#important person in the entire world to get him under his control. so exactly like in canon. but gayer <3

[lloydfrontera]

i just realized how delightfully ironic it is that javilon rebelled because he thought it was shameful for the king and adeline to grant rakiel's request when just a few weeks later javilon will be fully enamored of him. completely gone for the man. like. yeah babe adeline had to live in his court for a couple weeks but you're gonna kneel at his feet and beg him to stroke your hair. you are not the same lmao

[dcxdpdabbles]

ok but imagine

batman with gun tim time travels to the past but instead of trying to seduce baby tim to the dark side he,,, ignores him

after all baby tim is young and pragmatic he'll realize that company policy is ineffective and kill people gets shit done

no bwg!tim has more important things to handle

like killing the ppl who murder his boo danny

and he knows exactly who to target

bonus points if tim and danny aren't dating yet

extra bonus points if they haven't even met yet

The plan was simple really. Time travel and start the correct way to handle criminals early. Take out the people that had taken from him the only person he really loved.

His past self was still running around trying to talk the Bats down from murderous rage, and while that itched, it was a lesson he needed to learn in order to finally wake up and properly get things done.

Tim saw no reason to track him down. He's stubborn as a mule, he can admit that, and his past self heartily believes that the crazy bastards should be locked away instead of put down. It would be ages before he could get close to getting him to listen to what Tim had to say.

Time, ironically, is not something he has to waste. The machine that brought him back had preset departer times. If he missed it then Gotham in ten years would be without it's Batman.

The carefuly iron control he has over the city would be questioned, and some fools would try to make a power grab in the sudden vaccum Batman had left behind.

So while it would take years for his past self to come to his senses, it would happen on its own, and Tim was alright with waiting for it. What he wouldn't allow to repeat itself was the death of his lover.

His plan involved killing the people that killed Danny. What Tim forgot in his grief was that those very people were the ones to raise Danny.

Yes, Jack and Maddie Fenton had killed their son in an accident. The ray gun that they designed had been faulty and had exploded in wide outburst instead of shooting straight.

It was meant to paralyze the ghost for capture.

Instead, it attacked ghost cores in horrific, fast-acting disintegration. Tim remembers the blast washing over him, the green ripples doing nothing to him as a human, and for a brief second thinking it funny that their gun was just a fancy light show, only to hear Jack Fenton's cry of celebration.

Then Danny's scream of agony.

His skin had been falling off, and Tim had been rooted to the spot watching his boyfriend, his lover, his entire moral compass melt before his eyes.

He had watched Maddie's smug face break into hysterical grief when Danny's ghost form vanished, and the sluggish body that fell to the floor with a splat had been her son. The two scientists had reached Danny first, and the fools had begged him to hold on.

As if they were not the ones to have done this, indirectly or not.

Danny's last words had been "I forgive you. I love you"

and then he was gone. In seconds his Danny was lost. He had died painfully, unfairly, and all because his parents had believed in their bigotry so purely they never saw reason to change their minds, even when there were signs their son was part of the group they loath so much.

The Fentons hadn't even been charged with Danny's death. It was deemed an accident; the worst they had to do was pay a fine for their blast, knocking out the power. All because ghosts were not protected under meta laws, and Danny was no longer recognized as human.

Tim hated them more than any villain in the world, hated that they lived well, Danny did not.

His own comfort was that they couldn't live with themselves either. Jack Fenton had taken his life the night after the funeral Jassmin had planned for Danny. Maddie Fenton had lost her mind, speaking to the air as though her husband and son were still there, and was moved to an asylum by a grief-stricken daughter.

There she died of a broken heart.

Tim took care of Jazz, he felt that Danny would have wanted him to, but she was never the same again. She was one of the first to agreed with him that Batman had to stop people before they went too far.

That thinking "they'll come around" was no longer an option. She made him the bullets for the gun that killed Bruce's parents, and she was the one that watched that same gun put down the Joker.

It was the first time she smiled in years.

All that hurt because of these fools.

Tim wasn't going to let them hurt anyone anymore. He aims his gun at the shaking forms of Jack and Maddie Fenton, their pathetic attempt to fight him off, were nothing comparied to his training.

He had them on their knees, bound to hold still, and with one push of his finger, the toxic outlook on ghosts would die with them.

But foolish-loving Danny wasn't about to let him put them in the ground where they belonged. The boy had thrown himself in front of them with a cry, throwing up a shield seconds before the bullets found their mark.

The Fenton couple gasped while Danny turned to them with clear worry. "Are you alright?"

Tim felt as if though he was kicked in the chest, seeing the boy- for he was a boy. How had he forgotten that his love died so young? Now with all the years under Tim's belt, did he truly see how pre-maturely Danny had died.

He was as beautiful as the day Tim lost him, but he was far too pure and innocent now. Tim's killing was a necessary that ruined him, while Danny remained kind and forgiving till the end.

He can't stop the rush of air that threathens to burn tears into his eyes escape him. Thankfully his training kicks in and Batman is able to shut everything that was Tim in his mind.

All that remain was the mission within human shape.

Danny growls, voice as cold as his ice core "Who are you?!"

"I'm Batman"

"Liar!" The boy hisses, thin pieces of frost growing around his green shield. "Batman doesn't kill!"

Tim scoffs, "Killing is the only way to stop more death."

Danny doesn't respond. He merely shoots a blast at him, momentarily dropping his shield, and Batman rolls away. He will overwhelm the boy and get him out of the way.

Then, he will do what he came to accomplish. Danny must know that, for he sees the moment, he shuts away his own human part and melts into Phantom.

The young ghost who took on a King for his people and became the hero that supported Red Robin above all else.

Phantom leaps at him, and Batman meets him halfway, each wearing emotionless expressions that promise a fight to the bitter end.

[foundress0fnothing]

Summary: Looking to rebuild her self-esteem after a messy breakup, Feyre takes Mor up on her suggestion to visit a lingerie store.

~6.5k words, rated E, content warnings for mild dub-con, light bondage

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Happy birthday to my darling @popjunkie42!!! Thank you for being such a wonderful person and the best beta around. I hope you enjoy this smutty, goofy one-shot. I was planning to save it for feysand week, but it was done just in time for your birthday and I couldn’t resist. I cherish you and the feysand brainrot you've encouraged in me, and I'm so grateful for your friendship 💕🥰

“Just trust me, okay?” Mor had warned her on the drive over that La Cour des Cauchemars was, quote, “an experience,” but even so, as Feyre stood at the threshold of the boutique next to her friend and surveyed the labyrinthine space within, she suspected that Mor had not been entirely transparent about what exactly she meant by “experience.”

It was lovely, at least—surprisingly light and airy for a lingerie store, smelling of sea salt and citrus that, paired with the gauzy fabrics and fairy lights and burnished mirrors that were set up around the space, made the space feel sensual and inviting. With the store’s name, she had expected something dark and edgy, something that played up angst and lust in equal measure. But this…

Feyre shouldn’t have been surprised. It was exactly the kind of place that Mor would love—decadent and luxurious, slightly sinful, and, most importantly, expensive. Feyre didn’t need to look at the price tags to know that every scrap of lace and boning in the building would be priced on par with, if not more than, the La Perla sets Tamlin used to buy her just so he could rip them off. 

She mentally recoiled at the thought of him, although she supposed he was partly responsible for her presence here in the first place. Their relationship had been messy, their breakup messier, especially as more and more details about his infidelity came to light. When she left, she hadn’t taken much with her beyond a few comfortably worn clothes and the tub of art supplies she had been accumulating since she was a student at Prythian U. She left everything else behind—the gifted dresses, the custom jewelry, the Instagram gallery of romantic dates—all those hallmarks of the façade of easy wealth and passionate love that Tamlin wanted to present to the world that still failed to mask the rot at the core of their relationship.

So, three bottles of cheap wine deep into their good riddance to cheating assholes celebration, when she confessed to Mor that she missed feeling like herself and in control of her life, she expected her friend to sympathize, to reaffirm that she was “better off without that scumbag, babe,” to maybe (assuming she was sober enough in the morning to remember) send a motivational tiktok about the importance of “self-care” on her “healing journey.” 

But Feyre didn’t think that this could possibly fall under the guise of “self-care.’ “Mor, I…”

“That doesn’t sound like trust, Feyre.”

Feyre snorted. “It’s just that—”

“No. You wanted to move past him and feel like yourself again? This is the best way to do that,” she said, grabbing Feyre’s hand and dragging her into the store. Feyre rolled her eyes. Trust Mor to think that her problems could be solved with clothes shopping. Assuming lingerie counted as clothes. “Find one thing. One. We’re not leaving until you do. And,” she paused, “once it’s yours you can take a few pics and make Tamlin regret literally his entire life, and then we’ll go get deliriously day drunk to celebrate.” With that, she squeezed Feyre’s hand and let go, moving into the recesses of the store with enviable ease. 

Feyre stuck her tongue out at Mor’s back, not that she would see or care, and started following her into the boutique, passing racks of lace and silk that were loosely arranged by color and letting her hands graze the fabrics, buttery and slick beneath her fingertips. 

She stopped as her hand caught on a red bustier and she savored the feeling of cool silk broken up by delicately stitched whorls of black lace. It was nice, but more than that, it was exactly the kind of thing that Tamlin would have hated. He preferred to see her in pastels, floral and lacy and frothy and soft, meant to remind them both that she was delicate, feminine, fragile. But this piece was something else, something that felt more her. Or, at any rate, the version of her that she was trying to find again—someone self-assured and powerful and strong. 

Idly, she flipped over the tag and almost laughed aloud at the price. She had known it would be expensive, but $900 for so little clothing seemed ridiculous, even for someone as ridiculous as Mor. 

“See something you like, darling?” 

Feyre started at the sound of the man’s voice behind her, yanking her hands away from the bustier as if he might scold her for even daring to touch it. She turned to face him, an unconscious apology already half-formed—and then stopped, mouth parted slightly as whatever she had been going to say died on her lips. 

He was gorgeous—tall and dark, with eyes that she swore almost looked purple in the soft light of the store. She let her gaze travel over him, cataloging the strong lines of his legs, the golden rings that glinted on a few of his fingers, the night black waistcoat that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the narrow dip of his waist. God, she wanted to paint him—a study of darkness given breath, she thought idly—if only for the excuse to let herself savor every inch of his perfect body.

The sound of a slight cough brought her back to reality, and she saw the man’s mouth curve into a smirk, obviously delighted at having caught her staring. “Well, darling? Something you like?” 

Feyre scowled and flushed. Fuck. She absolutely did not need to get involved with another self-satisfied man who would expect her to cater to his ego and fawn over him, no matter how pretty this one was.

Trying to salvage some semblance of her dignity, she made a show of dragging her gaze over the man’s body before offering him a smirk of her own. “Not a thing.”

If anything, her answer only made him look even more delighted. “I didn’t take you for a liar.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning away from him back to the rack of red satin. “I don’t think you could take me at all.”

His smirk grew sharper, more dangerous. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Feyre looked over her shoulder and glared at him, ignoring the flutter she felt at the menace in his voice and internally berating herself for encouraging the stranger. “Stop calling me darling.”

“Not until I know your name.” He raised a brow expectantly. “What’s your name, love?”

As if she would give it to him. She turned around to face him.“Don’t you have something better to do then calling random women ‘darling’ or ‘love’? Someone to buy something for here?”

“I don’t actually.” He smiled. “I am merely here to serve.” He inclined his head slightly in a mockery of a bow.

“So you work here?”

“After a fashion.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes. Whatever the fuck that meant. “Shouldn’t you be helping customers, then?”

“What do you think it is I’m doing, darling?”

“Annoying me.”

“Another lie? Shameful.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock reproach. She rolled her eyes, choosing not to allow him to goad her into continuing their argument.

He raised his hands. “Well, if you decide to do more than look, there are dressing rooms in the back. I’d be more than happy to help you.” He paused, and then, with an absolutely sinful smile, added, “With whatever you might need.”

“I’m sure you would.” Feyre gave him a fake smile, determined to ignore the way something low in her stomach clenched at his offer. He was just an attractive man, and it had been a while. Nothing more.

“I mean it. It’s tricky to get the sizing and the colors right, darling. This,” he held up the red bustier she had been eyeing, a flash of something—sincere?—lighting his eyes as he looked at it, “is divine, of course. But not for you. You should let me help you.”

Taken aback by his apparent earnestness, Feyre frowned slightly. “I’m sure I can manage.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Confident, are we? Not everyone has the eye for it.”

Never mind. Just another condescending prick. “I’m an artist. I think I can trust my own eye.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Well then, darling,” he raised his hands in defeat. “Happy hunting.” With that, he turned smoothly on his heel and began walking back into the recesses of the store.

And if she glanced over her shoulder to check out his ass as he walked away? Well, she was only human.

But as if the man could feel her eyes on him, he paused and looked back, smiling at  catching her ogling him. Again. He settled himself against a display of crystal-adorned black silk negligees and lacy two-piece sets, looking far too at home amidst the silks and the sheer fabrics, and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Get on with it then.

Feyre huffed, irritated that he had once again caught her staring, and spun back around to face the rack of clothing in front of her, her eye landing on the bustier she had been studying before. She pulled it off of the rack, because fuck him, and began moving toward the back of the store where he had indicated the fitting rooms were. Did she have the money for this? Hell no. Was she about to let a man bully her into choosing something else while he watched? Also hell no. She would try on the bustier—which would look fucking incredible on her, by the way, asshole—take a few pictures for her Instagram, and leave before he could corner her again. Easy.

Much like the rest of the store, the fitting room was a study in sensual elegance. The light was a touch brighter, perhaps, but still—there was something almost ethereal about the space—maybe it was in the way the just opaque enough curtains fluttered as she walked past, and Feyre buzzed with anticipation as she stepped into a room and pulled the curtain shut. Fuck you, Tamlin. 

Shucking off her oversized sweater and piling it in the chair in the corner of her room, Feyre shimmied into the bustier, awkwardly fiddling with the zipper in the back until the two halves of the garment pulled together to envelop her torso snugly.

Feeling jittery, she turned to study her reflection.

She looked … fine. The bustier fit her well enough, dipping in easily at her waistline and cupping her breasts decently well, even if it didn’t make them look like anything special. Nothing about it was special. She frowned at her reflection. Maybe the color was wrong for her? Too bright? Too harsh? 

She fiddled with it for a minute or two, smoothing and tugging at the fabric before giving up. It was good enough for what she needed. It’s not like she was planning to buy the ridiculous thing. And besides, it was probably just that asshole clerk getting in her head.

Deciding that it would all look better if she let her hair down to soften the look, Feyre gently coaxed it from its habitual braid, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she finger-brushed some of the strands, trying to get them to lay right. 

As she messed with her hair, a little sign to the side of the mirror caught her eye: NOTICE: NO PHOTOS OR VIDEO ALLOWED IN THE DRESSING ROOM.

Feyre wrinkled her nose at the sign. Wasn’t that the whole reason Mor brought her here? To take a picture in some lingerie as a “fuck you, look what you’re missing” to Tamlin? Did she know about the policy?

She sighed. What a waste.

But…

How would the store know? Feyre flicked her eyes up to scan the ceiling to make sure that there were no cameras. Nothing—just gauzy swathes of fabric and fairy lights. Good. The store may be expensive as hell, but at least whoever ran it wasn’t some kind of pervy creep.

And what harm could one picture do anyway? It’s not like Feyre was some influencer who was going to try and promote her brand while taking advantage of the store. She just needed Tamlin to want to die a little. That’s all.

