#i will also elaborate on what i mean by that when i'm not so exhausted

[julesnichols]

One day (when I've slept enough to both remember enough to make all of my points and be coherent) I'll explain what I meant when I joked about Sophie being worse

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words

fic masterlist previous five pt six next part

mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.

Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.

As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."

"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.

You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.

You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."

"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."

"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.

You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"

"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.

You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"

"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.

You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."

"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.

You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"

Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."

You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.

"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.

Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."

"Hobie."

But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."

;;

You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.

"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.

"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.

"Apparently I'm not fired?"

"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."

"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"

Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.

"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.

"Actually a lot has happened."

"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."

Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."

"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.

Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."

"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."

And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.

Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.

You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?

Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.

When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.

But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.

It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.

You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”

Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.

Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.

You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.

You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.

“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”

“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.

“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.

Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.

“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.

“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”

“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.

Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.

Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.

“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”

“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.

“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.

Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.

Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.

“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.

You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.

“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”

“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.

Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.

“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”

You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”

A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”

Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”

“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.

“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”

“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.

“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.

“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”

“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”

“And it still is.”

“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.

But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.

“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”

“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.

“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”

And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.

Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.

There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.

And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.

But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.

So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.

He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.

At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.

“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”

“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”

You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.

“Many people use phones for different thin—“

Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”

You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.

“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.

Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.

;;

A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.

You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’

“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.

“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.” You did feel bad.

“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”

“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.

“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.

You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”

“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.

“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.

“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”

“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.

“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.

You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.

“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Am I?” He again prays innocence.

“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”

“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.

“What?”

In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.

“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.

“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.

“Find what strange?”

“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.

“I’m not following.” You say slowly.

“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.

“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.

“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.

“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.

“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“

But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.

“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.

As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.

Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.

But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.

Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.

“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”

Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.

You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.

You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.

“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”

“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.

“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.

“Quiero ir a la feria.”

“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.

After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.

Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.

And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.

“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.

You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.

Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.

“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.

Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.

Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.

The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…

“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.

Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”

“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.

He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”

“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”

You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.

You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.

Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”

Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.

He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.

ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad

this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them

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[blackopals-world]

So this is Love?

Ace Trappola x Jester!Yuu

Ace trying to understand what is happening to him.

Ace doesn't do relationships. He's tried before and yeah he was an asshole. He can't admit it but he was so bored. It was the first date and yeah, she was pretty but he was tired already.

It's not like he led her on. He just didn't pretend he liked her. It's so goddamn exhausting. Ace didn't pretend he was the good guy in this.

He assumed that love and relationships just weren't his thing. Which was fine, but now...now it's different.

Ace originally thought Heartslabyul was going to be so lame. All the rules and no time to cut back but damn that was before Yuu showed up. Someone who knew how to have fun. The saving grace of Heartslabyul, the royal jester.

Every room they enter everyone lights up. Waiting for them tell a joke or do a trick. Always floating around in those elaborate costumes and leaving a trail of glitter as they pass.

Their makeup perfectly framed their face. Their lips were painted the perfect Heartslabyul rose-red against lily white.

Was he going insane? Did he think that their clown was attractive? Seriously?!

Sure, they sang well, had a sweet voice, a silly way of talking, looked good in those gaudy outfits, did that thing with their tongue when they focused in helping frost cakes, looked adorable then they tripped over a paint can and somersaulted over it with a smile and covered in paint. That didn't mean he liked them.

If anything it was purely physical attraction.

He could ignore these feelings.

Ignore every time they pulled him in for another cake heist, every dance they had during parties, every time they whispered a joke in his ear, every kiss on the cheek they gave away carelessly, every hug that made felt so warm and comforting it made him feel like his chest was being crushed.

Could he ignore every daydream that felt like a dumb teen romcom? Like going on beach trips together, going to concerts, going to a real dance together as dates, and being able to kiss them in front of the school.

But Ace is realistic. He doesn't do relationships.

He's sure of it.

Watching them sit at Riddle's side on the special seat made just for them made it clear. Yuu was an existence that didn't belong to him or anyone for that matter. Yuu was here to make everyone happy and his feeling were just a part of that.

Man, that's fucked up...

Because no rationalizing made the feeling go away.

He wished sometimes he had taken Riddle's place. Then at least Yuu would be his jester. That would be nice, but there's no use sighing over it.

Ace had chosen to be content with being Yuu's friend until he was faced with the most undeniable proof.

One evening he ended up staying out late but rather than being yelled at by Riddle or punished by Trey he decided to stay at Ramshackle for the night.

Ace had no idea who answered the door. They were kind of plain-looking. No makeup, no glitter, hair was worn loosely, and a pair of glasses. They didn't look anything like Yuu but it was Yuu all the same.

Ace felt out of place as Yuu welcomed him inside. Yuu looked so relaxed and less energized.

"I'm just making dinner for me and Grim but I made extra in case you're hungry." Yuu said softly their voice was a bit scratchy at the end. " Sorry, I usually don't talk much after work. I use it so much it tends to hurt."

Ace only nodded, he didn't think he could talk if he tried either. He was still in shock.

Yuu in their dressed down style looked so...cute. Ace acknowledged it bitterly.

Yuu wore a thin turtleneck sweater and jeans which reminded Ace of a librarian maybe or perhaps a studious academic. Both things are not like Yuu at all or at least how people saw Yuu.

They ended up spending the evening watching comedy shows while Yuu studied. Yuu was actually very dedicated to their craft and read books on many subjects like crafting, chemistry, music, and politics.

"A true jester knows how to entertain but also knows their role is also to advise." They said highlighting the text.

As the night went on Yuu changing into a set of stary Pj's and put Grim to bed. Then the two of them watched shows until they fell asleep on the couch together.

As he listened to Yuu's soft heartbeat and even breaths Ace knew he had to give up.

Ace didn't do relationships...until now. Because now he was in love.

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike's character regression can be explained in large part by one emotion in particular: guilt

Just want to preface this by saying that, this is not Mike slander. I love this dude. In fact, I think what makes Mike such an interesting character is that a lot of his behavior throughout the series can be explained in part by previous moments, and after really looking at all these moments together, what you end up with is a pretty fucked up story.

So while some might want to take this as Mike slander, these points I'm making are a part of Mike and things he has done and said and whether they were intentionally harmful or not, it's Mike. It's all shaped him and his role in the story. The fact that we're seeing a visible shift in his behavior at all, with plenty of moments from the show to back up what brought us here, makes it compelling enough to talk about.

So, without further ado, back to our roots:

Ah yes, the infamous canon proof disputing Mike's I think my life started that day we found you in the woods, claim during his monologue. Not only that, but in this original scene from 1x02, it turns out Mike actually intended to send her away the next day (all of which El could hear Mike saying from the open bathroom door).

Mike outright calling El a weapon, again telling the others they need her because they stand no chance at getting Will back otherwise.

I wont elaborate on this now, because there is way too much to unpack that'll honestly be more worthwhile discussing further on.

For now, this is a secret tool that will help us later.

These next couple scenes right here though, are pretty painful if I'm being completely honest. The way its shot, specifically El's very visible exhaustion, accompanied by the varying priorities of others around her, leaves me feeling pretty unsettled upon rewatches.

I obviously can't remember how I felt when I watched these scenes for the first time, but I imagine I viewed them as this huge romantic moment for Mike and El (I was tricked by heteronormativity, okay?). But, again, upon rewatching them since then, I've realized I get this sort of sad feeling by the end. You'll see what I mean.

El obviously just went through something extremely traumatic. She tried to go find Will and Barb in the void, only to find Barb dead and Will presumably alive, but then slipping through her fingers at the last second (no, literally).

We then got a moment where Joyce held El while the others sat by quietly because she clearly needed a moment of comfort given what she just endured.

Then in this scene shortly after, everyone is leaving to get ready for their final attempt at saving Will.

Now, notice how not only Lucas, but also Dustin make the effort to reach out to El to comfort her affectionately after that traumatic event, with those twos' actions specifically being showcased in sequence?

Lucas, who spent the better part of the season being critical of El, is now ending the season rubbing El's shoulder to warm her up, literally soothing her to make her feel better.

Then there's Dustin, who right after Lucas' gesture makes a gesture of his own, putting his hand on her knee reassuringly, to show her he's there and he's happy she's okay.

And lastly there's Mike, who is so kindly allowing El to rest her head on his shoulder. This placement of Mike and El here is definitely a testament to the fact that Mike has vouched for El this whole time in contrast to the others and so, understandably, she put her head on his shoulder for reassurance, because out of the three of them, he's the one whose been looking out for her the most. (Right?)

Now you might be thinking that this sequence's only purpose was to show Lucas and Dustin's development with El, and that it wasn't intentional that they focused on Lucas and Dustins' priorities in this moment in contrast to Mikes'. And I raise you, this next scene.

Here we have a focus on Mike looking on to where everyone left, while the others beside him are presumably just processing what went down and taking a rest (and boy oh boy do they (El) need one).

Mike on the other-hand decides to take this moment of rest to display the most cliche and universal forms of distracted unrest known to man: he checks his watch.

Mike then stands up abruptly, causing El to fall without his shoulder there for her to rest on anymore, all while her and Dustin are looking on after him, sort of like... Okay?

It's small. It might seem insignificant. But if you actually pay attention to what this scene is trying to make you feel, after really looking at it for what it is, it's kind of sad.

