#he's also like. the Schrödinger cat of the brain

[taonpest]

I see a lot of people drawing young Kain as this very, very handsome man and then there's mine. He's a little goblin full of mischief and if you flick him you'd break all the bones in his body

[violetvenom]

I remember the first time I read Hellsing 15 years ago...and it doesn't matter how many times I've read or watched it in the meantime...there is still one thing my brain will just not accept.

Let me clarify;

Hellsing is pretty fucked up (and awesome) and got

Vampires. Plenty of them.

THE VAMPIRE

Nazis

Nazi Vampires

Whatever the fuck Zorin is /jk she's also a nazi vampire

A frigging werewolf

Literally Schrödinger's cat!

A priest who not only can regenerate but later turns into a fucking plant

A butler who is a killer machine since he was a kid, still slays with 69 and turns into a vampire later on

But then we got this fucker:

A fucking nazi cyborg!

I don't know why; but here my brain just draws a line and goes "Okay...this is ridiculous". Every.single.time.....yeah...like the rest would be considered normal.... wtf brain.... ಠ_ಠ

[orchidbreezefc]

the real problem with propagation: observation collapsing potentialities

time for another theory about the mechanics of time travel in woe.begone! the first one is [here]. i'm pretty confident that we've really cracked the case this time. thanks @solipsistful , @fortunechaos , and @whirlwindsworld for helping hammer this out!

let's talk about schrödinger's cat; the actual proposal, in which the cat literally is both dead and alive until the box is opened. both outcomes are actually, literally real, so long as you don't know which one it is. once you open that box and find out for sure, that becomes the only real outcome; the alternative is erased. the very observation of a state is what ensures it.

i believe propagation boils down to being such an observation, and that's why it's dangerous. knowing about an event prior to its occurrence sets that event in stone. knowing the outcome makes it the only real outcome; the alternative is erased.

some events in w.bg appear to be inevitable in every timeline. history doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. you can change or remove the causal factors that lead to certain events happening, and circumstances rearrange themselves so that the event happens anyway. even if you take away the instigator, 357A still explodes, and hunter still receives a scar. even if you take michael out of the timeline, cowboy influence still leaks in. even if you take mike walters out of the timeline--well. it seems like you can't.

i believe these inevitable events, these cross-timeline constants, were each caused by propagation. mike gets the cauliflower ear in different circumstances than the ones in which michael got his--we don't know how different, but michael's circumstances didn't involve two other mikes present, so, definitely different. the cauliflower ear seems inevitable. it's also an example of propagation--mike sees michael with this injury before it happens to himself. the awareness of this injury is propagated into 2022 through michael's mere visibility, and so becomes inevitable.

consider also edgar's death. michael is excruciatingly clear that it's inevitable--there is no way to prevent it with time meddling, because if there were, he would have found it. he spent 2 years trying. he probably dragged edgar to an MRI every month to pinpoint the exact day the brain bleed manifested, and then tried every form of treatment, catching it as early as temporally possible. nothing worked. michael is very clear that this will happen to the other mikes' edgars as well. it is a certainty in every timeline.

and we know the awareness of edgar's death was propagated! mustardseed's scheme was prompted by learning about his own death. the fact of learning about it is what set the outcome in stone. that's why edgar's so strict on propagation and michael is uncharacteristically studious about following this one rule. it's what made edgar's early death immutable fact.

mike talks about collapsed potentialities. he says how at one point in your life you could have become an astronaut, but eventually the potentialities collapsed until that outcome became impossible. you lost your chance. and you know it's impossible--not in a literal time travel sense, but maybe intentionality counts for something after all. you know you won't be an astronaut. you won't pursue that path. and so the potentiality collapses. the 'not being an astronaut' outcome becomes inevitable.

in my previous post i touched on the fact that the boulders and continuous corrections technology seem to be the exception to the general implication that only one timeline can exist at once in woe.begone. we are given to understand continuous corrections can briefly bring alternative timelines into being without overwriting the current timeline, and the boulders can be used to send information to iterations in timelines that shouldn't currently exist.

we know little about those two technologies, but what we do know is that both of them are used for sharing information and making observations. edgar uses continuous corrections for the specific purpose of observing alternative scenarios. edgar says intentionality is an uncertain hypothesis but that it's the best model they have to explain certain things; i think observation is a form of intentionality unto itself. how else do you classify the complete certainty something is going to happen?

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

So, for a couple of years now, I've been reading the old X-Men comics of the 70s & 80s, and a few recent issues from '87 have given me a great idea for an AU.

Ready?

Dazzler!Izuku 😀

So, Izuku is born with a quirk that allows him to transform sound into photonic energy. Anything from generating benign blobs of light that move, pulsate, and change color in relation to whatever music he's listening to (tho, this can be weaponized too; during the sludge villain attack, Izuku overwhelms the villain's eyes with a fantastic light show that leaves him catatonic), to concentrating a single, loud noise into a laser beam that deals concussive damage.

Izuku would, of course, gravitate towards Present Mic as a mentor. And he would team up well with Jirou.

So, what do you think?

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO, SCHOOL AND MY MENTAL HEALTH FUCKED ME OVER. I have had half of this in my queue for about 3 months, ya bitch was just burnt tf out 💀

But dude, I absolutely fucking love this 😭😭

Heads up, my knowledge of physics is limited so I’m not going to be talking much about the actual details of his quirk until after I learn more about it, but I hope you enjoy!!!

Izuku who makes physics jokes.

He has shirts with physics puns on them. A shirt that says, “the photon checked into the hotel and was asked if it had any bags, it said, “no thanks, I’m traveling light!”

Reminds me of the time I was dual enrolling and in my psychology class, I said, “I once asked the librarian if she had a book on Pavlov’s dog and Schrödinger’s cat. She said it rung a bell but she wasn’t sure if it was there or not!”

I thought I was so funny, but everyone else hated me.

Izuku is that kid. He does that shit

Inko loves it, she thinks her son is hilarious. Mic loves it. The little lister is so smart! Nezu has a goddamn field day. Aizawa is so tired, but secretly likes the jokes. He face palms every time and acts like it’s the end of the world, but he does like them. Midnight thinks it’s great, she asks izuku for more jokes/puns all the time. Mainly to annoy Aizawa. But still. BRUH, MISS JOKE. SHE LOVES THIS LITTLE SHIT. I honestly feel like all might wouldn’t understand most of them, but he’d love them anyway.

Izuku: I was studying frequencies, but now my brain Hertz.

He accidentally freaks people out the first few weeks in the dorm because they’re not used to it/expecting it.

The number of times mina asks for mood lighting

I really want to drive home that he makes an unholy amount of puns

He doesn’t even try to, it just happens so naturally. Shouto has theorized that it’s a secondary quirk.

You have spoken directly to my soul with mentor mic (and Jirou/izuku friends)

They’d all work so well together though

Mic brings him to Put Your Hands Up Radio not only to work with his quirk, but to help with his nerves

It is no secret that izuku is a nervous lad, but I raise you, mic was also a nervous lad (personal headcanon, but you cannot tell me that lad doesn’t have generalized anxiety)

Mic helps izuku gain some coping mechanisms (or coping mic-anisms if you will (thank you, thank you))

Mic is a nerd, izuku is a nerd, Jirou is cool, but a nerd. Jirou, similar to Aizawa, rolls her eyes at the physics puns, but does she think they’re funny? Yes. Yes, she does. They defends izuku when people mock his puns

Mic couldn’t be prouder of his children

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoyed! Sorry it was kinda short 😅

[shy-urban-hobbit]

I usually write Aiden but apparently Schrödinger wanted their turn.....

Who'd ever heard of a Witcher who hated the sight and smell of blood, even their own? But then, Schrödinger had always been a mess of contradictions.

He'd marched into the Cats camp with his 'saviour' at eight years old. Bold as brass where others were gripping onto hands or hiding behind legs but turned as meek as a temple mouse the first time someone had only slightly raised their voice at him.

He had to be physically dragged out of hiding to run drills, such was his hatred of them and yet he excelled at them every single time, beating both older trainees and full Witchers to the point where they'd seriously been considering sending him out on The Path early (until it got pointed out that nobody would take a Witcher seriously who couldn't even grow a proper beard yet. He wouldn't last a year).

He was one of the smartest in his cohort but hadn't been able to even sign his own name up until two years ago when Axel had finally pieced things together and sat him down with a bunch of old contracts he'd found at the bottom of his pack to use as paper and an even older pencil before asking Schrödinger if he had any interest in learning how to also write his letters, not just read them. He still remembered the relief he'd felt when the older Cat had softly but firmly reassured him that no, this in no way meant he was stupid and was nothing to be embarrassed about (and anyone who told him otherwise was talking out of their arse when Schrödinger could and had easily match wits with a politician when he had a mind to).

He fought down the rising bile as he crouched to check over the bodies. The rotten fish odour that accompanied the black ichor of a kikimore, or the earthy stench of a nekkers he could handle. The more humanoid monsters (and humans themselves; he was a Cat after all) though....

He wasn't sure if it was just a phobia he'd always had - like Aiden and his aversion to spiders - or if something about it was reminding some far off part of his brain of Before. Either way, every time he felt the warm red against his skin or smelt the telltale metal tang it made him want to wretch (small blessings that he didn't actually vomit anymore). He spat into the grass as he straightened up with his chosen trophy, wishing he had something stronger smelling to drive the scent of iron from out of his nose.