Before she could lose her nerve, Feyre rummaged in her pants pocket to find her phone. It was an old model from before she met Tamlin. She didn’t trust any of the phones he had given her not to have some creepy location or data monitoring built in, and she didn’t have the money to buy a new one right now. So good ol’ faithful (that didn’t get a signal on cloudy days) it was. Flicking to the camera, she started moving through poses—torso and face, full body, hand in her hair, hand on her hip, even the too desperate peace-sign-tongue-out pose that saw her and Mor through college—taking pictures all the while. 

Hopeful that something in the photo reel would work, she began idly flicking through them—too smiley, too dead-eyed, okay, god why was she making that face, until finally, hot. Thank fuck. She quickly opened Instagram and drafted a post, tweaking the lighting and the shadows here and there until it looked perfect—sultry and effortlessly hot as hell, topped off with the caption, “Tell her about me.”

She was just about to post it when a deep voice startled her.

“Well, huntress? Pleased with your catch?”

Feyre jumped at the unexpected sound, fumbling the phone in her hands. 

“Shit, no—” Feyre winced as she watched it clatter onto the lacquered marble floor and slide just past the edge of the curtain, praying to whoever might be listening that it hadn’t cracked beyond repair.

“Let me.” Feyre heard the subtle shifting of the stranger’s body as he bent to retrieve her phone, and she waited, expecting him to slide it back to her under the curtain.

But no phone came. Instead, there were a few beats of silence before the man spoke again, his voice now gone cold. “I knew you’d be a liar, darling.”

“Wait, what?” Feyre asked, confused at his shift in tone. 

And then she remembered what had been open on her phone. The picture.

“Oh, um, I’m so—”

But her apology was cut short by the man who, wrenching the curtain open, stood before her. With his arms bracketing the door frame, he took up almost the entirety of the open space, and for a moment, Feyre appreciated anew how big he truly was.

And then the reality of the situation set back in. “What the fuck?” She yelped, bringing her hands to her chest in an attempt to cover herself.

“I thought you said you were an artist—”

“Get out!”

“—but no self-respecting artist would be satisfied with something as pedestrian as this.” The distaste was evident in his voice as he appraised the post, and she saw him delete it before casually slipping her phone into his pocket. “I mean really, darling.”

Feyre glared at him. “I’m sorry, are you mad about the quality of the picture? That’s what—” She interrupted herself and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Obviously.” Even though she was more than a little irritated that he had the gall to call her ‘pedestrian.’ “I’ll delete the picture, just get out!” 

But he remained standing in the door, examining her with a critical eye before turning his attention to his nails instead. “I just think an ‘artist’ would aim higher with her clumsily executed thirst trap, don’t you?”

“It was not clumsy, oh my god—”

He interrupted her. “But what do I know? Perhaps whatever little boy you intended this for doesn’t know any better, darling.”

Well, he was right about that. Not that Feyre was going to let him know—or that she agreed. “Good thing it wasn’t for you then.” 

A feline smile curved over his face, and Feyre realized that he had goaded her into arguing with him while he was still in her dressing room and she was still mostly naked. Nice work, babe. Feyre had to get out before she made an ill-advised decision just because she liked arguing with pretty men. So she ignored the excited flutters in her stomach and said, as forcefully as she could, “How many times do I have to tell you? Get out! Do I have to call someone?”

“Do I?” He asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“You’re in my dressing room!”

At that, his smile turned mean. “I think you’ll find, darling,” he said, the pet name taking on a mocking quality, “that this dressing room, that bra, and this entire boutique belong to me. So it seems to me that we have two options.” He held up one ring-adorned finger. “One: you can get dressed, walk to the counter, buy the bustier that looks absolutely dreadful on you, and leave my store “Or,” he continued, gracefully lifting another finger, “you let me dress you. And then we take that picture.”

“What?” Feyre swore she heard him wrong. Did he just offer to…dress her?

He tutted. “I’ll simplify it for you, darling, don’t worry.” Feyre rolled her eyes at his condescending tone. “I just want what belongs to me. Either the money or you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Then I’ll meet you at the counter”

“Oh my god,” Feyre sighed, half to herself. What the fuck had she gotten herself into? “Look, I don’t have $900 right now. Can I—I can bring it to you later?”

He tilted his head, a predator surveying his prey. “No.”

“Why not?”

The man shrugged lazily. “My store, my rules.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

“Such harsh language, love. Surely you can work it out. There were only two options after all.”

“I’m not going to be some plaything for you to dress up.” Feyre ignored what saying the word ‘plaything’ in reference to herself made her feel. Those were not normal feelings. Those feelings would get her into trouble. The situation could get figured out in a normal, non-deviant way that also didn’t force her into dropping nearly $1000 she didn’t have on apparently lackluster lingerie. Probably.

The man appraised her, moving to lean his weight on the door frame and crossing his arms. “Why not? I take very good care of what’s mine.” Feyre felt her traitorous heart flutter. “So be mine.”

“I—” Fuck. What should she do? She didn’t want to just agree. Also, where the fuck was Mor? Mor! “I could call my friend, and she could bring the money.” She owed Feyre after subjecting her to this experience.

He hummed. “You don’t have a phone, darling.”

“Because you have my phone.”

The man just shrugged, unrepentant. Feyre glared at him. He looked coolly back. Maybe she could wait him out? Mor had to be looking for her at this point.

A few beats of silence passed between them, neither backing down.

But then he broke the silence. “Decide, darling. There’ll be no other options.”

Feyre sighed. Was she really about to let him dress her? She didn’t have $1000. And…and this was his job anyway, right? So maybe he would keep it professional. And maybe this would mean that she could get a better picture, and that would be worth putting up with his nonsense. Hopefully. So she mumbled, resignedly, “Fine.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Mmmm, not ‘god,’ but I appreciate the flattery.” He pushed off of the door frame and stood up straight, gesturing to himself in introduction. “Rhysand. Rhys to my friends. Or my lovers.” He purred the final word.

“Okay?” She didn’t know why he was bothering to tell her name. It’s not like she actually cared. Much. He looked at her expectantly, and she rolled her eyes at him. Again. “I’m yours.”

“Use my name.”

“Are you serious? Fine, I’m yours, Rhysand.” 

She said his name with as much bored derision as possible, but he didn’t seem to care. He only smiled and said, “Then we have a bargain.” 

And he stepped forward and pulled the curtain shut behind him, enclosing the two of them in the dressing room. Feyre backed up until she felt the cold glass of the mirror hit her back and the garment hooks just brush the top of her hair.

He studied her, reaching into his pocket for a tailor’s measuring tape and slowly unwinding the roll. “Well, darling? Strip.”

Feyre blanched slightly. “I thought you could just measure me over this?”

“And risk an inaccurate sizing? No.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t. Strip.”

God, maybe he was a creep who got off on seeing a customer's tits. “Fine.” She twisted her arm behind her back to get the zipper, and in doing so had to lean closer into Rhysand. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but he kept his eyes on her face, even as the bustier opened and she let it fall to the ground at their feet.

“Good girl.” Feyre felt something rush through her body at his words—sweet and cloying like molten honey—and she shifted slightly as she stood under the weight of his gaze. Her nipples hardened, and she cursed her body for betraying how the words made her feel.

“Now arms above your head.”

Slightly dazed, Feyre started to lift her arms, happy to follow his authoritative voice. And then she paused, blinking back into awareness. “I don’t think this is how a fitting is supposed to go.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “It’s a proprietary technique, darling, don’t argue.” He motioned for her to continue. 

Well, in for a penny. Feyre lifted her arms above her head.

“Now stay still.”

“Wh—” But before Feyre could get her question out, he had grabbed both her wrists with one hand and, with the other, looped his tape measure around them in a complicated series of motions, securing her arms to one of the hooks above her head. 

“Perfect,” he purred, finally breaking her gaze and letting his eyes trail down her body. 

Rhysand didn’t move to touch her yet, but she shivered under his attention anyway. His expression was hungry and calculating and more than a little smug as he catalogued the way he affected her—her peaked nipples and the goosebumps that broke out across her skin and the hitch in her breath. She felt on-edge and keyed up as she stood there, waiting for whatever he was about to do. Was this some elaborate revenge plot for breaking the store’s rules? Or was this actually how he did fittings? Would he touch her? Did she want him to? Feyre wasn’t sure she was ready to find out. 

He didn’t leave her wondering for long. “I’m going to touch you now, darling.”

She wasn’t surprised, really, but she grimaced anyway. “Do you have to?” She pulled on her bindings to see if there was any give, wondering if she could still call this whole experience too fucking weird and walk away. She could probably charge the cost to her card and leave before he realized that she wasn’t good for it. Right? But the binding didn’t give at all, and Feyre stopped pulling after her first few experimental yanks proved fruitless.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow at her attempt to free herself, his amused disapproval clear on his face, although he didn’t comment on it. “I’m flattered by your faith in my abilities if you think I can do this without touching you.” 

She rolled her eyes and pulled on her bindings again. “Well, it’s not like you’re going to use a tape measure.” 

“It’s already in use, darling.” There was a pleased glint in his eyes as they flicked up to her bound hands.

Feyre huffed, irritated by the smug look on his face. “No, this cannot be—”

But Rhysand cut her off, pressing a long, ringed finger to her lips to still them. She was so startled by its intrusion and the sheer command in the action that she stopped protesting for a moment. 

He moved his hand to cup her cheek. It was surprisingly tender and intimate for what they were to each other, and she had to steel herself against a crazy urge to nuzzle into his touch. “Trust me.”

“I don’t know you.” 

“I don’t care.” And with that, he finally reached for her.

Feyre was well-endowed, but his hands were still large enough that they easily covered her breasts, and she gasped at the contrast of his warm hands and cold rings against her skin. It felt like he was everywhere—overwhelming and insufficient all at once—as he mapped the contours of her body. 

She had just grown accustomed to the sensation of him touching her when Rhysand shifted and began to tease her nipples. The surprise of the heat that flashed through her made her shamelessly arch into his touch with a breathy sigh, and he smirked at his effect on her. “Do you still doubt my abilities, darling?”

“Yes.” She bit out, just as he leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, forcing her to stifle a moan.

He released it, flicking his eyes up to hers, although he brought his hands up to tease her as he asked, “Do you want me to stop?” 

Feyre didn’t answer him, not daring to admit that she actually liked this. She was only still here because of fucking Tamlin and fucking Mor and because she didn’t fucking have enough money to buy her way out of the mess they’d encouraged her to make. That was all. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant if she admitted that some depraved part of her was actually enjoying what Rhysand was doing and it wasn’t just her body reacting to his touch. It would be better if she didn’t acknowledge his question at all. Maybe he’d just keep going and she could have the plausible deniability of just being along for the ride.

But as the silence stretched out, Rhysand’s hands stilled while he waited for her answer, and when none came, he asked again, more forcefully, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” The answer slipped out of her unbidden. But it was true—no one had touched her like this before. His hands were everything, and they were making her insane, and besides, it had been so long—even since before her breakup with Tamlin—that she had felt this damn good from anything beside her own hand that the thought of stopping this bliss was unthinkable.

“Thank the Mother,” he growled. “These are a gift, darling. A revelation. It would be a crime to do anything but worship them.” And then he did, groping and teasing and tasting until Feyre thought she might shatter with need and desire from just the attention he gave her breasts.

But right as she felt the beginnings of an orgasm start to build, Rhysand withdrew his hands and took a step away, a satisfied smile blooming on his face as he took in flushed face and the devastation she knew must be flashing in her eyes at the loss of contact.

Half-mindless, she whimpered and shamelessly pulled forward against her wrist bindings, straining toward where he stood as if that could entice him to come back and finish what he started.

But he only hushed her with a reprimanding cluck of his tongue. “We don’t want the other customers to hear you, do we?” 

She glared at him in response, still reeling from the unsatisfied ache that pulsed between her legs. 

Rhysand smiled back at her, looked her over, and then nodded. “I know exactly the piece for you.”

And with that, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the fitting room, leaving Feyre panting and needy and still tied to the garment hook on the wall.

“Rhysand.” She whisper-shouted. The absolute asshole left the curtain open. There was a mirror in one of the other rooms across the way, and Feyre had no choice but to look at herself, naked and flushed and helpless. Anyone who came in to try on something would see the same thing—she couldn’t move or hide or even cover herself with her hands. She cursed Rhysand and staunchly ignored the traitorous wetness she could feel pooling between her thighs.

It seemed like ages before he returned, long enough that she had contemplated shouting for Mor to come and rescue her. They had been friends long enough that they had seen each other in various states of undress over the years. What was another look at each other’s boobs between friends anyway? Sure, Mor would have prime mockery material for the rest of their lives, but the longer Feyre hung there, the less she cared. 

But just as she was steeling herself to start yelling, Rhysand stepped back into her line of sight.

He smirked at her. “Well, look at you, darling.” The hunger hadn’t left his gaze. He still looked every inch the predator as he let his gaze sweep over her naked form. “What a perfect girl for staying here, tied up and waiting for me.”

“This was not part of our agreement,” she spat at him.

Rhysand only arched an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Feyre was about to snap back at him, but then a glint caught her eye, and she finally noticed what he was holding.

It was a bustier, black as night, and she wondered briefly if it had been one of the pieces he had perched near as he watched her in the store. She couldn’t see much of it yet, but from the way it sparkled under the dressing room lights, she assumed that the garment was adorned with intricate beadwork as if someone had spilled starlight across the fabric. She knew, even without trying it on, that it would be seductive and sexy and slightly wicked, and that she would absolutely love it.

But fuck, she hated Rhysand for being right. Prick.

“Step in, darling.” He stooped down and held open the bustier near her feet.

Feyre rolled her eyes but still obediently lifted one leg and then the other, allowing him to pull the material over her legs and up her torso. The sensation of his hands as they skirted against the sides of her body had her twitching, the phantom memory of her ruined orgasm making her core flutter piteously.

Once the bustier was around her, Rhysand crowded further into her space and reached his arms around her to pull at the laces in the back. “I need to lace it up, love.”

This close, she could see the delight in his annoyingly purple eyes, could trace the faint stubble that dotted his chin, could breathe in his scent of sea salt and citrus. It was heady and intoxicating, and the combination of it and the proximity of his body had Feyre nearly keening from desire again. 

“Rhys…” Feyre whined, and she didn’t know if she was asking for him to hurry up lacing her or to finally give her the pleasure he had teased her with, but either way, she was tired of waiting. She wanted to see what he would make of her. 

Standing this close, she caught the way that his name on her lips—the name his lovers called him—made his breath catch just slightly. And some vindictive part of her was pleased that she wasn’t the only one affected by what was happening between them in the dressing room.

He didn’t stop his work, however, and his hands made quick, deft work of the laces behind her until he nodded and stepped back a pace, looking her over as he did so. “All done, darling.”

Feyre waited for him to say something else—to praise his work or mock her for how she looked or offer some other depraved choice that she’d somehow get roped into.

But nothing came. He just stood in front of her, staring fixedly.

She glanced down at herself. Everything looked normal from her vantage point—nothing bulged out or cut in or gaped, and so, reasonably confident that the issue here wasn’t with her, she swung her gaze up to him. “Well?”

“See for yourself, love.” And then he stepped aside, leaving Feyre to look at herself in the mirror across the way once again.

She was still tied up like some wanton plaything, but—it was different somehow, now. The bustier wrapped around her like a second skin, following the curves of her waist and her hips that somehow made both look sinfully exaggerated, while the top of it dipped down low between her breasts while arching up high on either side in delicate points that were flared and tapered almost like bat wings. The entire garment was covered in the black sequins and gems that had caught her eye before, adding some dimension and texture to the otherwise monochrome color scheme.

And it all came together to make the woman in the mirror look fierce and wicked and alluring and powerful somehow, even caught as she was. It was everything Feyre had wanted when she let Mor drag her here in the first place.