In a moment that chooses to highlight the other boys' acknowledgment of El after what just happened, and not only that, but at the tale end of their final battle of the season, Mike is... distracted?

Mike, who has been presumably looking out for El more than the others in the party this whole time, is conveniently out of commission? And right now when El is looking for his reassurance the most? Mike doesn't even have a moment to say, 'Hey I'll be right back, I just want to check something. Can one of you?--', asking Lucas or Dustin to sit next to her in his place. No. Dude just stands up without even acknowledging her.

If it was any other moment in the show, under less post-traumatic circumstances for El, then I wouldn't even think much of it. But it's at this point in the story when El is essentially at her most exhausted and quite literally seeking out support from others, specifically Mike, that makes his distractedness so eery.

Again, you might still be thinking that this isn't that deep. However, I think based on the events leading up to this, and what follows right here, could quite literally hold the answer to the guilt Mike is still keeping to himself to this day.

So... How are we feeling?

Are we feeling like Mike None of you are thinking about El's wellbeing right now! She could get brain damage from using her powers too much! She's not a weapon!* Wheeler is a little bit of a hypocrite? (I told you that tool would come in handy!)

It's actually quite terrifying how similar this scene is framed to the scene in Hopper's cabin in s3, where Mike pretty much says the exact opposite. In s1 Mike goes from being one of the first people to refer to El as a weapon within the context of them using her powers to find Will, with him being completely un-attuned to the fact that she is exhausted in this moment while the others are saying El's rest and safety is the most important, to then in s3 completely flipping script and saying El was using her powers for nothing, blaming the others for treating her like a weapon and not taking her wellbeing into consideration.

It would be one thing if Mike had a little arc where he acknowledged this script flip. Because that's what it is. It is them having Mike use a word in s1 to describe El, that being weapon, only to say the others are treating her like that with that same word being used. It is them having Mike not agknowledge El's well being after overusing her powers, only to say the others aren't taking her wellbeing into consideration for overusing her powers.

And it would be one thing if Mike had spoke to El or literally anyone about how he felt like he wronged El for planning on sending her away the next day after they found her so that they could go back to looking for Will, or how he said she was a weapon that they needed in order to find Will, essentially being no better than the people she just escaped from, who also used her for her powers. But we don't get that (actually we do.. but it's not acknowledged for what it is aka survivor's guilt. It's instead seen as romantic... another tool for later...)

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think any of Mike's behavior takes away from what Mike did do for El, because yes he was kind and accepting when the others weren't. But even despite all of that, at the end of the day, he was often at the forefront of expecting El to risk her life for them, even if he wasn't outright asking that of her.

Before you freak out, No. I don't think Mike, a literal child, was capable of fathoming that El was going into these situations risking her life. She's a superhero. El's alternative was literally going back to the lab, running, or staying with Mike. This was her safest option.

After a bunch of rewatches and putting together a lot of these moments as a whole, I've come to a point where I believe that Mike's behavior throughout s1 was him thinking that because of who El was, she's already in danger at all times. That is a constant reality for her. And so why not have her help them find Will, because she is able to, all while he can also help her. And El clearly wanted to help them, because she wanted to help good people and finally do something meaningful with her powers for a change. Unfortunately, she also had to endure PTSD flashbacks almost every single time Mike and the boys had her use her powers to help find Will.

Speaking of Will, he is currently missing and possibly dead. Will also, in contrast to El (for now...), does not have any sort of superpowers.

Mike's concern over the threat of Will's livelihood is much greater than Mike's acknowledgement to the true risks El is exposing herself to each time she uses her powers to help them. That is s1 canon.

Is there times when Mike is focused on El and her well being. Absolutely! But is there also times when Mike is not showing any display of concern to El's well being in the moment, in complete contrast to the other characters around him... Also yes.

And so the events happening the way they did, with Mike himself not fully comprehending the severity of what's been going on during these high stake situations going on around him, makes sense.

And that's what makes it all the more sad that when Mike finally does realize what he's truly been asking of El this whole time, which is to risk her life for them, it's too late.

This whole scene is obviously very emotional. All of the boys are crying, but the focus on Mike calling out for El painfully is heartbreaking.

But what's even more sad to me, is that El has been sort of used to mistreatment her whole life. She's used to having to find any comfort she could get from people in her life, all the while they were using her for her powers. I mean even despite Brenner being who he was and doing what he did, she still showed these signs of wanting to love him despite it. Which is very very fucked up. But knowing what she's gone through, makes sense.

Mike on the other-hand does greatly contrast Brenner because he was one of the first people to actually treat her with genuine kindness right from the start (before he even knew she had powers), making it a lot easier for her to care for him even despite that pesky trait of using her for her powers being almost synonymous with Brenner's very similar trait.

So when she looks back at Mike, and points him out specifically before sacrificing herself, it feels like a few things at once.

It feels like her acknowledging the fact that she appreciated him specifically for taking her in and supporting her more genuinely than anyone has in her entire life.

And yet it also feels like her, either intentionally or unintentionally, acknowledging the unfortunate side affect caused by days of Mike leading the efforts to find Will, with the expectation of her to do things to achieve that, which could have all lead to her demise technically. And so now when it all comes down to it and the stakes are at their highest yet, same as the risk, she's got to a point where she believes there is no other choice but to do just that, risk her life, especially if it means saving them.

While this is happening, Mike is backtracking in real time. He is trying to get El to stop and it's because he doesn't want her to die. Obviously.

But that's the fucked up part isn't it? When he finally realized what he's been asking of her this whole time, it's too late.

Which takes us to S2 Mike Wheeler, known by many for being a boy whose been calling his true love everyday for almost a year now because he's just so in love, but is actually in fact a boy suffering the most intense form of survivors guilt, one that involves a person who genuinely feels responsible for the persons death...

But that will probably take at least another 2,000 words so I'm thinking maybe I better split this into multiple parts.

I will tease that the next part involves one specific detail in particular that I never see anyone talk about, a detail that I think, in combination with what's discussed in this post, is so important to understanding Mike's breakdown for what it truly was at the end of season 2. I will also probably do more posts beyond that for s3-4, to delve into the impacts these moments from the first two seasons have basically put in place a perfect recipe for what is currently going down.

So feel free to stay tuned for those nonsense updates.

Continued

[soahbee]

Hello girls!! <3 Little status report:

I never had the best relationship with my mother, it's no coincidence that I'm with my father a lot, and my mother lives in another city with her new boyfriend (whom I also hate because he's an asshole) I was with her one weekend, but not for long, because my mother drank and when she drinks she says things to me that she regrets the next day, but it's a huge trauma for me. I won't even elaborate on this. Dad quickly came to pick me up and now I'm staying with dad for a while. (I have a small apartment that is closer to the school, but we discussed with father that it is better if I stay at home for a while) However, father's house is huge and he works a lot, but he tries to be with me, but now he has gone on a business trip, so I am alone. The loneliness and what happened between me and mom took a toll on me so much that my depression got stronger. I lost a lot of weight because of this. Since dad was afraid that my condition would worsen while he was away, he informed his close friends about the situation and that I was now with him. (very cute) So R also knows everything, who calls or texts me almost every night. Anyway, imagine, at school, R immediately noticed that I had lost weight and has been very caring for me since then. At least he tries to stay within limits at school, but he makes it clear that he is here with me. Since he lives closer to father, he has taken me home three times so far and sometimes he stayed with me for a while. So after every bad thing comes something good, if i can call it that. However, mother takes a toll on me, but the fact that R is here for me and I can hold on to him means a lot. Now it feels like he is replacing my father. I love him very much, but now our relationship is not developing romantically, but to put it…mental support. I'll write you girls some details later, because a few things happened between us, but I thought I'd write you all quickly about what's going on. Don't worry, I'm getting better and dad won't be away much, and I'll be going back to my apartment soon. And I will sort out my relationship with my mother somehow. (I'm sorry if I worded something wrong, but I'm very exhausted)

Thank you for being here for me girls and for the many inbox messages in which you expressed your support!!! Love u all!! 💓

[hyunjilicious]

A/n: This was initially supposed to be the beginning of a longer fic but I ended up changing the plot a bit and this little thing doesn't fit in there anymore. So there's basically no plot here, just 3 bff's minding their own business when one of them decides to ask for a hickey :) you know, like all friends do.

Warnings: there's no smut, but I still wouldn't be comfortable with anyone underage reading it, so 18+ PLS. Also they're just friends but there's a hyunjin x reader x felix type of thing implied... idk... I love them both too much :/ (highly unedited, don't look at me, I just want it out of my drafts thank you) 1.4k

"Ok, I know this is gonna sound stupid, but bear with me for a second?" Hyunjin said, breaking the 10 minutes of silence that followed yours and Felix's relentless complaints about work and the last minute tasks you had been given. Once that topic had been exhausted, you each settled in a corner of your queen sized bed, entrapped by your phones. That was until Hyunjin spoke up.

"Yeah, what is it?" Felix answered but Hyunjin waited until he had your attention too before continuing.

"Can one of you give me a hickey?" 

Felix didn't even bother trying to answer, confusion just fell upon his features as he stared ahead, then at Hyunjin, who didn't even bat an eye, and then at you.

"Um?" you frowned, "Can you elaborate?"

"There are these girls at work that like me, I mean I think they do, and I've basically done everything to tell them I'm not interested but like… they don't get the hint, and they're very sweet, so I don't wanna be rude to them.. I figured this would be the best idea"

"You figured this would be the best idea?" Felix deadpanned.