[dccomicsbracket]

Motivations:

Meredith Pemberton (Merry, Girl of 1000 Gimmicks)

Merry is kinda the Schrödinger's cat of superheroes. Nicknamed Merry the girl of 1000 gimmicks. She has a gadget to defeat any foe. Unless she doesn't. The perfect example of hero power scaling. She can beat anyone and be defeated by anyone. Merry made her first comic book appearance in Star Spangled Comics #81 in 1948. Sylvester Pemberton's antics in heroism had caused his parents to grow concerned for his wellbeing, he didn't seem to have many friends so they decided to adopt a daughter so that he would be less lonely. Merry was the daughter of Flyfoot Creamer, who was arrested for theft and an unknown mother (likely deceased due to her lack of presence and Merry being in an orphanage). Upon being adopted into the Pemberton family, Merry was committed to keeping Syl company to his annoyance. On his birthday she hand embroidered him a handkerchief when he refused to accept the gift she threatened to annoy him forever; causing him to accept the gift. Around this time, Fly-Foot Creamer was released from prison however he was blackmailed into returning to a life of crime. During the process of committing this crime Syl (the Star Spangled kid) and his driver Pat (Stripesy) showed up. Fly-foot ended up helping them stop the crime but was mortally wounded in the process, his last words were of his daughter, not wanting anyone to know he was her father as his criminal status might hurt her life. Also in the process of stopping the crime Syl used the handkerchief as an insulating material. Not long after he returns Merry pulls out the newspaper article about this crime as she recognized the handkerchief. She reveals she knows his identity as the Star Spangled Kid. Not long after this Stripesy is injured and Merry decides she wanted to help Syl. He rejects her so she helps him in secret, managing to secretly replace his opponent's gun with a fake. She then goes on her own heroic adventures using her vast assortment of Gimmicks and Gadgets. Later in life she marries Henry King a.k.a. the villain Brainwave. The wiki states that she didn't know he was a villain but in the comics flashbacks show them interacting as villain and hero and their son states that Merry believed he could be a good man. More of an 'I can fix him' attitude. She does not fix him. He ends up in prison. She later appears as a member of 'Old Justice' a group against child heroes. Which makes perfect sense since her brother died and her son ended up institutionalized :(.

Cliff Steele (Robotman)

Does not want to be here, is here nonetheless. Out of duty and whatever. Has dysphoria from being a brain in a shitty robot body

[unfoldingmoments]

Life and Death and the Quantum Wave Function

I have met others like us,’ Hugo said. ‘You see, I have been in the in-between state for a long time. I have encountered a few other sliders. That’s what I call them. Us. We are sliders. We have a root life in which we are lying somewhere, unconscious, suspended between life and death, and then we arrive in a place. And it is always something different. A library, a video store, an art gallery, a casino, a restaurant . . . What does that tell you?’ Nora shrugged. And thought. Listening to the hum of the central heating. ‘That it’s all bullshit? That none of this is real?’ ‘No. Because the template is always the same. For instance: there is always someone else there – a guide. Only ever one person. They are always someone who has helped the person at a significant time in their life. The setting is always somewhere with emotional significance. And there is usually talk of root lives or branches.”

And there is always an infinite range of choices,’ Hugo went on. ‘An infinite number of video tapes, or books, or paintings, or meals . . . Now, I am a scientist. And I have lived many scientific lives. In my original root life, I have a degree in Biology. I have also, in another life, been a Nobel Prize-winning chemist. I have been a marine biologist trying to protect the Great Barrier Reef. But my weakness was always physics. At first I had no idea of how to find out what was happening to me. Until I met a woman in one life who was going through what we are going through, and in her root life she was a quantum physicist. Professor Dominique Bisset at Montpellier University. She explained it all to me. The many-worlds interpretation of quantum physics.

Erwin Schrödinger . . .’ ‘He of the cat.’ ‘Yes. The cat guy. He said that in quantum physics every alternative possibility happens simultaneously. All at once. In the same place. Quantum superposition. The cat in the box is both alive and dead. You could open the box and see that it was alive or dead, that’s how it goes, but in one sense, even after the box is open, the cat is still both alive and dead. Every universe exists over every other universe. Like a million pictures on tracing paper, all with slight variations within the same frame. The many-worlds interpretation of quantum physics suggests there are an infinite number of divergent parallel universes. Every moment of your life you enter a new universe. With every decision you make. And traditionally it was thought that there could be no communication or transference between those worlds, even though they happen in the same space, even though they happen literally millimetres away from us.

But the point is, there are others like us. I have lived so many lives, I have come across a few of them. Sometimes just to say your own truth out loud is enough to find others like you.’ ‘It’s crazy to think that there are other people who could be . . . what did you call us? ‘Sliders?’ ‘Yep. That.’ ‘Well, it’s possible of course, but I think we’re rare. One thing I’ve noticed is that the other people I’ve met – the dozen or so – have all been around our age. All thirties or forties or fifties. One was twenty-nine, en fait. All have had a deep desire to have done things differently. They had regrets. Some contemplated that they may be better off dead but also had a desire to live as another version of themselves.’ ‘Schrödinger’s life. Both dead and alive in your own mind.’ ‘Exactement! And whatever those regrets did to our brain, whatever – how would you say? – neurochemical event happened, that confused yearning for death-and-life was somehow just enough to send us into this state of total in-between.’ Why is it always just one person that we see? In the place. The library. Whatever.’ Hugo shrugged. ‘If I was religious, I’d say it was God. And as God is probably someone we can’t see or comprehend then He – or She – or whichever pronoun God is – becomes an image of someone good we have known in our lives. And if I wasn’t religious – which I’m not – I would think that the human brain can’t handle the complexity of an open quantum wave function and so it organises or translates this complexity into something it understands. A librarian in a library. A friendly uncle in a video store. Et cetera.”

“So,’ Nora said, ‘whatever exists between universes is most likely not a library, but that is the easiest way for me to understand it. That would be my hypothesis. I see a simplified version of the truth. The librarian is just a kind of mental metaphor. The whole thing is.”

“But what if one day there is no video store?’ Nora thought about Mrs Elm, panicking at the computer, and the flickering lights in the library. ‘What if one day you disappear for good? Before you have found a life to settle in?’ He shrugged. ‘Then I will die. And it means I would have died anyway. In the life I lived before. I kind of like being a slider. I like imperfection. I like keeping death as an option. I like never having to settle.’ ‘I think my situation is different. I think my death is more imminent. If I don’t find a life to live in pretty soon, I think I’ll be gone for good.’

She explained the problem she’d had last time, with transferring back.

Oh. Yeah, well, that might be bad. But it might not be. You do realise there are infinite possibilities here? I mean, the multiverse isn’t about just some universes. It’s not about a handful of universes. It’s not even about a lot of universes. It’s not about a million or a billion or a trillion universes. It’s about an infinite number of universes. Even with you in them. You could be you in any version of the world, however unlikely that world would be. You are only limited by your imagination. You can be very creative with the regrets you want to undo. I once undid a regret about not doing something I’d contemplated as a teenager – doing aerospace engineering and becoming an astronaut – and so in one life I became an astronaut. I haven’t been to space. But I became someone who had been there, for a little while. The thing you have to remember is that this is an opportunity and it is rare and we can undo any mistake we made, live any life we want. Any life. Dream big . . . You can be anything you want to be. Because in one life, you are.

'But you will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life,’ he said, wisely. ‘You’re quoting Camus.

Excerpt From: Matt Haig. “The Midnight Library.”

[valoisfulcanellideux]

These Stones Remember: a little something to chew on

Last night, between about 2:30 and 4:30am, I was nattering into my phone's voice recorder, trying to get my head around some of the timeline stuff in These Stones Remember. I've always found that the literary equivalent to rubber duck debugging tends to help me when I'm figuring something out, so either I type or write out my thoughts as they occur, or (on the occasions when I don't think my fingers will be able to keep up with my brain, or - as in this case - I'm lying in bed and unable to sleep) I record my thoughts on my phone.

This may get a little spoilery with regard to the different timelines, so I'm putting it behind a cut, but here are a few brief notes about the Ancient Capital and Pix's timelines.

Archaeologist Pix who arrives at the Ancient Capital is a direct 'end point' from the Copper King who slew the dark elemental, abandoned his people, etc etc. Archaeologist Pix is who the original Copper King became through linear progression; the forward-only motion of the Arrow of Time. If you think in terms of chess pieces, the original Copper King is like a Pawn; he can only move forward in time.

However (part 1) - that original Copper King never led his people out of the desert, never searched for survivors, and thus never founded the Ancient Capital.

So Archaeologist Pix arrives in a place that technically does not exist. It does not actually exist until he gets the second chance to go back and rewrite history, refusing to take part in the fight with the dark elemental, saving his people, and leading the exodus from Paixandria. (For reference, in my head and in my notes I call that version of him 'Copper King Redux', or just 'Redux' for short.)

However (part 2) - at some point in time the Ancient Capital does exist. That spot in the savannah - like Pix - has multiple histories. And when the two of them meet, time gets a little bit… slippery.

Before he arrives at the Ancient Capital, Pix is also a Pawn: moving forward only (obvious, since he's a continuation of the original Copper King timeline). But once he's at the Ancient Capital his movement ability becomes that of a Rook, moving forward and backward and side to side anywhere along that back and forth timeline movement.

So - like Schrödinger's cat - the Ancient Capital both never existed and always existed, until such time as Pix arrived there. (That's one of the reasons why I had Malin - a cat - talking about 'Time Magic' to the point where Pix understood how he could be seen by people in the city's past when - to his knowledge at that time - he had never visited there. "I was both there and not there…" Pix said slowly, "until I was observed. Why am I not surprised that it took a cat to remind me of that principle?")

