like to live for a few brief moments, and already, it’s going to be taken from you.  

All this pain, all of this blood... and yet, you still haven’t died yet.  

Why?  

“Ah-ha!” Dr. Garaki exclaims. He steps back and grins cruelly. “It took a while for your body to respond, but there it is! The regeneration is finally kicking in. For a moment, I was worried I hadn’t transplanted the Quirk correctly. Thank goodness everything is in order.” 

He finally stops. You let out a shuddering breath, and you’re suddenly aware of a damp feeling on your cheeks, as well as the fact that your vision is blurry.  

Oh. You must be crying.  

“No need for tears, little one,” Dr. Garaki reassures. “Go on, take a look. Your body is repairing itself as we speak. Everything is going to be just fine.”  

He’s right. Just a few moments ago, you were in so much pain that it felt like you would cease to exist, but now you watch as your bloody, mutilated skin pieces itself back together, until you’re practically brand new. 

The injuries are gone, and so is the pain.  

Dr. Garaki smiles. “See? There’s no reason to be afraid. I’ve made you durable. An incredible creation you may very well be, but you’re of no use to me if you break right away.”  

Something about what he just said doesn’t exactly sit right with you. A voice in your head is telling you to trust this man and listen to everything he says. To follow all of his orders without fail and carry out his ambitions.  

But another voice in your head—admittedly, a much smaller one—is telling you the exact opposite.  

And for some reason, that’s the voice you choose to listen to.  

“It hurt,” you mutter accusingly. “I asked you... to stop.”  

Dr. Garaki frowns, clearly bewildered. “Hm? You sure are becoming increasingly talkative. You must be absorbing information even faster than I thought you would. But like I said, you’re fine. You can handle far more damage than this. Trust me. You can always trust me, alright?”  

No. You get the feeling that you shouldn’t trust him. You shouldn’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth, and if you stay here, there’s a very good chance that he’ll hurt you again.  

So, the solution is obvious.  

You need to leave.  

“I’m leaving,” you declare. Dr. Garaki proceeds to stare at you in disbelief, and he even sets his clipboard aside so that he can give you his undivided attention.  

“You’re not leaving,” he frowns. “And why would you want to leave? I’m your creator. I brought you to life. I engineered you specifically so that you would serve me and obey my commands, and you say you want to leave? How does any of that make sense? Is it possible I made a mistake somewhere...?”  

He scratches his mustache, unable to make sense of the situation. Even now, there’s still that irritating voice that’s telling you to obey, but you grit your teeth and fight against it, refusing to succumb to the pressure.  

And then you feel it. Something wells up from deep inside you, and as you stare down at the infuriating bindings that are tying you down to the chair, you suddenly realize: Oh. I can break these. 

So, you do.  

“...what in the world?!”  

Dr. Garaki lets out a squeal as you break free of the restraints and kick the chair to the side. He instinctively reaches for the scalpel, then points it towards you, most likely as an act of self-defense.  

Unfortunately, seeing that bloody scalpel again elicits painful memories, and it makes you really, really angry.  

You feel it again. It’s as if something is bubbling up inside of you, desperately seeking release. It pulses and flows, moving through your body in the form of energy. Power. Strength.  

“You’re out of your mind!” Dr. Garaki screams. “You’re supposed to listen to everything I say! What’s wrong with you?! You’re a faulty product! You're damaged goods! Now, sit back down and stay put before I—”  

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. You swing your arm out, and he should be thanking his lucky stars that he managed to jump away in time.  

Destruction unfolds. You’re not quite sure what you did, but you made sure to channel all the strength you could muster, and now the room you’re in—which upon closer inspection, is some kind of lab—has practically been torn to shreds.  

Dr. Garaki is trapped underneath a pile of rubble, and he whimpers helplessly. “I-I don’t understand. The only Quirk I gave you... was the ability to regenerate. Is this... some kind of mutation? But how did it...”  

He passes out, either from shock, pain, or some combination of the two.  

It’s then that you spot a hole in the wall that must have formed when you unleashed your attack earlier. It’s quite small, but you’re fairly small too, so there’s a good chance you’ll fit.  

You drop to your knees and crawl. It’s a snug fit, but you manage to wiggle your way through, and after a brief patch of darkness, you emerge on the other side.  

A bright sky greets you. It’s sunny and warm, and you decide that you quite like this feeling. It’s certainly far more pleasant than being inside the lab, with its murky scent and unnatural lights. It seems as though your decision to leave was the right one after all.  

You clench your hand into a fist. That strange burst of energy you felt earlier is completely gone. You must have used up all your strength. But it’s okay. You’re free now.  

You’re free, and you will discover all that life has to offer.

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[canideformed]

I keep seeing this post going around about how autistic people “understand hierarchies” and just don’t respect them.

That is not representative of all autistic people.

I am literally incapable of understanding hierarchies. I can understand that social rules say person 1 is above person 2 in an abstract sense, but, when it comes down the the actual way that happens IRL, when it comes down to understanding that dynamic, how I’m supposed to act in that dynamic, why that dynamic exists, etc., I literally do not and have never understood. And years of abuse partially resulting from that lack of understanding being seen as “defiance” didn’t help.

I do not understand how these hierarchies function.

Earlier this year my parents got mad at me because I kept asking the flight attendant questions about why they were making us power off our devices (automated fog landing). From my perspective, I was just curious. My mom had to explain to me that I was supposed to just listen to them without asking questions. I did not understand that either. She had to break it down by telling me it probably just wasn’t the best time to be asking and that it was probably seen as me arguing or talking back or whatever.

You might think ok, now I understand. But no. I don’t know how to describe it but to say a gear just stops turning—I ask myself “am I supposed to ask this? Is this the way I’m supposed to behave?” and the answer my brain gives is… silence. A lot of things just make sense to me intuitively. I love science, especially physics, and did very well at math (not involving arithmetic, thanks probably-dyscalculia diagnosed-arithmetic-impairment). But for some reason this stuff just does. Not. Follow. And I will try my best, and maybe I will happen to act correctly a few times, but, in the end, my fundamental lack of understanding will cause me to be perceived as “defiant” or “disrespectful.” I’m going to try to be better on flights but to be honest I can very easily picture myself doing something similar if the situation were to be slightly different.

I don’t think a lot of people get how hard it is to really internalise hierarchies, even hierarchies people have explained to you, if you don’t actually understand them. Like yeah my mom explained that I was expected not to ask the questions I did, but let enough time pass and I forget that extremely specific interaction and I’m back at square 1 just because I can’t think “wait mom said that I’m not supposed to do that last time.”

The reason the post I described above bothers me is because that exact expectation has had a direct hand in my abuse. I was treated like a problem child. Like I was defiant. My dad secretly believed I had ODD. Imagine being a kid and freaking out because, to you, you were acting very normally and then the other person got mad. Crying because you don’t understand why they’re mad at you. And then your caregivers punish you even more. Imagine being a kid who is hurt and scared because you don’t understand what you did wrong and having your caregivers respond by taking you to your room, pulling down your pants, spanking you, and telling you you’re being bad or “eres un necio/travieso/mocoso.” * And now imagine that your brain is wired in such a way that, despite all of that, you cannot, you are incapable of ever “learning” to understand this stuff.

You can see why it might strike a nerve to hear people say that, actually, we do understand hierarchies and are choosing to not respect them!

Please try to stop making sweeping statements about what autistic people “do” or “don’t” understand. We’re individuals. And claiming that we “actually do” understand something without clarifying it’s only some of us only leaves behind those of us who can’t.

* I put this in untranslated because it’s a little bit different in Spanish. It translates to “you’re a fool/naughty (person)/brat,” but basically gets used to mean “you’re being foolish/naughty/bratty.” Imo that double meaning definitely impacted how I saw myself, especially as an autistic kid taking everything very literally, so. Wanted that to be accurate. My parents never directly called me a “bad kid” but overall it’s definitely something I internalised.

[lollygaggingloser]

More VAT7K brain blerps – Hugo’s prosthetic limb Continued

I didn’t realize how much others like prosthetic limbed Hugo, so now I’m more excited to share my other ideas on it. Thanks for the validation y’all. 

After the fiasco with the thugs and Varian finds out about Hugo’s artificial limb, the alchemist is on the same curiosity level as Yong, wanting to know more about Hugo’s alterations to it. Hugo spends an entire evening talking to the two as they sit by the campfire, answering their questions on the materials he’s used, his own schematics, and each component in his prosthesis. He enjoys displaying the fruits of his labor and uses his invention to get the two’s interest and trust in him. The talk goes on late into the night and while Yong eventually ends up falling asleep, Varian stays up longer, fixated and impressed by Hugo’s work. At some point, Hugo removes the limb from his body when Varian asks to get a better look. Normally, he would just let a person get close to him to see, but when Varian leans in toward him, the closeness sends a wave of nervousness and awkwardness through his body. 

Thinking quickly, he moves away to get a better angle to unlatch the device, not certain why he felt self-conscious earlier.

Just make sure you give it back, alright, Goggles? He jokes as he removes it. Varian gently takes it into his hands and gets a closer look at the internal interlockings. As he does, Hugo goes back to boasting about his work. Impressive, right? Much better than the usual peg or hook you’ll see on others. It’s fully functional while still serving as a work of art.

Instead of rolling his eyes at Hugo or scoffing at his prideful demeanor, Varian nods, agreeing with the blonde. It’s beautiful.

Hugo is taken aback by the compliment and feels his ears burn as he realizes that Varian just called a part of his body beautiful. At that moment, Hugo is grateful that Varian is too immersed in the prosthesis to see him blushing.