"Yeah… they never walked up to me and told me they like me, so what kind of entitled asshole would I be if I just went to them and said 'Hey, I get that you're obsessed with me but I'm not interested'?"

Felix just blinked. "First of all, obsessed is a little bit too much, don't you think?"

"I agree. That's why I want a hickey"

"Just say you have a girlfriend"

"But I don't" Hyunjin shook his head, "That would be a lie. A hickey is just a hickey, and it'll make them assume I have someone"

"Or you could just talk to them" Felix tried again.

"Or you could just shut up and give me a hickey"

"I've never given anyone a hickey, I'm not doing it"

"I can do it" you offered, much to Felix's disappointment. It seemed that for whatever reason he assumed you'd be the rational one, but if anything, you understood very well what it was like to want to avoid difficult conversations.

"Thank you!" Hyunjin exclaimed.

"Come here"

"What? Now!?"

"What? Do you need to get ready? Need a moment of silence?"

"Um, no?" Hyunjin shily mumbled as Felix laughed in the background, "I just didn't expect you to do it now"

"We can do it later"

"No, no, no. Now is good"

"Ok, lay down" you instructed and shuffled closer to him. 

"Oh my god" Hyunjin chuckled as he let his weight fall back onto his shoulders while you straddled his hips. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ears and lick your lips, which made nervous giggles break past his lips as he threw his head back. "This feels so professional"

"Yes, y/n, the hickey master" you mocked and grabbed his hands, one forceful pull later and he was down flat on his back against the mattress. "Tell me if it hurts"

"I've gotten hickeys in the past, it wasn't that bad"

"Yeah because you were turned on and it was sexy. Now that's not the case"

"Hey, you're sexy" he grinned which made you slap his face away so you wouldn't have to see his eyes anymore.

"Oh god, I need to see this" Felix giggled and crawled closer, settling right next to you and directly above Hyunjin.

"You're breathing right into my face"

Felix wasn't having it, so he just smiled down at his friend. "You like it"

"Idiot"

With your lips inches away from Hyunjin's exposed neck, you found yourself struggling to find a starting point. Something felt off, a bit unnatural, and it made your ears tingle. "Ok, this is weird, but I don't know how to give hickeys without kissing too, so-"

"Kiss me, I don't mind"

"You're willing to make this sacrifice, huh?" Felix teased.

"Ok, but tell me if this starts to feel awkward, ok?"

"Y/n, you're both basically on top of me, one about to bite me and the other one looking at me like I'm a science experiment, awkward doesn't even begin to explain it"

"I'm sorry" you laughed, and despite the hurricane of thoughts that rushed through your brain at that exact moment, you shook your head one last time and finally closed the distance between the two of you.

Doing this robotically and by the book was never going to cut it, no matter how much experience you had and how many techniques you knew. So putting your faith into Hyunjin to tell you in case you went too far, you decided to do this right.

With your back arched and your body fully pressed against his, you snaked one hand up into hair, curling your fingers up around his roots as your lips started working on his still intact skin.

The kisses that initially started off as gentle and soft, turned fervid in a matter of seconds, your lips mercilessly sucking his perfect skin, morphing his light complexion into a perverse shade of red. 

Unconsciously, as you worked on the hickey on his neck, the hand that had been previously lightly tugging at his roots traveled down, gripping his chin and caressing its way down to his shoulders. 

Completely lost in the taste and feel of your best friend's skin, you failed to register the unnatural feeling of his hands on your thighs. You knew they were there, you felt their warmth down to your bones, but it never occurred to you that that had never happened before. So you let yourself get driven by his touch and refused to show any signs of slowing down as his curious hands made their way to your hips and then to your ass.

Fully engrossed by everything that was going on at once, you failed to notice the way Hyunjin was panting beneath you - his chest heaving up and down as his shaky, hot breath ran against your ear.

Once you figured you had him warmed up enough, you gave his neck the last bit of preparation which came in the shape of you licking up his jugular before you returned to your initial spot and sunk your teeth into his skin with no warning.

"Holy f-" he grunted, more than surely involuntarily bucking his hips up into you as his fingers dug into your hips. 

But it didn't deter you, you kept going - sucking, biting and licking all the right spots, keeping a steady pace until you felt satisfied with your work.

"Ok-" you said a bit out of breath before returning to pepper his traumatized skin with feather light kisses, "I think this should do it"

When you pushed yourself up to admire your work, Hyunjin hurried to hide his face behind his hands. "Oh my god"

"Was it good?" you grinned, placing your hands on his waist, ready to tickle a compliment out of him in case you needed to.

"I need a minute," he panted.

Deciding to give him the space he said he needed, your eyes moved to Felix. Despite not uttering one word, his face said a lot, his red cheeks, wide eyes and shy smile were enough to get the message across. 

Instantly, you opened your arms calling for a hug, but he just mirrored you and welcomed you when you finally crawled over to him. He gathered you close against his chest and pulled you down, the two of you now tightly wrapped together next to a still speechless Hyunjin.

"Was that awkward for you?" you whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck from the sudden wave of embarrassment that washed over you. 

"No, don't worry, it wasn't awkward-" he assured you with a kiss on the top of your head. "It was a… good tutorial"

"I still find it shocking that you've never given a hickey before" 

"I think the reason for that is because I always hated receiving them," Felix confessed, which prompted Hyunjin to come back from the dead, one long pointer finger up in the air.

"That's because you've never gotten one from her" 

"Ok" Felix laughed, "Can we stop with the hickeys? I feel like I'm high-school all over again. Adults don't have hickeys"

"No," you corrected, "Adults don't have hickeys in places others can see. Except that one" you pointed to Hyunjin. 

"You're just jealous"

"Of what? The hickey I gave you?"

"I don't know" Hyunjin gave up with a sigh and lazily rolled off the bed, "I'm gonna have a shower"

"Have fun!" you both laughed and then settled back into a tighter cuddle once the room fell into silence again.

What is this abrupt ending? Idk either, I'm sorry 😖

[lollytea]

Unfortunately due to TOH being cut short by Disney a lot of character arcs and more storyline could not be fully fleshed out and finished as Dana had to wrap up everybody’s story in just a few episodes

I'm fully aware that Disney's intervention is responsible for a lot of the plotlines getting suffocated. Which is why I don't think it's fair to go harassing crew members with "why didn't THIS happen??" and all that, because nobody really knows what they endured working on those final episodes and how much they had to cut and rewrite. But from things Dana has said, it was likely a very stressful and exhausting experience. So I don't like to make assumptions about the crew being incompetent. Nobody knows how the season WOULD have turned out if they had been granted full creative freedom and breathing room to develop it to their hearts content.

However, me not directing personal ire towards the crew doesn't mean that I think that the show is immune to criticism. Its flawed. It might not be entirely the crew's fault but that doesn't mean we can't talk about how it's flawed. If anything, I think acknowledging and dissecting its weaknesses is a good learning opportunity for what we should consider when creating our own stories.

Season 3 is a bit of a mess. There's good stuff. There's some less than good stuff. I think ultimately, as a story about Luz, King and Eda, it knocks it out of the park. When they were left with no other option, they decided to prioritize the writing of their three protagonists and I think that was the correct choice.

But I've been thinking about the three specials and how they stand on their own, quality wise, and honestly, there's valid criticism to be said that is completely unrelated to the shortening.

Bear in mind that the crew has known since Follies that the show was getting cut short and they needed to start wrapping up loose ends. So it's not like they started writing Thanks to Them believing it was the first of 20+ more episodes. They knew that they were going to be writing a 40 minute special. So the execution had to be tight, concise and satisfying, right?

Well...it was....weird. Definitely fun. Good for fan service. The main hook was the witch kids navigating the human world in their dorky witchy way. And initially, that was enough. But once the novelty of that wears off and we focus on the plot of the special, what do we have left?

Thanks to Them is very guilty of lore baiting. Dropping in stuff that they know damn well that they're never going to elaborate on, leaving the audience with a feeling of intrigue that is never going to be satiated.

I personally think that is just bad writing. They knew they didn't have a full season 3 and rather than rewrite the means of which the hexsquads finds answers, they still made the choice to drop in what are most likely vague ideas from the initial draft.

I think, if they had no intention of developing it in future specials, there was no point to that scene of Masha telling the Wittebane story. It was just...filler. To stretch out the running time. Which is....kind of precious. Only 40 minutes. If you're obsessive enough about lore, you already knew the story from the Hollow Mind paintings. That scene was for casual viewers. Which is useless, because there's no point in casual viewers learning about Evelyn and Caleb because it never went anywhere.

Also. I personally think that if there was any value to learning the Wittebane lore without making it plot relevant, it would be for the sake of character development. We wanted to know how the kids would react to this knowledge.

Well how did they react?

*Shrug* They seemed a little unnerved but they kinda forgot about it the second they got off the hayride.

So what was the point of all that? What was the point?

Is it because we wanted "Goodbye, Evelyn," to be more of gut punch?

Was it worth it? Was "Goodbye, Evelyn" worth it? We know fucking nothing about Evelyn.

I think the rebus was a stupid and lazy means for the kids to discover Titan's blood. You introduce this mysterious object that was hidden under the floorboards and then you just use it as a plot device.

When the kids uncover the rebus and find the secret code inside, the viewer is not thinking about how it can be used as a means to an end (finding blood) The viewer is thinking "what the fuck is that thing and how did it get there and how did Flapjack know it was there?"