Likewise, one might wonder how - when he only attained immortality through the Grace of the Vigil after saving his people - did Archaeologist Pix (who, remember, is a direct end point of the Copper King who never founded the Ancient Capital) is already immortal and over 2,000 years old when he arrives at the Ancient Capital. Well - like Schrödinger's cat - he both was and wasn't immortal at the same time. The promise of immortality was always in his history somewhere, and because it was needed in order for him to travel to the 'time-slippery' place (the Ancient Capital) where he could go back and rewrite history, he starts out as immortal. It's basically confirmed when he rewrites history and saves his people.

In short - and this is an absolutely KEY point of the story - Paix is the sum of all his histories.

[unefemmedamnee]

Since it’s 2sday, and the last one of ‘22, i wanted to share a little about the psiioniic and how much i love the fact that he’s represented by the letter psi.

First, in physics, the letter psi represents the wave function of a quantum system—basically, it represents how the most elementary, basic components of literally everything behave, using a set of properties of the particles being observed. The letter shows up famously in the schrödinger equation, when used to explain wave function collapse and a probability of how a particle’s properties change over time:

In short, the equation does its best to predict how likely different realities of these particles are, and thus can be used to predict their evolution.

The catch is, in quantum mechanics, particles are seen as both waves AND particles: a duality. Measurement—just jotting down the position of the damn thing (practically impossible for many particles)—immediately reduces the “wave-particle” entity to just a particle, something physical and existing at ONE place, at ONE time.

Schrödinger’s cat is the common explanation of this idea of quantum physics. The individual wave function of this wave-particle duality still exists in many different states, until you observe it. Once you look in the box, you see whether the cat is dead or alive. Until you do so, it is both. This leads into the idea that multiple realities do exist, depending on what interpretation of quantum physics you believe in. However, for all intents and purposes, the letter psi represents this wave-particulate duality, as well as the inherent fuzziness and uncertainty of a particle until it is measured.

Back to homestuck...

This speaks a lot to who the psiioniic was, i think. Firstly, it was obvious he was a gifted psychic and a great star-pilot. He could send the condesce’s ship through space and not hit anything, meaning he could predict the course of planets, stars, and asteroids, even black holes. However, this is by no means difficult; quantum mechanics don’t really have any easily observable or large effects in these massive objects (if they did holy shit we’d be screwed).

He could, however, also pilot the condescension faster than light—and that’s where quantum mechanics get really insane! To do this, the psiioniic would have to have had a literal quantum computer for a brain. Meaning, he possessed the capability to predict and compute the probability of an infinitely large sum of different particles and what paths they’d take, all at once.

In addition to the science-y stuff, you could say the psiioniic himself is a lot like schrödinger’s cat to begin with. No, he is not dead at the start of act 5, and yet, can we even really say he is alive? By this point, centuries have passed since he was taken by the Condesce. He was bound in the hull of her ship and used for only his brain. It’s likely that that was all that was left of him close to his eventual death—just a living ‘jupiter brain’ that was a few steps short of predicting the future, and of course, powerless to stop it. In a sense, the psiioniic was neither alive, nor dead, but a superposition of the two.

I like to imagine conversations he had with the Handmaid while he was “still alive”. Her dominion was time, and she knew about splinter timelines and alternate realities. So, too, did the psiioniic. One interpretation of schrödinger’s cat and quantum mechanics as a whole, is that probabilities of different paths of particles result in different realities that DO exist, yet also don’t from our observational perspective. This is another duality; the idea that other realities aside from our own exist just because matter itself exists, and the probability of intersecting with them can be measured by schrödinger’s equation.

The handmaid would probably tell him how “doomed” each timeline felt, how hopeless it was that promising events she saw in distant futures, or that present-altering events in distant pasts, could ever come to pass, or had come to pass. And sadly, the psiioniic would be able to confirm her worries, and give her exactly how probable the future she envisioned somewhere else was. I believe the handmaid really tried to fix things during her time as scratch’s underling. And i believe she could have with the help of the psiioniic, if the two were free.

In short, i think the signless has some amazing universal parallels, and it really sparked my interest when i thought about how his brain probably works. It also leads into some potentially incredible interactions he COULD have had with the handmaid, mindfang (also mentally gifted and could literally predict the [or her?] future), the signless, and many others who would have sought his talent for understanding reality and impossibility, living and dying, existence and nonexistence—so many dualities!

[sugarylawliet]

you’re obsessed (just let me go): chapter 1

> this is like a sangwoo x reader + yoon bum x platonic! reader but it’s not in second person pov i hope that’s okay ^_^

> no one requested killing stalking but i already posted this on my ao3 so i thought i would post it here too and if you guys like it i’ll write more chapters !

            chapter 1: standing there (killing time)

Let’s say you have a choice between saving your friend’s life, or saving your own. If you choose your own, you have to watch your friend die, but you get to live. If you choose your friend, they have to watch you die, but they get to live. Well, of course, you would sacrifice yourself to save your friend. It’s the right thing to do- it’s the only thing to do. But what if I told you that your death was guaranteed to be excruciatingly drawn out, not a quick shot to the head or cardiac arrest, but a slow sequence of stabs to the stomach with a dull kitchen knife still greased with the residue of lunch, each puncture simultaneously completely numbing, empty strokes pulling you closer to the mercy of unconsciousness, and also the most gut wrenchingly painful experience you’ve ever been through? Would that change your answer? What if I told you your friend was the one who got you into this situation? What if I told you that you wouldn’t have ever had to answer this question in the first place if your friend wasn’t such a fucking freak?

This is what I have to consider.

The scenario is not some philosophical inquiry into ethics or human morality proposed by Plato or Schrödinger- though I suppose in this predicament I am a Schrödinger cat; while the police search for my missing body I am both dead and alive at the same time before they discover my true fate. No, this question is not the work of a renowned theroticion, but the work of the skinny, clumsy, extremely stupid stalker from my college, Yoon Bum- The Friend. Not a faceless character from a question on a philosophy major’s exam, but the boy sitting on the opposite side of the damp basement facing me, his frail wrists bound together behind his back with a rusty chain. It was funny- not the whole getting kidnapped thing, no, but the way he was restrained. I always figured if I ever saw Bum with his hands cuffed like that, it would be related to his stalking habit, that he was getting arrested for harassment or disturbing the peace or what have you. I never thought he would be restrained like that by the very man he was stalking.

Yes, The Man, the one holding the aforementioned dull kitchen knife, also very much real as he stood between Bum and I. He repeats the question, only a little louder. The question I posed earlier.

“So, what’ll it be? Save Bum,” He gently kicks the legs of The Friend which lay sprawled out and injured on the basement floor, “or save yourself? Hmm? Come on, I don’t have all day. Don’t think so hard, Minji.”

That’s me, I’m Minji. Or you, if we’re still playing the metaphor game.

“I can see you going back and forth in your head. Don’t. Just do what your gut says.”

The thing is, I don’t know what my gut says. My gut is just hoping to not be stabbed repeatedly. It’s saying I should save myself, that Bum was the one who got me stuck here in the first place so I should just let him die. But it’s also asking if living with The Man is any better, if living at all after witnessing The Friend be killed by my choice is worth it at all. I was hoping you would be a bit more decisive than my gut, which is why I asked you first, but I don’t think The Man knows how to break the fourth wall, so I’m out of luck.

“No one. Neither of us. Or both of us- I don't care. Just don't kill one and keep the other alive, man, that's fucked up, even for you.”

“Oh?” He bends down, crouching to my level so his eyeline meets mine. “You think so highly of me, Minji? I might say I’m honored.” He lets out a small laugh through his exhale, the charismatic smirk on his face growing as he watches my eyes brim with tears. I hang my head down.

“Hmm…” He crawls closer to me, bringing the tip of his knife to my neck, lifting my chin up to look at him. I meet his eyes, the coldness of the blade makes my skin feel blue. Did he stab me and I just don’t feel it? Was it so painful my brain blocked it out?

“You know, you do have a point. Only having one of you around would be quite boring. You’re a smart girl, Hubae.” He purrs, drawing away from my trembling body. He stands up, making his way towards the wall to the right of me, where a cherry red toolbox lay leant against it next to a glossy baseball bat, the latter of which he picks up, running his large hand up and down the cylindrical weapon. I catch a glimpse of Bum shivering.

“I’ll keep the both of you around, but, Minji,” He cranes his neck to peer at me, his eyebrows furrowed forming that signature smirk of his. It- he was attractive and horrifying at once, he was real and raw and honest, he was manipulative and devious and calculating, he was the pretty boy from your college and he was the tragic waste of potential on your local news. He was The Man.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” He continues.

“Wh-what? What’s unfair?”

“You, like that. You’re handcuffed of course, but you still have an advantage above Bum over there.” He nudges my ankles with the tip of his bat.

“No, I mean, I just, you don’t have to do that. Please.” I stuttered. With one smile he shattered my bravado, he took his baseball bat to the glass window of my self esteem. It was like he stole my language capabilities, like he reduced me to a little kid who only used their vocal chords to cry. I wanted to cry. He bent his arm, raising the bat above his head.

“Sangwoo!” Bum cried. That was his name, The Man, the one about to smash my ankles in, he was Sangwoo.

Sangwoo brought down the bat with one smooth swing, releasing the pressure on the space above my feet. And in that moment, I was gone. Unconsciousness, a freedom from personhood. It was peace.

[bethesky]

Broken Bodies and Broken Minds

Ed Moustis

I wonder if other people can feel time like I do - like how I can feel how wet a single tear droplet is as it falls down my face second by second. In specific instances in life, these moments become proportionally more abundant to me. I cherish those moments that specificity and nonspecificity meet - where someone can experience everything and nothing all at once. It means that I can feel.