During their travels, Yong asks Hugo why he keeps his limb hidden under his clothing. If I had something that cool, I’d show it off.

I don’t think people other than nerds like you two think it’s cool Hugo explains. Plus, it’s easier to get around without attracting attention.

Truthfully, Hugo hates the look of pity strangers give him when they find out he has a fake limb. Even before he got his prosthesis, he learned how to get around and function well without his arm/leg so it nerves him to be seen as something less because of it. Therefore, he keeps it hidden to avoid those looks and be treated no differently than any other person. Seeing Yong and Varian react so positively compared to the usual spiel was both refreshing and appreciated. The two never treat him like he’s incapable of handling himself, even when he can be reckless.

Sometimes Yong forgets about Hugo’s prosthesis or forgets which limb is artificial. The kid will mistakenly high five Hugos metal arm way too hard and hurt his own hand. Or, Yong accidentally drops something heavy on Hugo’s fake foot and apologizes.

I’m so sorry Hugo! Are you hurt?

I’m in terrible pain, Sparks he answers in a monotone voice. I think I lost feeling in my toes. We may need to amputate.

Once Hugo’s more comfortable making jokes with Varian and Yong, the two end up dealing with his morbid sense of humor.

Yong will wish him good luck and tell him to break a leg.

To which Hugo will respond with I'm already ahead of you!

He also definitely pulls this move on Varian when the alchemist asks him to lend a hand.

It’s amusing the first few times, but by the fourth, Varian has to control himself from not throwing the prosthesis back at him. 

He gets back at Hugo with this joke eventually. One day, Varian asks Hugo for help and the engineer tosses his arm to him as predicted. Without missing a beat, Varian takes Hugo’s mechanical arm and uses it like one of these bad boys:

To retrieve a book from a high shelf. Hugo is left both insulted and bested.

Give me that! You know what, Goggles? You just lost your Hugo arm privilege. He chastises Varian, who looks rather pleased with himself. He snatches back his prosthesis with the book still in its grasp. So insensitive! Why I’d never!

Brain Blerp part 1

Brain Blerp part 3

[collectingsorrows444]

Of course :) Operation Ichor AU is absolutely so gorgeous! I can’t wait for the next chapter to drop this Saturday

Just had to make a version my OC in this because AUs are something that I adore and I freaking love the world building, different storylines, art/writing styles!

Operation Ichor AU @operation-ichor by @slumbrr-r

Yapping time:

Kiran is selectively mute (as previously said)

Selective Mutism is a form of an anxiety disorder where it causes someone to be incapable of speech. They are usually someone who can’t speak in social settings, speak really quietly or softly (think of Fluttershy in the first episode of My Little Pony), or as someone who hides behind an adult/higher authority figure during highly social interactions.

(Oh, how is anyone going to hear Kiran at all?)

Silly! That’s something I’m still figuring out… just kidding!

Moths— while assuming they are quiet— still make noise! Moths make these tiny squeaking noises and they are absolutely adorable. So Kiran can make little speaking noises or sounds on occasions, but not all of the time.

Speaking of moths.. Kiran sadly can’t fly. Her wings weren’t developed properly since they’re too small, so she will remain flightless (for now?).

(What are their abilities in Operation Ichor?)

Well, Dandy’s World, I wanted Kiran to have this ‘goodies basket’ which increases the luck of rarer items appearing on the floors.

However, we are speaking on a world where survival is something to fight for and tomorrow is something you need to live to.

We’ll say that she’s got some sort of.. vision.

(You mean blindness?)

No!

Kiran has a wide peripheral range and can basically see a whole room without having to glance around a lot.

She is quick on her feet and very nimble with her hands. Sort of like a spidey-sense, y’know? Something feels a little off, and Kiran sort of just.. knows.

Think of it like the Guiding Light from Doors. In Kiran’s vision, their abilities pin-point a bit of visual imagery of people, the situation, what might happen or will if something isn’t done to fix it— that thing. It’s like a string that tugs her a long and beckons her to use it as a way to fight through. (Literally— string as in guiding and weaponry)

(Oooh, spiritual stuff).

The Pros

- She knows what’s going on and a vague idea on what to do

- Is able to help others

The Cons

- she doesn’t know what’s going on until it happens or at the last second

- paranoia/anxiety increased

- migraines and headaches

- blood pressure increased

- nightmares/sleep paralysis (glimpses of what could’ve happened if Kiran did something differently, etc.)

- decreased morality

Okay, however, Kiran isn’t going to worry about that for now.

Kiran is content welding and making weapons for scouts or those who need them. (She loves looking at concepts, figuring out old tech— taking them apart and putting it back together— and accommodating different gears to the user etc.)

I am more interested on the different field in Operation Ichor just because I want to know:

- How does each and every field operate? (Uniform policy, dress codes, rules, etc).

- How does Boxten A1 (I think) function as a leader in his field? (That is so I am able to adjust my character and understand the lore. Hopefully by the next chapter!)

Thank you anyone who actually read all of this! I talk a lot :,)

[thebluestbluewords]

Dis-like-Dysentery

I have a lot of very specific headcanons about Auradon Prep, and one of them is the fact that Jay is both a Smart Guy, and also chronically incapable of turning in assignments on time. For. Reasons.

this might be about one of those reasons.

+

Carlos looks up from his plate as Jay wanders over. “Dude, where were you? We started eating without you.” 

“Talking to a teacher. I submitted an assignment wrong, or something.” 

Carlos nods. He’s got a fork dangling from one hand, and there’s a leaf stuck in his hair. Sunlit from behind, Jay’s pretty sure that he’s the prettiest boy on this side of the barrier. “Oh, man. Was it Demorra? She’s super strict about the rules, especially for the online stuff. I could’ve helped you figure it out bro, you don’t have to get through her bureaucratic shit on your own.” 

Jay sets his tray down on the opposite side of the table. “Nah. It was Williams.” 

Carlos frowns. “The international lit teacher? Really?” 

They’ve been reading through Jay’s lit assignments together. Auradon expects them to type up all of their homework, so he’s been getting by with the hacked dictation program on his laptop and locking himself in the bathroom to read his essays out loud into the program with the minimum of background noise. 

There’s a peer writing tutor who does proofreading two nights a week for free, but Jay’s not gonna take his shitty essays in to her when he’s pretty sure he’ll just get laughed right back out of the student study room for the giant default font Carlos set on his computer. 

It doesn’t exactly make reading his own assignments easier, but it doesn’t make it worse either, so they’re calling it functional for now. Auradon Prep is all about “helping students embrace their unique academic talents”, so Carlos and Evie are both being pulled for more advanced classes, which is great for them, and terrible for Jay’s essays because it’s seriously starting to cut into their free time. 

That, and the trouble they’ve been getting up to after hours. 

The assistant gym teacher still hasn’t figured out who to blame for French braiding all the climbing ropes together. 

“She couldn’t read my handwriting.” 

“Fuck.” 

That’s about the shape of it. Handwritten assignments are few and far between, but Jay can’t bullshit his way through all of them. “Haha, yeah.” 

Carlos thunks his head down onto the table. “Ugh. Fuck. I can make you a handwriting font on the computer, but that’ll make in-class assignments worse if you can’t keep it up.” 

“Yup.” 

He sits up. There’s a dent on his forehead from pressing it into the table. “Eat.” 

“Not hungry,” Jay says as cheerfully as he can manage. It’s not gonna fool Carlos, but he’s not gonna show weakness in front of the royal rabble. “Anyway, we’re not going to the honor board. She’s willing to settle it with some sorta evaluation. Have you heard of dyslexia before?” 

Carlos blinks. “Dyslexia? No. I mean. It’s gotta be dis from like, disinterested, disintegrating, some sort of anti? Or else it’s dys from like, dysentery. Some sort of illness, maybe. Lex has gotta be from lexicon, lexicography. Something to do with either anti-words or a words illness? Does she think you’re sick of words?” 

Jay shrugs. “She said it’s why I’m bad at reading. Wants me to do an assessment so she can know what’s going on.” 

Carlos already has his phone out. He’s typing with one hand, the other one curled around his plate in a defensive hunch that’s almost casual. “Huh. How’s that going for her so far?” 

Jay snorts. “Fab. Nah, she didn’t do it yet. It’s a whole special test that she’s gotta send me down to the psych for.” 

“Can you reject it?” 

“If I wanna meet with the honor board and explain why I apparently have great handwriting, but only when they can’t see me do the assignments.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah. At least she was cool about it.” 

Carlos groans. “Your handwriting sucks, dude. You’re not sick of writing, you’re just— your handwriting sucks.” 

“Yeah, and my fucking reading comprehension. I—“ Jay cuts himself off abruptly as the shadow of more people falls across their lunch table. “Hey, guys.” 

Mal sets her lunch tray down on Jay’s left side, leaving Ben the spot on his right. Evie’s not eating with them today. They have other friends in theory, but between Doug’s science club buddies and Carlos’s general disinterest in socializing with other humans, they didn’t bother picking a table large enough for anyone else.  

“Sorry,” Ben apologizes, even as he’s nudging his shoulder against Jay’s. It’s nice not being the only tall one sometimes. “I couldn’t help overhearing.” 

Jay leans back into the contact. “We were talking out loud, dude. It happens. You got any hot tips for the stupid assessment I’ve gotta do later?” 

“Have you tried being better?” Mal suggests. “I find that cheating works great. I could find you a spell to let one of us borrow your hands for a few hours, and so long as you can tell us what you want to write, we can control the muscles and get better handwriting than your usual chicken scratch special.” 

“Hey.”