Questions that will not be answered <333

ALL IM SAYING is that I'm sure the crew could have come up with another way for the kids to have a Titan's blood treasure hunt. Maybe they could have dug a little more into the history of Gravesfield and follow leads on weird things happening on this one spot in the graveyard (which turns out to be because there's magical energy there, revealed when Luz realizes she can use glyphs)

I just think that if you're gonna leave the mystery box a mystery, you shouldn't have included it.

And I know. Its subtle storytelling. There's elements of what could have been a far more complex story and they're leaving hints of it here and there.

Well the thing about that is I think the hints are very unsatisfying and weaken the episode's plot significantly.

Also I don't think they should get to just pick and choose what parts of the lore are subtle and what parts are ham-fisted.

YES we are going to be reminded like three times that Flapjack is being secretive and hiding things from Hunter.

NO we are never going to get a payoff for that because he gets shanked and dies first.

BUT!! BUT!! If you squint, its IMPLIED that Flapjack belonged to Evelyn and blah blah blah

You don't get to rub things in the audience face and then choose to be all subtle about it at the last minute. Pick one or the other.

Anyway....I think they could have written Thanks to Them as more of an intriguing and suspenseful horror mystery where they spend forty minutes gathering clues and everything finally clicks together at the very end. That's not what we got.

We got a very weak attempt on the Hexsquad's part to be little detectives, but like a minute of screen time was devoted to them dicking around in a library, a costume shop, and a zoo.

I don't think we can blame the shortening for this.

[stevesbestgirl]

Dreamweaver

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore

A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)

5775 words

"Dream."

Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.

"Dream!"

He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.

"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."

"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."

"Forget your gallery, come here."

Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.

Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"

Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"

Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.

"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."

Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."

"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."

Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."

Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.

Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.

Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.

Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.

His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."

Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.

"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."

"Are you going to speak to her?"

"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."

Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"

"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."

*

After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.

Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.

Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.

*

Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.

A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.

"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.

"Approach, Y/L, L/N."

She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.

It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.

She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"

The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.

She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"

The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."

She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"

He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."

It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.

"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.

His voice remained level, "Yes."

"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.

There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.

It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.

But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.

A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-

"You should not be here."

Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."

She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?

His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.

"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."

His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.

She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.

She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.

And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.

*

"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.

"And why are you here again, Death?"

"To catch you in the act, obviously."

Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.

Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.

The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"

"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."

"Do you spend this long on every one?"

She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."

Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."

"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."

Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."

"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"

Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.

He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.

"Dream, what did you do?"

Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."

Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"

"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."

There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"

Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."

Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.

"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"

"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."

Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"

"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."

"Of course, brother."

*

That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.

"Approach, Y/N."

She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.

A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.

"Dream King."

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."

Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."

"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."

She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.

Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."

She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."

She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.

Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"

She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."

"I apologize."

Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"

He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"

Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.

She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.

Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"

Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."

His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"

She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"Simply an observation."

"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"

"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.

"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.

There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."

She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."

His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.

"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."

She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."

His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."

She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"

"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."

"Your sister?"

"Death."

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.

"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"

"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."

"Dreams affect human development?"

That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"

"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.

"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."

The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."

"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."

"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."

"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"

"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."

She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.

"Are you alright?"

"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.

"No."

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.

After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."

Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"

Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."

And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.

As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.

*

"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.

Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."

The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.

"Unless-"

"Unless." Dream was unamused.

"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."

If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.

"You believe such foolishness, sister?"

"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"

"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"

"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."

"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.

"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."

"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."

Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."

"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.

"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."

Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."

"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.

"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.

*

All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.

The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.

The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.

There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.

She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.

But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.

Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.

"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.

"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.

She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."

"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.

Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."

She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.

"I'm sure you have questions."

She nodded, "A couple, yes."

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"

Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.

She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."

That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."

She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"

He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."

"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"

He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."

The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.

Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"

Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."

Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.

"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.

"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.

She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"

She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."

"You are quite skilled."

He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"

She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."

She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.

She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.

So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."

A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."

Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."

He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.

She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.

[punkeccentricenigma]

headcanons with the rise boys and a reader who is in med school! Graduated high school early and is training to be a doctor! Romantic or platonic, your pick

Rise!Boys with Reader who is in Med School

Relationship status: platonic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Mention of slicing the frog, Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: Just so you know, I am not familiar with medicine at the college level, only what I had in high school biology, so I tried to write these headcanons as neutrally as possible. And all in all, even if I learn anything now, it is only in the field of physiotherapy because my friend is going to such studies this year, so sorry if it's not what you wanted, but still, enjoy!

Leonardo

◇I won't lie, I'm sure this guy admires you.

◇Not everyone gets a chance to get into such a school!

◇But knowing his personality, he'll probably tease you a lot, calling you a 'nerd.'

◇It usually doesn't cross the line, BUT if Leonardo goes too far with his teasing, especially when you're tired after classes, you often threaten to perform a dissection on him like a frog.

◇And when he arrogantly waved it off at first, you and Donnie pulled a prank on him with that theme.

◇Everything was recorded as he lay pinned to the table, and you stood over him with a scalpel.

◇Leo thinks you're very diligent, hardworking, and disciplined, which also means mentally exhausted.

◇Such a school demands a lot, so expect that during study sessions in your cozy home, that idiotic turtle will come and drag you to the hidden city to relax.

◇I'm sure he'll try to make you laugh often using elaborate medical jokes he found on the internet.

◇Sometimes he also feels a bit jealous. He has some basic knowledge when he has to patch himself or his brothers up, but deep down, he would also like to go to such a medical school to enhance his skills. But you see the whole situation.

◇But don't worry! In your free time, you'll give him a bit of education with the knowledge you've acquired so far.

◇Even if he tries to hide it, he's a bit overwhelmed by the vast amount of knowledge and skills you possess.

◇But despite that, he's proud of you for taking on the challenge and fulfilling your dreams! Or at least you're on the right path to doing so.

Raphael

◇The proudest big bro! You got into that school?? Amazing!

◇Your number one supporter!

◇Raphael truly appreciates your intelligence, hard work, and determination. He never imagined himself getting into a medical school, not only because of the whole situation but also because his knowledge absolutely doesn't go in the same direction as yours. But that his friend managed it? Nice!

◇He admires your selfless need to help other people. He's keeping his green fingers crossed for you to achieve that dream medical title!

◇I'm sure he suggested some ‘experiments’ on himself for you to practice a topic from lectures. In the end, you hit him on the head for such an absurd idea. You didn't intend to do that! That's Donatello's role! Besides, mixed human DNA with turtle DNA would probably mess with your mind more than help.

◇Although their biology sometimes interested you.

◇When he notices you're tired and stressed from all the medical material, he'll gladly take you to their living room, and under a warm blanket, you'll have a Lou Jitsu movie marathon (where you'll eventually fall asleep, lmao) or play a bandana takeover with his brothers, all tricks allowed for your amusement!

◇Hey, don't complain about his support. Many times, you've helped him when he was stressed about being the leader before Leo or after the Kraang invasion. That's all he can do!

◇Sometimes he was confused and a bit unhappy when you started explaining various medical terms or tools to him. Raph is simple; give him a lighter version of all that.

◇Sometimes he wasn't happy that you declined meetings because of studying or lectures. Hey! He also needs attention sometimes D:

Donatello

◇Donnie is really proud of you, even if he doesn't express it in words every day.

◇But as a reward for your hard work, he'll fine-tune the devices you use for practice or build something helpful.

◇He appreciates your genuine interest in understanding difficult concepts and your ability for critical thinking. You don't even know how much he needed someone like you in his life, looking at his family.

◇Despite your enthusiasm and intelligence, he thinks you might overly stress about grades and perfectionism, which in the long run can lead to stress and burnout. So, he often forces you to take a break in his lab, sipping mint-flavored coffee.

◇It's also his small revenge for taking him away from his work on new inventions when he hasn't slept for two days in a row, lmao.

◇But if it's not spending time with him, the guy will go through all your material at the moment to make cheat sheets with the most important information.

◇You pose an intellectual challenge for him and keep him on his toes, but he always enjoys discussing and exploring different perspectives on a topic with you, even though he leans more towards technological knowledge than biological.

◇However, despite his intelligence, Donnie in those moments can be a bit 'know-it-all' and doesn't always consider the opinions or feelings of other people, or even the actual facts.

Michelangelo

◇You won't convince me he wouldn't be initially confused; I mean, he's the least interested in medical topics.

◇But as soon as you start explaining, he'll immediately admit that he's impressed and that he's really proud of you!

◇He'll always mention how much he appreciates your determination to achieve your dreams!

◇Personally, I have a headcanon that Mikey wants to become one of the most recognizable artists, so he roughly knows how frustrating it is when something doesn't work out.

◇In a way, I think Mikey sees you as his role model, so feel proud to be compared to Lou Jitsu :D

◇Mikey sometimes worries a lot about your mental health after lectures. So, expect many long conversations about self-care.

◇Being the youngest of the brothers, he got a lot of attention, so he'll often be jealous of how much time you spend at school and with human friends rather than with him. He knows it's immature behavior, but he can't help it!

[thelavendernarwhal]

I received an ask that a person wanted answered anonymously, so:

But I really, truly cannot stop thinking about this one scene in Legacy. It’s around page 351.