Her eyes flicked over to Rhys who was leaning against the side of the fitting room door, still just watching her.

He tilted his head. “Pleased?”

“Yes. I—” She paused, realizing that she had almost thanked him for tying her up and touching her and coercing her into agreeing to all of it. As if.

Rhys nodded, apparently unconcerned with whatever she had been about to say. “Now, there’s just one more thing we need to do before you take that picture.” He took a step back toward her.

Feyre blinked. “Wait, what?”

The smile he gave her was unholy. “You need to look the part, darling.”

And then his hands were on her again, skimming over her breasts and down her sides until she felt him start to tease her inner thighs, straying closer and closer to her core until she realized exactly what part he meant. 

She had been performing in her picture before, playacting lust and sensuality and desire. Rhys wanted it to be real.

“Wait, Rhys—” But Feyre’s protest was cut off by the brush of his finger against her clit, and the bolt of sheer pleasure that shot through her stilled the words in her mouth.

“Let me, darling.” He continued exploring her as he said the words, dipping his fingers lower to gather some wetness before bringing them back to her clit and starting to rub in firm, tight circles.

It felt perfect and right and necessary, and so Feyre did, giving herself over to whatever Rhys had in store for her.

He grinned as he sensed her resistance melting away and began to play with her clit in earnest, rubbing and stroking until Feyre was nearly insane from the desire and the pleasure coursing through her. It was like he had never stopped his teasing from earlier, for far too quickly, Feyre was needy and shivering and shaking as she hung from the garment hook.

“Please—Rhys…I need—” Her voice was breathy and desperate, but Feyre didn’t care. She just needed to come.

“I know, love, I know. Come for me.” He whispered the command in her ear, his hand still working her clit, and Feyre shattered.

It was intense and all-consuming, and, tied up as she was, Feyre had no choice but to let herself be overtaken by the pleasure that coursed through her.

She could still feel her core fluttering when Rhysand stepped away again and smoothly slid her phone out of his pocket.

“Now, let’s take that picture.”

A few minutes later, Feyre found herself standing at the store’s counter as Rhys packaged up the bustier she had reluctantly agreed to take home with her—on the house, of course, he had told her with a wink. She was dressed in her regular clothes once again, grateful that the baggy sweater hid the faint marks on her wrists from Rhys’ tape measure.

“Feyre!” A voice cried out from behind her, and she turned to see Mor striding toward them. “Girl, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

“I—” Feyre didn’t know what to say. I’ve been a little tied up? I think maybe I saw God back in those fitting rooms? She didn’t want to admit to either of those things.

But thankfully, Mor didn’t wait for her answer. “Oh, did you find something?”

“She did.” Rhys’ smooth voice cut in, and then he nodded at Mor. “Cousin.”

“Cousin,” Mor replied, sticking her tongue out at him. “This is Feyre—she’s the friend I told you about.”

They were—what. the. fuck. 

“Pleased to finally meet you, Feyre, darling.” He put extra emphasis on her name now that he finally knew it, and she glowered at him over the counter.

“Did you buy it?” Mor asked excitedly, trying to peek into the small black bag. “Will it work for your revenge picture?”

Before she could answer, Rhys smirked at her. “I think she found exactly what she needed.”

Feyre glared at him and nodded at Mor, choosing not to acknowledge the pulse of interest that reignited between her thighs. 

Mor’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them as a pleased smile bloomed on her face as she realized that something was going on. “Oh, I knew you two would hit it off. See what happens when you trust me, Fey?”

Feyre snorted. The bag on the counter and the marks on her wrists and the ache between her thighs proved exactly what trusting Mor got her.

Not that she minded, necessarily. But still—it would be quite a while before she let herself get roped into another scheme like this one.

Mor pulled out her phone to check the time. “It’s time for drinks! We need to celebrate!” And with that, she grabbed Feyre’s arm and pulled her out of the store as Rhys looked on with a smirk.

As they sat down at a bar a few minutes later, Feyre’s phone pinged with a notification from Instagram. Her picture had gotten quite a few likes already, and friends had commented various combinations of fire emojis and hearts and marriage proposals that made her laugh. 

And there was a comment from her newest follower, one highlordrhys: “You make my clothes look like art, darling.” 

Feyre scoffed lightly at the presumption of the comment (although, to his credit, she did look good—flushed and relaxed from her orgasm, her body arching deliciously with her hands still tied up above her head) before noticing a dm from the same account. More quickly than she would care to admit, she opened it and saw that Rhys had sent her his number with the message “Call me the next time you need help looking the part, darling 😉.”

She swore she wouldn’t and closed the app without sending anything back. 

But she saved his number first. Just in case.

[poisoned-pearls]

YEEEE you always have the correct thoughts I'm interested 🔥🔥🔥🔥

AUAUAUGHHH OKAY SO

Jamil’s voice actor has said himself that even he believes that Jamil and Azul could be close friends- I wanna point this out because that man definitely has some of the best understandings of Jamil EVER because he’s not only seen most of his voice lines, but he also gets the background notes we don’t get to see to add the correct kind of flavor to the voice acting- ANYWAYS

Jamil and Azul DO get along!! very well, in fact! If they are put against a common force or just, generally in an event together they do work well and even joke like close friends would!

Like, even when Jamil is being mean, he’s not malicious. He’s snarky, not actually trying to hurt Azul’s feelings- and they both KNOW how smart the other one is, and both aren’t afraid to mention it

(usually it’s Azul, but Jamil also consistently gives Azul credit as well. He doesn’t ever really downplay Azul’s merits and abilities)

And the funniest bit is- no matter how mean Jamil is to him, even with what some WOULD consider as bullying, Azul does not stop.

Which is WEIRD AS HELL FOR HIM. He was heavily bullied as a kid, so much so that it’s very obviously hinted at that he had/has an eating disorder (he wears the same size as Epel and Riddle, people who are a good ~20 ish cm shorter than he is- this is besides the point-) so to him, the reward of getting Jamil on his side is worth the thing that literally controlled his entire life and caused his overblot. That is how important getting Jamil is to him. (which also begs the question, why Jamil? Sure, some of it is definitely because he sees himself in Jamil, but since this is MY post, I also believe it’s because he has a crush on him.)

And he is CONSTANT about it- it’s almost hilarious how fucking often octavinelle or the lounge or even just himself comes up in his conversations with him.

And sure, it is a little weird that he seems to disregard Jamil’s constant no’s- BUT he also understands and watches Jamil more than anyone else, so I think he does this precisely because he knows that Jamil holds himself back.

Jamil can’t reasonably Say yes to him, because of kalim and his duties, but it’s the same thing with Jamil’s lab vignette, he so desperately wants Jamil to do his best, to succeed, but because Jamil will not let himself, he pushes and pushes to try and get him to fold and do what he really wants. To flourish. And Azul wants him to do it with him.

and the reason why Jamil is always so resistant to it isn’t because he genuinely wants nothing to do with it, it’s because he cannot understand or comprehend a relationship like that where they are equal.

He doesn’t want to be under Azul’s thumb, but this is exactly where their animosity comes from- the misunderstanding of their friendship and the dynamics with it. He doesn’t want to go to octavinelle, to work at the lounge, because he despises being a servant.

But master and servant is the only real dynamic he knows- he legitimately can’t understand how it would be any different, and because of Azul’s reputation and persona, he wouldn’t trust Azul’s word on it either.

(It is also very ironic that Azul’s persona, which was made to protect him from bullying, is the exact reason Jamil is so hostile towards him in the first place)

But here’s the thing- consistently, Jamil always makes note of Azul. He pays attention to him, (‘you sure love your cryptic little asides’ means that he’s actually paying attention to Azul to notice said asides and notice the frequency of them-) and he acknowledges him first.

I cannot stress enough how fucking insane it is that he not only acknowledges Azul first, but by full name. He is in basketball club with Floyd, he should know him well enough to say him by name, and hypothetically be more friendly with. Floyd is genuinely the safest person in octavinelle for him to hang out with precisely because he doesn’t scheme, so why in the world is he acknowledging Azul?? He’s already fucking suspicious of him and wants him off his back, so why not go for what should be his safest in?? Sure, it makes sense for him to actually talk to Azul because, classmates, but to completely disregard Floyd and put Azul first? Azul stands in the middle of them no matter what reading direction would be normal for Jamil (like if he speaks Arabic then it would be right to left/) it wouldn’t make sense to point out the one in the middle. Genuinely when people say hello to a group they know usually they go by name in reading order-

Okay genuinely not being insane about one moment in dialogue for a moment

Jamil and Azul, work so, so fucking well. They are just similar enough while also being opposites in the most complimentary way it’s crazy.

They work well as friends and as business partners and as people fighting together and as a couple, they flow together and it is always in my brain

Because all it takes is for Jamil to realize that Azul is not lying. He is not trying to trick him or butter him up he means every single word of praise he says and he will continue to say it because to him Jamil is worth the pain. THAT is why they’re soulmates to me

Because all Jamil has ever wanted was freedom, and to catch a break. To not be the one serving, but to have someone serve him, to understand him. and Azul does. Azul wants to serve him and to hold him on equal footing and he already DOES understand him

(And he understands Azul, as well, even if he doesn’t admit it. In all of those lines he notices things about Azul you wouldn’t if you actually hated someone. Azul gives him a sense of hope, in a subtle way)

[edenfenixblogs]

I think that the user who made this post is lacking reading comprehension as to me it looks like Netanyahu is just saying that he wants security controls in place which if we go by the Wikipedia article for security controls, is just tighter security. The article in that post also doesn't include his full statement which adds context.

This article has his whole statement

what are your thoughts on this?

Idk what article or post you’re talking about.

I don’t like or trust Netanyahu. I do not believe anything he says. He’s Israel’s version of Trump. Idk what exactly he wants more control of but based solely on this post it seems like he’s offering to end the war by placing more security and checkpoints around Palestine.

My thoughts on that are that people not dying is better than people dying. But that’s too low a bar. Palestinians deserve better than just “not being under siege.” The steps must be in the direction of increasing freedom, not limiting it further.

This is what I’ve been talking about for months while people have been busy trying to compare me to a Nazi for saying I don’t want Jews to die or be expelled.

The only proper way to behave right now is to actively discuss what a future where both Israelis and Palestinians live together in peace should look like and then taking steps to ensure that future.

If we don’t do that, then Netanyahu will get his wish: tighter controls around Palestine, increased tension between Palestine and Israel, a guarantee that enough discontented Palestinians will look to organizations like Hamas for a solution to their oppression only to end up endangered between a terrorist organization and a hostile Likud-run government that stays in power by casting them as inherently vicious villains.

So, idk man. I can’t know for certain that I have any of this right. I’m just going off context clues cuz I refuse to look it up. Why do I refuse to look it up? Because I’d give myself an 85% chance of being right about what Netanyahu is proposing. Because he’s predictable and a bad person and a bad leader whose only goal is to weaponize both Jewish and Palestinian trauma to retain his own power.

This, even more than the personal attacks from antisemites, is what has bothered me most about western leftist “support” for Palestine during this most recent flair of the conflict. By focusing on attacking Jews around the world and stanning terrorist organizations and ignoring Jewish people and Israelis and even Muslims and Palestinians and Arabs who are and have been actively engaged in working towards peace and against Netanyahu for literal decades they have all but ensured that the most reasonable and informed voices have been effectively silenced. And you know who’s gonna fill that power vacuum? Netanyahu. Cuz it’s what he does.

And then the next time this happens, because it will, we will have to all live through this (or fault to live through it) again.

So, do I get a gold star friends? If I’m wrong I’ll delete this post. But man just the idea of Netanyahu proposing tighter security makes my blood boil. He knows what he’s doing. And it’s bad.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’ve misinterpreted something. And I will look it up further. But before I do, I genuinely want to know: is that asshole really that predictable? Did the entire western left literally just fall for his whole schtick and end up helping him to concentrate even more power? Did it work because it relied upon people hating Jews more than they trust Jews or love Palestinians? Cuz it feels like that’s what’s happening.

In the meantime, A Land for All is a solution worth actually discussing. Let’s all work toward that or another equally mutually beneficial solution to this conflict instead of helping Hamas gain adherents and helping Likud retain power:

https://www.alandforall.org/english/?d=ltr

[egg-emperor]

Like how these tweets are like trying to suggest Metal permanently leaving Eggman and becoming his own character separate from him but are instead emphasizing the reasons why I love that he isn't lol

Yeah Sonic is all about freedom and positivity. He's a light in dark times, a free spirit that has no master except for the wind that blows free, loves seeing the world and adventure. Meanwhile Metal is trapped under a master and fueled by hate and the desire to kill Sonic. Programmed by Eggman and makes for a bleak existence of constantly trying to prove himself as the worthy superior version Eggman created him to be.

Eggman wants Metal to be like Sonic to rival him but he will never make him exactly the same because he's missing the most important parts that make Sonic, Sonic. All Metal has got is hate and the desire to kill and prove himself. He's a cold killing machine with no freedom, programmed and controlled by Eggman. Unlike Sonic, he has a master that owns him and decides on his entire existence and freedom.

He lacks Sonic's soul, his positive passion and his freedom and he'll never have it, Eggman won't let him. He has tried to break free from that to do his own thing beyond his lines of code a couple of times to do his thing his way, which actually makes him closer to Sonic in an albeit twisted violent way- but was punished by Eggman and went under more restrictions to restore, force, loyalty and obedience.

And bringing Eggman having a clear new favorite into this can set a perfect example of what happens to even his most boasted prized creations when he's either finished or replaces them with another he finds better/most useful in that moment. Metal feeling hatred and jealousy towards other creations but still being unable to break free from Eggman is more interesting than being treated as an equal or betraying him.

He doesn't have a choice. He can be as pissed and jealous as he wants for not being praised and valued the way he was before but he still has to live under Eggman and serve him. Which can turn into working extra hard to try to please him too and Eggman would love and encourage it but never give him the reward of his full approval and praise, so it's neverending game. It's another way to get more good use out of him.

Eggman is exactly the kind of bastard to highly praise his newest favorite toy and specifically emphasize it in front of him and act like he's forgotten about him in comparison to get that reaction and drive out of him. It sets an example of how Eggman's praising of his creations always comes from a place of ego and self praise as their creator and has the interesting concept of him weaponizing praise.

In TMoStH he talks of programming creations with life like personalities and a bounty so they compete for his approval and a reward. This would be very useful with one of his most prized creations like Metal. But then he'd never grant it to keep him endlessly seeking it, another objective that keeps him under his control. He can't break free so he tries to please him to at least be treated better but can't even get that.

I'd love for them to explore it but without having him permanently betray and break free. Because Metal isn't as lucky as the ones that got away, they very rarely do get lucky enough like Omega. Hell, Gamma had to kill his own brothers and die to be free. If you keep letting his creations get away it'd water it down. If you let Metal stay under him with these feelings then fuck man the drama the tragedy, it's so compelling.

[daxwormzz]

Who’s Piter? (Full disclosure, I’m entirely prepared for rambling, I’ve just never heard of this)

HIIIIIIII OKAY SO. Basically. Piter de Vries is this guy from hit 1960s scifi novel Dune by Frank Herbert. He’s the right-hand to the main villain, The Baron Harkonnen. He’s only in the first half of the first book, and some of the bad prequel novels.

Piter’s whole thing is that he’s a Mentat, a human trained to essentially function like a supercomputer and be crazy good at calculating shit. (Because “thinking machines” have been outlawed in the world of Dune, so no computers!) but also he’s specifically this thing called a TWISTED MENTAT, which means he’s a computer who’s evil and has no moral compass. It’s up to interpretation what exactly caused this— there’s sorta two theories with equal amounts of evidence. One: this one evil organization purposefully fucks up Mentats to MAKE them essentially lose faith in morality and humanity as a whole. Like reeeeaaally fucks them up. And two: they’re actually just born like that. Like the mentat was already predisposed to “evil” behavior and that one organization just exploits that and employs them.