I felt a single tear slide down my left cheek. It wasn’t due to anything I felt. I cried on behalf of my mom. She stood ten feet in front of me and held back the sorrow of a thousand widows. I didn’t even know how to feel. I wish I did but the person I looked to for that guidance wasn’t here. I had been the odd one out my entire life. Being unique was supposed to be a good thing but I despised it. It was like I had always been a chameleon mimicking another’s reaction.

Based on her broken response, I knew what was happening. The first time that this happened, I fell into a black hole so dense that the only way to crawl out was by tooth and nail. There were battle wounds deeper than scars could show. The teeth and nails - they weren’t mine. They belonged to my friends and family that stuck by my side on the battlefield when they didn’t have to. 

This time around, hearing those dreadful words was a tank shell that shot to the depths of my soul. The fallout was too large, my psyche shattered into another million broken pieces when I hadn't even finished scrounging up the pieces from the last time. This was the beginning of the end. The cancer was back and I would soon be deployed back into a war that I am not meant for.

After my doctor finished the discussion with my mother, his sorrowful eyes turned towards me. I would hate to be in his shoes - telling a sixteen-year-old boy that he would go back into hell. The demons he fought still cursed him and his last fight were futile - dying was for nothing. The first time his heart stopped was not the end of the war. The battle rages on and he will be sent to the front lines. Again.

Time was still. I began to experience a new level again. I noticed, my medical doctor has these exceptional specs in his eyes that made me feel warm. I had always been oblivious to their pungency. His words, as if bullets which left no visible battle wounds were undetectable to my brain. I knew I was going to go through this again - my brain was filtering the painful dialogue that accompanied the truth. Would it be another few years of chemo or a year's worth of surgeries? This drug of distress that I was on, it burned through me. His lips flopped around like a fish looking for water. My attempts to decode his foreign language were unsurprisingly useless. Even if I could understand what he was saying, I don’t think I would want to hear it. I had been using all the shrapnel from the tank shell to build an impenetrable wall that even my mother couldn’t tear down.

Once the doctor concluded his script, I noticed my mom approach me. She had always been so wonderful - a personal Joan of Arc by my side. The ferocity of this woman was simply unmatched by even an Amazonian warrior. Also, her vitality was that of a dragon. To mirror that further, she was as independent as a one as well. The troubling similarity between Joan of Arc, a dragon, and my mother was their extremely troubling tendency with being caught up in flames. 

The first time I was diagnosed, my mother became a baron of light. She crafted her whole universe for me and I was the sun - that was until she fell into her own black hole. One son was crippled with cancer while the other was crippled from a car accident. Torn in two, like her life was one brilliantly, horribly crafted medieval trap, she crumbled upon the weight of two. The broken puzzle that was my family was limited to a post-war Joan of Arc, a collapsed sun, but more fittingly, a collection of black holes.

My mother grabbed my hand. I was drafted back into reality. As small of a woman as she was, I required her to use a pinch less of her strength for the sake of my hands. I made a prolonged look at her and her hand ironically tightened. A sense of relief flushed through me though. I wanted to control this twisted world and I couldn’t. I knew she thought that she was trying to comfort me. In my heart, I recognized that she needed me as much as I needed her. The equality of our relationship was comfortable enough. 

In the auditory section, my brain still seemed to be malfunctioning. Once again, I sat in anticipation to see how my mother would react. As expected, upon the conclusion of the doctor’s final remarks, she approached him and wrapped her little arms around him. He gave a gentle, half-smile to me while she hugged him. I suppose, if I was going to be diagnosed with cancer again by anyone, I would want it to be him.

The white halls of the hospital were endless. I knew every twist and turn of this maze. I recognized the faces of too many nurses as I passed by. Children my age and younger flooded the floor. Those same children were fighting the fight I did - and will again. We were the children at war. The casualty rates were always too high and friends made here were in vain. The sudden loss of a fellow soldier would be too much of a burden to carry along with the rest. As we approached the exit of this underage morgue, a light stuck through the doors. It was always sunny when I left this bleak building. I wonder if I will see a light like this when I die someday. I hope I will. I didn’t see anything last time. 

The chatter of the world came back to me and the noise pierced through my brain. It grew louder and louder until it quickly overwhelmed me. I tried to keep my reaction to a minimum to ensure that my mom didn’t attempt to cradle me. I had a subtle feeling, under my special circumstances, I wouldn’t mind that. I could never grow the strength to let that myself succumb to my feelings. Every day I want to collapse but then I’m giving in.

Like two brick walls, we walked over to the filled parking lot. It was only when in private, in the security of our personal chariot, that she began to speak to me. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could sense the movement of her eyes dart back and forth. She was searching for the right words to say - a needle in a haystack. I began to worry she might bring up what happened inside right away. I was not processing. It would make everything too real for me to handle. I knew my mother like the back of the hand and I was well aware of the conversation we were about to have; even if I desired otherwise. As anticipated she said, “Finn, how do you feel about the procedure next week?”

I slowly turned my head toward her. I usually heard vital words like “procedure” when I spaced out. How did I miss that? “The procedure?” My face looked extremely puzzled. As soon as I noticed it, she did as well. It was my grave error that I let that slip.

A despairing breath slipped out of my chemo-damaged lungs as she questioned, “Oh�� you blanked out, didn’t you? I thought that you were going to work on that with Doctor Graham?” Hearing the doctor’s name zoned me back into reality. It was to no surprise she would bring up Graham. That genius of a man was an on-site engineer, my on-site medic, that would dig me out of the debris that I got lost in. He was capable of telling me of truths that seemed so far gone, yet were true, that even Schrödinger’s cat couldn’t find. My mom sought out treatment from him after my dad passed away in a car crash. It was that same car crash that made my brother into a temporary pile of jelly. She only could pick one topic to mourn for at once. She decided to choose my brother, Parker’s, injuries since I was on the final days of my tour. Due to the raging success that Doctor Graham had with my mother, my brother Parker and I see him regularly. I quickly snap out of my personal solar system and hear my mom speak to me, “Finn?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re working on it,” I said with bated breath, “What procedure?” I felt my body now firmly planted into the seat. My skin laid on my bones - a feeling only a cancer patient could appreciate. It wasn’t crawling. The thought of a procedure kept me slightly hopeful - something I rarely was. The tank shell that was shot into me earlier began to digress. The pieces slip back into me. A year of surgeries would be much better than three years of chemo. I have had plenty of procedures that called for me being surrounded by the brightest minds in the world - the one percentile of geniuses.

“They said that the procedure… it uh… it will… “ she stopped speaking. I couldn’t tell if she was choking up but the concept frightened me. My head was screwed forward onto the road. The hope I had mustered up lied in the balance of her next words. She had never had an issue breaking grim news to me and I had never experienced a situation so dark and brutal that my mother had stumbled over her words. 

This was the woman that stumbled into her dying son’s room to tell him that while they were at chemo earlier this morning his dad and brother were t-boned by a truck that ran a red light. She spoke to me, with the stillness of a mountain to not frighten me, that my father, her husband since the age of nineteen, died on impact and my brother was in critical condition with lady luck favoring him not to make it. And, if he does, then he will never take another step in his life.

“Mom, what is it?” I asked quickly. I recognized my dimwitted curiosity. My naiveness took control while I should have been bracing. Whatever came next, I was sure I was strong enough for it. I was my mom’s sun. Nothing could be fiercer than that.

“The procedure is the only way to eliminate the remaining cancer threat in your body,” she slowly whispered.

“And? That’s wonderful! I don’t have to do any more chemo or worry about relapsing again!” I said. My words grew in strength after each breath. The debris cleared completely. 

She immediately said, “The procedure has a ten percent survival rate.” The joy that came from my words was vanquished. The world stopped spinning. I flew a million miles per hour. My speed shredded my hope down to its finest atom. I had been alive for only sixteen years and six of those prime years were taken by cancer already. Now it was destined to steal my life. Even the suns have to die but at least they get to live a real life.

Time stopped when my Earth stood still. I had reached that same moment of singularity as earlier. Every lamppost, every sign, it spoke to me. I was attuned to the universe. Everything I had experienced on this Earth told me that I had already been unlikely my entire life and that, in this case now, there would be no difference in this procedure. Signing on to do this procedure is no different than making a deal with death. I wanted to be able to write my own destiny but it was road blocked by ten-percent. I would become nothing more than a statistic.

I was still in shock by the time we arrived at the house. Our car pulled up to the driveway and my mother ushered me by the arm into the house. My face was perfectly blank. She quickly sat me on the couch. 

A life I would never have flashed in my mind. I would never get to walk arm-by-arm with my mother at my wedding. That though meant she would never get to see me get married. She would never see my children and become a grandmother. I could never give a remarkable, memorable best man’s speech to Charlie, the only girl that has ever shown interest in my brother, and Parker at their wedding.

Worst of all, I would never be able to kiss Robin. The only woman in my entire life that I am sure that I have ever loved. Leaving her will be the worst. Parker and I were supposed to marry those sisters. Robin is the fourth amigo in our broken bunch. We are all supposed to get drinks with Doctor Graham when we reach twenty-one to thank him for keeping us under his umbrella of helpful advice and correctly appointed sympathy. 

As the memories of the future came and went, my mom was telling Parker. I was so convinced that he was going to rise from his wheelchair and hug me. His wheels were still on the living room carpet. He looked at my shaking hands on my knees where fingers were tapping like machine guns - bang bang bang. My consciousness was grasping at any reality that wasn’t this one. All feeling viscously vanished. I kept questioning “Do I even breathe anymore?”. 