“Would that work if you can’t see the paper?” Ben asks curiously. 

Mal frowns. “No. Not unless I modify the spell to possess your eyes too.” 

Jay represses a shudder. “Thanks, but no thanks, M. I like my eyes in one piece.” 

Carlos is scrolling rapidly on his phone, hanging half-over the table in an attempt to get closer to the three of them. “Dude, dyslexia is a brain thing that affects how you process visual input of words— aw, shit.” 

Bad. That’s the bad-news tone. Jay’s heart drops traitorously into his stomach, which suddenly isn’t feeling the tater tots on his lunch tray. “What?” 

Carlos shakes his head. “Nothing too bad. Just, I think Williams is right. You’ve said you’re shit at reading fast cause the words all look the same, right? Like, you can’t scan to identify them, you’ve gotta sound each one out.” 

Jay smashes a tater tot with the side of his fork. The destruction doesn’t make his gut feel any better. It’s not that he’s mad, it’s just— he doesn’t want to do this. Analyzing his brain sucks. He did the whole week of required therapy that the student disciplinary council required after the stuff with Mal’s mom, and he’s so fucking done with Auradon grown-ups pretending to understand why his head’s fucked up. “Yeah, so?” 

Carlos waves the phone at him. “So that’s what this is. You’ve got a brain disorder.” 

“We can fix it, right?” 

He wiggles a hand back and forth. “Ehh. Kinda. There’s techniques to make it easier, but it’s sorta like— your brain is wired for AC power input, and words are DC. It’s a misalignment. We can make an adaptor, but we can’t rip out your brain wiring.” 

“I could,” Mal offers. “I love doing illegal magic.”

[more-sonorous]

sun, moon, stars part 1— jatherid blurb

I adore this ship and I decided to write the hypothetical beginning of a fic loosely based on a post I saw by @blurglesmurfklaine about these three being roomies during the 2020 quarantine

Please lmk if you’d consider reading more! Also TW for mentions of the Covid pandemic!

…

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.” 

Katherine Pulitzer watched as her best friend, David Jacobs, anxiously traced his thumb over the grooves in the table beneath them. He always had a lot of nervous energy, but this was another level.

Those round, green eyes of his were flitting about behind the lenses of his thick-framed glasses, flicking between his laptop and her. She frowned and reached across the table to gently pat his hand. 

“Maybe you’re right, David.” She said, doing her best to reassure him with a calm smile. “You might enjoy some time back at home…”

“Trapped in my parents’ house for an undisclosed amount of time without Sarah? Yeah.” He let out a dry laugh and buried his face in his hands.

She glanced over the familiar pattern of freckles on the backs of his pale hands as her mind raced to try and come up with a solution. 

Katherine and David grew up side-by-side in a small town in upstate New York. They went to the same synagogue and attended the same schools, and had been virtually inseparable since first grade. They’d even gone to the same college and purposefully lived in the same dormitories each year, because they couldn’t be roommates due to their genders. Post-college they were just as close. Kath knew David like the back of her own hand, and knew his family very well by extension. The Jacobs’s were incredibly nice. Esther and Mayer were loving parents that cared deeply for their children, Sarah, David, and Les, which often led to David feeling burdened when he visited. 

Unlike his younger brother and elder sister, David was an introvert with narcolepsy. That led to his parents smothering him when he stayed with them, something that he didn’t necessarily appreciate in large dosages. Now that an imminent quarantine in New York City had been announced, Katherine could tell he wasn’t excited to drive one-and-a-half hours upstate and out of the city just to sequester himself away with two fretting parents and a teenage younger brother. 

“Where’s Sarah staying? I still don’t think I get why you two can’t hole up in your apartment together.” She took a brief sip of her latte and closed the keyboard of her iPad, fully immersing herself in the conversation.

David shrugged as he glanced out the window adjacent to him. The streets looked deceptively normal, despite the warning the city’d just received. “She’s going to stay with her fianceé and her family. They have a vacation house in Massachusetts.”

“Right…” Katherine winced sympathetically as she tried to read him for his opinion. He had a telltale furrow in his brow that showed how disappointed he was. “I forgot Sarah’s been gold digging.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could live alone.” He lamented, glancing up at her with a sad little smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Narcolepsy and autism aren’t a good combination.” 

Katherine rolled her eyes fondly, reaching across their little cafe table to fix his glasses. “You make it work, though.”

“Barely.” He shrugged, and as he glanced down at the string he was spinning between his fingers, probably picked off of his sweatshirt. She saw just how bothered David was about all of this. There was a rigid hunch to his shoulders and his normally smiling face had been twisted into an unhappy resting frown. “Like— I love my parents and I like visiting home, but I moved out for a reason, you know? They make me feel like I’m incapable of functioning without constant supervision, which just isn’t true.” 

“Of course.” She nodded, sympathy tugging at her heartstrings.

David was brilliant. He was one of the smartest people she knew. They’d been neck-to-neck for valedictorian in school and he’d ended up stealing the spot with his straight A’s, 4.0 GPA and 34 on the ACT. Hell, he was working through a master’s degree in Juridical Science, and still managed to tack on both a history minor and a literature minor during undergrad. She’d gladly tell anyone she knew that he was a genius. Kath didn’t know exactly why David couldn’t live alone, but she knew that narcolepsy made it dangerous. He couldn’t drive because of his condition and she knew that sometimes he needed help waking up and sleeping. She also knew that because of his autism, he tended to lose himself in reading or school projects, because she’d had to remind him herself to eat or take breaks multiple times throughout their friendship. 

He didn’t deserve to feel babied. The thought of David holed up in his house and miserable while she spent her quarantine happy with her boyfriend made her feel uncomfortable. 

Yes, Kath moved in with her boyfriend of three months, Jack Kelly, and despite what her parents said, she regretted nothing so far. Jack had a nice studio apartment in Upper Manhattan and she’d rather die than spend quarantine in the Pulitzer mansion with her asshole father and suburbanite mother. Not to mention at least one of her six other siblings would be home, and Katherine didn’t get along well with most of them.

She was sort of the black sheep in her family. A bisexual, unmarried journalist in her late twenties, moving in with her Hispanic boyfriend after only knowing him for a few months? Her family was constantly having conniption fits over her life, and she was too happy to care. 

Jack brought so much joy to her life. She didn’t care that her parents hated the fact he was a full-time artist. She ignored the snide remarks her father made about his ethnicity and illegal immigrants. Her mother liked to gossip about his ‘street style’ because he had one of his ears pierced and he liked to wear ripped jeans. They warned her about a potential ‘seedy past’ just because he had scars on his arms and face— just two little ones splitting his eyebrow and left jaw. They were wrong about Jack, though. He was sweet and funny and passionate and talented, and Katherine liked that in men.

So she’d moved in three weeks ago, and things were going swimmingly. Part of her wanted David to be that happy, and part of her didn’t even know if she could handle being away from him indefinitely.

“There’s got to be something we can do.” She stated firmly, watching him miserably pick at his untouched croissant. “Someone you can stay with…”

“I’m not burdening anyone but my family with my health issues.” He responded just as stubbornly. 

“Don’t even. You’re not a burden. What about—“ The idea struck her like some sort of cartoonish eureka moment. She felt her own grin and wondered why she hadn’t had the thought to do this before. “What about me and Jack? Jack’s brother Tony’s moving in with his boyfriend for quarantine so his room’ll be open…”

David’s cheeks began to splotch pink beneath his freckles. “I— I haven’t even met Jack.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. He’ll like you. He has to like you. You’re my best friend, and you’re part of the Katherine Pulitzer Package.”

A sheepish grin took over his face and he dropped eye contact again, that pinkish color tinging the tip of his nose and his endearingly wide ears. “Kath…”

“It’s true. And the thought of you spending all of this quarantine an hour and a half away from me during a pandemic is making me nervous.” She crossed her arms, starting to like the idea more with every word she said. “Listen, David, I’ll run it by Jack and you could probably move in right after! You’re already packed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Then you can take the spare room and we’ll split rent three ways. It’ll be better for all of us. David, this is going to be so fun! Think of all the shows we’ll be able to binge!” She was practically near the point of squealing as she took his hands in her own. Visions of younger Kath and Davey filled her mind, composed of all of the times they’d sworn to live together or start up businesses or run libraries side by side. This was going to be fun. She’d get to spend time with her two favorite people.

Unconvinced, David’s frown deepened. “Kathy, I… I don’t know. Does he— does Jack know I’m autistic? And my narcolepsy, I don’t… I don’t wanna make him uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” Katherine scoffed, offended by the thought. “If he’s uncomfortable then that’s a huge red flag. You and I can just pack our stuff and move into your place. But Jack won’t be weird, I promise. He’s incredibly sweet. And David— you don’t make people uncomfortable.”

“I sleep all of the time and I have incredibly strange habits—“

“Everybody has weird habits.” She insisted, dead-set on the idea. “And sleeping all the time is better than leaving out dirty dishes or never closing the toilet seat, or something. Plus, you’re incredibly tidy which’ll fit right in with Jack and I. He cooks, I do laundry, and you can help us clean up.”

“I don’t want you to have to do my laundry…”

“Specifics~” In a sing-song voice, she tried to subdue his overthinking. 

He tilted his head with a slight smile, obviously confused by her. They were at the point where he didn’t have to voice his troubles reading her emotions. She found the expression adorable, anyways. “You really are determined to see this through, aren’t you?” 

“Yep.” She grinned wildly, “You know how I get when I’m determined.”