I sorta think it was a mix of that for Piter, I think he was born with obvious signs of brain illness and that was exploited and exacerbated by whatever he was put through. I think if he wasn’t “twisted” he probably would’ve grown up to he just some kinda strange asshole, rather than one of the most wretched guys you’ll ever meet.

That being said, the actual gist of Piter’s personality and description is this: eccentric and snarky conniving guy who LOVES to torture. He’s also shown to be very power-hungry, and subtly obsessed with control and death as a whole. And also poisons. He has a passion for poison-making. As a mentat, he’s also an assassin of sorts, cause turns out they’re pretty good at that. He’s described as having a terrifying “silky” voice, so kind of like if a snake was a guy. He’s also described as followed: a short “effeminate” man with frizzy hair, probably wears platform boots, blue-within-blue eyes, and red-stained lips. (“It was like a mask grimace over those eyes like holes”, to quote the book directly.) his eyes and mouth are an important detail, because those come from all the DRUGS he takes. Like so many. He’s specifically takes Spice, the most important substance in Dune basically. That’s what makes his eyes that weird blue! So he’s like… unnerving-pretty. Weird looking but pretty in the way a very toxic sea creature is. Do NOT touch. Sometimes he refers to himself in the third person and he sounds like the Miette cat post.

BUUUUT YEAH so like, weird guy amiright? I’m prone to loving evil right hand man characters, I’ll be for real. But what really got me crazy about his character is how he’s treated in the story by various characters. Sure, he’s a bad awful guy and all that- but he is also CONSTANTLY dehumanized. Specifically by his “employer”, The Baron. Who is a whole other can of worms. There’s even a whole scene where the baron puts Piter on “display” and refers to him as “it”. The baron also explicitly exploits Piter’s drug addiction to get him to comply and stay “loyal”, which is particularly scary I think, because spice withdrawal is incredibly deadly.

Piter and the Baron have some of the most bonkers banter in the entire book. It’s comedically evil in every way. You can tell they HATE each other but it’s hidden under so many layers of scheming and posturing. Piter would take the barony if he could 💪💪💪😔😔😔 Piter is also THE guy who comes up with the entire coup against the main character’s noble house that sparks the main events of the entire book??? Like he states directly that it was HIM. On like page 21 of the book. And this is not talked about much. None of his movie versions really get to the “meat” of his character, especially the newest Dune films. He’s very glossed-over, honestly. Which is a shame because as you can tell, I find him fascinating!

I think…. I’m done now… thank you for coming to my Piter talk… I hope this is enlightening 💚

[lauren-no-why]

17, 19, and 2 (or 3 if that works better. ik we're kinda limited on options) for lord huron?

17: A fandom take I didn’t think about until I saw it, and I fully agree with

Actually, the dual narrative purpose of a lot of the songs is what comes to mind here. When I was listening to everything, piecing together my best possible interpretation of the storylines, I didn't see how completely purposefully some songs are written to be from one character's perspective and yet be used to illustrate another's. It's like the band created a bunch of fictional artists and their music, and then used those fictional artists' songs to fucking… make a fandom playlist for their own characters?? It's hilarious and I love it but man, didn't see how it was being done until I think I read Kirb talking about it at one point and now I'm 100% behind that being the rationale for a lot of the songs being presented the way they are. Like, well, I know we're all sick of The Night We Met but obviously it's the perfect example of this and I should have realized after seeing the music video just how widespread this is throughout at least Vide Noir and probably Long Lost.

19: Favorite headcanon

Oh my goodness, how do I pick. Well, I think it has to be everything I've come up with for the Redmayne boys, since they lack backstory. Again I will point people to this fic as a place to get at some of what's going on in my head for them.

But I'll also give a tiny characterization rundown for the two that canon gives us nothing on:

Alex - oldest of the three. Quiet, kinda stoic, but absolutely fiercely dedicated to keeping the gang united, functional, vicious, and yet like, a whole thriving little found family community in a world where everything is stacked against all of them. Religiously (not literally religious, but, cultishly? lmao) dedicated to the World Ender. Sociopath with low empathy but really really good at caring for the people around him to the point where he can in fact seem soft and even warm. He's the big supportive pillar for the gang and he's basically the reason that the Redmayne family unit is so cohesive. Functionally aromantic in that he just has more important shit to take care of and also I'm not sure he's like, fully capable of relating to people in a normal way anyway. He got picked to lead for a reason and he's extremely good at doing that, and a lot of people have suffered as a result, and for these boys and girls, that's a very very good thing.

Dale - middle boy. Brilliant, creative, witty, but it's all sex drugs and rock and roll for him. Keeps up with politics and local events primarily as a way to figure out how to strike and where in order to cause the most damage to whoever the gang goes after. Responsible when he has to be, but he'd rather be high and writing songs and playing shows and feeling all the energy from the crowd - or all the energy from the rest of the Enders as they ride out on the streets at night, howling at the stars, keeping the city under their control. Some who knew him as a kid probably are very disappointed that he's "squandered" all his creativity and intelligence but he'd prefer to say he's doing it exactly right, because the freedom of being a World Ender and the ability to hit back at society for all it's done to keep the people down is far more important to him.

2/3: favorite fic I've read or written myself

Hhhhgh there's so little to pick from, this feels unfair to the handful of really lovely people who have written anything at all to have to pick one! So first off, if you've written fic, I love you. If you haven't written any but are thinking about it, please, this desert is so dry and I am so thirsty.

But uh, I'm not going to pick one of mine, that feels even more cruel. No no, I absolutely adore your little Dale-centric thing, actually. Like I said when I read it, it just feels very spot on, very World Enders, having an entire conversation while some dead person is just casually burning away there, and, I don't know, I need more Enders, I need more Dale, this fic hits the spot. Lots of spots. It's been a bit since I re-read it actually, guess it's time to go do that haha.

[dandylovesturtles]

Okay, not sure if this but is under 500 words or not, but it’s probably my favorite snippet in the whole fic and maybe even all the rottmnt fics I’ve read. It’s just so good!

Awww, thanks so much! I'm still really happy with how this scene (and this entire sequence) turned out.

I end up spoiling the fic a bit in this so don't venture into the read more if you're a new reader and don't want spoilers.

Leo stayed on the ground, waiting for a hand to be offered to him. He didn't want to admit it, but his legs felt like liquid. The help would be appreciated.

Since Leo is out of his body, everything he feels is psychosomatic. But of course your brain controls everything about how you experience the world, so does not having a body really matter? It was important to me that while Leo experiences some physical benefits from not having a body (not getting tired, not feeling thirst or hunger, etc), he also experiences the physical effects of stress and dissociation and all the other mental illness he's currently experiencing. Poor guy.

No one extended a hand to him. Rejection twisted hot in his gut, burning him inside out.

This whole sequence, really from the moment he gets separated from Mikey, kicks off the "Raph arc" of the story (intermingled with closing out the "Mikey arc", as it were), and I turned the idea of Leo wanting someone to extend a hand to help him as a running theme for this arc (which is... maybe not the most cohesive since Raph doesn't get touch, but Raph is also his big brother and no matter who is in the leader spot, Raph will always be the person Leo most looks to for help when he's in trouble). I bring this line back in chapter 8 when the two of them talk out their feelings and Raph extends the metaphorical "hand" to Leo, and Raph keeps doing that for the rest of the fic, pulling Leo out of his dark thoughts whenever he sinks a little too deep and being ready to help him however he can.

"There you go, Leo," said Mikey softly. "Take a second."

Mikey ends up doing a lot of the caretaking of Leo in this fic, especially in the first part, because he can actually see Leo and can see how badly all of this is affecting him, even as Leo tries to act strong for them. Leo is Mikey's big brother, and he doesn't exactly love being this vulnerable in front of Mikey, but he doesn't have much of a choice. And Mikey is doing such a good job. Isn't it fine to swap roles now and then?

He looked at Mikey, then opened his arms for a hug. He'd write it off as being for Mikey later, because he looked upset. But he needed to grab something. He needed to know this was real.

Mikey's eyes brimmed with tears. "Leo," he said, and his voice trembled on his name. "Oh, Leo..."

He didn't hug him, and Leo felt the sting of it under his skin. His arms fell.

Ah, the part everyone yelled at me about.

This is actually the moment I got the idea for that inspired basically this entire section, from Mikey getting yanked off the tank all the way through this dissociative episode. In my interpretation of Leo, he doesn't ask for things very often, especially things like affection or comfort. Sure, he'll encourage them to chant for him or call him their champion or whatever, but this is different - it's a lot more vulnerable. To be fair, though, Leo doesn't usually have to ask; we see in the show that he's pretty touchy with his brothers and clearly feels like there isn't much of a boundary there when it comes to touch, and Raph and Mikey especially give hugs easily, so he doesn't really have to do much when he's feeling low to get affection. And the thing about asking is that you can be told no, and rejection when he really needs something is devastating. So if he's going to ask for something like a hug or some other kind of affection/comfort, it means he really really needs it and can't just wait around for it to be offered to him.

And Mikey would definitely know that. Poor Mikey isn't rejecting him on purpose, of course, he couldn't hug Leo if he wanted to (and he very much wants to!). He knows that rejecting Leo when Leo is being this upfront about his needs is something that will really hurt him, but he can't do anything to help.

No one is happy here, that's for sure!

(Well, except maybe me, the person who wrote it. See, the benefit of being the author is that I can write this scene while I also have the ending in my head so I don't have to be sad about it. ^^ )

"What happened?" asked Donnie.

"Nothing. Leo just..." Mikey sniffed. "We need to get him back in his body."

Mikey was trying not to embarrass Leo here, because Leo probably would get a little embarrassed by Mikey telling them he's asking for hugs, and besides, if he said that was what Leo was doing then Leo would have to be rejected two more times. So he's trying to help!

But maybe if he'd answered this question, Donnie would have gotten his act together a little faster later haha.

Everybody's doing their best but sometimes your best doesn't fix it. :c

Thanks for the ask!

[barry-j-blupjeans]

@taznovembercelebration - Adventure

Lucretia was… exhausted. The last twenty-four hours had been all sorts of hell. Exactly twenty-four hours ago, she had been ducked under a bar as glasses broke and fists were thrown overhead. Someone had been laughing. Lup, maybe? Magnus, definitely. Every time she popped back up to see what was going on, she catch a glimpse of him, watching in short bursts as his expression changed from angry, to annoyed, and then straight into delight. She supposed that having a security officer who enjoyed fighting was better than having one who ran away, but the glee in Magnus's face when he got punched directly into the eye was maybe something she should be concerned about.

Davenport had eventually found her and Merle and dragged them outside. Taako was impatiently waiting at the street corner. Lup was in between the door of the bar and where Taako stood, a splatter of blood across her arm. Davenport took a full two steps into the bar again before Magnus came barreling out and shouting, "time to go!! Time to go!!" A collection of men followed him out, but Lucretia had to admit, his joy had been a little infectious. She hadn't had that much fun running since she was a kid.

Then, she had gone home and went directly to bed, expecting to fall asleep immediately. Instead, she stayed up half the night with anxiety. She had to logic herself out of it because of course anything bad won't happen, of course you've brought enough journals, of course you don't need to double check all your bags to make sure you brought everything you needed, it's going to be fine.

Spoiler alert: It was not fine.

Her morning had been perfect. Maybe that should have made her suspicious, but she hadn't really had the time to dwell on it. She arrived at the Institute ten minutes early, only to already be preceded by Davenport (not too unusual) and Barry (who looked like he hadn't slept a wink). Magnus came next, with a nasty black eye that he seemed pretty proud of, followed by Taako and Lup, who arrived seven minutes after they were supposed to have been there. Said seven minutes was nothing in comparison to Merle's thirty, but seeing as Davenport had specifically worked in time for Merle's awful time management, they weren't too off schedule.

Then, a pre-launch press, smaller than the one they had staged yesterday. All the ground control people came in groups, easing into their places. Davenport gave them a pep talk that was much more "don't you dare do anything stupid in front of the Director" than "let's try our best". Needless to say, when the Director of the Institute dropped in for a quick word, Taako "accidentally" flipped him off, Lup dabbed, Merle made a very work inappropriate joke that Magnus laughed so hard at he started coughing. And Lucretia dropped her pen, because of course she did.

The launch itself had gone fine. They had gotten into the air no problem, and exit into the planar system had been going smoothly until…

Well, until the Thing appeared.

Lucretia wasn't a brave person. She didn't have to be. Her job was to write what was happening, not do anything about it. So the moment the Thing started its descent, she had frozen in place. She had always loved stories about the end of the world. She had done a whole study on tradgies during school and the wording they used to really make it stick. She had used those skills before, mostly in memoirs or biographies, but never in her own lived experiences. No one wanted to read the story of Lucretia. They wanted something that filled them with emotion and Lucretia's life- well, it was bland. It had been bland.

She always loved stories about the end of the world. But none of them ever came from an outside perspective. The language she had learned to master in school skipped and stuttered over the important parts. Never had they truly prepared her for watching the entire world she knew and loved get consumed before her very eyes. Around her, the rest of the crew was frantic. She recalled, later, in the journal she had broken in earlier this morning, Magnus pleading with Davenport's to turn back, to go back down. She recounted Taako and Lup standing at the door to the deck, Lup gripping the side of Taako's jacket so tight her knuckles were going white. Merle, distant, looped in prayer. Barry going back and forth from the captain's room to the engine room, stubbornly refusing to look outside.

Davenport had Lup lock the doors, partly to keep them safe, but mostly to keep Magnus from rushing out. Taako joined Barry down in the engine room and Merle pulled Magnus along to the back of the ship to make sure nothing broke bad from back there. Lup had wrapped an arm around her briefly and squeezed. She didn't say anything and she was gone as soon as she had come, but it kickstarted Lucretia's brain back into gear.

Twenty-four hours since the bar. Ten since she had last been home. Seven since she had last stepped foot on grass, when she and Barry cut through the lawn to keep up with Davenport's speedwalking. Six and a half since the last contact with someone from the Institute. Now, Magnus had fallen to sleep on the tiny couch in the living quarters. Taako was deep in the kitchen, making something Lucretia couldn't identify by smell. Lup was going back and forth between him, Davenport in the captain's quarters attempting to make contact with home base, and Barry in the lab. Merle had tasked himself with putting all the furniture back in place. Right now, he was taking a break at the table Lucretia was sitting at, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

And she was writing. She wanted to scream. Or to cry, maybe. Or a little bit of both. But she had to write. First, it had been about the Thing itself, and the strange new world they had landed into, but she found herself spiraling a little bit. If the world was- if they couldn't go back, she had to write down everything she knew before she forgot it. She wrote about the older wings of the Insitute and their crumbling brick walls. She wrote about how it reminded her of the high school she had sped through back home, and the public pool next to that school where her dad would take her and her brother on hot summer days. She wrote about the beautiful lilac sky at sunset and how, when the suns rose, they almost overlapped each other. This world only had one sun. Lucretia wrote down their calendar systems and their time measurements. She wrote about where she went for her fifth birthday and the square where her mother bought tap shoes that kept her up for years at night and-

"Luce," Merle said. "You doin' okay?"

Lucretia paused.

"How am I supposed to answer that?" she said. "I'm- Merle, we just watched the world get destroyed. No, I'm not- I've not had a very good day, Merle." Another pause. "How are you?"