With all the courage that I could find, I stood up. Instantly, I stole the attention, any words that floated in the room settled in the air. My feet moved for me. I wondered if this is what robots felt. In a blink, I was in my messy, teenage room. I grabbed my alarm, set it for three hours from now, and I laid down. Doctor Graham always told me that a beneficial way to relieve stress was by sleeping. After testing so many methods, that was the one that spoke to me the most. My eyes shut. Just for an instant, I felt real peace. The image of darkness reminded me of death. I was not going to come back again. I was already undead and there is no resurrection for those who have come back once. Hopefully, it would be quick and painless. The thoughts panned to troubled and painful ones in a flash. I began questioning too much about the life that was stripped away from me. I didn’t want to go. How long until I’m not talked about? That’s when I really die.

An ethereal hand shot from the sky in my dream. I was pulled into my unwelcoming reality. The alarm blared. My hand floated over it to stop the blaring. I sat up on the bed and felt my body and the sweat that covered it. I had one week to live. For once, in many years, I felt real hope. I knew what I was going to do with my last week on this Earth. I would make a death list for my broken self to live out - a scrambled last-ditch effort to achieve the things in life I haven’t had a chance to do quite yet. I scrambled over to my notebook sitting on my desk. It flew open. I couldn’t tell if it was denial that struck me or something real. I could run away and perform all these tasks. A brave adventure awaited me.

As I wrote down my last will and testament, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. After trying so hard, I couldn’t keep fighting so reluctantly, I began to sob. I didn’t want to go! My brother heard me as soon as I hit the floor and rolled into the room. From seeing his fallen, fellow soldier down in the ditches, he used any strength he could muster to leap from his throne. He crawled through his trenches to hold me. I just cried; and he just cradled me.

For a whole hour, I was laying down there as my brother comforted me. He let me cry in his arms until all of the water in my system had been flushed out. He knew there was no point in telling me to stop. I had only one week to live. When the tears were finished, we both sat up against my wooden bed frame. We sat in silence for another hour. He was next to me and that was all that mattered - my battle buddy had my back. No words needed to be spoken because the actions were loud enough. After the time had slipped away, I helped him back into his cushioned chair. When I noticed that he was looking at my notebook, my face began to flush red. He couldn’t see that. 

“What’s that?” Parker questioned immediately. He wheeled over to the notebook before I could walk over there. He was surprisingly fast in that chair.

“Nothing! Shit! Don’t look!” I pleaded. He skimmed the page with his finger. His chair was perfect reading height, unfortunately. I was expecting a long banter with him but when he was finished, he just looked at me in shock.

“Okay. But mom would let you do this,” he nonchalantly said. His words threw me off guard.

“I know. I was thinking of…”

He quickly interrupted me. I could hear the appalled tone in his voice, “Running away? Mom will find you.”

“I know. It sounds really stupid but I need this week. I need to live for once. No chemo. No cancer. Just me.”

“There is so much that could go wrong! You want to go to a high school party and go cliff diving and…”

“I’m doing it. I’m doing all of it. Me against the world,” I said with a smile on my face. I wanted to be a warrior like my mom - braving the world one step at a time. He wasn’t going to stop me.

“No,” he bluntly said.

“You literally can’t stop me,” I chuckled.

“Us against the world,” he sighed, “someone needs to keep you safe. If something happens to you, mom will kill me.”

I was surprised but seemingly not surprised at the same time. This wasn’t a solo journey. Someone would have to tell my story. A broken body and a broken mind running off to war together. This time I would be choosing and that felt freeing. I felt free.

[countessofbiscuit]

Smothered and Covered, 1, 3, 5 , 9, 11, 14? This fic lives rent-free in my brain btw, thank you for writing it!

<grinch smile> thank you nonnie!! 

Smothered and Covered

or: Boba was all shiny-soft under her hands, with dark eyes that stared past her into the next parsec. Far less innocence than most, yet the theft of his clawed harder at her shame. But one crude kindness deserved another. (Explicit, Boba/Ahsoka, cw: underage) 

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

A combination of factors. 

This fanart, for starters. An anon who likened Aurra Sing to a trashy aunt. The persistent itch to write a grimy Bobasoka one-night-stand. All were catalysed by the bitter angst of the TCW S7 finale. It needed to be lanced and purged, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch Rexsoka directly: the grief was still too near. But I was desperate to play in that post-TCW, pre-Rebels void in a way that remained consistent with canon and my own fanon. 

Then there was my Banned Bingo card, which had a free space that needed filling. Shipping Ahsoka with anyone but a flower crown will get you death threats in this fandom, but in the interest of being “Totally Problematic” and really earning that square, I decided to send her to bed with — le gasp! — a teenager who’d just been raped by a parental figure, and let her yearn the entire time for her estranged boyfriend (who happens to be a genetically-modified version of the dude she’s fucking). 

This was also right at the time when rumours about Boba appearing season two of The Mandalorian went viral. The old disc horse carousel started up again: Boba is either an overrated, pointless, hollow character not worth the effort the sarlacc took to digest him, or he’s the Biggest Bossest Badass to ever make galactic citizens quake in their boots. I was sick to my back teeth of it. This guy is Schrödinger’s Mandalorian and all people seemed to wanna talk about was whether he earned his inclusion in the OT forty years ago. *yawns* Anyway, social media doesn’t thrive on nuance — but fanfic sure does. I wanted a character study of Boba as I (and a lot of excellent fic writers) understand and appreciate him; I wanted to let him be pissed about his traumatic life and act on it in his own way; I wanted him to be half as enigmatic as he thinks he is, while still being very unpredictable, even to someone who has good reason to know him better than most.

Smothered and Covered is the resultant greasy omelette, with lots of chunky bits, some easier to stomach than others. 

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

It was almost too easy, like winning ‘round a sour tusk-cat just knowing where its claws can't reach.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The ending. I’m still not pleased with it. There’s something Extended-Edition RotK about it. Or an essay where you’re super sure you made the point in the body, but that profound, “in conclusion” thought which will earn you top marks eludes you. So you just write a series of semi-profound things and hope that does the job — oh, and throw in a quote a line of dialogue for good measure :p

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Besides the hundred subtly different endings, the original draft didn’t have IC-8994 making an appearance. The exchange was just of information and bodily fluids. But in a ‘verse where Boba and Ahsoka are on texting terms, any intel that required a face-to-face drop seemed above their current paygrade as characters. Having an inconvenient commando in carbonite, however, gives Boba some plausible badass points and forces him to consider who can call to  help bury a body. And besides, every story is better with whole-ass commandos, even if they’re just deadweight plot devices :) 

11: What do you like best about this fic?

The Aurra reveal, by way of her blaster. I was stupidly satisfied with the rhyme it created, and that I got to wield obscure lore like a penknife to the heart. 

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

No one experiences or reacts to trauma in the same way. What one person does to reassure themselves that they still have agency in their life might be anathema to someone else; neither person is wrong. Fanpol/antis’ fetishization and policing of victimhood is fucked up. 

[cluelessnamelessao3]

But It’s Not Funny

7. I Know

You spent the morning at Sans’ house. He cooked for you, which was nice, considering you’d caused him nothing but trouble—or at least, based on context, you assumed you’d caused him nothing but trouble (you couldn’t exactly remember).

All in all, he was just a nice person.

Part of you wanted to squint at him, furrow your brows, frown maybe, and wonder why he was being so fucking kind when he truly owed you nothing—the world was made of the worst kinds of people. No one was just inherently good, they all just wanted something. (Most of them just wanted some god damn fucking peace and quiet in a world of chaos, and, well, you couldn’t exactly blame them).

But… you couldn’t bring yourself to truly be suspicious of him. The shy, little smile he had given you as he placed a plate full of eggs and toast in front of you… it thoroughly disarmed you. He was being so domestic, and doing his best to cure your killer hangover, all while cracking jokes and making inane puns (“These are eggsellent,” “do these jokes crack you up?” and your personal favourite, “I think this is eggsactly what you need.”)

For being such a major dork, there was something so dangerously charming about him. On the other hand, and even more prominent than his cocky, jokester persona, there was a tiredness you could see in his eyes—a tiredness that you connected with.

He’d obviously been through something. Hell, he’d probably been through a lot of somethings, and you didn’t know, and you could never be sure because maybe he was just an always exhausted person; one of those people with issues getting enough sleep or staying asleep.

But it didn’t really seem like that was it. He seemed… like he knew something you didn’t. His eyes, their hollowness, the dimness of the pupils when he thought you weren’t looking, showed a sort of sorrow you weren’t sure what to do with.

And, when you’d screamed? He’d been startled, sure, but he’d glossed over it in a way… that was comforting, but not humiliating. It was like he was… was… agh, you didn’t even know what you didn’t know at this point.

In any case, you weren’t entirely sure what you thought of him other than that he was funny and sometimes nice.

It was much too soon to be trusting someone and thinking so fondly of them, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

You’d have to keep your distance if you wanted to stay safe.

“What’s rattlin’ ‘round in that head o’ yours?”

His voice stirred you from your thoughts and you blinked at him confusedly for a moment as you regained your senses. You shifted on the padded seat, picking up your glass of water to take a sip. He had some scrambled eggs in front of him, drowning in ketchup, but you hadn’t even seen him actually eat any of them. They just kind of… disappeared when you weren’t looking.

“Just thinkin’ ‘bout, uh, multiverse theory…” you answered with the first thing that came to mind—which wasn’t exactly a lie, you were always thinking about things like that, multiverse theory, Schrödinger’s cat, how a black hole worked, etc. Just the puzzles of the world that your brain couldn’t exactly wrap around.

But when you mentioned the theory, you could have sworn, for just a second, his eyes darkened considerably, but then he blinked, and they were back to normal and you were left wondering if maybe the light had played a trick on you.