“I know.” David conceded, and Kath noticed that he already looked just a bit brighter as he carefully brushed one of his chocolate-brown curls off of his brow. “I guess I… I’ll tell my parents if your boyfriend says yes. Will you— you’re not gonna— I won’t be interrupting anything, will I?” 

Kath was confused for just a split second, until she noticed the pinkish color of his cheeks. She couldn’t suppress her own soft giggle. “Oh, no, David. You won’t be.”

“Okay… if you say so.” He shook his head at her as his attention returned to his laptop. She could see the reflection of a Quizlet in his lenses.

Now she was practically itching to leap out of her chair in the tiny café. The news outlet she worked for had already transferred them to online work, since they only went into the offices three days a week. She was going to go home to Jack and have an easy, quick conversation, and then David wouldn’t have to be miserable. Plus, she’d finally get to live with her best friend.

“You almost done studying, hon?” Kath asked, carefully bumping their ankles together. She polished off her drink, vibrating with the happy energy of a plan coming together. 

He glanced up through long, dark lashes, wearing a little smile at the nickname. “Almost. You rushing me, Kathy?”

“No. I want this future lawyer to pass his test tomorrow.” Despite her practiced tone, she could tell he was seeing right through her. She acquiesced. “But I’m also excited to get home and talk to Jack. I’ll call you right after he says yes.”

“You can’t be sure.” He murmured, and she watched a flashcard flip. 

Katherine was going to quell his nerves, because she was actually 100% positive. “We’ll see about that.” 

David only chuckled softly and returned to his studying. Katherine had long abandoned her half-finished article in favor of conversation with him, so now she just watched his elegant fingers fly across the keys at breakneck speeds. This was going to be good.

…

Katherine was rarely ever wrong, and she hadn’t been wrong about Jack. When she inquired about David, he gave her an easygoing smile and agreed to the living arrangement without much further questioning. Maybe it had been her obvious excitement, or the spiel she’d given in David’s favor before asking the question, but he seemed perfectly alright with a total stranger moving into his spare room. 

She was tossing a throw blanket over the couch when Jack exited the bedroom wearing a tank top and an unbuttoned flannel, the sleeves rolled up to display muscular forearms. He looked so goddamn pretty that it took her brain a moment to reset before she could continue her couch dressing. It wasn’t wise to get Katherine started on his excellent choice in jeans, either. She could go on for days about the way he cuffed his acid-washed pants.

Jack sent her one of his bright smiles as he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her, dropping his chin onto her shoulder since they were nearly the same height. “Is your friend gonna be here soon?”

“Yes.” She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and twisted within his arms, slinging her own around his shoulders. “David’s incredibly kind and smart, but he can be sort of awkward at first. It’s not because he doesn’t like you. And remember, he’s got narcolepsy so—“

“I remember.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his touch slow and sure. It still stole her breath, even after three months. “I even looked up some of that narcolepsy stuff, just to make sure I was ready.”

Kath’s heart squeezed at this man’s sweetness, and she felt herself smiling dopily as she cupped his cheek in one hand. “You’re incredible. Have I told you that?”

“Maybe. But I don’t mind hearin’ it again.” Jack grinned the type of smile that made Kath want to kiss him senseless. “But uh— does he do any of that sleep attack stuff? Where their muscles stop working.”

“What, cataplexy?”

He nodded, looking like a mixture between uneasy and determined. 

“David doesn’t have it as bad as some people but sometimes you might see his eyelids start to droop against his will. He gets upset about it. Normally he doesn’t have severe attacks but… he was really stressed senior year of high school and he did go limp a couple of times. I’m not saying that’ll happen, because it’s been a while, but if it does and I’m not here for some reason, just sit with him and let him ride it out. Make sure he’s breathing.” 

He gave a firm nod, a lot less nervous than she expected. Then Kath remembered his youngest brother Charlie, who had a birth defect in one leg that required him to use crutches or a wheelchair on high pain days. Jack was used to taking care of the people he loved. The thought of him doing research for David, whom he didn’t even know, made her feel ridiculously giddy. 

“Gotcha.” Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead and trailed a line of similar, sweeter little kisses down to her lips.

When his hands slipped down to press against her lower back, she knew exactly what he was getting at and laughed as she carefully pushed a hand against his firm chest. “Down, boy. He’ll be here within the hour.” 

Jack’s only protest was a childlike whine, which caused her to push him away by the forehead. Both laughed as Jack made his way into the kitchen to start on dinner. She busied herself with tidying the living room, slight nerves building within her as she hoped and prayed that David and Jack would get along. 

Eventually the intercom buzzed and Kath practically sprinted across the room to call David up. She was rife with anticipation, exactly how she felt before submitting a big article. Jack could obviously tell and chuckled softly as he kissed her forehead on the way to the living room.

Moments later came a knock on the door, and Kath excitedly opened it to reveal David in all of his nervous glory.

He wore an overstuffed backpack and a duffle bag was slung over the crook of one elbow. He was clutching two cardboard boxes to his chest, both reading ‘books’ in his neat scrawl. 

“David!” Kath exclaimed, immediately taking the boxes from him. “Did Saz drive you?”

“She’s bringing up the rest of my stuff.” David confirmed, and Kath almost offered to go down and help until she remembered the multiple powerlifting championships his older brother Sarah won in highschool. She figured Sarah would be alright.  

“Come on in, then.” Katherine smiled at him from over the heavy boxes, full of David’s extensive collection of books. His prized possessions.

They wandered into the space, David’s eyes glancing over the kitchen and their little entrance area, complete with a welcome mat and a rack for their coats and bags. Kath had never lived with a significant other, and she was finding the domesticity of it all very lovely. But she wasn’t worried about his reaction to the place itself. 

The big moment came when David stepped into the living room, Kath trailing behind. Jack quickly stood and she watched as both boys took each other in.

Inwardly, she was proud of David for making an excellent first impression. He wore a nice pair of khakis and an olive green sweater that made his eyes look almost vibrant in their green hue. His curls were tamed and he didn’t look too much like a deer in headlights, though she could already see him struggling to maintain eye contact with a smiling Jack, who gravitated towards him and offered a hand. “I’m Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing. I’m David… it’s nice to meet you.” He took Jack’s hand, which only reminded Kath how tall he was.

Jack was a bit on the shorter side at 5”9, but David towered above just about everyone at a clean 6”2. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet ya’ too, Davey.” 

“Oh, it’s— um—“

They shook hands and David didn’t even wipe his palm off on his thigh as he normally did, staring at Jack with wide, green eyes. It had to be the nickname that had spooked him, Kath knew, and felt her anxiety peak. Last time someone had attempted to give him a nickname he’d nearly shut down, but instead his eyes just roamed over Jack’s easy expression.

He cleared his throat. “Right. So… uh… my room?”

“Right this way, sir.” Jack, goofball that he was, pretended to tip an invisible cap. A little smile split across David’s face as he followed Jack further into their space, to the spare bedroom Tony had recently vacated. The tension seemed to disappear immediately as Jack took David’s duffel from him and led the way.

That went surprisingly well. Kath wasn’t sure she’d ever seen David take to someone so easily. Except for herself, of course. But they were six years old and she’d asked him to play pirates with her since he was crying, so she wasn’t sure if that counted. Usually it took him about a month to get past prolonged, stony silences and awkward refusal of eye contact, but here he was smiling and relaxing his tense posture already. 

Snapping out of her stupor, Kath joined the boys in the bedroom, and set David’s boxes on his desk. She finally pulled him into a hug. He responded gratefully, pressing his cheek into her auburn hair. She felt the tension seep out of him like it always did when they hugged. “Thank you so much for this, Kathy.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think we’re too codependent to survive a quarantine apart.” 

David laughed softly and stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets as he examined the room. He was drawn towards the window, which is sort of what Kath expected from him. His childhood bedroom had a bay window and a reading nook. They’d spend countless hours curled up there. “This place is really lovely.” 

“Thanks.” Jack leaned against the closet, eyes lingering on David. Kath could understand— sometimes it was difficult to look away. He was incredibly pretty. “My Ma’s friend used to own it and she pulled some strings to get it for me and my brother Racer.”

When she was younger, there’d been multiple years in which she was convinced she’d marry David one day. He was handsome and smart and really witty and sarcastic once you got to know him— but that dream had sort of fallen through when David never showed any interest in dating. His life revolved around his grades, his intense hyperfixation keeping him from any sort of romance. He’d never dated, to Katherine’s knowledge, and as they got closer to thirty, she wondered if he might be asexual or something.

He was a compelling person. She was glad to call him her best friend. “Have you called your parents yet, David?”

“Yeah. I think they’re disappointed, but, uh…” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m not.”

“Good.” Kath smiled and started to carefully unpack the boxes. 

They heard the intercom buzz again, and Jack politely excused himself to go help Sarah in. David slid up to stand side by side with Kath as they carefully removed his books from the boxes. He broke the comfortable silence, voice tight with nerves. “I… I’m really not interrupting anything, right?”

“No.” She answered as emphatically as possible, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re not interrupting, and you’re not a burden, so don’t even think it. I’m glad to have you here, David.”

“Okay.” He exhaled, and some more of that rigid tension seemed to slip from his slim shoulders. “Just checking.”

“I know.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “What do you think of Jack?”

Green eyes grew wide and he glanced comically between Kath and the bedroom door. “Kath, he could come back any second!”

“Just tell me now!” She couldn’t stop her own giggle at the sight of David’s tiny smile, resting an eager hand on his arm. 

He tilted his head and leaned in, still glancing at the door. David’s volume dropped to an intimate sort of whisper, a tone that sounded nice in his soft voice. “He… he seems really charismatic. And handsome.”