"Oh, y'know, same old, same old," he said. Lucretia laughed, but it felt more like a sob. Merle patted her arm and then held onto it when she started crying properly. She sunk deeper into her seat, pushing her journal away so she wouldn't get it wet. After a moment, Merle's chair squeaked as he got up from it and moved himself into the seat next to her, hugging her properly. This only made her cry harder. She wasn't trying to be loud- Magnus didn't need to wake up to this- but it must not have been a pretty sight, because the door behind them opened and then shut immediately again. No one came into the room. She tried to slow herself down.

She was so tired.

"You ever read any good adventure books?" Merle asked after a few more minutes. She shook her head, reduced to sniffles. Even if she could think of any, they'd never be able to read them again. Oh gods, all that wasted literature. "Well, I've read a few. Not a ton, mind you, but they always follow this basic little pattern, so if you've read one, you've read them all. But it always goes through the same introduction, and then this terrible thing happens-"

"We're not in a novel, Merle," Lucretia said, tired, tired, so tired. She was envious of how easily Magnus had fallen asleep. "It's- we're real people. That- that Thing, whatever it was-"

"Lemme finish," Merle cut in. "The Hero's Journey. Y'know, the big loop that they always go through on these types of things-"

"We're not- I'm not a hero," Lucretia said. "I'm a writer."

"Who says there's a difference?" Merle asked. "I'm not tryin' to tell you to be something your not. My point is that there's this set pattern 'cus it's accurate. We're all gonna go through somethin' similar to that journey, even if we don't really wanna. There's gonna be bad things that happen, 'cus obviously, it's not gonna be smooth sailing from here. But you gotta have faith it'll turn out okay. Alright? We're gonna be okay."

"You don't know that," Lucretia whispered, no matter how much she wanted to believe.

"No," Merle said. "I don't. But I've got faith in Pan and I've got faith in this crew. If I'm gonna be stuck on some shitty, vitamin D deficient world-" Lucretia chuckled again, voice still a little wet. "Then I'm glad it's with y'all. Just know that I'm here for you, if you wanna talk. Gotta get your sidekicks and stuff to be a hero, right? Though, uh, you're right, you don't exactly look the part. But I don't wanna be a hero either, so I guess both of us are stuck with Magnus or-" Merle's gaze slid over to Magnus. He snorted in his sleep. "Dav would maybe be better."

"I was thinking Lup," Lucretia said.

"Ooh, Lup's a good option," Merle said. "Though, it depends on what you qualify as hero, 'cus I'm pretty sure she's the one who took my wallet last night. Actually, maybe none of us are heroes. You might be right, Luce, we're pretty screwed."

"You're awful," Lucretia said, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Despite herself, this had helped. Somehow. She cleared her throat and pulled her journal back towards her. After a second of deliberating, she turned to the next clear page and said, "Where was your favorite place to hang out back home, Merle?"

[mysteriesmuse]

TEAM HEARTACHE

Thinking abt. the most ridiculously overpowered team up ever . . . I always have fandoms on the mind but a Reader with a quirk that’s like a heart renders in the GRISHAVERSE can:

• manipulate heart rhythms

•manipulate people’s hearts to make them unconscious

• manipulate the bodies oxygen intake and suffocate them

• manipulate feelings and make a person do you bidding

• healing ablities

that’s seriously impressive stuff and versatility in terms of quirk usage. Now imagine that paired up with Shinsou’s mind control and pure combat skills. THATS A PROHERO POWER COUPLE

————

You’re the first half of the superhero duo HeartAche. heart for your heart rendering abilities & ache for the extreme headache that comes from your partner Hitoshi Shinsou’s brainwashing quirk. the two of you meet under the recommendation of pro hero EraserHead when he saw your stats trickling into the underground hero world. You'd been busy trying to get fully switched into the underground hero society since graduation and saw that you were recently invited to apply to UA as an assistant nurse for Recovery Girl. Aizawa thought your quirk was exactly what Eri needed in a mentor. Not to mention, if you really wanted to break into the underground hero world you had the perfect above-ground cover, especially with recovery girls impending retirement. Aizawa actually pushed for your hire. Something Principal Nezu has never seen him do in all his years. With the surprising interest from EraserHead noted in your interview you couldn’t say no to the stable and exciting position as a second nurse for the prestigious UA. During your first few months on hire as UA official staff Aizawa was busy working to move your stats into the underground. That’s were you met your new best friend and work-hubby Hitoshi Shinsou. You and Hitoshi hit it off immediately after a few long nights of stake-outs having connected over your reconciliation with your “villainous quirks.” Your shared affinity for loud music, food, and cats. Something shared with your boss EraserHead. You guys regularly do mission briefings and business meetings with your (now shared) mentor Shota Aizawa in a private room of a local cat-cafe. ——— you two primarily do heavy ops missions together. Frequently used to bust into large criminal organizations headquarters with the helpful info provided by the local hero-collaborations.

With Hitoshi’s combat skills and BrainWashing and your stealth skills and incapacitating abilities; taking apart giant organizations was a walk in the park. The two of you are also busy in the intel-gathering work and have become stake-out buddies. Fortunately, coffee is a dismissible company expense in your line of work. A small perk of working underground, especially with Aizawa who regularly keeps the agency building supplied. Furthermore, you routinely did work alongside of Present Mic, Invisible Girl, and Hawks in order to infiltrate these organizations. Including some minor spy work! Who knew Japans favorite DJ was a highly skilled spy back when he first started?! Like Present-Mic you have an above-ground identity as a beloved rescue hero and UA nurse. You’ve been dubbed as the Japanese Sweetheart since your surprise debut in a motor-vehicle accident and you’ve actually made the chance to have that as your official hero-name. it DOES give you an overwhelming sense of satisfaction when villains call you “sweetheart” and you response with “yeah that’s me.” Before absolutely demolishing them with your quirk. ———

the agency itself is entirely too chaotic and entirely too sleep-deprived. It’s a bright a flashy building in Present Mic’s aesthetic sensibilities, so an eyesore to his husband EraserHead. But, Present Mics cover up-top is important for EraserHead and everyone else working below.

it’s incredibly chaotic to be working underneath two married proheros and teachers, but somehow they make it work together for the two agencies. there’s a plethora of top-notch employees that work to keep everything under wraps, so paperwork isn’t a regular issue when working there . . . but teacher paperwork is something that you do see frequently being done . . . you sometimes grab a stack and join them. —— Upstairs has a full recording and production studio for the bands. As well as multiple offices for all the loudly dressed employees. Meanwhile downstairs the basement is mostly purple. The entire building got a repaint in the last year colors curtesy of Eri, so upstairs is yellow and pink while downstairs is black, white, and purple themed. Both levels have an impressive coffee and tea bar for all employees to use. The one time they ran out of coffee grounds was a double-agency crisis! Additionally, both levels have since gained a family of rescued stray cats that live as official agency office cats. Everybody loves them. The coffee supplier and cat food supplier are extremely loyal friends of the agency and love to chat to the people and hang with the cats. so the entire building is full of comfy couches and sofas as well as a few of those giantic cat trees. They have a few different themes set around the agencies: flowers, rocket ships, sailor moon, and the giant enchanted cat tree. Yes, these themes were a EraserMic family consensus.

the “Mega Tree” as its enthusiastically referred to is located on the main floor in the upstairs lounge area which is right by the hallway to the elevator, so people working for Aizawa often show up to work a few minutes late: a completely understandable reaction. ——— EraserHeads agency basement is soundproofed from all the DJ-ing above. The offices for himself, yourself, and Hitoshi all include your desk set-up, a large couch, and small attached bathroom. Which is Incredibly important to spruce up after long periods of nocturnal workings. although you and Shinsou also have a gifted giant yellow sleeping bag that remains shoved into your stake-out duffels. And Every One of you keeps your office well stocked with your own blankets and pillows for when leaving the office is too much a hassle or nearly impossible. And everyone’s drawers house earplugs and sleeping masks, even sound proof isn’t enough for Present Mics voice. not to mention that they regularly restock the bathrooms with hygiene supplies. —— yours and Hiroshis offices are across the hall from each other that lead to Erasers at the end of the hallway. And yours is the only one set properly for online meetings or with a mini fridge. A vital part of your quirk is replenishing energy through food. so it’s very often that these two barge into your office to raid your mini fridge while you’re on a meeting. because of this mini fridge, your attention to interior design, and your status as teacher/mentor/big sister yours is Eri-Chans favorite office, so your door is almost always open! you always have one of her favorite snacks: apple crisps; located in your snack drawer as well as a few apple juices in the fridge. And it’s much more pleasant to sip on juice while looking at your big fake candied sweetheart’s wall background, your scattered collection of framed photos and hero headlines, your pretty diffuser, and your slightly nibbled office plant and grow light. Because Hitoshi’s walls are just covered by dozens of cheesy cat posters. AND he keeps a litter box in the corner to corral the cats into his office more often. TOTALLY THE WRONG VIBE You two are surprised how he manages to be productive in there. —— So, she loves to come over and help you do some of the lighter hero duties such as organizing thank-you mail, fan mail, as well as the all important hero event invitations you receive.

With your above ground presence you definitely receive more than her brother and dad, although her papa also receives quite a bit. You and him share the same panicked grins every Monday in the mail-room, but luckily they don’t mind her coming around after school to help you. the other days of the week she bebop’s around the agencies building doing homework and hero training before going home. her own application to officially apply to UA as a student is approaching within the next few years, so everyone on the agency dotes on her improvement. Other than mail Eri loves to help you shop for gala and charity event outfits. It’s such a fun girls-time activity for her. I mean Hitoshi and Yamada have style, but it’s not the same as taking an afternoon to try on all the gorgeous glittering women’s gala outfits. plus her opinion is invaluable. furthermore, she adores sharing in your heart-themed obsession. Often helping you scout out more heart sweaters and fluffy jackets when you’re out. yes, you have a matching pair of heart sweaters! Hitoshi thinks he’s seeing double when he comes back from a mission and sees the two of you flitting around the coffee bar with a hoarde of giant shopping bags. he quickly decides he needs a nap.

——— overall being the Japanese Sweetheart and part of power duo Heartache is a pretty sweet job. you’ve met a lot of people and made a lot of friends. Everyday is a completely new chaotic adventure and you wish that Aizawas students would stop breaking themselves so much!

[erigold13261]

Since I have never seen others talk about it, let me blurt this out. Is Yinu’s mama neurodivergent? Reason: She doesn’t seem to understand that her daughter is in distress, up until the “I hate you all” moment. (You can say she was taken over by rage, but still…) She even tells her daughter to “play for mama one last time!” Even when her daughter is clearly not in the mood to play. What do you think? Thank you, and stay awesome!

That is entirely possible! Though I think a lot of people see her as just an over protective mother who got heated up in the moment and lost sight of what was important: her daughter.

I don't exactly know what kind of neurodivergency Mama would have if she did have one. I know there are a lot of different things that fall under the neurodivergent label so there might be a label that fits her really well or close enough that I am just not knowledgeable about.

I will say that I do feel like Mama has some form of anxiety or trauma from losing Papa. Other things might have added onto this, but that is probably a major moment in Mama's life that she will never fully recover.

Mama is quick to anger and loses sight of things around her as she focuses on what upsets her. She is doing what she thinks is right in the moment with no real time to stop and think about what she is doing. This could easily be from anxiety or trauma, but it could also be a form of poor anger management. Some people are just naturally quick to anger, which Mama could have been, or an underlying condition could be making her more susceptible to her emotions.

She might also have some kind of depression going on. I can see this as something she has struggled with for a long time even before meeting Papa as a mid teen. It only got worse as she grew older. She might have had postpartum depression for a year or 2 before it got better, then Papa started getting sick and now she feels alone but puts on a brave and happy face for Yinu.

She could POTENTIALLY have a personality disorder, possibly one of the cluster B or cluster C disorders, but I am not as knowledgeable on those disorders to really speak on them. And I don't want to make an assumption just based off her anger and impulsivity when it comes to what we see in game since personality disorders are often villainized and I want to avoid that. I would either have to do a LOT more research or see someone talk about this who has that kind of disorder.

For me at least, and how I personally make Mama in my head, I can see her as having trauma based depression and anxiety, along with an overall depression and anger control issues that might connect to or stem from another disorder/neurodivergency that I am not aware of at the moment.

Oh also, I do think you might have been asking if Mama could be autistic or have ADHD (since it seems like a lot of people think that is the only kind of neurodiversity sometimes), so I could see her having some form of autism. Honestly I actually headcanon Papa as someone who has been fully diagnosed as autistic and Yinu as having autism too. So Mama could also have autism and that is why her and Papa worked so well together, they were that kind of autistic duo that had similar interests and aversion to things that allowed them to help each other cope with a neurotypical world.

And honestly, Mama having autism or some form of it could also explain why she doesn't see Yinu's distress until it is bluntly shoved in her face along with having impulsive behaviors and unstable moods at times. Or how hearing a piano snaps her back to reality and calms her down quickly. That song could have been a way Papa calmed Mama down when she was getting overwhelmed as I see Mama as getting angry or mean when overwhelmed. While with Papa I see him as probably a crier who bit his arm or did something kinda self harming in a way but Mama would hold him and bake him chewy things to bite/chew on to de-stress.

Okay yeah, Mama is autistic, depressed, has anxiety and anger issues. That is basically all I have for her right now, but you are right, I never seen someone talk about Mama potentially having a mental disorder/neurodivergency! I've seen Eve, Neon, and DJSS get talked about a lot. A tiny bit with Sayu, mainly with the crew though. I don't think I've seen people talk about Tatiana all that much, but I am sure I've seen at least one thing about her and her mental state. Mama though, yeah I have not seen much of anything for her.

[You stay awesome as well!]

[noshitbarnes]

Better Now?: Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Sophia was 18 when Hydra kidnapped her, gave her abilities, and made her their new secret weapon. Now, flash-forward 9 years later and she’s living with the Avengers, trying to live with everything she did, and trust those she now calls teammates.

Warnings: language, details of torture, blackouts

Word Count: 3,259

Notes: This chapter is kind of slow, but it's needed for further story development! I hope you guys understand! Let me know what you think so far!

Better Now? Masterlist

Bucky sits at the table contently listening to everyone make small talk. Sam was going on and on about the football game that he was going to bet on in a few days. He was so excited about it because his favorite team was going up against Bucky's and he couldn't wait for them to win. Bucky was half listening when Natasha spoke up, changing the subject, “Sophia’s really sweet," she says smiling while getting up from her chair to put her dishes in the sink, “I like her.”

“Wow,” Sam chuckles, “that’s saying something cause you don’t like a lot of people,” she glares at him and he shrugs.

It’s not that Natasha doesn’t like many people, it’s that she doesn’t trust many people. She’s lived her entire life as a spy, having to be careful of who she told what to, and not having many people she can actually call her friends. Being an Avenger hasn't changed much, expect that now she sort of has a family, a slightly dysfunctional one, but it was enough to make her happy. She doesn't really know much about Sophia, but Natasha’s always been a good judge of character, and she could tell that Sophia would eventually thrive here.

“I think she’ll fit in great,” Tony says leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, “once she gets settled in and feels safe,” he nods to Natasha, “I think it’s best if you train her, help her get back into shape once she's ready for that.”

The most important thing to Tony right now is Sophia's safety and happiness. He doesn't know everything that she's been through while she was with Hydra, but he knew enough to know she needed positivity and good people surrounding her. Here, he knew she'd get all of that and more. The reason he trusts Natasha to train Sophia is because she knows what it's like to be used as a weapon, she's been there done that. He knew Natasha would be the best one to help build her confidence back up and convince her that she truly does matter in this world. Plus having a woman train her would just fit her comfort level.

Natasha smiles back at Tony, “Sure thing."

Steve nods in agreement, thinking Natasha would be perfect, "That's still a while off though," he then turns his gaze to Bruce, "Banner, how is she really doing?”