He tried a new question, “So what was that… back at the bar? Why so early in the day?”

“What? You don’t start drinking at like… noon?”

He laughed and shrugged. That wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes.

“Was it for fun or…?” Sans let his voice trailed off while he studied your face.

Your head tilted to the side as you considered his question, “Uhm, I guess I just wanted something to… lighten the mood, or… what have you…” You laughed, for a reason unbeknownst to you, “And by the lighten the mood, I really just meant, lighten my mood…”

He nodded, a stiff smile on his face, “Did somethin’ happen?”

You shrugged, indicating this was not a topic you were going to encourage discussing. Thankfully, he took the hint.

You took a bite of the eggs, savouring the texture and taste before swallowing.

He was staring at you and you tried not to be bothered by it. You ate another bite. He stared a little bit more. You could feel sweat begin to gather at the back of your neck, you scooped up another bite. He was still staring.

“Is there something on my face or am I just that good looking?” You asked around a mouthful of eggs.

“Er, just wonderin’… what… was that this morning?”

You swallowed, trying not to choke on your food, “Uh, anxiety attack.”

“Anxiety attack?”

“Yeah… it’s…” you took a deep and calming breath, “something I experience from time to time… there can be things that trigger them… but… it also can just be anxiety building up and up… until it, uh, sort of boils over in the worst way possible…”

“Hmm, okay.” He looked like he wanted to ask more but opted not to. You were grateful for that small mercy.

Silence fell between the two of you as you speared some more of your scrambled eggs onto your fork. A sudden realization hit you and you felt a wave of alarm, “OH, fuck, what time is it? I had work today!”

Your silverware clattered to your plate as you stood abruptly, a panicked expression on your face, “Fuck and I just left Luna at home all day. Oh god… I’m the worst.”

Sans got up too, albeit with a sense of calmness that you just couldn’t replicate at the moment, “Slow down, Smalls, I… uh, I called Frisk because you were out cold and I, uh, I told them you’d worked yourself to the bone, so you were feelin’ a bit ill and all.”

Your shoulders slumped with relief, “Oh…”

Why are you being so nice? You wanted to ask, but the words died on your lips as you took in his expression. He looked… so nostalgic, like he was reliving something, and you couldn’t tell if it had to do with you or if it was something back in his head—something you couldn’t see.

You settled for a short, “Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s hurry. I feel like such a bad dog parent. Poor baby…”

The two of you walked in companionable silence the couple of blocks to your apartment building. You paused outside the building, “Why didn’t you take me home yesterday?”

“Well,” he looked sheepish, “I tried to ask where you lived, but you didn’t really answer.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been here before!”

“I’ve been here exactly once,” he argued, “Besides, I didn’t know the way from Grillby’s. I wasn’t trying to be a numbskull.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his dumb joke.

“Well, bonehead, thank you for takin’ care of me.”

You were about to walk into the apartment when his boney hand darted and gripped your elbow. You blinked, slightly startled, and not liking the way your skin crawled at being touched. He seemed to notice your tension and let go immediately.

“Sorry—I was just… I was wonderin’ if you wanted to stop by tonight, Paps is makin’ spaghetti and wants you and some friends to come by to enjoy it…” He looked so proud talking about his brother.

You weren’t exactly a social person, and you certainly didn’t like to go out places—especially when you’d already been outside of your comfort zone for so long already, but someone with such a sincerely deep and true affection for their brother… had a kind of integrity you just couldn’t say no to.

“Sure,” you said softly.

“Cool. See you then, smalls.”

 You weren’t sure what state you had expected your apartment to be in when you got there, but a dog on its own for over a day was never a good thing. When you opened the door, though, you were pleasantly surprised.

Luna turned out to be fine, if not a little frantic—and then incredibly excited once she noticed you had come home. You swept through the house to make sure she didn’t have an accident, then clipped on her vest and leash to take her for a long, and well deserved, walk. It was nice to just walk, enjoying the company of your sweet companion, and not have to worry about social graces, or whether or not you were being odd or cold or… or insensitive or any of the things people had accused you of in the past.

These were your times in which you could just be, and you savoured every minute of it.

The walk was nice, it helped to clear your head from the events of the last two days. Luna was also glad to be outside and reunited with you. Even though it had been far less than twenty-four hours since you had last seen her, she had probably felt like it’d been ages.

To your surprise and dismay, a very familiar fish-like monster and a not-so-familiar lizard-like monster stood outside the door to your apartment.

“Hey!” You called.

They turned together to stare, but it was Undyne who spoke, “Hey, little punk!”

Luna barked once, short and low and you hushed her quickly—she’d never really forgiven Undyne for threatening you so much.

“Hey Luna,” Undyne greeted easily, not intimidated in the least by the short and stocky dog, “Have ya been keepin’ the pipsqueak safe?”

You scoffed, “I can keep myself safe!”

The smaller monster, a yellow creature that looked like some sort of mix between a lizard and a dinosaur, chuckled and mumbled something quietly to Undyne which had the boisterous fish-woman blushing with embarrassment.

“Hmpf,” Undyne snorted, “Anyway, you haven’t met yet, right?” She asked, gesturing between you and the little dinosaur-like monster. Undyne continued without waiting for a response, “This little lady is Alphys, she used to be the royal scientist…”

The little monster—Alphys—waved at you meekly, “N-not anymore, though.”

Her nervousness made you nervous. You waved shyly back.

Undyne had to work hard not to yell at the two of you for being so soft.

Apparently the two had come because they’d heard from Frisk you were under the weather. You let them into your small, cosy apartment and set about making tea for the cute couple.

“So, how long have you guys been together?” You asked casually, finding their flustered interactions both adorable and ridiculous. If you remembered correctly, this Alphys was the monster that Undyne was head over heels for.

Undyne sputtered, her blue scales turning a flattering purple-red hue, “That’s, uh, we’re… heh, punk, you’re a little jokester, aren’tcha?” Her smile was too wide, too strained, and the panic in her one visible eye hinted that perhaps you’d teased a little too much.

You had to fix this, “Oh, uh, er, well, I, yeah, I was just kidding, sorry! Y-you guys just seem like such good friends… Yeah… friends…”

That was smooth, you sighed.

It seemed to work well enough though because the tension in the room lessened considerably. Alphys hadn’t actually seemed phased, maybe she hadn’t heard you—or maybe she was still frozen with mortification. You hoped it was the former.

Undyne slammed her hands onto the counter, making you drop the mug you’d been holding. Thankfully, it didn’t break. You shot her a glare, and she had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“S-sorry, punk, just had an epitome.”

“Epitome?” You asked, incredulous.

“Is that not the right word?” She looked over to Alphys for help.

“D-d-did you mean to s-say epiphany?” The small dinosaur’s voice was the slightest bit scratchy, and a little nasally. It was so quiet that you had to lean in to hear her speak.

“Yeah!” Undyne exclaimed, not at all bothered by her word-choice mishap, “I had an epiphany!”

Suddenly she turned on you, her eyes narrowed and grin wide with devious glee, “A little birdy told me that you and Sans had a little date at Grillby’s!” She snickered, “And that you went home with him.”

“So?” You asked, indifferently.

“So, Sans doesn’t just take anyone home. Plus,” she said, enunciating each word with enthusiasm, “He invited you to dinner tonight—A dinner that was supposed to be just for close friends… which means that… you and Sans…”

She jabbed her finger into your shoulder, pointing at you accusingly, “Is there something your best pal, Undyne needs to know about you and Sansy?”

You laughed despite yourself, “Oh god, no, nothing like that…”

She frowned; disbelief clear in her features. You insisted, “No, Undyne, I’m serious—” you snorted, “Literally, I got really drunk yesterday and Sans found me at the bar and took me back to his house—”

Undyne was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and you waved off her ridiculous behaviour.

“Nothing happened. Like, nothing actually happened. I think I threw up and he took care of me,” you could feel your face light up with your own embarrassment. In a smaller voice you mumbled, “Uh, is it okay that I go to the dinner? If… If I’m not like close friends with anyone?”

Alphys spoke up, effectively silencing whatever Undyne had been about to say, “No!”

“No?” You felt your stomach drop with disappointment.

“N-no! I mean, yes! I… I mean that…” She flailed her claws, looking more and more distressed with each word, “I mean that no, no one would mind, and yes, we want you there. Frisk… F-Frisk would want you there, too.”

Her stuttering assurances didn’t actually assuage any of your newfound doubts, but as you spent the rest of the evening with the duo, you found yourself forgetting your insecurities and just enjoying their company.

As it turned out, you and Alphys had some things in common—mainly, an appreciation for anime. And while you were no ‘anime connoisseur,’ you also weren’t a newbie when it came to the topic. The two of you, with Undyne’s occasional input, swapped a few show suggestions with the promise of having a nerd-night marathon.

Soon enough it was time to head to Sans’ and Papyrus’ house.

The walk wasn’t long enough, you didn’t exactly feel prepared to be around people again, and you hadn’t gotten any time to recuperate. Undyne and Alphys chatted awkwardly, both slightly flustered by the other’s presence. It was so obvious they liked each other; you couldn’t understand why they weren’t already dating. If there were ever such things as soulmates, Alphys and Undyne would be the perfect example.

They, as a pair, were asymmetrical. Alphys, quiet, meek, smart, and Undyne, rash, bold, brave. They were so very different, but they both had in common their burning passion. A passion, a determination, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before.

Taking in the sight of these two awkward lovebirds filled you with… envy. You wanted a friendship like that… hell, maybe you just wanted a relationship even the slightest bit close to their bond.

You laughed your discomfort off, pushing back your feelings of envy as you smiled and talked and joked with the two monsters.