“Isn’t he?” Kath gushed, excited to have David’s approval so quickly. “I think you two will really get along well.” 

Moments later, Jack re-entered the room with Sarah in tow. As promised, she had the bulk of David’s things and carried them with ease, impressive biceps flexed as she set the bags and boxes on the floor. Sarah, embarrassingly enough, had been Katherine’s bisexual awakening. Two years older and positively gorgeous, she’d crushed on David’s big sister for the first two years of highschool.

Privately, Kath couldn’t think of anyone that wouldn’t find Sarah stunning. She was tall and built and she had the prettiest dark hair. It was funny- David was like a string bean compared to her as he hugged her tightly. They were close. Sarah might’ve been the only person closer to David than Kath herself.

They exchanged greetings as everyone helped David unpack, setting up the room and slowly making it his own.  

Jack took a liking to Sarah as well, but to Kath’s utter delight, he really seemed to click with David. David laughed at Jack’s ridiculous little jokes and seemed to enjoy his passionate ranting about art. He even let Jack call him Davey for the entirety of the night, which both Sarah and Kath were floored about.  

On the other hand, Jack seemed to like David’s dry humor and found his awkwardness just as endearing as Kath did. He listened to David talk about his rigorous law courses with rapt interest, and Kath decided then and there that they’d be fast friends.

She knew change was hard for David, and that was evident in the way he clung to Sarah once his room was set up. She rocked him back and forth in the hug and gently ruffled his hair as they said their goodbyes. 

Soon Sarah was gone, and Kath could see actual tears in David’s eyes as she left. The only logical thing to do was tug him into a hug, which he melted into. “You’re both gonna be okay, David.”

“I know.” He sniffled, fists gently curling into the material of Kath’s shirt. “I’ve just— I’ve never not lived with Saz.”

“It’s a big change.” Kath agreed, and gently ran her fingers through his curls. 

Jack was wearing a familiar look of sympathy as he stepped closer, gently placing a hand on David’s back. His love language was physical affection above anything else, and thankfully David didn’t flinch away as Jack spoke. “How’d you feel about a movie tonight, Davey?”

Davey hiccuped, “Sounds good.” 

Carefully, Jack patted him on the back and slipped out into the living room. Once they were in private, David’s chest started to shake with little sobs and Kath hugged him even tighter. She’d expected this, but it didn’t make seeing her best friend cry any easier. 

“Shh, David. I’ve got you.” She assured, continuing to card her fingers through his hair. The poor thing was bent at an awkward angle, glasses smushed against his cheek. “This is gonna be fun, right? Longest sleepover ever.”

He laughed wetly and nodded,  pushing his hands beneath his glasses to dry his eyes. “Okay. I think it’s out of my system.”

“Even if it’s not, I’m always right here.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, remembering the countless times he’d held her while she cried over her frustrating parents. Tears weren’t a foreign thing between the two. “Change into something comfortable and I’ll put on Dead Poets Society.”

“Thanks, Kathy.” He whispered, fingers gently trailing down to wrap around her wrist.

Stupidly, her heart skipped a beat. Sometimes he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and the sheer sincerity in his green eyes made her feel some type of way.

The strangest thing was that Jack made her feel the exact same. She tried to push that down and gave him another reassuring squeeze before exiting the room.

David with tear-streaked cheeks was an unfairly pretty sight. 

The smell of popcorn filled the living area as Kath reclined on the couch, pulling up the movie of choice just in time for Jack to join her with a bowl full of popcorn. He glanced at the bedroom door David had since shut, concern lining his features. “Is he okay?” 

“He will be.” She leaned into Jack’s side, balancing the popcorn on her lap. When he still looked uneasy, she laughed softly and nudged his knee. “I promise. It’s tough for him to regulate his emotions when he’s tired, and I’m sure he’s had a long day. Plus, he and Sarah are super close so he might have sister withdrawals.” 

“Okay. That was just sort of heartbreaking.” Jack muttered like the human teddy bear he was, one arm tightening around Katherine. 

“You’re too nice for your own good, did you know that?” She teased, running her fingertips down his cheek. “David will be fine. I promise.” 

Jack smiled and nudged their noses together. “I’ve never seen this movie.” 

“It’s his favorite.” She explained simply, smoothing down the collar of Jack’s flannel. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

They shared a little laugh as David emerged from his bedroom, looking a little more put together despite his puffy eyes. He wore a Columbia t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants that Kath knew he adored. He curled up on the opposite end of the couch, about a foot away, and Kath felt like it wouldn’t be proper to call him over and close the gap. Instead she balanced the popcorn on the cushion between them, wishing he would just sit next to her like he normally did.

His little smile at the sight of the title on the screen was enough. “Have you seen this, Jack?”

Jack and Kath exchanged a look before Jack grinned at David, wide and blinding. “Nope.” 

David’s jaw dropped, and when laughter filled the room, Katherine was sure everything would be alright.

Like most movie nights with her best friend went, he was curled up asleep by the end of the film, using the armrest of the couch as a pillow with his knees drawn up to his chest. She didn’t know how someone so tall could make themselves so tiny in sleep. They liked to joke that he’d never seen the end of a movie before. Jack was crying incoherently behind her as the credits rolled and she decided that this spontaneous quarantine was going to be a bit less terrifying with these boys around.

[izunx]

Hii! Can you do a Luck fanfiction where he finds the reader crying? The reader is always cheerful and happy, but is secretly depressed. So he was surprised to see them like this.

LUCK with a depressed s/o

. In which luck finds his precious significant other crying. . warnings: depression.

✧.* luck x gn reader

Luck doesn't know where you are, which is rare. Usually by any moment right now you'd be in the black bulls lounge area chirping away at whatever antics you've been up to. But now that he thinks of it, it’s been ages since he’s last actually seen you functioning properly.

He feels funny. That feeling you get where you know just something isn't right and he hates it. He hates feeling this way especially when it's about YOU.

You were always one of the brighter ones of the squad, uplifting people when they were feeling down and discouraged. Now that he thinks of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen you get comforted but at the same time he's never seen you upset.

Is it possible for a person like you to even get upset?

The sobs he was hearing proved him otherwise though. As he walked past the hallways, he heard you. The hallways were dim but through the crack of the slightly open door he could see the bright lights shining through.

Much to his dismay, there you were sprawled out on your bed without a care in the world crying with a tub of sweets by your side.

"I don't have the energy for this Luck!" You threw one of the plushies HE got for you at him. He catches it and just looks at you in confusion. Is this real?

Because what he was seeing on your bed just couldn't be you right? Distressed and letting down all your guard, ultimately showing your tear stained face and horror blood shot eyes. It didn't just stop there either; you were gripping onto the sheets and suffocating your sobs into the pillow.

The state of your room wasn’t any better. It looked as if someone mistaken it as a rage room, it was abhorrent to say the least.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You simply gave him a weak frown, "Not that you’d care."

To that he just frowns. Why would you doubt him like that?

"If I didn’t care I’d be a shit boyfriend." He sat down on your bed, encouraging you to begin on letting your feelings out. But you were stubborn.

"Just why would I do that? No one takes me seriously anyways" despite saying that, you sunk your head into his shoulder, grabbing onto his shoulder. "Where did I go wrong in life, Luck?"

The grab on his shoulder became more intense; you were biting your lips harshly and hid your eyes away.

"Everyone else got so lucky with their parents! I’ve grown up miserable with them."

Luck thinks back on it, you’ve never mentioned your parents before. But he doesn’t say anything. He needs to let your feelings out first.

"Not once since I’ve come here have I received a letter from them- after ruining my life they can’t even say sorry now that I’ve done what they’ve wanted and become a magic knight?" Now you’re a mess.

Your hair was sticking onto your face and you had salty tears streaming down your pretty face, staining it.

And Luck just hugged you. Held you close and comforted you whispering sweet nothings into your ear reassuring you.

"Everyone thinks I’m incapable of being sad but God you haven’t seen the worst!" You try and get out of his grasp, still hurt from your past.

"I won’t be taken advantage of again-"

"That’s enough Y/N." Luck held your arms and looked straight into your eyes.

"Every single member in this squad appreciates you more than you think, they adore you. They admire your will to strive and encourage other people and God do I love your stubbornness in our fights. I love everything about you."

You gawked at your boyfriend. He wasn’t done though.

"and lord do I love your smile so don’t let it be sullen with your past because now in the present you’re loved a lot." He gave you one of his smirks and it just made you cry even more.

Not so much sad tears but definitely you felt just a little bit happier.

Luck wasn’t so fortunate himself and he too was on his last straw but being able to fight people stronger than him and have you by his side was enough. He hoped it could be the same for you.

"I just always feel like this Luck and I just don’t know how I’ve managed to fight like this" He again took you in his arms and took in everything.

He understood you were depressed, unhappy with how you yourself was and he heard you out. Sat there the whole night taking in what you were saying.

It’s true at times you weren’t faking that smile, you enjoyed the moments with your boyfriend a lot. You kept all his little trinkets and treasured them.

You were snug holding onto the plushie he bought you on your first date in the city. It was unreal to you. You were loved and you thought it was just surreal. You held the thought close to you and you’ve grown to appreciate that fierce boyfriend of yours.

You can get used to this. Letting your feelings out wasn’t so bad after all. And although it would take time to heal, you knew Luck would always be with you through thick and thin.