“You mean having Dizznee pull some money from your birth fund and then hitting up a shop for a couple of minutes?” Keefe asked. “Yeah, Dex told me all about how not exhausting that was last night, when he checked in to tell me how things went for you two in London, while someone was off doing something with Mr. Forkle…”

So what I’m hearing is sleepy Dex on call with Keefe? Dex telling Keefe that he’s tired? A cute little nightly convo?

Side note, why was Dex tired? Does his ability make him tired? I need more elaboration, Shannon.

This scene is hella interesting to me since you look at it and it immediately seems like a Sokeefe scene, but in the middle, it has this seemingly random shift into talking about a completely different character dynamic. The context this snippet falls into is Keefe trying to cheer up Sophie after she had an argument with Mr Forkle. It all makes sense within of their relationship and dynamic, but this bit of dialogue is communicating something pretty different. It’s pointing out that Keefe and Dex have a close friendship that Sophie isn’t super aware of and that Sophie doesn’t spend a lot of time with/pay attention to Dex. 

Both of these things can be chalked up to the fact the story is from Sophie’s perceptive. The big plot details have to happen or be explained to her or else they won’t make it to the reader. That doesn’t leave a lot of page time for banter, especially for a character like Dex who’s narrative role can mostly be done off stage. Of course, Dex’s character can be used for a lot more than ‘cool gadget guy’ (ie class divides, matchmaking/queer allegories, parallels to many other characters, etc), but that’s a whole different can of worms. Having moments like this that show things happening outside of Sophie helps establish a larger, more lively world. It shows that Sophie isn’t the center of the universe. 

But these little moments can be established with many different characters. There are so many background dynamics and friendships that can be leveraged for this purpose which makes it interesting that specifically Keefe and Dex are highlighted. In fact, these two are highlighted in this way fairly often. Back in book 3, the two of them hit it off quickly and spend more time together outside of a group setting which then translates into many Keefex moments (including getting their team/ship name). Late night calls are probably pretty common. 

But what really gets me about all of this is the casualness and I think it's because few other relationships in this series have that. Even characters that are established to be best friends have a good amount of tension between them (ie Fitz and Keefe, Sophie and Dex, Stina and Marella), but Keefe and Dex don’t have that. There’s a sense of stability and trust. They hang out and talk to each other without a practical reason to do so. Dex feels okay complaining to Keefe about projects and, presumably, feelings of isolation. Especially seen in Unlocked, Keefe trusts Dex to help him and hear some of the ugly things he doesn’t want to say to Sophie. There's definitely a lot of room for cute late night conversation on call, but also for a chill relationship in a sea of high-tension dynamics. 

The length of this thing kind of got away from me but that's my take :) 

(Also, I'm exploring a lot more of the mechanics of technopathy in my own writing, so I think that it's possible that Dex’s experience is something very similar to Keefe’s as the Forbidden Cities has more integrated technology that seemingly ‘speaks’ to Dex. That could be very overwhelming for him, hence why he's tired.)

[defira85]

This is incredibly petty and pointless bitching about family stuff but I'm stressed and exhausted and it's making me miserable so I need to vent

So anyone who's followed me for more than 5 minutes knows I like to bake, yeah? Has seen my posts of my elaborate christmas cookie boxes or the multi-tier cakes I bake or the extravagance of my choc cherry brownie loaf and so on? Feeding people is important to me! I won't say it's my love language cause whatshisface was a weirdo christian fundamentalist so we don't believe in love languages but you know. I like to nourish! I want to cook people a big meal and have them feel loved and indulged!

My SIL is having her 40th birthday in May, and she wants everyone to come on a 4 day getaway which is just. I don't understand why certain parts of this family don't understand that people need to work (I do understand, the reason is money, this family has money and so they don't understand that normal people have Mon-Fri jobs that they can't just drop for a 4 day beach getaway for a birthday) but anyway, that's another rant

She's been asking people about the food, and people have been volunteering for certain meals and I've got my assigned meal planned out to the letter (a giant paella with fresh baked olive bread and patatas bravas with a mediterranean salad) and I asked her last night about desserts with the implication that I was asking her what cake she wanted for her birthday, because so far she's just put "icecream/fruit salad" on every meal

She answers "oh I've just got a brownie box mix we were going to make. Also a carrot cake box mix, we don't really need anything else"

Now I've tried to calm myself down by reminding myself that SIL really absolutely does not care about food. Not in the slightest. She doesn't understand about things tasting good, she just eats whats in front of her

But. But. I cook. I bake. I express love with my food. She KNOWS that. And I went to a lot of effort in November to make an EXQUISITE carrot cake for my MIL's birthday when we celebrated her life and the one year since her death, I worked so hard to make sure it was perfect, and she's just like

yeah here's a packet mix. Tastes the same.

Like, does she even care about any of the meals I make? Does she notice? Does what it expresses as a gesture of love mean anything?

I KNOW I'M OVERREACTING. I KNOW I AM. BUT I'M REALLY EXHAUSTED AND MISERABLE and it just hit me a lot harder than I was expecting it to. Just a slap in the face, you know? All the hard work I do, all the love I pour into it, it's just the same as a box she bought at the store and adds an egg to

/throws away the recipe for the salted caramel and macadamia monkey bread I was planning

[i-am-the-oyster]

Hi there, I also have a quick question about this post (Paul's guilt about hurting John, possibly evidenced in song notes during the making of RAM, and its source—that he left John, despite having promised not to).

Are you saying Paul felt guilty towards John, and knew why, during the making of RAM? And, if so, how would you square this with Paul's notorious 'grief rant' phonecall with Hunter Davies shortly after John's death, where Paul appears not only upset by the idea that he hurt John, but also unaware of what he could have done to cause this hurt?

"But what had really got Paul upset that day was an interview with Yoko in which Yoko was quoted as saying that Paul had hurt John more than any other person. Paul thought they were amongst the cruelest words he ever read." (Hunter Davies grief rant fun)

Was Paul bullshitting Hunter? (Go, Paul)

Was Paul being defensive and angry b/c Yoko blamed him for hurting John in public?

Was Paul not surprised to hear he'd hurt John (after all, they hurt each other often), but struck by the 'more than any other person' part?

I don't mean to say you're right or wrong. I'm just curious to hear you elaborate on this. Meaning, your take on Paul's guilt, and how accessible it was to him consciously. I've long been thinking about him hearing this claim, 'you hurt him more than anyone else', and how different that would have landed, depending on how aware/guilty he felt.

(Whether Paul was right to feel guilty or not is a completely different matter, and doesn't play a role on my question.)

Thank you for the wonderful meaty (sorry Paul!) ask!

I think Paul *did* feel guilty at the time, but I wouldn't exactly say Paul was bullshitting Hunter. The thing that always jumps out at me from that transcript is where Paul says:

There's only one incident I can think of that John has mentioned publicly.

(emphasis mine)

Isn't that an interesting distinction in the context? It makes me think that there were deeply private things that they each did to the other but Paul feels certain that those things would never end up the subject of public discussion.

I don't buy the image of Paul as lacking self-awareness or self-reflection. BUT he is extremely good at re-framing things in a positive way "so many times I had to change the pain to laughter" AND he is a very contrary person. He seems to often instinctively push against whatever narrative the person opposite him is proposing, especially where the topic needs some nuance. (eg the one time he approaches the topic of Jim's violence is in response to Stern pushing Paul's own "idyllic childhood" bit).

So back to the version of their story that had in mind when I made my original post. (Which I'm not married to, but seems like a plausible scenario worth exploring). Paul and John are in a codependent relationship, John has clearly expressed his terror that Paul might leave (as he did with Cyn). John's behaviour has become erratic and (at least borderline) abusive. Paul knows that if he lets go John will "take a tumble", but he's exhausted and Linda is teaching him to take his own desires and needs into account in a much healthier way. (Not to suggest Paul was never selfish in the 60s lol, but he wasn't practicing actual self-care).

John is spiraling, and pushing Paul away in that heartbreaking pattern I call "see I knew you were going to leave". (I'm sure there must be a name for it in psychology). Linda doesn't yet realise the depth of feeling she's dealing with. Paul knows how terrified John is, he's promised he won't be like the others, he won't leave. But he can't do it any more. John finally convinces him that he actually wants him to leave, he bawls his eyes out in front of Mal, and he disappears to Scotland.

I think he would be absolutely wracked with guilt.

And then I think as part of his recovery from that depression he would reassure himself that he did need to leave, that it was the right choice, that he and John could continue to care about one another deeply and move on.

I think Yoko's statement was unnecessarily cruel hurt him, and triggered that contrary response. What's she even talking about? What did I do? The worst ever?!

Thanks again!

[lu-undy]

If your asks are still open, what would you think about Splniper comforting Spy after he wakes up from a nightmare by cuddling him and making him hot cocoa?

Here it is, I hope this checks out!

It is reasonable to imagine Spy having trouble sleeping. After all that he has done, all the lives he ended - directly or indirectly -, all the secrets and hearts that he stole, after all the deceptions and lies, it is fair to say that the man had a lot to feel remorse and regret for.

So the nightmares were frequent, the sleep babbling - one could hardly call it talking given the lack of more than a noise or syllable per few words - was incessant sometimes and of course, the clenching of his jaw and his limbs was exhausting.

On the other hand, Mundy could sleep anywhere in any, possibly uncomfortable position imaginable. But sharing his nights with Spy had shown him a side of the man that very few knew about him.