Papyrus was ecstatic to see you, though he did not move to pick you up or touch you—you appreciated his respect of your boundaries. It even sounded like he was trying to lower his volume when talking to you.

You felt your heart squeeze with a sudden rush of affection for the impossibly tall and kind skeleton.

Dinner went well, though you did not expect how many people would be there. Frisk and the ever-pleasant Toriel greeted you when you walked into the house, and a large, furred beast—similar in appearance, though much broader, to Toriel—waved, a gregarious smile on his face. He introduced himself as Asgore—former king of all monsters, you tried not to be intimidated by that title. You also tried not to be intimidated by his towering form, he had to duck down just to fit in the house properly. Now that you noticed it, Toriel also had to stoop slightly just to fit comfortably.

You felt so small. You could feel the beginnings of panic creeping up your back to latch itself around your throat, making breathing hard. You were introduced to another monster (a cat-like one, Catty?) and another (and alligator this time? Bratty?). Another (Aaron?). Another (Shyren?). Another. And another. The names were beginning to blur and the faces, though new and distinct each time, were not memorable.

You felt out of place.

You just wanted a familiar face, but instead you kept being side-tracked, interrupted, blocked, and jostled around by all the people mingling in the house.

Your hands were shaking, and you found yourself in a corner of what looked to be the living room. It had transformed considerably from when you’d been there earlier. Probably Papyrus—you couldn’t imagine Sans working to prepare the house for company—had placed a table with various snacks in the centre of the room, which a few guests had permanently parked themselves beside.

Maybe later, once you’d orientated yourself just the slightest bit more, you’d head over there and grab some food before it was all gone.

But for now? You’d… just… take it slow. It would be bad enough to panic in a public setting. It was somehow worse to be panicking at your new friends’ house. They’d—or Sans, really—had invited you, Undyne and Alphys had gone out of their way to make sure you came, and everyone you’d met had been nice. You had no reason to be panicking.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the corner; you just wanted to hide and observe. You weren’t sure you really wanted to be here anymore.

Was it selfish to wish that Frisk or Undyne had stayed with you? That Papyrus would have made sure you were alright? Or that Alphys—who was also a shy character—would have understood your nervousness and kept you company? Or… Or that Sans… the monster that had invited you in the first place, would have sought you out? Would have cracked a few jokes, gotten you to laugh, and made sure you felt comfortable among these new people…?

You felt selfish for wanting them to choose you above these people they’d known for much longer, because, honestly, you’d only known them for a few weeks—a month, maybe? And, really, you’d only known Frisk for that long.

“hi…”

You blinked, startled, “H-hello.”

“s-sorry for bothering you… you just looked… nice… oh… I hope I’m not bothering you…” the voice was so meek and small. It made you feel slightly better to know you weren’t the only one out of your element.

You looked up, studying the… monster in front of you. They looked like one of those cartoon ghosts you’d drawn as a child. You gave them a hesitant smile and the ghost-like creature blushed shyly.

“You’re not bothering me… I was, uh, actually, it’s really nice to meet you. What’s… what’s your name?”

“…Napstablook…”

You introduced yourself, feeling more at ease with the friendly little monster beside you. Napstablook, though a bit awkward and a bit sad, was nice.

You stuck with them for most of the party. Papyrus was making rounds through the guests, and seemed beyond ecstatic you’d found a friend, and Frisk, who seemed to be the life of the party, eventually found their way over to you again, introducing you as ‘The Boss’ to their little armless friend—Monster Kid.

Everything considered, despite your initial misgivings, you were glad you decided to come.

It wasn’t until later, when you were finally home and curled up in bed with your lovely companion, Luna, you realized: you hadn’t seen Sans at all. You tried not to feel offended, but you were a bit disappointed, he’d invited you after all…

You mentally shook off the feeling and let yourself drift to sleep.

The buzzing of your phone woke you though. You groaned, shifting around under the heavy covers to grab your phone off of the nightstand.

The screen was glaringly bright, and you squinted at it for a few moments as your eyes adjusted. One new message. Your eyes flicked up to the time, it was too god damn late for this shit, or maybe too fucking early.

Sansational [3:00 am]

sorry i missed you at the party. lunch?

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Lunch would be great. Your eyes closed once more, and you fell asleep dreaming off bright places with smiling faces. Everything was okay for today.

[nosorembo]

I was tagged by @silver9mm. This is the first time I’ve worked up the courage to respond to one of these. Also, embarrassingly, (after years) it’s the first time I’ve made an original post.

Your fav season and why? Winter. I feel the cold, but I’m not a fan of the heat either, & I love the winter atmosphere.

You get a chance to meet a celebrity. Who would they be and what would you do together? Bill Bailey (my platonic celeb-crush). I’m too shy though, I’d prolly be too awe-struck & frozen with fear to say anything. Or James McAvoy, he’s so funny & charismatic & I love his bouncy-energy, & he seems like a really good guy. Although, I’d prefer to see him in a play - watching him act his pants off & listening to his gorgeous Glaswegian accent - than risk a heart attack from him say ‘hello’ to me. Same with Jared Padalecki, if I met him, I’d probably just embarrass myself with all the drooling. I also don’t know if I want to run the risk of being potentially disappointed, from meeting the celebs I fancy. I prefer to learn as little about them as possible & keep them on unrealistic pedestals.

What’s your dream job, if you have one? Only dream ‘skills’ - I wish I had an imagination & could write amazing fiction, or draw/paint, or had a single creative bone in my body :).

Do you have any regrets? Stealing @silver9mm’s (& previous poster’s?) comment b/c it’s perfect - ‘The only thing I regret is everything I say and do in every social interaction I have, had, or ever will have’.

Favorite artist? Paul Gauguin, @petite-madame.

If you could live somewhere else where would you live? Scotland or Ireland.

Your favorite school subject and what you like about it? Economics :(. I don’t know why, but as a kid I was really interested in the mechanics of the market, how it worked, & especially macroeconomics & economic history (incl Keynes & Friedman’s market fixes). I never thought about how much the system properly sucked. I now wish I’d paid more attention in science class.

Do you have a hobby? Reading, mainly fanfiction.

How are you spending these days? Mainly sitting (in whatever room my now-working-from-home-hubby is in) reading, taking the occasional, socially-distanced walk & taking care of two gorgeous, monkey (Devon Rex) cats.

Are you happy? As happy as someone with severe, chronic, long-term, untreatable depression/anxiety, living in a world that’s filled with misery, can be (sorry, sorry for the whinge, you did ask haha). Outside of the world’s wider miseries, I’m really happy with my immediate, simple life, I just wish my brain knew how to better produce happy chemicals.

A random fact? Erwin Schrödinger made up his ‘Schrödinger’s cat’ story (where the cat is both alive and dead until observed) for the purpose of ridiculing (he was a sceptic), rather than explaining, the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics, and inadvertently got his name associated with it. The lesser known Niels Bohr was the father of that (now most commonly taught) interpretation. I think it should be known as ‘Niels Bohr’s cat’.

tagging @plushrumpasaurus, @road-rhythm, @revolutionaryjo, @archtroop, @durinsbride, @notvirginawoolf, @dreaminblue67

[fantasyjoon]

navigation   ︴ masterlist

➼  all fics are reader ( most usually female ) insert x bts member(s)

➼  i don’t really read ; ⠀⠀⠀⠀↳  member x member fics ⠀⠀⠀⠀↳  explicit smut — only implied , or i just skip over it  ( will be stated )

➼  i update this over time && i also take reading requests

➼  don’t forget to like / reblog the works you enjoyed, && send the authors your thoughts !

➼  includes short fic reviews under the cut !

fox rain   ︴@jincherie & @cinnaminsvga

➼  crack series where reader accidentally releases a poem about one of the members. a beautifully hilarious uni fic that i am obsessed with. still ongoing!

flowerbomb   ︴@goshguk 

➼  social media au series where all the characters are artists on tour so a lot of chaos but it was very fun && creative!   『  completed, 33 parts  』

wonderland    ︴@monosrkive

➼   ongoing series with a crazy post-apocalyptic universe that author has so beautifully crafted && i crave more! not for the faint hearted but wow what a concept

literally anything by @jjeonggukss 

➼  they have so many of the cutest fluffiest drabbles djsjdjdmsquEAL they’re adorable

anything by @honeymoonjin

➼  here’s a link to author’s oneshot masterlist && i honestly recommend anything off it bc they’re all worth the read

zodiac   ︴ @honeymoonjin

➼   but if you’re gonna read something by author, try this! it’s an amazing little mystery series that really got my brain working  『  primarily joon x reader but i think it includes more of the hyung line  』

death’s bride    ︴ @dabble-writes

➼ i LOVED this. LOVED THIS. it’s a fantasy fic so the universe created combined with the writing is just breathtaking   『  nine chapters  』

unnamed drabble    ︴ @yoonsgiggle

➼  some good soft domestic cuddly fluff   『  just over 1k  』

5am infatuation    ︴ @dimplemono

➼  a little bit of cuteness, fluffy fluff   『  drabble, 1.2k  』

moonie    ︴ @acopenhagenarmy

➼  an ongoing soulmate series with lots of mono vibes, but pretty angsty && the emotions are written really well !