Bruce had told Steve about Sophia's incident the other night and it concerned him, mostly for her safety, but slightly for the rest of the team. Steve isn’t sure how she's coping with her life now or if she even is since she doesn't share anything or talk much in general, but he's not one to push. Steve figured the next best person to ask was Bruce.

Bruce purses his lips and runs a hand through his hair nervously, "She still needs some time. She's not ready for active duty if that's what you're wanting,” he pauses, “she can't control the capacity of her powers yet, due to the environmental changes and the stress she's under." He sighs and stands up from his chair, "That incident a few nights ago has me worried for her safety.”

Bruce has never been the kind of person to be able to sit down and listen to others problems, he doesn’t exactly have the best temperament for that. Yet with Sophia, he didn’t mind if she ranted to him or told him about her past, the fact that she trust him enough made him feel special. He knew things about her that no one else did and he has always respected her wishes to not tell anyone else about the things they discussed. He really wants to help, he wanted to make sure that she thrived here and be able to finally feel like this was her home. Seeing Sophia struggle the past few weeks had truly upset him, so when she asked him for help, he didn’t hesitate to step in.

"Just her safety?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

Tony stands up next to Bruce and narrows his eyes defensively, not liking Steve’s tone, "She's not dangerous, Rogers. I wouldn't have brought her here if I thought she was.”

Steve glances at Tony briefly, "I know, you know I'm concerned for her too, and I'm not saying that she is." He then turns back to Bruce, "I'm just playing devil's advocate for the moment. Is it possible that she could harm anyone? Whether it be accidental or not.”

"No, these incidents seem to occur while she’s sleeping.” Bruce glances at Tony and he nods for him to continue, "She did ask for my help, so we,” gesturing to Tony and himself, "are working on an implant that can help her control her abilities.”

Steve was about to respond when Bucky cuts him off, "How much help does she need?"

The room goes quiet as everyone slowly looks to Bucky, completely shocked at his question. Not only did he surprise the others, but he also surprised himself. He didn’t mean to voice his question out loud, he was really just talking to himself. However, it was too late to take back his words, so he sighs to himself and looks to Tony and Bruce, waiting for an answer.

Tony raises an eyebrow at him, confused by his sudden change in character, “She doesn't trust herself, Barnes," he speaks directly to Bucky, hoping to ease the soldiers mind, "so we're going to help her with that, it's not a permanent thing. Just until she feels confident in her abilities.”

Bucky nods in understanding, knowing what it's like to not have trust in yourself, he was about to comment when he hears a loud thud that interrupts his thoughts. He looks in the direction it came from and realizes that it came from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Since there’s only one of the team missing, it put him on edge, worried that it had something to do with Sophia. Bucky looks to Steve, who's already looking at him, the worry in his face clearly showing that his previous question only came from a good place, “Did you hear that too?”

Steve nods sharply, “I hope it’s not what I think, come on!" He bolts from his chair and Bucky follows, right behind him.

Since Steve and Bucky were the only ones who heard it, everyone else just gave each other confused looks hoping someone had an idea for what just happened.

"What the fuck?" Tony asks, confusion etched on his face.

Soon everyone runs after the two soldiers down the hall and up the stairs, toward the direction of the bedrooms. Both Steve and Bucky aren’t exactly sure what's going on as they run down the hall, but they figure it can't be good. When everyone gets to where the noise came from, they find Sophia, collapsed right in front of her door, laying on her side, pale, and not moving.

"Shit," Bucky says running over and kneeling beside her, “Sophia, are you ok?”

As Bucky looks the woman over, trying to see any signs of what had happened, Steve presses the back of his hand to her forehead, "She's burning up! We need to get her to medical, now," Steve moves to kneel beside her and picks her up, “I got her, let’s move.”

**********

"Other than her high fever and unconsciousness, I can't say what's wrong with her. Her CBC came back normal and all of her scans too.”

Helen was currently briefing the team about Sophia's condition. They've all been in the medical ward for 4 hours, too worried to leave her side, thinking Helen would discover what was wrong, and she'd finally wake up. Unfortunately, Sophia was still unconscious and there wasn't any clues about what had made her collapse. They’d done blood work, EEG, EKG, MRI, x-rays, and anything else Bruce and Tony could think of.

"So what are you saying,” Sam asks, arms crossed and practically scowling at Helen, “that she's just, sleeping?"

"If that's how you want to think of it, yeah," Helen sighs and shakes her head slowly, "I'll keep her on IV fluids, monitor her condition, and notify you guys if anything changes. We just have to wait and see if she wakes up.”

"If," Wanda interrupts, "you mean she could just stay this way?”

"It's hard to tell right now, she's been through so much," Helen answers glancing back at Sophia in the hospital bed, “it’s all up to her now.”

**********

Unbeknownst to everyone, Sophia heard and felt everything. She heard people running down the hallway when she first collapsed, surprised at how quick people had shown up after she hit the ground. She heard voices, but couldn't exactly make out what they were saying, then felt a hand being placed on her forehead, and soon after she felt her body leave the ground. She even knew every test they did, how each one came back normal, but she couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't tell them what was happening, she felt like a prisoner all over again, this time in her own body.

When Sophia was with Hydra, blackouts were common, none of the scientists or doctors there could ever figure out the causes of them, so they just added it to the "side-effect" portion of her powers. After a few years into captivity, she came to the conclusion that while it may be a side effect of her powers, along with the vomiting, tingling hands, occasional bloody noses, and constant migraines, the blackouts were something she could use to her advantage. On one particular occasion, she discovered that if she had too much emotional stress and not much sleep, she could tap in to this "side effect" and get some sort of peace from the torture. True, she could still hear and feel everything, but at least they would leave her be for a few days. These blackouts never lasted more than two days, which was enough time for her body to recover from whatever mission they had just thrown at her or whatever new torture session she had just endured. However, this current blackout was different and Sophia was terrified. It was different because this wasn't something she did herself and she wasn't under any emotional stress or lack of sleep, she didn't want this, she felt like she was losing control of her own body. This random blackout made no sense. All she wanted to do was wake up and go hide away in her room, forever.

**********

FOUR DAYS LATER

Sophia bolts upright out of bed, struggling to breath, her heart racing. One arm goes to her chest and the hand on her other arm grips someone's hand tightly, as if her own life depends on it. She didn't know what caused her to suddenly wake up, but she was grateful for it. Despite feeling slightly dazed and on edge, she realizes she's not alone.

"Woah, woah, calm down. You're okay." She recognizes the voice as Tony’s, then calms down immediately, and also realizes it's his hand she clinging to.

She closes her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, still not letting go of his hand, "How long have I been out?”

A new voice answers her, "Four days." She looks over and sees Clint in the corner of the room, "You gave us all quite a scare, hun.”

Ever since Steve brought Sophia to the medical ward, Clint never left her side; he felt drained since he got back from his mission the day she collapsed, but he felt that she was more important than sleep. He was worried beyond belief and he wanted to be there when she finally woke up. Everyone stopped by to make sure he was doing all right, brought him some food, a couple books, Natasha even tried to coax him out, saying there was nothing he could do, but he was determined to stay put.

Sophia looks away from Clint to the wall behind him, “Four days?” She takes a shaky breath, “I’m sorry, guys, I didn't think this would happen.”

Tony stands up, prying his hand from her grip, and crosses his arms, "You mean this has happened before?”

"Yeah, but I—” she stops and looks between both men shyly, “I, I'm not sure I wanna talk about it.”

Tony sighs and rubs the back of his neck, "Let me go get Banner, maybe he can help. I'll be right back.”

Tony walks out of the room and leaves Sophia with Clint, who moves from the far corner, to the chair Tony had abandoned. Sophia lays back down on the bed and takes a deep breath, this isn’t something she wanted to talk to anyone about. She already told Bruce everything that had happened, except this. She didn't want to talk about it, ever. It’s not something she's proud of, she thought it made her sound weak, even though she knew deep down that wasn't true.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Clint says, interrupting her thoughts, “what’s goin’ on? You’re making me worry.”

Sophia smiles at his words, to which he raises a confused eyebrow, “Sorry, I just,” she scoffs, “I haven’t had anyone actually care about me for some time. It's reassuring I guess.”

He frowns slightly and nods, “Then you’d probably be surprised how many people here are worried about you.”

She smile flatly and shrugs, “You’re probably right.”

Clint sighs and asks again, “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

As she's thinking of something, anything, to tell him, Tony and Bruce walk back into the room, to her relief. Bruce smiles, relieved to see she's awake, finally.

"Sophia, how are you?" Bruce asks walking up to the foot of the bed, "Tony said you needed to talk.”

Sophia glares at Tony who didn't say anything, just looks back at her in a way that sorta reminded her of a concerned father, "I don't need to talk. I'm fine and awake, so all's good. Can I go back to my room now?" She tries to get up, but Clint stops her.

"Not yet, sweetheart,” Clint gently eases her back on to the bed, "we need to figure out what's going on.”

As Clint's talking, Helen walks in, "Sophia, it's good to see you awake!" She smiles and walks over to the many monitors on the left side of the bed, "Everything here is normal, heart rate is a little high, but that's to be expected." She turns back around to face everyone, "I told the team she's awake, they're all anxious to see her.”

Sophia furrow her brows in confusion, "They are?"

Clint shakes his head, "Don't sound so shocked, I just told you that everyone here cares about you."

"They're gonna have to wait a bit." Bruce interrupts and turns his attention back to Sophia, "Has this ever happened to you before?"

She hesitates for a moment, but eventually answers truthfully, “Yes.”

Bruce's eyes widen slightly and he begins his questioning, needing to know everything, "When? How often?"

"Look, it's no big deal. I'm fine now." She fakes a smile, but they all see through it.

Tony shakes his head, "Don't make us do more tests on you, we only want to help.” When she still hesitates he sighs lowly, “You’re with family now, try and trust us, please?”

Sophia groans at his attempt to guilt trip her and she crosses her arms, "Fine. Can I just, don’t take offense,” looking to Tony and then to Clint, “but can I just talk to Bruce, alone?”

Tony, Clint, and Helen all look at each other then to Bruce who just nods, "Yeah, of course. You guys mind stepping outside?”

Tony hesitates, while Clint and Helen make their way toward the door. He knows Sophia is private about her past, he understands why because of the few things he read in your Hydra file. However, he wishes she could trust him like Bruce, after all, he knows all too well what PTSD is like, and he believes he can help her cope. However, wanting to make Sophia happy and knowing she truly doesn't mean to offend him, he sighs, and follows Clint out the door.

Once the door is shut Bruce speaks, "Alright, so what's going on?" He moves to sit down in the chair that Clint left empty.

“I’m starting to feel like you're my personal therapist.” Sophia shakes her head and scoffs a bit to herself, “I’m sorry I share so much with you.”

He shakes his head, “I've told you before, I’m here to help, I truly don’t mind.” He gives a reassuring smile, “Now, tell me everything.”

Sophia takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, "Alright, I haven't told anyone this cause I didn't think it would be a big deal." She shifts on the bed in order to face him better, “A few years after I got my powers, I had a sudden blackout after my first mission. It stressed me out severely because of the things they made me do, all the killing, the lying, it just caused me so much pain." She takes a slow deep breath to steady herself, "Anyway, the blackout laid me up for two days in their hospital. They did a whole bunch of tests and blood work, but never found out what caused it, just wrote it off as a freak accident. When I finally did wake up, I was as good as new, almost better really.” She hesitates slightly and looks down at the floor, “Then it happened again about two weeks later, after a torture session that left me with 4 broken ribs, broken nose, and grade 3 concussion." She slowly takes in another breath to prevent any tears from falling, "After those two incidents I learned that the blackouts were caused by either severe amounts of stress or I could induce them myself. In order to do it myself though, I had to have a clear mind, which was always difficult, but it was possible if I was desperate enough.”

He looks to her through narrowed eyes and leans forward resting his elbows on his knees, "Are you saying that you can induce these blackouts on your own?”

Sophia shrugs, "I was able to for a short period of time and only on four occasions. I never told anyone because it's not something I'm exactly proud of. It makes me sound weak and fragile, which I know that I’m far from." She crosses her arms and scowls at the wall behind Bruce.

"It doesn't make you weak." Sophia looks back to Bruce's sincere face, "You’ve survived insane amounts of torture and experiments. You're the strongest woman I've ever met." He stands up and walks up to her bedside, "It looks like I’ve got some serious work to do on your chip though.”

She tilts her head out of confusion, “What do you mean?”

He shifts his weight to one foot and crosses his arms, “Well, I’m going to have to alter a few things now because of this blackout issue. Then I’ll need FRIDAY to run some more tests on it.” He smiles and pats her hand, “I’m confident that it’ll help you, I just need a few more days, alright?”

Sophia smiles and nods, “Okay, yeah, thank you so much!”

"Of course." He takes his hand back and puts it in his pocket, "Now, get some rest."

[punkscowardschampions]

Tancy pt.3

Nancy: [when we see you heading for this floor]

Nancy: Do it as a scheduled send so it doesn’t line up with the time of this shindig or he’ll know

Teddy: Oh please, I’m hardly a total amateur 

Nancy: Just a reminder, don’t be grouchy

Teddy: I appreciate your concern

Nancy: It’s a good plan, it should work

Teddy: Can you bring something to pour on the keyboard afterward? That I did forget

Nancy: Of course, another vintage

Teddy: [tell her what specific bottle to bring and where to find it under lock and key pressumably, because clearly it means something to his father and you can leave the bottle so he knows, giving the necklace’s backstory in a new way, targeted attacks that you could pretend are random accidents always, we know even if he isn’t telling her all these details]

Nancy: [take however long that’s going to take you to locate this bottle and get to the 2nd floor to find him, stepping over all the carnage and fallen peeps along the way lol, putting your hand out reminiscent of him with the presents before]

Teddy: [by which time you’ve deffo done the deed because it wouldn’t take long so take this bottle from her, open it because it would have been dangerous for her to carry it on route like that given the carnage, take a swig because it’d be really nice clearly if you’re the type of bitch who’s into wine or whatever alcohol this is, then pass it back to her ‘do the honours’ because how sweet that you wanna include her in this moment of trashing your dad’s office, be careful though lads because in no world has he turned this computer off]

Nancy: [take your swig because as my boo said why not, don’t let it go entirely to this purpose when you’d only need so much to complete the job of short circuiting this PC, we will need to unplug the actual unit to turn it upside down to get it all in the hardware of it all so go ahead and do that girl, looking like you’re here to do IT support lmao, leave enough in the bottle to take another swig when you’re done and pass it back to him ‘cheers’]

Teddy: [what a visual given her mob wife aesthetic atm, this boy having the time of his life though, take your final swig and let this bottle roll under the desk as if forgotten about because we’re pretending none of this carnage is our fault and it’s all just a party out of control teehee, idk what else is in this office cos obvs most of it is at work but break some more stuff while you’re here because nobody else is doing the most like y’all]

Nancy: [hence ‘why did he even do this?’ because we know your dad is a always at the office type because doesn’t want to be here so this is truly just a vanity thing like these could’ve been guest rooms hun, realising you’ve answered your own question in your head, breaking something with a shrug like oh yeah, that’s why, sitting on top of his desk and going through whatever paperwork there is, though it proves entirely uninteresting]

Teddy: [taking said paperwork from her hand and literally shredding it because I’m sure he has one as if anything he’s doing is that important, it’s giving it’s a party don’t read, except we all know how personal all this destruction is]

Nancy: [not exactly smiling at him but looking at him like go off, king, affirming without being positive af, if you know what I mean because it is personal and we’re not stupid, so instead finding out and lighting up another cigarette as you’re swinging your legs]