At first, the nights were peaceful. But as Spy grew comfortable with his lover, Mundy gradually got exposed to more and more of these episodes of nightly restlessness.

The first time it was only a babble. It woke the Aussie up and he had smiled about it, thinking this was in fact priceless ammunition for his little teasing games with the spy. But the smile soon disappeared when he saw the frown on Spy's sleeping face and the sweat dripping from his brow.

Sniper did not know how to react, much less how to ask Spy for guidance on this. But one day, before he managed to gather the courage, Spy himself opened up about this.

"I would understand if you preferred sleeping on your own."

The sentence had been the opener to a conversation that caught Sniper so off guard, he nearly spat his coffee out.

“What? No, why're you sayin' that?"

"I know my sleep is at the other end of peaceful and I can only imagine how painful it is to share a bed with me. I also know that after a nightmare that forced me to wake up last night, you pretended to be sleeping but you saw and heard everything. No need to make this more awkward than it needs to be." Spy puffed out some smoke, sat on his end of the sofa. He was staring at the cigarette between his fingers, which Sniper now knew was a habit he had to not look whoever he was addressing in the eye.

"Spook, I-"

"No need." Spy cut him and raised a flat hand. "No need to elaborate. You can go back to your van and meet with me for breakfast here or whenever you feel like it."

“No, you idiot." That's when Spy's eyes flashed to his lover who was sat at the other end of the couch. "I don't care that you wake me up at night. But now that we're talkin' about it, I've always wanted to ask you a few things about it."

Spy waved his hand in an inviting motion, for Sniper to ask away. "You didn't used to have these… uh…”

"Episodes." Spy filled in.

"Yeah, those episodes, you didn't use to have them when we first started seein' each other. So I'm thinking that it's somethin' I do or say that makes this happen. And whatever it is, it’s really gettin’ on your nerves.”

Spy shook his head, sighing.

“Spook, please. Just tell me what it is and I’ll stop doin’ it.”

Spy chortled.

“Don’t give yourself any credit, Bushman.”

“What’s that mean?” Sniper asked.

“It means that you are not the cause of any of this. It started way before I knew you.”

“How come it didn’t happen at the beginnin’ then?”

“That is because I hardly slept at the beginning, precisely to avoid this issue. But after weeks of being sleep deprived, I couldn’t fight it anymore and I now sleep at night.” Spy took a drag of his cigarette. He was speaking coldly, which he usually did, but Sniper could tell that this was a bit colder than usual which meant that Spy was trying to hide his emotions.

The Aussie let the silence hang for a second before he found the right way to respond.

“I just wanna know how to help you.” He answered and put his now empty coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. “I don’t want to go away from you just because you have trouble sleepin’, that’s stupid.”

Spy did not say anything.

“So d’you know what I can do to help you when you have these nightmares and things like that?” Sniper asked.

“Non.” Spy answered. “As far as I know, nothing helps.”

“Have you tried tablets to help you sleep? Maybe that can work?”

“I am not sick.” Spy replied. “This is not an illness. It is the result of my life choices.” He stood up and left the sofa. Sniper understood that it was not personal, it was not against him. It was against himself. Spy hated having a problem that a gun or a knife could not fix.

Mundy made a decision as his eyes followed Lucien going to his bathroom and locking the door, and the decision was the following: he would try different things and see what would work best, if anything did.

He started going to Medic for medical advice.

“So when did this start?”

“Can’t remember a night where I could sleep right to be honest.” Mundy lied. Obviously he slept like a log but he would never compromise his lover’s reputation and tell anyone that Spy had a problem.

“Interesting. And why come to me now? If this is something you have dealt with all your life, what pushed you to seek help now?” Medic asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“If you can patch gunshot wounds and broken bones within seconds with that medigun of yours then I reckon you can probably help with this too, eh?”

Medic smirked.

“But,” Sniper added. “I don’t wanna take tablets or stuff like that. I want you to tell me how I can fix it and go back to sleeping like I was when I was a kid.”

“Even more interesting.” Medic nodded to himself. “I can give you a few methods, but I can guarantee they won’t be as efficient as taking some prescription medicine.”

“That’s fine.”

“The other thing you should know is that you will need someone to do those things to you when those fits happen. I trust this is not an issue?”

Sniper slightly blushed. Of course Medic knew that he was spending his nights in Spy’s room, but this was the first time he heard it from him. He nodded.

“Yeah. Well, thanks, Doc’.” Sniper stood up and left.

The second person Sniper went to was Engie.

“So, where’s Spy? Usually you two come together on Friday nights?” The Texan asked.

It was true. To escape the ruckus of the Friday evening team celebrations, Sniper and Spy usually hid away in Engie’s garage. The beer tasted better when consumed in a quieter environment.

“D’you know what to do when someone has night terrors?” Sniper asked bluntly.

“You have night terrors?”

“Yeah.” Sniper lied. “I can’t sleep properly, I talk in my sleep. Sometimes I wake up in a sweat, and my whole body is tense.”

“Well, you’d better ask sawbones for these things. Can’t fix it with a contraption, I’m afraid.”

“So you don’t know?” Sniper asked and deep down, he was hiding a smile. He had learnt from Spy that if you wanted anything from Engie, it had to challenge his intellect; or if that failed, question it.

“From what I know, it really depends on what provokes the night terrors. I just know that for some people, it’s trauma; no easy fix for that.”

“What’s the hard fix then?” Sniper asked.

“Again, I don’t know much but here’s what I know…”

— Later —

Spy was reading in bed, his night lamp was on. It was past midnight and sleep started to fall on him gently but he could hear Sniper still in the shower. Ah, nevermind, the water just stopped.

The Frenchman distantly heard the bathroom door open. He switched his light off and put his book away before sliding down in his bed to lie down. He shut his eyes and waited to hear Sniper leave his suite.

Instead, the mattress lowered down. Spy rolled to see what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” He asked the tall, lanky man who was slipping in bed next to him.

“What does it look like? Fryin’ eggs?”

“I thought we agreed that you would sleep in your van?”

“Nah, you agreed on that on your own, I didn’t.” Mundy scooted closer to his lover and held him close.

“Mundy, you don’t have to-”

“Good night, luv’.” Mundy cut him and Lucien felt a kiss on his temple.

The Frenchman sighed and held Mundy’s hand in his.

That sense of peace vanished a few hours in the night, and Lucien started to babble and spasm. Mundy woke up and waited to see if his lover was calming down.

“Non…”

Mundy waited and listened.

“Non… Non!”

Lucien was definitely not calming down. The Aussie then applied his teammate’s advice. He rolled Lucien to make him lie on his back and lay on top of him, crushing him with his own weight.

“Nnh…”

The babbling subsided almost instantly, the spasming took longer but Mundy was patient. He grabbed some tissue from the bedside table and wiped Lucien’s sweaty brow.

“It’s alright… You ain’t alone anymore… I’m here with you…”

The spasms became less frequent, only the breathing was irregular now.

“Sssh… it’s alright.”

Mundy grabbed the bottle of water and hand towel he had brought on his bedside table and wet it before putting it on Lucien’s forehead. He immediately lay on him again afterwards.

Lucien’s breathing calmed down, and he eventually opened his eyes. The night light was on and he realised his brow was nice and cool.

“Mundy…?”

“You’re alright.”

“What is…? Wait…” Lucien gently pushed Mundy away and the Aussie obliged. “What is this doing on my forehead? And why were you sleeping on me?”

“You won’t believe me, but it worked.” The Aussie sat on his side of the bed, his back towards Lucien.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Sit up, luv’.” When Mundy turned to face Lucien again, the Aussie had a glass of water in his hand. “Here, drink this.”

Lucien obeyed without a second thought.

“I tried some stuff to help you calm down. It worked, with a bit of time.”

Lucien stopped drinking sharp.

“What did you do? Just crush me with your body?”

“Yeah, and cool you down.” Mundy answered.

Lucien sat up straight and put the now empty glass away.

“How did you know what to do?”

“I asked Medic and Engie.”

“You did what?!”

“Relax, I told them that it was for me.” Mundy answered. “And in any case, we trust Medic with our lives, which is mad enough. Can’t hurt to ask the crazy nurse.”

Lucien sighed.

“I suppose you are right. And it worked.”

“How d’you feel?”

“Different.”

“How?”

“Usually when I wake up after an episode, I am out of breath and exhausted. But now, I feel much better, barely any sweat, I am not breathing as if I just beat a sprinting world record… I… Thank you.” He looked Mundy in the eye.

“Yeah, no worries. It wasn’t hard.” Mundy answered and Lucien yawned. “Ready to sleep again?”

“Oui, I think so.”

“Right.” Mundy switched the night light off and slid down under the sheets. Lucien did the same.

“Mundy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome.”

The darkness made it easier for both of them to communicate, verbally and otherwise. Lucien rolled on his side and grabbed Mundy’s arm to pull him in. The Aussie found himself spooning his lover. He could not see it but Lucien rolled his eyes up in bliss before closing them. He could not get enough of the warmth, the embrace was comforting as much as it was calming for his nerves.

“Mundy?” He whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I…” Lucien cleared his throat. “May I be hugged please?”

“Course.”

With the weeks passing by, Lucien’s episodes became overall less violent. It was only on occasions that he would need to fully wake up. Most of the time, Mundy would lie on top of him and Lucien would barely wake up. The sleep talking and spasming became less frequent too. Not only that, but Lucien would ask for hugs more often in bed. And Mundy came to realise that the Frenchman, even with all his love conquests, was starved of any meaningful touch. No one held him for more than a few minutes after intercourse, and no one made him feel as safe as in Mundy’s arms.