just for you    ︴ @loverknj

➼  angsty little 2k drabble with not much joon but it’s too emotional && cute not to be included 

you and me    ︴  @carrotgguk

➼  this one’s filled with fluffiness && AMAZING writing of cute kids x tae   『  30k in total, three 10k chapters  』

papillon    ︴  @readyplayerhobi

➼  this is so well written i love the dynamic, it’s more unique than usual best friend to lover fics   『  15k  』

seems like he likes you    ︴ @min-eyoongi

➼  yEonTan need i say more??? jks it's sweet, tae is sweet    『  drabble, 2k  』

evening     ︴ @drowsymochi​

➼   royalty au where princess!reader is not happy with the life she lives. i hope more parts are to come bc the plot seems v interesting(:    『   2.8k, ongoing(?) series  』  

my soulmate’s soulmate  ︴  @lavendersoft​

➼   it’s a little angsty kook x reader x tae poly soulmate fic series && so far i’m in love, what a beautiful concept

hope world     ︴  @personasintro

➼  oh it's this painful angsty little thing; the reader has private dance lessons with hobi. still an ongoing series but i can't wait to see where it goes, i love it!

the date    ︴ @jhspetitegf

➼   somewhat attached to this fake dating au, probably bc hoseok’s such a dream in it but also the escort vibes. smut but i skipped over it  『 25k 』

the curveball caught by us   ︴ @tendershepherd

➼   ft. yoongi. my first soulmate timer au but there’s such a beautiful dynamic between characters  『  6k, kind of angsty?  』

by its cover    ︴ @crystaljins

➼   demon frenemy college hobi x reader; so many of my favourite tropes all rolled into one. i stayed up into the very early morning hours for this hehehe. i seriously loved it!    『  angsty? fluffy? completed eight part series 』

first love    ︴  @jungnoir

➼  oh this one ,,,,, heArtbreaking .... 5.6k words of total angst && unrequited love 

runaway train     ︴  @jamaisstae​

➼  ongoing series where reader runs from home with adventure on her mind featuring a brooding yoongi. it has me so curious, can’t wait to continue it

the curveball caught by us   ︴ @tendershepherd

➼  ft. hoseok. my first soulmate timer au but there’s such a beautiful dynamic between characters  『 6k, kind of angsty? 』

cooking 101     ︴  @writing-in-ivory

➼  never knew cooking class fics were so cute until i read this little drabble  『 2k, fluffy 』

moonlight      ︴  @kooksea

➼   it’s a long but beautiful 19k — the plot’s so mesmerising, i’ve read this twice and i loved it both times. a little bit of smut but i essentially skipped over it

schrödinger’s cat      ︴   @dovechim​

➼   what a wonderful pick me up. i definitely recommend this when you’re down, && it goes perfectly with jimin’s promise on repeat. my first guardian angel au but i hope to read a lot more, it was a great introduction. please check out the poem linked in the post too!  『  9.8k, not very romantic but pretty fluffy 』

terrified     ︴  @loverknj

➼  another cute little drabble, but again i’m a sucker for best friend to lover aus. my heart honestly jumped at the end  『 1k, fluffy 』 

searching for    ︴ @tendershepherd

➼  this one honestly messed with my head i have no idea how but phew what a whirlwind of emotions  『 10k, soulmate timer au 』

my soulmate’s soulmate    ︴  @lavendersoft

➼   it’s a little angsty kook x reader x tae poly soulmate fic series && so far i’m in love, what a beautiful concept 

the constellations of an angel’s wrist      ︴  @evangelene​

➼    beautiful angsty ( angsty!!! ) guardian angel jungkook fic

[millennium-headquarters]

General relationship headcanons

The Major

takes a long time to actually come to terms with his feelings for you

you probably had to confess first and he needed some time to overthink everything

all his life he only really cared about war but the more he thinks about it he feels weird around you

he knows that you would never betray him so you probably already have a lot of his trust but he can’t figure out if he can trust you with something as delicate as his own feelings

also knows full well that being his s/o would endanger you as a possible target for attacks

so our poor boy just lays awake a few nights and eats even more because it comforts him

Doc most likely has to yell at him tbh or something like that and he finally snaps out of it and finally confronts you

is a caring boyfriend, but very very occupied with his work so some of your dates wont work out because something important came up

I’ve said it once and I will say it again, he will spoil you to no end

doesn’t really like PDA because it could cause problems (Other organisations taking interest in the things you might know about him etc.)

but he loves you so damn much

you better cuddle him when he comes home from his work (or back into his private quarters) and listen to all the stuff he has to tell you or so god help me I shall come for you and avenge him

very warm. Comfy to lay on at night or cuddle

will give you German nicknames and you cannot escape. Schnucki, Schatzi, Zuckerschnecke – be prepared for it all

Doc

knew full well he had feelings for you but tried to deny it, why would you want a relationship with such an old man like him

he thinks about you all the time and ends up cutting his finger with a scalpel will get very mad and stabs whatever he’s working on a few times because how dare

once you confess to him it’s over, he will just stare

thinks you are pulling a joke on him until he sees you blush

is kinda awkward about it, uhhhh the person he likes has feelings for him aswell, he doesn’t know what to say

will pull you into an awkward hug and pat your back while clearing his throat damn why do you smell so good he can’t handle it

finally says that he likes you back

will let you watch him experiment and talk a lot about in in general

wants to do small experiments on you because you are a “perfect specimen”

for the love of god tell him you are not comfortable with it because if you agree he will do some weird shit

will cook with you. Teaches you how to cook if you don’t know how to do it. Talks about it a lot and is very proud of it look at this grandpa and his cabbage garden he can be so cute if he wants to

you two end up as Schrödinger’s parents in some way, it’s just a matter of time until he calls you Mama

doesn’t really what to do in a relationship at first, should he hug you? Cuddles? Should he buy you a gift? Somebody help this man

very concerned about your health. You sneezed? Get into his lab he needs to run a full body check on you or else he wont be able to sleep tonight

The Captain

kinda difficult to confess to because he doesn’t talk

if he already likes you enough to let you into his private room that’s a big advantage because he already grew accustomed to having you close

you probably confessed to him while cuddling and his body just goes rigid for a moment

you kinda start to panic but he just wraps his arms around you and presses his face into your neck and just nods

hug him back pls he loves his cuddles

he loves it when you smell like him, so he will either rub his face all over you or leave his clothes in your room for you to find and hopefully wear

gets very territorial, especially when it comes to Jan

will stare at Jan or step in front of you until he backs of

lotsssss of non-verbal lovey-dovey-gestures. Neck kisses, hugs, back hugs, scenting you, snuggling up, maybe even biting you to mark you as his

werewolf cuddles. He will turn into his wolf form and you can just lay on top of him. You might wake up to him licking your face

loves you with all his heart and thinks he needs to provide for you. Goes out hunting and drags bloody woodland creatures back to you, expecting you to eat them. Tell him that you don’t like it and he will (most likely) stop doing it (for a while)

gentle big husband is the best husband

if you are a werewolf aswell, he might want pups when he’s in rut or you’re in heat, so keep that in mind

Schrödinger

such a mess, he speaks German when he is overwhelmed so good luck

confesses to you by accident most likely and doesn’t even know what he is saying

“Y/N whenever I think about you my stomach feels weird and my face gets hot please stop doing that”

you have to explain love to him and it is so awkward but you can’t blame him, the Majors motto is quite literally “Make war, not love”

looks at you wide-eyed the whole time and doesn’t know what to expect from a relationship

have fun explaining that all to him, especially the spicy parts

at the end he just goes “Oh, so we are a couple now, right? You like me back?”

easy to fluster, touch his ears and he will start to purr but gets embarrassed about it if you point it out

will jump on you every time you enter a room

also appears randomly in your room because he missed you what else is he supposed to do, be patient?

Has to learn a loooot of things first no Schrödinger you cannot just walk in while your s/o is showering because you are a couple stop doing that

obviously demands a lot of affection. That boy is half cat and you are his favourite napping spot. You cannot get up when he lays on you, it is impossible

pure as fuck despite his age, nobody explained any dirty things to him, ever, (Doc didn’t want to and I cannot blame him just imagine all the questions)

just be patient with him, smol child is still learning

his ears are so soft please pet him all the time I beg you

inexperienced, but makes up for it with eagerness

but still, kiss him on the cheek ad his brain stops working for the next couple hours

Doc and the Major are so glad that he is focused on you now because they can finally have some peace

Zorin

confesses to you first because you both are adults and can handle something like that

no “oooooh you are the light of my life, my love, my star” though, something along the lines of “You know Y/N, I don’t mind spending more time with you” or “make sure your ass comes back in one piece Y/N” when you’re about to leave for a mission

gets very protective over you, but will most likely show you off to the other Millennium members

She knows damn well how pretty you think she is, and will grin and call you out when she catches you staring

doesn’t mind PDA at all. She can and will grab your ass in front of everybody because it makes you squeak. Also, what better way to show off that you are hers?

100% uses her mind powers to fuck around with you during meetings. One second you are peacefully minding your own business, and the other you are trapped in a illusion and she will taunt you till no end while purring suggestive things into your ears

the Major also knows what is happening yet he chose to just ignore it for the sake of his own sanity, but he will demand that she leaves you alone during the more important meetings

seems confident but is so awkward when it comes to things like cuddling. She would just turn her back to you whenever the both of you slept in the same bed because she didn’t really know how to handle this level of closeness

does get better as time passes, will spoon you eventually. Doesn’t care if you are bigger then her, you will be the little spoon

10000000% the dominant part in the relationship wow who would’ve guessed no matter who her partner is. A powerful vampire? Nope, no way you’re gonna be on top. A cute, submissive human or artificial vampire? I pray for your soul because she will devour you whole

homegirl is a lesbian, sorry boys. Just look at her, she radiates lesbian top energy and you cannot convince me otherwise also: sword lesbian is out, scythe lesbian is in

has her soft moments aswell, small pecks on the cheeks, smiling while she watches you work, explaining the meaning of her tattoos to you if you’re interested in them

also will make you sit on her lap or carry you around just look at those arms