[darkdevoured]

@dev1lsadvocate | cont. from here

Damnit.. Mizora truly knows her too well. Hela had wanted to look away and of course she had been forced to look into those ruby orbs that she’s come to love so much, in two lifetimes at that. Ever since she regained her memories, Hela had to navigate a sense of.. loss and gain all at once, leaving her unsure of her path, her actions and even who she is as a person. “I am entirely different from how I used to be. I wouldn’t find it odd if you had a preference.” Her voice sounded more powerful than she actually felt. Her hands came up to gently wrap around Mizora’s wrist, as if wanting to urge her to let go of her chin, but no further move was made. Mizora’s wings almost functioned as a safety net for her, keeping them in and everything else out; comforting.

And then.. those words. Hela held her breath as she listened, eyes showing vulnerability that was very unlike the aasimar. Her heart raced, her cheeks flushed and she briefly contemplated just closing her eyes.. but she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. Not when the woman in front of her spoke so genuinely, so fiercely, and touched the heart she didn’t know existed before finding her again. When Mizora leaned in, Hela attempted to do the same, except.. she couldn’t move with the way she was being held, so all she could do was whimper softly when she didn’t get the kiss she had hoped for. “You really know how to make me swoon, don’t you?”

A frown appearsed then, clearly unamused at the way Mizora laughed. Hypocritical, really.. she’s allowed to talk bad about herself, but expects the other to not do the same. It was Hela’s turn to close the distance, both hands wrapping around her horns firmly to pull her down, “Now, I’m in no position to tell you to stop that.. and yet here I am, asking you to stop that.” Hela chuckled softly, bringing their lips together for a quick but gentle kiss before pulling away once more, “In any case, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you in ways I thought myself to be incapable after.. everything. You complete me.”

Her grip loosened some then, thumbs gently caressing the base of Mizora's horns as her eyes took in each and every little detail of her face. It's a good thing she couldn't see herself, or she'd roll her eyes at the love-filled puppy eyes she put on display without even realising it. "Considering you love deals, I won't talk badly about myself if you don't talk badly about yourself.. deal?"

[freestylegenius]

I can’t help you.

I am seriously wondering if I can even help myself anymore.

I am alone, anonymous and naked (at a soul level that is), navigating what appears to be a crisis in midlife.

I was let go from two jobs in one year and can’t seem to land a 3rd interview at any company, regardless of my experience or qualifications. This is after a 30 year career of landing every single job I ever pursued.

I don’t have any family left. Any family members I had healthy relationships with have since passed on and only the toxic ones remain, and we are no-contact. I’m one of those cycle-breakers. It sounds more fun than it is. I chose to not have a family of my own because I didn’t want to recreate whatever dynamic I came from. I am best with pets, without which I probably wouldn’t still be here.

I don’t have any followers here and have few friends in real life. Those I do have just feel like polite acquaintances with whom I can never be my full self with. I am one of the female versions of ‘too much,’ but we all know that ‘too much’ only comes in female flavor don’t we?

Now at the age of 52 I feel rejected from any space I am trying to be in. Might my perspective be skewed? Probably. I do know that trauma and depression can impact one’s outlook, but I can’t help but notice again and again that I am not wanted here, there or anywhere.

I feel broken. That whatever made me successful before doesn’t work anymore. Like the game changed over night. How does one navigate the experience of previously being sought-after, revered and well-paid only to be rejected across the board, both socially and professionally just a few years later?

Where do I go from here? I would love to create my own thing but how do you reinvent yourself and create something from scratch when you have never created anything?

How do you foster your own vision when you have spent 30 years selling someone else’s vision? All I have ever done is chase revenue. My skills are herding cats and negotiating deals. For that, all I have to show for it is a deep-seated feeling of emptiness and a house I can no longer afford to keep.

Now a decade from retirement, I find myself on the precipice of losing everything while inexplicably unable to get myself to do anything about it. I am deeply disillusioned with this game of corporate cruelty and late-stage capitalism and seem to be in a functional freeze that I am now finally just emerging from, slowly.

I don’t know if I can do this anymore. My life is falling apart before my eyes and yet I feel incapable of helping myself. I watch my bank account dwindle towards nothing as if I am simply watching a movie instead of my actual life that I am blowing up in real-time by being a passive observer.

I don’t have health insurance, I am living on credit cards which are almost maxed out and my unemployment benefits run out in two weeks. Next month I will have to tap my anemic 401K just to survive. I don’t know how I am going to keep my house that I was planning to retire in as the mortgage is too high to recover in rent. My previous credit score of 820 is in the wind of better days.

So here I am. To call myself out on whatever shit is fucking up my life. Obviously I’m part of the problem. My entire life is in disarray so it must be me. So let’s figure it out. Nothing is working so let’s put it out on the Internet. What could possibly go wrong?

I commit to documenting the journey, whether it continues on this downward spiral or (please baby jesus) turns into epic rise from the ashes. I know nobody is here and may not ever show up. That’s ok. I may not even allow comments because I’m terrified at how mean the internet can be.

But I will be here. I will show up for myself. And I will keep doing it until I walk myself thru this.

If you want to follow along I could use a friend.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

Out of curiosity, thoughts on Scriddler?

i thought, that one day, i’d might be asked this lol. 

i’ll be frank, the nature of popularity of that ship kinda confuses me to this day. not in irked sense, i just generally was surprised to see so much stuff for them. like, i don’t remember them interacting in anything, that i’ve watched / read. which tbh, doesn’t say much, since i’m very picky about what i engage with, when it comes to superhero media outlets. so maybe, it did happen somewhere an’ i just didn’t see it. i remember casually browsing a few of accs, who shipped it, curious, if they had some specific comic strip or cut scenes from the game, which depict those two together an’ that’s what lead them to idea of this ship. but i saw nothing of sorts. an’ it’s not a problem, naturally. but for me, an outsider, who ships a completely different thing, it was a bit puzzling. just how it came to be this broad, if there wasn’t any huge kickstarter. or well, not the one, that i’ve glimpsed. 

either way, i’ll begin with saying scriddler doesn’t personally work for me. nor does it have smth, that i seek in my otps. with this in mind, i have no intention to belittle anyone with what will follow below. it’s just my own whimsical outlook on it, based on many individual criteria, that might be vastly different for others, who see things in that ship, that i’m incapable of. similar to how i see things in my rare ships, that i know would make many folks quirk a brow as to why ‘that’s even a thing’. 

now, about jon an’ edward. a pair that might sound good on paper, depending on what you include in said paper, but for me it’s like putting a hardcore dnd fan into a pit with hardcore bookworm, an’ expect them to get along swell, just bc they’re both outcasts. ignoring how the first one is more show-offish an’ loudly proud of his abilities, an’ the other one is kinda shut-in with occasional god complex lol. one of them tends to throw ugly tantrums, the other one prone to meltdowns. both are sociopaths, who have little understanding of ‘how to human’, unless they need to pretend *for small periods of time*. 

in short, i cannot see them having enough patience to handle one another in almost 95% of their interactions. i can’t imagine antisocial, snappy jonathan to be able to tolerate edward’s endless need for praise an’ attention. more so, i struggle to picture jon even knowing how to react in those situations, or being willing to put aside a book, an’ listen to nygma’s newest scheme, if he’s not in the mood for it. or see edward going along with whatever crane has cooked up *some fear plan*, if he already has his own in drafting. it doesn’t help, that they’re also a slightly different ‘breed’ of villains too. 

indeed, they’re both operate more on intellectual level vs brute force *not without use of it tho*, but where riddler’s tick is the actual level of intelligence or level of knowledge, the scarecrow is a mindrape kind of villain. nygma likes building traps an’ labyrinths, giving quests an’ a chance to ‘win’, even if it’s all be a faux in the end. jonathan, on other hand, is mix between being sadistic an’ pragmatic. they both want / need a very different things *usually*, when they kick bruce or whoever else around. or in other words, they’re kinda useless to each other’s obsessions an’ it’s hard to imagine them functionally combining their efforts, without smth going wrong or one of them getting pissed off at the other. which was one of few reasons why jonathan got fed up with the joker, when they had their team-up *during the bane era*. crane doesn’t play well with others, an’ he also has a short temper, when someone keeps doing things, that he views as useless or silly. an’ nygma being prideful as he is, most likely won’t just swallow jon’s critic, esp bc he would have some of his own stored as well. neither of them is actually a team player. so here goes their supposed villain team up for me, like even from a technical aspect. they don't strike me as villains, who can have buddy-buddy relationships, even in part bc of their 'big personalities'.

an’ circling back to their obsessions, it’s pretty much a core of their persona. the root of their disease an’ addiction. an’ also a thing, that usually pushes them to engage with anyone in a meaningful way at all *at the very beginning, at least* an' it’s kinda clinical in that regard too. i don’t think that jon would be engaged with riddler’s fear in any intimate fashion, for one. i don’t think, that past abuse or trauma or hardship is enough for him to get obsessed with a person. in fact, i think that he usually simply gets pleasure from making someone feel awful as simple as it sounds. unless, they’re his bully or someone, who has wronged him, he seems to just forget about those, who he hurt along the way. it’s unflattering aspect of the antisocial brain, but that’s just how it is. nygma’s past won’t be able to be memorable for him, partly due to crane’s general lack of ability to relate to others, without it being very heavily connected to his own woes. an’ even then, he tends to misunderstand it. an’ in return, doubt that nygma would understand why jonathan was that affected by bullying, considering that in edward’s eyes, it’s an attention *no matter what kind* an’ attention is good. after all, he did say that people usually literally looked past him, not even jocks were interested in tormenting him, until he became smth ‘worthy’ of their aggression. so from his perspective, he might think that jon being dramatic about it, since crane was on opposite side of the issue, he always attracts attention to himself. a very bad, bad kind, but attention anyhow. meanwhile, nygma *in his own eyes* has to fight tooth an’ nail to get any. an’ it might start as one time fight, but it will be an always looming issue, that eventually would blow into their faces. there is no denial, that it played a huge part of what made them so dependent on their gimmicks in the first place. the way the world around them engaged with them or in nygma’s case, the way, it did not. so yeah,  it’ll be a big ole mess, an’ neither would be able to navigate such a situation. 