“I owe you my peace of mind.”

“Can you do introductions with bits of context?” Mundy asked at the breakfast table.

“I could.” Lucien answered. “But I believe what I said is clear enough.”

“Makes no bloody sense to me but alright.” Mundy gave a chuckle.

“Yesterday night was the first night in more than forty years that I slept through without any stress.” Lucien said.

“I’m happy for you.” Mundy bent on his side and left a kiss on his lover’s temple before resuming the buttering of his toast.

“If there is anything I can do to repay this, please let me know, whatever it is.” Lucien answered. “Even if you think it is impossible to do it, I will make it happen.”

“Well,” The Aussie put his butter knife down. “There’s one thing I’ve really wanted but I’m not sure you or anyone can do it.”

“Please.” Lucien asked him to say whatever it was.

“Could you pass me that apricot jam over there?” Mundy smirked and Lucien rolled his eyes, nevertheless he passed him the jar.

“Mundy…”

“What? I really want that jam, y’know how much I like that on my toast, eh?”

They both chuckled and Mundy got caught off guard. Lucien himself initiated a kiss.

[tears-of-amber]

hey I'm sort of low-key interested in beginning witchcraft can you share some of the things you do in your practice (btw I'm Taurus Sun and Scorpio Moon and Rising)

Ok, so I’ll start by saying what works for me isn’t going to necessarily work for you. But here we go:

As a witch I try to do certain things as much as possible. I’m not going to say daily, because I’m disabled and it’s hard sometimes to get out of bed due to depression as well. But here’s a look into my practice.

I do a lot of nature grounding exercises. No phone with me, just sitting in my backyard on the ground (which yes, my backyard is cement mostly but the earth goddess is still under it). It’s a way of being mindful and connecting with nature. I whisper thanks to the nature spirits, and thank Jörd or Gaia who are earth goddesses. This is definitely a pagan thing but it overlaps with my witchcraft practice. Because occasionally I’ll do rituals in that same outside backyard space, and then I feel more connected and comfortable because they are spirits and energies I have interacted with before.

Another thing I do is I’m very INTENTIONAL about the clothes I wear, the accessories too. I enchant certain jewelry pieces or ask deities to imbue them with their energy so I feel safe and magical throughout my day.

I’m not a coffee drinker so the coffee witchcraft tip you’ll probably see everywhere with the “stir clockwise to invite” and “stir counter clockwise to banish”. I do that in lemon water. Lemon for positivity and energy boosting cause I’m pretty lethargic due to my health issues.

When I do a spell, I consider “timing” SOMETIMES. Like, sure, a certain moon phase or day of the week or month can boost my intentions. But honestly if I’m in a pinch and need to do a spell I’ll do it even on a day or moon phase that has nothing to do with the intentions of my spell. YOU are powerful. Always remember that. And heck, there’s probably some corresponding energy at play, even if it’s not the timing.

Also, I’m constantly evolving and reevaluating my craft. I used to use an athame way more than any other tool. I didn’t use a wand at all. Now it’s the opposite. And maybe that’ll change again. That’s OK. As beings and spirits we are made to change and grow. It doesn’t mean we were wrong or are right. It’s just a change.

Cleansing crystals or charging them is overrated. I know. It’s an unpopular opinion. I don’t cleanse my crystals very often. I only cleanse a particular one if I get weird vibes. How to tell if there are weird vibes? Honestly, everyone feels vibes differently. I just get a feeling in my gut.

I DO CLEANSE AND LOCK MY MIRRORS TWICE A YEAR. Would do it more but I’m exhausted half the time. It’s important in my craft because I’m highly sensitive to ghosts and spirits and mirrors are portals to other dimensions. Lots of superstitions in lots of different cultures regarding mirrors and the dead. And I’m picky about the ghosties and spirits in my space. I don’t want to block them all, so I use the intention to only let a particular type of energy in. If you have questions on my methods, dm me! I’ll elaborate. Hope this helps!

[sophieinwonderland]

Oh hey! Another note about the highly clinical language thing:

So we have a really hard time explaining our symptoms to doctors. But we sometimes come across descriptions that match up perfectly with our experiences. So we start to use those descriptions to give an explanation. And often enough, we will forget the specifics of what led us to find that explanation so good. So we will rely more on the clinical description.

For example, executive dysfunction. We have really bad times where we just can't get up and do something. Some sort of mental block or feeling exhausted without lacking energy. But when we simply try to describe this to a doc in our own words, they just hear depression.

Which, is like the point of clinical language right? To be precise? Especially with how it take folks an average of 6 years to get diagnosed, I imagine a lot of folks using clinical language do so because they've had a lot of time to refine their words for their symptoms and struggles into that precise language.

-Faye

Yeah, I totally get that. I imagine a lot of people use clinical language for that reason.

I do kind of see the perspective of the psychiatrists on this too though. I think it's reasonable to want people to describe their experiences themselves instead of relying entirely on the jargon.

I was doing a write-up on another Imitated DID article. Overall, the paper has a lot of misinformation, a lot of bad practices for determining who is or isn't a system. And is really only better than its predecessor in the way that it wasn't actively sexist in shaming its subjects, or trying to paint patients as monsters out to slap malpractice suits on innocent therapists. 🙄

There were some nuggets of wisdom hidden in there though...

I think this is actually valid, even if I have other problems with the above lines.

While patients shouldn't be dismissed for using clinical jargon, if I were a psychiatrist, I think I would want to make sure that they were using that jargon correctly.

Heck, I'm not a psychiatrist, but still think it's important when talking to people and explaining different experiences that we're on the same page on what different words mean. Especially when those words are complicated and meanings change based on context.

Way too many psychiatrists will take this too far and decide to completely dismiss someone for using clinical language, which is gross and actually ableist.

But you also want to make sure that when someone is identifying with PTSD and describes having "flashbacks" that they're using the word the same way you do, and aren't referring, for instance, to pleasant memories.

...

Okay, now I'm going to comment on the quoted lines, and how I think it's indicative of the psychiatrists failing in the reverse way.

Because I can't simply post the screenshots without calling that out.

In the case of someone using clinical jargon, they expect elaboration because they understand that someone may not understand how jargon is used by clinicians.

But with Mary who clearly describes people in her head talking to her... they dismiss her because she denies hearing voices.

To me, it sounds like Mary simply didn't realize that voice hearing in psychiatry could include mindvoices.

So while Mary is dismissed in one instance for not using the clinical jargon correctly (flashbacks) they also dismiss her described experiences in another when she likely simply misunderstood their jargon. (Voice hearing.)

...

And so I think currently there's a huge problem where if you describe experiences without knowing the clinical jargon to accurately illustrate them, you'll be dismissed or misdiagnosed. (As with your own problem with doctors interpreting your executive dysfunction as depression or Mary's voice hearing being dismissed because she didn't call it voice hearing.)

But then knowing too much makes doctors think you're faking and just reading your symptoms off of the internet.

It makes this ridiculous paradox where you need to jump through hoops just to get doctors to believe you.

There's no way to win. At least not reliably. And it all sucks.

[steelandblood]

How about “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

@plasmodiumpyrexia thank you so much for the ask and I'm so sorry for taking so so long😅 I hope the 2.7K words were worth the wait!

@pleasestaywithmedarling thank you so much for showing interest! I hope I didn't disappoint

Honest Conversations

Bruises on the neck can mean very different things.

Contents: female whumpee, discussion of SA (elaborated in tags, nothing graphic though)

Characters

Calina was overjoyed to finally be reunited with her childhood friend, but it seemed like she was the only one who was happy with Adan's presence. Thancur at least did not mind him, but also paid him no mind. Calina hoped he might enjoy having another guy around and find some common ground, but they did not seem to have much in common at all.

At least it was better then the other women. Mirwen was hostile and suspicious, going so far as to threaten Adan and describe in alarmingly graphic detail the things she would do to him should he ever dare to hurt Calina. Sure, it was somewhat touching that apparently Mirwen was so fiercely protective of her, but Calina could definitely go without threats of dismemberment towards her boyfriend. Even worse, Rauna, mimicking the older half-elf's attitude, was outright mean and rude, often joking at Adan's expanse.

When they finally returned to the town it was well past sunset and they were all quite exhausted, but Calina was absolutely not too tired to finally enjoy some private time with Adan.

After a whispered promise to meet tonight outside the inn, they parted, each going to their room. She knew Adan would have no trouble. Even if Thancur would notice him getting out, he would not care. Calina though would have to sneak out. It's not that any of the other women could stop her, but they would certainly have their opinions about her spending the night in Adan's company, and Calina knew they would not keep those opinions to themselves. Not wanting to deal with Rauna's judgement and Mirwen's disappointment, Calina laid in bed, impatiently waiting until the other women were soundly asleep. Mirwen, who stayed on watch the entire night ever since Adan joined them, was completely exhausted and was out the moment her head touched the pillow. Rauna however of course had to go through all her nightly prayers first. At least it was not a full moon, then Rauna would have stayed up all night praying. But finally she fell asleep as well and Calina could sneak out of the room. Both half elfs ware light sleeper, but Calina's footsteps were lighter, and she successfully got out completely unnoticed. Not wasting a second more she quickly and quietly made her way to where Adan was already waiting for her, just like they used to do in their teenage years.