Teddy: [not you stealing her cigarette and lighting this shredded paper on fire, apparently we’re at the don’t give a fuck if the house burns down point of the party because he isn’t putting it out immediately he’s letting it spread a bit and do some damage first]

Nancy: [me like don’t know if you’re actually scared or if you’re using it as an excuse even but jumping back to stand behind him because not gonna let this fire get us thank you]

Teddy: [smile at her regardless because you like it regardless, not you using her big ass fur coat to smother these flames so she’s basically naked at the gig, leading her out and shutting the office door so it doesn’t spread any further in case you didn’t do a good enough job because lbr you’re chaotic always but we’re not trying to kill all these comatose peeps everywhere]

Nancy: [having to stay planted firmly behind him, holding onto his arm so he can’t just run off and leave you because truly, you’ve only got your bra on at this point]

Teddy: [imagine if he was like okay bye, even if plenty of peeps at this party are too out of it there’s still no styling that out lol but at least you’ll have the joy of dressing her in something else, cue another montage honestly]

Nancy: [not saying you’ve never ended up in a compromising position, you’re famously a mess but you are too sober to want to be fully naked in front of all these people thank you, lbr you love him dressing with you, no teasing Barbie comments are changing that]

Teddy: [y’all will have fun even if some hilariously wild try ons will no doubt happen because at least some of his mum’s wardrobe will have been ransacked by the magpies and some choices ™ will therefore be left lol, he’ll make her look nice in the end, likewise he will not be able to resist dressing her up in one of his dad’s suits like that power lesbian he jokingly wanted to set her up with]

Nancy: [‘let me try on your clothes’ because an excuse to be in your room(s) where we’ve spent the least time and we want to but we also just want to]

Teddy: [handhold her to your gorgeous blue and gold dressing room with no hesitation whatsoever because ofc you also want to]

Nancy: [just here going through ALL his things shamelessly, we know you’re looking to see if the outfit you got him is still here or not, even though his room(s) aren’t going to be exempt from the ransack of everyone else]

Teddy: [it deffo was though because he’s a sentimental bitch and also he genuinely liked it, so unless it has been stolen, which you’d both be gutted about so we should probably be kind (shady if it means you have no taste lol) and say it’s still there]

Nancy: [just buzzing about it and not caring if he sees you smiling, telling him about the sort of dressing room you intend to have at your place when you settle down as if you’re paying for your lifestyle now and will be paying for that]

Teddy: [they’re having a lovely time because he’ll just be dressing her up in different bits and pieces randomly, not even trying to make a cohesive outfit just putting her in his different fave things that remain amongst the carnage and theft] 

Nancy: [‘I like the way you dress’ when you mean it as a sincere compliment and that’s evident in your tone but you are implying that there are people that don’t just by saying it lol, twisting to try a different pose and see whatever this garment is in a different light in the mirror]

Teddy: [repeating his earlier ‘it suits you better’ which he also said about the necklace, meaning all of it not just whatever she happens to have on as he says it, even though he was loling but a moment before at her shade]

Nancy: [turning to look at him because that’s lowkey such a huge thing for him to say, walking over and fixing his collar/just playing with this fabric between our fingers ‘I don’t know, it suits you pretty damn well’]

Teddy: [mhmm, just because you say it in a casual tone doesn’t mean that it isn’t major hun, god bless, smiling bigger than the smile you gave her during the fire moment, not quite a grin but genuinely thrilled, running a hand through his hair because I’m sure it’s once again cray and in this moment he wants to look as good as she’s saying he does]

Nancy: [when you’re giving him heart eyes, there’s no other word for the way you’re looking at him right now, hence you have to kiss him before he can say anything/you feel compelled to beyond ‘you’re so handsome’ between kisses]

Teddy: [put her hand on your chest so she can feel that your heart is like !! because feels are getting high and sincere and that’s always more extra than y’all being your most feral]

Nancy: [putting your lips against his pulse in his neck so you can lowkey mouth his heartbeat right now because that’s how you feel about that ‘it was just the drugs’ like you know I don’t think any of that, right, LOOKING up at him]

Teddy: [GASPING about it like he’s wearing a corset with the level of drama of it, cos he can’t help it even though at least part of you been knew that she’d do something like that because y’all are getting used to each other’s vibes and how you always match each other’s freak, PULLING her face back to his and crashing their mouths back together so hard that their teeth deffo knock together in such a similar way to her head hitting the wall ‘no it wasn’t’ exactly like he always says no you don’t when she says I hate you]

Nancy: [my boo says a chip mayhaps, hehe and what could be more appropriate for either one of you to discover later when you’re sober and the carnage of this party is being dealt with, biting his lip and pulling it further into your mouth like shh you ‘some of it’ like let me have it lol]

Teddy: [mhmm, what if, sadly whichever one of you it is will immediately go to the dentist and get it fixed unlike in PDA because however sentimental y’all are you’re more vain haha, not letting her live ever ‘ALL of it’ as he’s running his hands over her body and pulling it into his more when he gets to her waist]

Nancy: [it’s true but still, a feral vibe nonetheless, just like now as we’re really pulling out all the makeout stops to try and stop you replying like sucking your tongue into our mouth and drooling directly onto your tongue etc etc, grinning the entire time ‘did you like it?’ shifting your body against him again, trying to be closer]

Teddy: [it’s so them, so Julia, picking her up again and hooking her legs around him to be closer still ‘did I like what?’ because trying to make her say it purely because of how much she doesn’t wanna acknowledge any of it lol]

Nancy: [‘how can I answer for you?’ like I don’t know what you did or didn’t like lol, kissing up from his neck to the cheek that you slapped and kissing it very gently and soft]

Teddy: [‘because you know what I like’ cos where’s the lie, like I said, they match each other’s freak always] 

Nancy: [smiling because you can’t help it, circling your hips against him and saying ‘me’]

Teddy: [do the exact same kissing up her neck to her slapped cheek move, you gotta because you like her so much that I don’t trust you to verbalise sir]

Nancy: [grasping onto his collar, pointing your finger to his chest before laying your palm there again like you, I like you, humping against him more needily]

Teddy: [saying her name with all the !! I wouldn’t let him express when there was a question of either L word, putting her down but only so he can push her into these rails until they find another wall]

Nancy: [clutching again and pulling down clothes all around y’all as you initiate an insane makeout to deal with how he just said your name]

Teddy: [I love the carnage of all these clothes and accessories hitting the deck because there’s no way more things don’t fall off the shelves (where they’re already haphazardly hanging on with all the rummaging of tancy and other peeps) with how hard they’re crashing into the wall yet again, making out like y’all’s lives depend on it] 

Nancy: [this room is not surviving, RIP to this wardrobe moment, never more happy than when we are causing absolute scenes, again, thank god this is still a party however comatose a lot of the guests are, so no one is immediately running to how loud this is]

Teddy: [my boo says y’all timed this well and she is so correct, I love btw that y’all are so rich because that means I can say the music is playing in every room of this house, as it should be, and you can have the dirty dance you were robbed of earlier right here and now as this makeout continues]

Nancy: [so true bestie, gotta have your moment and recreate what you remember of the first time and do the things you couldn’t back then because he got smacked by our boyfriend lol, the dancing could not be dirtier, even when that means we have to stop making out with you to do the most, we must]

Teddy: [me and Winola gay were both just like THEY NEED THIS so sincerely and seriously haha when they absolutely do not, but they are absolutely living and I can’t be mad about it, we all know they’re basically fucking to music, as they should]

Nancy: [us like they’ve done anything to deserve this, no but they can so they should and they will, god bless, ending up in a pile of clothes once more]

Teddy: [it’s giving their other feral antics with the prolonged dryhump of it all because he 1000% wants her to keep her clothes on rn because they’re his clothes and we love the biggest throwback to then that there has so far been]

Nancy: [you can withstand a little torture, so far your hookups have been more quick and frenzied so take your time killing each other, why not]

Teddy: [exactly, we gotta do it to them I fear]

Nancy: [lying here in the aftermath like oh shit, fiddling with some detail of the nearest piece of clothing because you were not meant to like him this much and you don’t know what to do with that information]

Teddy: [not helping the situation is the fact that he’s literally lying on her still and will not roll away like a boy who is uninterested/got what he wanted would do, just staying there instead like the cat he is, giving Crim because he isn’t curled up like a Clove he’s taking up so much space and covering so much of her body]

Nancy: [you should push him off you but he amuses you too much for you to interrupt him, you are so used to the latter being the vibe that him not doing that is like oh you funny boy ‘are you sleepy?’]

Teddy: [not beating the allegations with his sleepy kinda noise in response like hm? Because he was far away thinking clearly, feeling high af again because of y’all’s antics which you haven’t yet recovered from ‘would you like to get in my bed?’]

Nancy: [‘[saying a random couple who are super lovey-dovey] are in there’ you don’t know this at all but it’s a reason not to move, brushing his hair back into place ‘I like it here’ sounds like you mean just here on the floor of this dressing room but you mean so much more than that]

Teddy: [it’s him making such an OTT EW face at this couple for me as if y’all aren’t here behaving as loved up on the floor of his walk in wardrobe, adjusting her necklace for her whether or not it’s actually on the wonk from their antics or he just wants to touch it ‘I like you here too’ giving when he said ILY too so hard] 

Nancy: [looking at the necklace yourself in that slightly mesmerised way before looking up and at him like omg, have just realised something ‘I’m probably the only person not in your family to ever get railed in this’ before narrowing your eyes suspiciously at him with a smirk like unless… because this could be a thing he does ALL the time though you don’t think it is]

Teddy: [‘if there weren’t 3 of us, I’d presume the only time my father fucked my mother was wearing this’ because literal wedding night which she didn’t know but now she’ll be able to assume, even though you’re only saying it because of how much you need your parents to hate each other]

Nancy: [clicking your teeth like whoa at that realisation, SQUEEZING his shoulder briefly without making too much of a thing of it ‘I get it now though’ nodding]

Teddy: [his own nod ‘it’s yours now’ as if that’s what she meant when she said I get it and you didn’t just wanna say that] 

Nancy: [shaking your head like no silly billy ‘your sister is going to want it for her wedding, that’s the scheme’]

Teddy: [‘she’ll be happier wearing [a brand we’re absolutely dragging to filth as something only poor people wear because we love to say she wishes she was poor haha]’ because she genuinely does hate your mother so we can’t imagine her wanting anything of hers even if she is in incesty love with their father]

Nancy: [doing an evil little laugh like ew flop ‘what side does James take?’ because so far it’s even and we want to know who the villain might actually be, even though, dear reader, it is both]

Teddy: [‘he’s disgustingly swiss’ said like he is disgusted like ew you spineless flop which is harsh but also true ngl cos we all know that poor James hates conflict and even more so now that he’s with Chlo he literally isn’t allowed opinions about anything ever]

Nancy: [‘what a middle child’ as if James is the way he is purely for the birth order, not true but he is fitting the stereotype well in that regard]

Teddy: [a noise like mhmm like James is such an embarrassing cliche flop ‘which are you?’ because asking who’s the older twin as he has no reason to know]

Nancy: [‘guess’ because you simply must make him, sitting up like ta-da as if he needs to look at you to make his decision]

Teddy: [a genuine beat as he ponders ‘he’s desperate to be the oldest, but you are’ dragging Buster to filth for being an alpha male and saying it like Nancy would literally crawl her way out first and fight him out of the way to win and piss him off]

Nancy: [doing a little intake of breath that you have to cover by putting your hand to your chest like omg, you know me SO well, hamming up what was your genuine reaction to him getting it right ‘everyone guesses him’ leaning down to kiss his forehead like but you are correct]

Teddy: [an unimpressed noise like of course they do, ugh so predictable, shading everyone ever lol ‘how long were you allowed to be an only child?’ saying only child like it’s the best thing in the world because they both wish they were, what an iconic way to ask the gap]

Nancy: [‘[however long we’re making your poor mother suffer, which is probably too long because she has terrible births every time lmao]’ doing a shudder but smiling at it being a longer time than just a minute or something ‘and we were such ugly babies’ shaking your head like all that for what lmao because you would’ve been a degree of prem because twins and just your mother’s luck]

Teddy: [poor Bea didn’t suffer for you to act this way missy but this boy is happy for her so he’s smiling back but raising his eyebrows when she calls herself an ugly baby like I doubt that because he thinks she’s stunning and he always says so]

Nancy: [raising your eyebrows back amused like you doubt me sir ‘you’ll never see’ thank god your parents aren’t those parents and you wouldn’t have been plastered for the world to see, laying back down and cuddling into him ‘I’m sure you were disgustingly cute’ like how dare you always be this way, squishing his face]

Teddy: [‘I’LL show YOU’ with that emphasis like how dare you deny me but I won’t you, even though it’ll mean he has to move because his parents likewise haven’t covered the walls with anything but ugly art because no taste, making no moves to go anywhere yet though, giving her his full 🥺 as she squishes his face like yes aren’t I SO cute]

Nancy: [making an angry little noise not unlike a Clove because can’t stand how cute you are actually, pushing his face away with enough force that it’ll rebound so he’s still facing us]

Teddy: [pushing his face into her neck and hiding it there as he says ‘don’t you want to see me?’ deliberately muffling the words with how OTT he’s burying his face there like okay you won’t either as a bub or rn]

Nancy: [reaching to tickle him under his chin to make him get out and reveal himself whilst you’re saying ‘I really want to see you, please’ and laughing happily]

Teddy: [having a playfight as he pulls her hands away but in an actually playful and soft manner, also loling because he may or may not be ticklish and he’s just happy but it takes a turn when he says ‘if you say please again’ LOOKING at her]

Nancy: [LOOKING back at him ‘is that all it’ll take to see you again?’ quieter, more serious by default because you were laughing and being so silly and now you’re a little !! about being vaguely vulnerable on main]

Teddy: [maintaining this EYE CONTACT ‘yes’ because you don’t even care about making this harder for her or making a game of it which is UNHEARD of for you sir, we love to see it]

Nancy: [just here slowly but determinedly kissing down his body whilst maintaining this EYE CONTACT like okay but I’m prepared to do a lot more to make sure it happens and proceeding to show him exactly how much]

Teddy: [thank god that this party is still going because DYING about this in such a ridiculously loud manner, I hope that loved up couple aren’t in his bed because they don’t need to hear all that]

Nancy: [anyone in his room I hope you are literally passed out lmao, if you get caught at this point you’re just going to have to deal with the consequences ma’am and style it out]

Teddy: [jemily aren’t getting you caught tonight lads and you’re so welcome for that]

Nancy: [if we weren’t in charge you would be so screwed because out here trying to kill this boy]

Teddy: [and very much succeeding hence when he has DIED and that’s all over saying ‘fuck, I need another name for you’ because he wanted to SCREAM hers sis but he obviously can’t, they have to be slightly more incognito than that, and yes, I’m bringing Alice back, nobody can stop me, even if he hasn’t thought of it yet]

Nancy: [‘as long as it’s no one else’s’ like bitch I would know and we’re not interested in being a stand in unlike his gf lmao, tilting our head like we’re thinking but we’re actually just staring at him appreciatively once again ‘sorry mine’s not common like yours’ lmao the drag but sorry Teddy really had a moment so he’s not gonna be the only one you or anyone else knows]

Teddy: [we can all see the cogs in his lil head turning as he’s trying to think of names until she drags his and then he’s doing an APPALLED af face like how dare you lol lol even though she’s so right for what she said ‘common’ staying it like the BIGGEST slur because she’s basically calling him poor, pushing her away from him literally cos couldn’t be more offended]

Nancy: [‘come on, you LOVED that you and my last boyfriend had the same name’ because we all remember when she accidentally text him instead lol lol, resting her chin on his shoulder like pay attention to me]