from what i saw, people tend to depict them as ‘two evil old men in relationships’, an’ it feels like they both more put together in those set ups, than they usually are. or like jon is very receptive toward edward’s attempt to befriend him, an’ nygma actually is pretty good at figuring out what scarecrow might like an’ what not. an’ the problem with it is that i don’t see edward being this thoughtful about anyone. ever. period. in most cases, his disorder just won’t let him be this considering, even if he would have wanted to. like, even if we take newest batman 2022 movie, in there riddler is very-very delusional about the bat, an’ it doesn’t even occur to him, that bruce might have different needs / goals vs what edward imagined him to lol. an’ jonathan is this, but even worse. he openly tends to dehumanise an’ objectify others, seeing them only as tools or props to get what he wants. i don’t think that such person would suddenly act differently around nygma, who on top of everything is also clingy an’ needy. for jonathan, who doesn’t have any experience with companionship at all, an’ who lived most of his life alone, that’s be overwhelming an’ confusing, an’ also annoying. whatever good qualities they have, an’ whatever we love them for, it’s given that both jon an’ nygma be hard to be around in long term, an’ would at times get hella unpleasant too. picturing them trying to mend things in 'normal' ways, or talking about it like normal people is smth that i personally cannot invision at all. or in other words, from my perspective, they’re too mentally ill for each other. in fiction, it's often be a positive thing. like, that two mavericks with huge problems can make it work together, but my personal experiences pretty much prevent me from seeing it this way. unless, one of the two is at least somewhere leveled or tries to be, there is just no way for such relationships to hold on for too long. in jon's an' riddler's case, we talking about an actual extremes on top of all, so it's be even harder for one of them to pull up the other, when they themselves unwell. one might argue, that there is potential for them to make each other worse, then. but they already *objectively* suck on their own as people. the corruption only works if there is smth too corrupt to begin with. some versions of the scarecrow an' riddler are already too far gone, for anything else to make them suck more lol. an' once again, they don't share gimmick, they don't share worldview or have the same goals, so it's hard to picture them infecting the other with their own desease, so to speak.

there is kinda more, that i can say on the topic, but it’s getting hella long already, so i’d skip a few things an’ will go straight to my next point. i suppose, that i already gave an outline of why i cannot see them working together personality wise, so next i’d get to their general aesthetics or visuals. the surface stuff, if you may.

i love their general designs *some more than the others, naturally*. but when i look at them side by side, i’ll be honest, i just see two bottoms lol. an’ while yeah, there is such a thing as switching, i kinda rarely vibe with it. an’ with jon an’ edward, it’s just that. they're purebred bottom cocksuckers in my eyes. them havin’ twink on twink sex isn't very sexy or hot to me. i feel like they both would want or at least have that not-so-secret fantasy about being domed into ground by a 'superior man'. bottoms fighting each other about who should top is more of a comedy set-up in my eyes, than anything else. esp bc they both will be like 'you should top' vs 'i wanna top' lmao. i also will add, that i hc both edward an' jon as kinda shallow in sense of who they find attractive. i picture them pawing after men, who are *technically speaking* out of their league. my personal joke about them is that they're both middle aged virgins with hilariously high standards, who won't beat it just to anyone or anything. they pick misery over everything else lol.

an’ that’s all that i’ve got on the topic of scrridler, pretty much! hopefully, this mini essay did explain my view on the pair. an’ i also hope that it was at least, kind of entertaining to read as an outsider's pov. in the end, if you ship it, i do encourage you to just see this as some rando sharing their opinion an' nothing more.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 35/?)

[<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1231

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Loceit

Warnings: unhealthy family dynamics

~~~START~~~

Logan was feeling… conflicted.  

On the one hand, he had done it. Not only had he conquered death, but he had his daughter back in his life, and she knew who he was.  

On the other hand, Remy hated him.  

And of course, on some level he understood where she was coming from, he hadn’t been around to raise her, he was a supervillain, he had inadvertently made her incapable of escaping building collapse, and he had technically experimented on her without her consent, but none of that changed that he was her father. He loved her, everything he did — as an inventor, as a supervillain, as a scientist — had been for her, whether he’d known it at the time or not.  

Still, she hated him. She wanted to stay with Virgil rather than with him — which, if Logan thought about it with his rational mind, made sense; Virgil was a superhero and a public figure; children in the city had been encouraged to go to him if they needed help for years.   

The rational part of Logan’s mind, however, was not currently in charge, a fact that was further exacerbated by the knowledge that his mother, through little fault of her own, was incapable of giving him the privacy he needed to work through his thoughts and feelings.  

“You just need to give her time, dear,” Barbra told him over breakfast, grating at his already frayed nerves by turning his thoughts into their topic of conversation. For several days now, Logan had been feeling like a teenager again, his thoughts open for public discussion — he was well versed in sidestepping his mother’s abilities, yes, but one could hardly spend their entire day focusing on Windows 95 screensavers.  

“She likes Janus more than me,” Logan pointed out petulantly. Normally, he would not admit his petty feelings out loud, but saying them rather than thinking them at least gave him the illusion of sharing information of his own accord. “They are a supervillain just the same as I am. The twins I could understand as they have no plans or ambitions past acquiring pretty things and having a good time, but Janus is functionally no different than me!” 

“They didn’t come with confusing labels for Remy to wrap her head around,” Barbra said. “They’re a supervillain and a random stranger; you’re a supervillain, a random stranger, and her estranged father that she doesn’t remember. She needs time.” 

Logan frowned. His mother had had dinner with the rest of the household the previous night, which was nice insofar as it gave Logan a small reprise to think, but terrible because he could now add her to the list of people Remy liked better than him.  

Barbra’s face softened before twisting up in surprise. “Oh!” 

Before Logan could ask her what she had seen — and he knew that she had seen something — there was a frantic knocking at the door. Knowing that whoever was waiting on the other side was the source of his mother’s surprise — distress? — Logan went to answer it without questioning his mother further.  

On the other side, he found Janus, practically doubled over from exertion.  

“Janus–” 

“Virgil’s gone,” they panted, thrusting a paper into Logan’s chest.  

Logan would question them further, but his mother was there, leading Janus into a chair and handing them a glass of water before he could even begin to form a follow up question. Virgil? Gone? With his cuffs removed he certainly had the means to leave, but why would he? 

Belatedly, Logan remembered the paper Janus had given him, he unfolded it to find a hand-written note. Whoever had written it had remarkably neat handwriting, with only faint lines where the writer had foregone picking their pen up all the way between letters betraying the writer’s anxiety.  

Dear Janus, 

I’m sorry about leaving this way, but I hope you can understand that I had to… 

The letter went on to describe how Virgil’s fathers had been kidnapped by a supervillain, how Virgil had been almost certain that this was a trap that had been laid for him, and how he hoped Janus would look after Patton until he returned. The only thing that suggested that Virgil did not think he would come back was the section where he implored Janus to give Patton the letter Virgil had written for him when they felt he was old enough.  

Logan stared at the letter for a moment longer.  

“You have already checked Roman’s apartment?” He finally asked, certain he already knew the answer. There was a feeling building up in Logan’s chest that he could not identify, but he did not enjoy it.  

“Dread,” Barbra said, softly so as to not interrupt Janus. 

“I did, Patton was thankfully still asleep, but Remy was awake. Virgil left her a letter too, explaining that he’d gone.” 

“Right…” The gears in Logan’s brain were turning, he didn’t have quite the full picture yet, but regrouping in Roman’s apartment seemed like the best course of action; have everyone all together both to plan their next steps and to look after Patton when he inevitably learned that he was — at least temporarily — down now two fathers. “Mother, if you could–” 

“Already on it, dear,” Barbra assured him, slipping out of the apartment to go wake the twins.  

“Janus,” Logan started once she was gone. “I believe it would be best if we moved this downstairs.” 

“He didn’t even try to ask for help,” Janus said, they had finished catching their breath from the climb up to Logan’s apartment, but Logan now realized that they were having a greater emotional response than he had anticipated. “Why didn’t he ask for help? I would have dropped everything to help him.” 

“I–” Logan started before deciding that honesty would be a better tactic. “The first thing that you need to remember about most superheroes is that they are, at their core, self-sacrificing idiots — that is how they became superheroes — and the second thing you need to remember, this time about Virgil specifically, is that a dangerous combination of too strong a hero-complex, and too little self-worth, have made him incredibly easy to manipulate, even if he knows that it is happening.” 

“Why is he like this?” Janus groaned, barely paying attention to Logan at all.  

“I do not know, but either way, I believe it would be best that we do not leave Remy on her own when Patton wakes up.” 

“Shit, Patton!” Janus lurched to their feet. “I don’t know how to be a parent!” 

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it,” Logan assured them, gently coaxing them towards the door. “But if it does come to that, you are hardly alone, and I assure you, Patton is quite fond of you.” 

“Logan,” Janus gasped, turning their full attention on Logan for the first time since handing him Virgil’s letter. Logan had never seen his friend quite so uncertain in their eight years of friendship.  

“I know, Janus,” he said, placing a steadying hand on Janus’s shoulder. “But we will fix this. We will get Virgil back.” 

Virgil was a part of their family now. Janus had certainly started the process by insisting that they keep him, but Logan had finished it by asking for Virgil’s help and figuratively laying himself bare before the hero. They would get him back.  