.

.

.

Sneaking back in was just as easy, though her heart was still beating loud in her ears from the excitement. Calina lay in her bed unable to sleep, giddy just as she was after their first kiss.

When the first ray of dawn shined through the window, giving Calina an excuse to start her day, she quietly snuck into the washroom while her companions were only just stirring awake. There, looking in the mirror she discovered an unpleasant surprise. Adan's passionate kisses left her with an unfortunate parting gift of blossoming dark bruises showing vividly on the pale skin of her neck.

She played with her hair, hoping to arrange it just so to hide the evidence, until Rauna's insistent knocking forced her to deem her efforts good enough. Calina busied herself with getting dressed, making sure to find a shirt with a high enough collar, and she was sure she had managed to get away undiscovered with last night's escapade when Rauna's teasing voice came from behind her.

"Hey Calina? What are those bruises on your neck?"

Calina could feel Mirwen's eyes on her, judging her, and only hoped she would be nice enough to not say anything, but Mirwen was rarely nice.

"Rauna, get dressed, go get Thancur and eat breakfast. We'll join later." Mirwen ordered in a voice that left no room for argument.

The moment the door closed behind Rauna, Mirwen's entire demeanour changed. She looked at Calina with big sad eyes and motioned for her to sit next to her on the bed. Confused and surprised Calina followed her.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"  She asked cautiously, her voice thick with emotion, almost reaching for Calina's hand, "I would be the last one to judge." she let out a sad chuckle.

Whatever Calina expected, this was not it. Mirwen never hid her disapproval of her and Adan's relationship, so upon seeing the evidence of last nights, Calina expected disappointment, judgement, even anger, but Mirwen looked almost heartbroken.

"Mirwen what is this about?"

"You spent the night with Adan, didn't you. The bruise on your neck..." Mirwen sounded like she was fighting tears, "He strangled you, didn't he?"

"What? No!" The idea was ludicrous, but Mirwen seemed completely serious, "Why would you think something like that? We just had some fun last night."

To Calina's farther surprise, Mirwen, who never initiated physical contact unless she was healing, grasped her hand, not strong enough to hurt, but firm enough to prevent Calina from getting away.

"I'm sorry, but I need you to be honest about what happened, it's for your own good." Mirwen apologized and cast zone of truth around them.

"Please Calina, tell me the truth about what happened last night. I only want to protect you."

"I am telling you the truth, we just fooled around last night, we didn't even, go all the way, you know..."

"And the bruise on your neck?" Mirwen now looked as confused as Calina felt.

"Just from kisses, he was enthusiastic, and I bruise easily.” Calina confessed bashfully, “There is nothing more to it, he didn't hurt me, I promise.”

"You are telling the truth, you have to be." Mirwen looked at her bewildered and then released her hand as if burned, lowering her gaze in shame. "That's... that's good, that he didn't hurt you. I'm so sorry..." She moved to make a quick escape, but now it was Calina's turn to grab her hand to make her stay. Mirwen flinched at the touch, but didn't fight it, and set back down. Calina hated to do this, but she had to know what made Mirwen jump to the worst possible conclusion. Was it just her regular paranoia, or was there something more going on.

"What made you think Adan hurt me?" The annoyance in her mind now replaced with concern in her voice. "Did..." She didn't want to even think about this possibility, but she had to ask, "did he do anything to you?"

"No, he didn't... It... it was years ago". Mirwen mumbled, avoiding looking her in the eyes.

Calina did not need to ask to know what "it" was, it was the thing every woman was warned about, but was never supposed to mention.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you." Her own words sounded empty to Calina. She meant them of course, but her sorry was just as useless on face of what Mirwen went through.

Mirwen looked up at her fearfully. "It doesn't mat- it does-" she quickly gave up as the spell stopped any attempt at lying, "P-please don't te-t-tell anyone..." She asked, no, begged quietly. It was so wrong, Mirwen did not beg.

"I won't, of course I won't. But you know the others wouldn't judge you, right?" Calina was rumbling, but she felt she had to say something to fill the silence, do something to make it better. "It was something that was done to you, it's not your fault. They wouldn't think less of you, I don't." Calina stopped to draw a breath and saw that her words had the opposite effect.

"Don't say that!" Mirwen protested, "You can't mean it, please don't say that!"

Calina did not know what she said wrong, but she rumbled on, hoping to fix her mistake and not make the situation worse.

"I do mean it. You know I can't lie right now Mirwen, so I have to be telling the truth, you know that."

This was not how it was supposed to go. Mirwen was supposed to except her genuine but in the end useless sympathies, after which they would awkwardly move on, to never mention the topic again. She wasn't supposed to argue.

"But you don't know the truth!" Mirwen shouted, her voice painfully shrill, "It's too disgusting and wrong." She added in a small voice.

No, Calina did not know, and though a tiny, morbidly curious part of her wanted to ask, the other, more sensible, or perhaps selfish, part of her knew that she would rather stay blissfully ignorant. Because in the end the details did not matter.

"Mirwen, whatever horrible things he did to you, it doesn't change anything. He chose to do it to you, you didn't want that and it says absolutely nothing about you."

Mirwen shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut in a fruitless attempt to hide her tears.

"You don't get it! It was my father!" She blurted out and immediately clasped a hand over her mouth.

That was not what Calina expected to hear. She didn't want to believe such a thing was even possible, let alone happened to her friend. To Mirwen, who was always the strong one, who laughed at the face of death and could strike fear into the hearts of well armed men with a single look. Such things are not supposed to happen, but it was true, and it happened, and now Calina could not get out of her mind the image of a little golden-haired girl, tears staining her pale freckled face, with big dark finger shaped bruises around her tiny neck.

Mirwen stared at Calina with wide terrified eyes, and at that moment she looked far too much like the girl in Calina's mind.

"That's... That horrible. I'm so sorry."

Mirwen snatched her hand away from Calina's and backed away, as if only now realizing what she had said. "Fuck, shit I shouldn't have said this, I'm sorry, please pretend I didn't say anything." She was clearly panicking, and Calina was at a loss as to how to handle the situation.

"Mirwen, it's okay, calm-" Calina was cut off before she could finish.

"No, it's not! It's too late, I can see the way you're looking at me now. I don't even know what's worse, the pity or the disgust." With every word her voice was becoming more breathless and hysterical. Her entire body was trembling, and she was barely holding herself together, digging her short, broken nails as deep as possible into her arms. "I don't know why I even told you, I'm sorry, I couldn't keep my stupid mouth shut and now I ruined everything. I'm so sorry, I don't know what to do to fix it, please tell me what I can do, I'm sorry..." Her desperate rumbling turned into unintelligible sobs.

Calina did not know how to fix this either. Selfishly she also wanted to pretend that that the last few minutes did not happen. Because Mirwen was right, she did pity her. And how could she not, now that she could not stop imagining all the horrible things that were done to her, that her own father did to her, now that she could see that underneath all the armor, behind all the rage and violence, was a scared little girl who was desperate to never be hurt again.

Calina wished Rauna was here, the two were much closer, and though their circumstances were vastly different, at least Rauna knew what it was like to grow up without good parents. What did Calina know? She grew up in a mansion, both her parents were alive and well and loved her very much, she never knew any real hardship or fear. Even now, when she was regularly fighting deadly monsters, she always had Mirwen who took all the hits, and Rauna who could heal all the wounds. Even death was only a slightly expensive inconvenience.

What comfort and understanding could Calina offer when this was so incomprehensibly foreign to her.

With every moment ‏that she hesitated, her guilt grew, but her mind remained blank of ideas, until she could no longer bare the sight of Mirwen crying and the awkward almost silence of her quiet sobs.

Knowing nothing she could say would likely help, Calina took a different approach.

"Can I hug you?"

Mirwen stopped crying and then slowly looked up at Calina in bewilderment. After a long moment Mirwen gave a single nod.

Calina carefully reached to hug her, still half expecting her to protest or even shove her away, but Mirwen stayed frozen in place and allowed Calina to wrap her arms around her.

She could feel Mirwen holding her breath, until she let out a shaky gasp and broke down sobbing, burying her face Calina's shoulder.

Calina let her cry, patiently stroking her hair, trying not to notice how soft and nice it was, or how she could definitely feel Mirwen's muscles through the thin linen shirt. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but eventually Mirwen stopped crying, and after few deep ragged breaths she awkwardly backed away from Calina.

"Calina," She looked up at her, blinking away tears, "I'm- I'm sorry, I-" her voice was hoarse and tired, "Thank you." She sounded so genuine that Calina didn't know if she wanted to cry, or yell at Mirwen and shake some sense into her. Because nothing she did warranted this, because she did basically nothing.

"It's nothing." She said instead.

Mirwen shook her head but didn't protest.

"Can we now please pretend all of this never happened, and never mention it again?"

"Of course. You're okay?"

"I'm fine." Mirwen did not sound very convicted, and enough time has past for the spell to end, but Calina did mot push it. They both had enough truths for today.

"You should join the others for breakfast."

"You're not coming?" Calina asked.

"Looking like that? No thanks." With tearstained cheeks and red puffy eyes, Mirwen obviously looked like she has been crying, of course she couldn't allow anyone to see her like that. "I'd rather save what little dignity I have left. It's fine, really, go ahead. And you can tell your boy toy that he is safe, for now."