Teddy: [‘you and Theo loved it’ fully like you’re welcome you could say my name and think of me when you fucked him so that it was better for you both, scowling at the mem of the text because he had to do a diva storm out]

Nancy: [nuzzling him when he scowls like no please don’t be upset about it, in his ear, just above a whisper but definitive in tone ‘I needed you so badly I had to get my boyfriend to come try to fuck it out of me immediately’ like it’s a compliment and you know it]

Teddy: [when that is a compliment as far as he’s concerned but he’s gotta move her head via a hair pull from his ear so he can LOOK in her eyes and check she isn’t lying by just telling him something he wants to hear but she doesn’t mean]

Nancy: [making a little sound at the hair pull that leaves your mouth slightly open but instead of saying anything you just nod because it is the truth ‘and [that random’s bf she hooked up with too]’]

Teddy: [wiping his thumb not only across her bottom lip but around the inside of it too thanks to her slightly open mouth, as if he’s just cleaning it for her and it isn’t a hot move especially because I’m gonna be a heathen and say this thumb he’s being doing all his antics with all day is the finger that he has his new bday present ring on, just because I can lol lol]

Nancy: [me also being a heathen and pointing out she’s just blown him so there’s probably reminders of that on and around her lips so he very much could be cleaning up for her and she’s so into it ‘they go well together’ as a thing you manage to say because they can and you’re so pleased ‘great minds’]

Teddy: [exactly dr phil, it’s so also why he did it, no regrets ‘don’t get me started on your mind again’ because he literally said earlier he’s in awe of her and he is, doing a fake yawn as if he’s SO tedious now because all he can talk about is her but where’s the lie]

Nancy: [‘I want you obsessed’ because not going to hear us complaining, shutting his eyes for him though like poor sleepy baby ‘you should kick whoever’s in there out of your bed’]

Teddy: [‘you aren’t, why should I?’ as if he’s just being an OTT sulky sleepy baby and it isn’t a serious ref to earlier when she wouldn’t say she was obsessed with him, sticking his own bottom lip right out like a baby Junie]

Nancy: [just LOOKING at him as we breathe out almost exasperated because hello, am so obviously obsessed with you, rolling our eyes though and rolling with it, pinching his bottom lip and getting up as if you’re going to drag him off the floor with it]

Teddy: [LOOKING back at her daring her to actually verbalise what we all already know is the truth, breathing in as she breathes out like he’s taking her sigh into him to get rid of it hanging between them, not you pinching her arse as she gets up, haha]

Nancy: [raising a brow but you can’t even play offended so you end up grinning and having to turn away to stop him seeing just how big your grin gets, doing a happier sigh ‘I already told you I am’]

Teddy: [turning her face back to his almost immediately to give no LOOK at me ‘repeat yourself’ because tell me again rn, the most daddy voice possible]

Nancy: [hugging your arms around yourself and looking up entirely 🥺 ‘I am’ mumbled under your breath like he isn’t giving you his full attention]

Teddy: [LEANING so his ear is against her lips like if you’re not going to speak up I’ll have to do this so I can hear you ‘excuse me?’] 

Nancy: [sticking your tongue fully in his ear like he did to you, teasing him like you aren’t going to say ‘I am entirely fucking obsessed with you, Teddy’ right against his ear like this]

Teddy: [his body arching towards her so dramatically when her tongue goes in, totally involuntarily, but deliberately grabbing her whole booty to pull her even closer to him after even before she’s said any of that, once she has, nuzzling her like a cat how they do ‘you’re going to love me’ because clearly NEEDS to repeat himself too and he said that earlier] 

Nancy: [‘feel how wet you’re making me, how ready I am for it’ removing the clothes you need to and tongue fucking his ear again so he arches back into you ‘my needy boy’ licking his face insanely]

Teddy: [obviously arching into her even more dramatically, simply must, also touching her because not far for his hand to move when they were already cupping her arse before, then stroking her face with his gross wet hand as insanely]

Nancy: [is SO insanely turned on by this, almost dropping to the floor again on your trembling legs but he’s keeping you upright with his body, shakily tasting yourself and making him taste you too on your fingers whilst you continue to be all up in his ear whilst making the most unhinged sounds and calling him daddy and baby on a loop]

Teddy: [he likewise couldn’t be more about it, hence tasting her on both her fingers and face so unnecessarily indecently and thoroughly so she’s as covered in spit ‘I’m everything to you’ cos being called both these things] 

Nancy: [the mess being made cannot be overstated, still nodding feverishly as a way to stick more of your tongue inside him, reaching to touch him too while he touches you and looking to find the mirror to watch this as you say ‘you’re everything’]

Teddy: [typical them, they love spit, making SUCH an unhinged yet quiet noise about her tongue going deeper because of course, following her gaze to the mirror so you can WATCH too ‘I want you to give me everything, birthday or not’]  

Nancy: [pushing y’all forwards, however clumsily, to this mirror, so you can touch it, PRESSING his dick against the glass and moving him in such a way that he’s rubbing against it, drooling so it’s nice and slippery and cold ‘like this?’ as if he could have meant something so specific]

Teddy: [doing the hottest lol because obvs he didn’t know he wanted this but yes exactly when it’s happening, nodding in such a way that he’s once again nuzzling her so hard that y’all are about to do yourself another injury when you’ve already got fucked up cheeks and one of you has a chipped tooth lol, follow her lead and PRESS her entire body against the glass like she’s a bug that’s been squashed there, HOLDING the back of her neck so she can’t move]

Nancy: [moaning so indecently and sliding your body against this glass, gritting your teeth about the pressure on the back of your neck ‘it can be your birthday everyday’ like if we get to do this and also reminiscent of things he has said before, putting a cheek to the mirror so your face is sideways and pushing his face into the glass too so you can face each other, smiling at him in an equally hot and unhinged way]

Teddy: [have a makeout sesh against this mirror, you simply must because if not you’ll say something too extra and we cannot, I refuse to let you sir]

Nancy: [you can both focus on making the biggest mess possible and shh]

Teddy: [mhmm, and what a mess because he will be using that hand he’s touching her with to EXPOSE her ENTIRELY to this mirror, out here spreading this gal against it lol so shut your damn mouths for a sec and focus on killing each other again because god knows how long is left until this party is over]

Nancy: [the AM has to come eventually and your father will presumably arrive home to get ready for work, clearly out hoeing whilst his wife is away, we see]

Teddy: [I’m so second hand embarrassed for the other James because that is TOO true and such a cringe cliche hun]

Nancy: [and now look at your house, sir, ruined]

Teddy: [literally, he’ll be wanting to send Teddy away to some wilderness camp like Paris Hilton]

Nancy: [omg imagine, iconic but this boy would die lol, but that may be a good place to go next because as is protocol when an adult does arrive all of y’all that haven’t yet will need to run and that will include Nancy, as much as she’d LOVE to watch the fallout, don’t need to catch the strays hun]

Teddy: [agreed because on the one hand he’d love her to stay because loves her but on the other you’ve already given her the ick once sir with that sis convo so probably don’t haha cos you don’t know how this is gonna go, instead be saying your goodbyes to everyone who’s in a fit state to leave of their own accord, giving the call me and the same kind of wave she did and blown kisses etc etc because he’s a little ham, giving full little prince vibes, soz not soz most of it is really directed at Nancy more than it ever is the rest of y’all but still, speaking of btw, catch him literally spamming her with his baby pics that he said he’d show her cos what better time to be on your phone than when your dad has never been angrier and is SHOUTING at you, will never give this man his full attention or give a shit, can’t relate hun cos I’d be sobbing, it will stop abruptly however because this man is MAD and he will demand that Tedward at least looks at him and they have this confrontation]

Nancy: Just as I suspected 👼🤴

Nancy: has your dad murdered you?

Nancy: RIP 💔

Teddy: [such a big pause because his dad has gotta yell at him and then get his mum back to try and sort this house out because god forbid he does it and misses a day of work or the chance to drag Teddy in as planned even though he’s in no fit state and you aren’t gonna remotely keep on an eye on him sir, talking about how funeral ready she’ll be though when he finally can reply because if we recall on the gf soft launch post that was the outfit Nancy chose for him that he’s wearing and it’s ALL black, so shamelessly telling her to wear it, tell me why I wanna say he doesn’t have his mobile back and he’s literally called her on an office phone to reply lol]

Nancy: [so gagged and gooped by your situation and all the drama you can cause therein tbh, where would you like to go next]

Teddy: [that’s a good question, do we wanna carry on with them or do something different?]

Nancy: [are you having any particular thoughts and feelings?]

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 35 preview!! (this one might be longer?)

“He promised to not let those two know tho, but that’s not important! He said the person pretending to be the Kaiser is someone who doesn’t exist anymore!” “What?!” the group gasped, not being sure if they misunderstood Daisuke or not. “What do you mean??” Takeru decided the best for everyone was just ask Daisuke to explain that information, “You mean like a ghost… A spirit?” “No, he said… Someone who got his entire existence removed from this world,” at this point not even Daisuke himself was sure what that meant, but he tried his best to explain, “Like, Noel said this person… Was completely erased, so he does not exist at all.” “Someone who faked their own death perhaps?” Iori mused. “Beats me,” Daisuke shrugged, “But he said this person knows Ken well enough because…” “Because…?” Daisuke took a deep breath before continuing. “What is it, Daisuke?” Ken asked. “You’re going to freak out if I say so…” “Spill it, Daisuke!” Miyako stared at him, threatening the google boy with a french fry. Takeru placed a hand on Daisuke’s shoulder, since he was sitting next to him, “If this could lead us to catch that guy before someone gets severely hurt, you should not hesitate to tell us.” “Exactly,” Hawkmon agreed in a nod. “Ok, so… Uh… How can I say this without sounding weird--” “Say it already!” they all said, impatiently now. “This person was Ken’s friend before they got canned!” he blurted it pretty quick, but still understandable. “A… A friend?!” the kids and their partners exclaimed. “I… I had a friend before?” Ken was perplexed, “But the only friend I had before you five was…” He hesitated to say that name, he didn’t even want to believe this could’ve been a possibility. “... Ryo-san, right?” Wormmon said for him, though. “Who?” Patamon asked. “Akiyama Ryo,” Ken finally answered, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you think it’s this person, Ichijouji-kun?” Hikari made the next question this time. “I… I don’t know,” Ken frowned, “This is the only person I met before, he was Osamu’s classmate. But we only got closer when I met him in the Digital World… He also helped me a bit when Osamu passed away, as if he were a brother figure to me.” “Hmm…” they all were musing. “I don’t want it to be true” Ken opened his eyes and glanced at Wormmon, frowning. “Hey, maybe there’s a reason for that!” Daisuke said in an attempt to comfort Ken, “Like, maybe he’s brainwashed or somethin’?? Evil clone? Maybe he’s not gone mad!” “Daisuke is right,” Miyako nodded, “I don’t think this would be purely intentional. Sounds more likely to be someone under an evil digimon’s control.” “Thanks…” Ken smiled, timidly. But deep down he doubted it. He never had talked with Ryo since he became the Kaiser. I don’t even remember when was the last time I saw Ryo-san…

Akiyama Ryo mention? 🤔

the plot thickens!?

[windudemon]

some EXAMPLES of gulenko's cognitive styles

ENFJ

“… my thinking style mostly consists of balancing opposites, finding middle grounds and relative truths based on the relative strength of opposing internal dispositions; when I’m under stress it kind of feels like I’m walking a tight rope, trying to balance what’s going on in my head. To me it feels like a constant balancing act of my own internal tendencies for the things that I consider good and evil, the things I consciously do to improve myself and the world and my ability to promote my own vision of how I think things should be vs. the evils I am compelled to do either by my own impulses that I struggle to control or by circumstance. Everything I do is weighed on these scales, every word that comes out of my mouth, every emotional signal I send, every action I take, and the final outcome, what comes out of me and goes into the world, is dependent on how the scales are balancing inside me.”

...

“The best I can represent it as would be something like a scale that has weight being constantly poured onto it, and the ENFJ’s role is to dictate where the weight falls in order to maintain proper balance. I think it makes a lot of sense for Aristocratic EJs: rational aristocracy is all about maintaining a social structure, so its fitting that the Ejs have a style of thinking that supports their role, one focused on “keeping things together.” The mental assumption of Ej temperament is that everything is in motion, and that it should be organized, and that energy needs to be exerted in order to maintain organization; the Democrat Ejs (ENTjs) being the transition point to aristocratic quadras, take a more generative role with Vortex thinking, finding the right opportunity to promote cathectic action; once the shift is made into an extant collective, the Aristocratic Ejs (ENFjs) take on the role of holding everything together once the opportunity to organize has been capitalized upon.”

ISTJ

“There is like a flowchart in my mind. Every single possible if-then statement is recorded and stored in my brain and I have an amazing memory for it. My plans for the future can be written in C++ format if I wanted. (If I get this job, I will stay for 6 months. Else I will find a new job & work on my real estate liscence simultaneously). When I was younger, interacting with people was a huge flowchart for me, because I had no emotional intelligence (and it is debatable if I still do). I would make a complete flowchart in my mind so I could control the interaction and know exactly how a person was going to react so I wouldn’t get my feelings hurt. For example, I would plan an entire interaction in my mind, “I’m going to say “hi, how are you?” her possible responses will be: nothing, something non-commital, and something engaging. If the person says nothing, I will try again and stop conversation if they don’t respond. If the person says something non-committal, I’ll leave. If the person says something engaging, I will start such-and-such topics of conversation with him or her: X, Y, Z.”

ISTP

“But the best way to do it is - to make discoveries - is to make short imperfect experiments. Don’t worry about taking notes, in most cases, but just try things out. Shove nature around a little bit. Disturb it. Disturb an organism, disturb a small system and find out - to see if anything happens. And if it does, you might be on the edge of an important breakthrough, and then you sit down and devise experiments and take notes.”

...

“We are drowning in information, while starving for wisdom. The world henceforth will be run by synthesizers - people able to put together the right information at the right time, think critically about it, and make important choices wisely.”

ENTJ

You imply that nature intends something. That’s just you projecting your own human notions unto something that’s utterly inhuman in every way. There is no natural equilibrium, no balanced system that we’re parts of. There is no thought behind it. Nature is purposeless, mindless, violent, self consuming chaos, only it’s so slow we barely notice it. It does not “hint” and it does not “intend” us to reproduce. We’re completely meaningless results of a 4 billion long, automatic and completely mindless process of small random changes and sifting by natural selection. Whatever purpose you see here is made up by you.”

INFJ

“I believe the system is not perfectly counter balanced, and the connections of all the data imply the value of an unknown variable (all the information points toward its value). The value of the variable is what brings the system back into balance. My thinking is searching for something.” (bigger, more meaningful, profitable)

ESTP

“Art is the elimination of the unnecessary”

ISFP

“When shit hits the fan, I stop all thinking and just do a bunch of stuff, and then everything turns out awesome. Seems I’m most comfortable when all hell is breaking loose.”

...

“I never over analyze the things that people say or do - I feel like people’s intentions are always very clear to me.”

...

if I do meet someone that looks like they’re acting against who they are, it feels obvious to me. That sort of impression tends to last too, and I’ll wonder if they’ll ever start showing who [I think] they are. And even though I’m not going to really judge them for it, I still can’t get over the sense of internal friction they give off, and I feel like I can’t get close to people like that.

ENFP

“Why the hell would I need to think about reasons? If I got them, I do stuff; if I don’t, I might do stuff just the same. Oftentimes the conclusion would be the same either way, but I get there faster if I just chop out a large bulk, if not all, of the deliberation.”

source

i don't agree with all of the above but i chose the interesting ones. for example enfp sounds much more like esfp to me but whatever.