~~~END~~~

I've had this done for like a week now, but I thought the chapter was going to keep going so I didn't post it. But as it turns out the next part makes more sense as Janus POV and I think it was gonna get kinda long, so it's two separate chapters now

ODD taglist

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14

[lesbian-honey-lemon]

I think some of you guys in the autism community are.. a little ignorant on what it’s like to be unmasked.

Disclaimer: This is not coming from an autistic who used to mask and has since stopped masking. I have never been able to mask effectively. I have never been able to force eye contact, not stim, not speak in monotone, push through sensory issues, or fake empathy (sometimes I actually feel it, but when I can’t feel it, I can’t fake it). I’m still very low support needs, but what struggles I do have, I cannot mask them. I don’t speak for medium and high support needs autistics because their struggles with not being able to mask are much worse and also very different than mine. A low masking LSN like myself will have very different problems than a low masking MSN or HSN.

Not being able to mask has not been a good thing in my life. Not masking does not make your life easier. It just gives you different challenges. I’ve been bullied, I’ve had people I thought were friends talk shit about me behind my back and take advantage of my inability to tell when someone’s lying, I’ve been alone and without friends most of my life and it’s very hard to maintain the friendships I have now. It will be harder for me to function in college, get into research opportunities, and get internships and jobs later on. The world does not love unmasked autistics. The world especially hates autistics who are incapable of masking in the first place. My existence is not something to be strived for without knowledge of the downsides, I do not and have never had it easier because I’m incapable of masking.

I never had the identity issues of masked autistics. I’ve always been who I am and my autism has always been a visible part of that. I’m incapable of pretending to be anyone else. But I have suffered for not being able to pretend. I can’t do what you can. I can’t pretend to not have autism in order to get through a situation. I can’t shove down those struggles even when it benefits me. Masking is bad, it hurts people, and I understand that. But it’s a thing that some autistic people can do because it’s a safety mechanism. A safety mechanism that a lot of autistic people don’t have. I have the good fortune of being LSN. I don’t have many struggles to mask in the first place. What I have impacts my life heavily, but I am fortunate because I could have it much, much worse. People, especially medium and high support needs people, have been called slurs, infantilized, abused, isolated from the public for not being able to mask. People have been killed for not being able to mask.

Unmask if you want, if it’s safe. I’m not advocating for people to not unmask. It’s a very positive journey for a lot of people if they’re in the right situation where you have support and safety. But please do not treat non-masking as being perfect and freeing. It’s not, not for everyone. I would kill to be able to mask and many other low masking people I know agree with me.

Please, if you’re capable of masking and trying to unmask, remember us who have never been able to mask. Please keep our struggles in mind and advocate with us for acceptance, because once you’re out and visibly autistic/visibly weird/visibly disabled, they will be your struggles too. Especially if you lose your masking capability over time, because I lost what little ability I had to mask over the last few years and I can’t get that back no matter how much I try.

Good luck to everyone unmasking, you’ll need it to deal with the neurotypicals.

[saturn-sends-hugs]

For the bad batch ask!!!

17, 24, 34, and/or 48

Feel free to answer only the ones you want to <3<3

oh bestie i am answering ALL OF THEM

17. What are some headcanons you have about Tech?

oooo ok i found a couple in my notes app:

When watching a movie, Tech can get bored pretty quickly and usually ends up finding the space wikipedia page on it and listing off random facts about its production as they watch. Him and Echo often get into debates about how the SFX was done.

Less of a headcanon and more of a “what if”, but if Anakin ever piloted the Marauder, Tech would reluctantly agree that objectively Anakin is a pretty good pilot, but he’d grumble the whole time about him “messing up his systems.”

Tech has tried time and time again to convince Echo to let him weaponize his cybernetics. The strategic benefit of hidden weaponry would give them a backup plan in the event that they were ever without their blasters, and Wrecker of course just wants to see it happen. Echo, however, remains adamant that no, he would prefer not to sleep with a functioning rocket launcher in his scomp arm, thank you very much.

Tech cannot tell directions. He constantly has maps pulled up on his HUD, so he never gets lost, and no one ever questions it. But if he’s ever without his helmet or something? Oh. Oh buddy, he is lost in two seconds. You spin him around once and he has no idea what direction he just came from. Crosshair is more than happy to tease him about it.

Tech cannot dance. While he knows how to dance in that he’s seen tutorials and memorized the motions, he’s just so incredibly stiff that it’s actually abysmal. (It takes Phee a long, long time before she manages to get him to loosen up lol)

aaaaaand that’s probably enough :D

24. Do you have any hot or controversial takes?

oh absolutely and about 70% of them are just my opinions on Hunter.

Fandom thinks he has a ten step skincare routine, tons of hair products, and spends forever getting ready? NOPE. The man uses 5-in-1 shampoo and washes his face with hand soap. He has no clue what the word “exfoliating” means. He dresses like a fisherman grandpa and thinks sunscreen is for fancy people.

Also, the fisherman thing is like my whole concept of Hunter lol. He sends this to Omega no context one day thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world (he is correct)

not really a hot take, but honestly you already said everything about the whole Fandom Drama™️ stuff so this is what I’ve got lol

34. Which Batcher would you like to kick in the shins?

Crosshair. Obviously. (also Echo for being incapable of self care but i feel like it would be hypocritical to get upset about the ways i’m actively choosing to write him bskhkdndndkd)

48. What’s something you wish you could say/tell to each Batcher?

Tech: don’t hold your datapad so close to your face, you’re gonna get a headache. also where have you been girlie i missed you in the last episodes for some reason, you should really hurry up and get back from the podraces!

Crosshair: go suck an egg. btw have you considered piercings because i gotta say i’m imagining you with a septum and some platform boots and it’s incredible.

Wrecker: HELLO SIR HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A SLUSHY BECAUSE IM ABOUT TO CHANGE YOUR ENTIRE WORLD

Hunter: uh. hi.

Omega: you’re doing amazing sweetie and ur brothers won’t say it but they’re so proud of u mwah

Echo: (regarding slow down) SIT THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT NOW MISTER I SWEAR TO GOD. WTH ARE YOU DOING. WHO IS LETTING YOU CONTINUE TO BE THIS STUPID HOLY SH— (me. it’s me. i’m doing this to myself.) also stop ignoring rex u wet noodle.

[moonsmaxxing]

so… this obviously isn’t something that was true in my lives as moon because this stuff was so long gone there was basically no real record of it. but in the old kingdom we actually had a specific category of socially recognized… basically queerplatonic relationships, but only for mind readers? it’s not like. exactly that. but it was just so common for two mind readers to… i’m going to say become bonded, that it just sort of. became a fairly normalized thing.

i actually don’t know of any other kind of socially recognized relationships beyond standard romantic and sexual relationships and political marriages in either time, although i definitely didn’t know everything haha, but the rainwings are the only tribe you could argue recognized that type of relationship in my time as moon and it was more just that the category of sexual and romantic relationships was very broad and loose, so you’d have a lot of rainwing couples that were basically platonic life partners, and you do have some of the same downstream effects because of the scale colors but not really the same level of… symbiosis.

it was basically the only way you could have a legally recognized relationship outside of traditional marriage in the nightwing tribe at that time too - even a coparenting relationship was technically illegitimate if the secondary parent found a new partner but two mind readers who had paired… well it was actually kind of exactly like a civil partnership haha. they tended to be insanely codependent because their brains had basically grown to function as connected units, often if one partner died the other would be obviously “off” possibly for the rest of their life, like someone who’s mostly healed from a tbi but you can tell something is different even if you don’t know what.

i remember a few times hearing discussions where it was obvious that a few dragons saw the legal recognition as enabling unhealthy behaviors, but i don’t know, i feel really conflicted about it. especially now being In a similar dynamic where i am kind of codependent with someone i share a brain with and i actually don’t think that’s inherently unhealthy. it was this really unique thing and i think ultimately extending that right to a legally recognized relationship without romance or sex to the rest of the population would have been the right answer but it certainly wasn’t happening under vigilance.

but since the criteria for legal recognition was basically that both parties are able to think better in the presence of the other (this would be assessed by another mind reader, but this was a formality that i honestly think was just supposed to make you feel watched) it was pretty explicitly bound to mind reading. so i guess they’d have had to tweak things a bit.

this mostly started with close friends, often friends who met in classes for mind readers, which were generally kept small and private for obvious reasons, but you’d also see it with siblings (specifically usually hatchmates but your chance of two different-aged dragonets being moonborn and specifically mind readers were quite low) and occasionally even across age groups with a parent or possibly an instructor of some sort. (obviously the latter were sometimes kind of icky but a lot of the times more resembled an adult adoption than anything. not to say mind readers are incapable of bad relationships though i’d even go so far as to say they’re(/we’re) often inclined towards them but part of why it was necessary to have other mind readers in your life was that it reduces bad relationships, in theory at least, like we had social structures for this already even if they weren’t perfect)

anyway. i don’t know of any other tribe that would legally recognize more than one relationship for one dragon aside from the nightwings around that time (we’d had it for a while, i’m not sure how long) even though i know certain tribes were (relatively…) casual about polyamory… but i think nightwings were kind of unusual at that time for even having as much marriage as we did, most tribes would have laughed at the idea that anyone but a noble needed any of that shit. and things were generally pretty lax and you rarely needed a marriage for anything. but i still always thought it was nice that the other option existed… even if it only existed for ~2% (?) of the population