#literally talk to me about him any time i am ALWAYS trying to psychoanalyze his little anxious shelter dog ass

[mandyzoe]

PETEY LORE!!!!!!!!! according to some of gary’s cut dialogue, pete was born out of wedlock and implied to have separated parents. they could also still be together and just umarried, or have since gotten married after he was born, but gary implies he’s sensitive about it so it’s more likely that they are not together and possibly not on good terms.

assuming this lore hasn’t been completely nullified since its removal and could still reasonably be considered canon, it adds a little more context to his chronic loneliness issues and validation seeking, especially when considering he’s also an only child. if he only ever lived with one parent at a time, didn’t have any other siblings or friends, and was thrown into boarding school as soon as possible, it’s reasonable to assume he didn’t get a lot of attention in early childhood which now manifests as insecurity, clinginess, and fear of rejection/loneliness. peter kowalski i know what you are (mentally ill)

(source)

[pedgito]

okay but reader edging eddie until he’s basically in tears begging?? i know you’ll do it perfectly i’m on my knees asking for it

author’s note: EDGING!!! it’s literally my biggest weakness and i know eddie loves that shit, you can’t change my mind. i hope this isn’t too terrible lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), orgasm denial/delay (edging), oral (f receiving), handjobs, desperate and begging eddie, dry humping (sort of), eddie kink shaming himself out of embarrassment (reader is super reassuring), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.2k

“Have you really never—“ Eddie stares at you with a skeptical look, “Shit, am I actually that weird?”

The absurdity of the question makes you laugh, wondering why Eddie felt the need to psychoanalyze his own kinks and preferences all the sudden, both of you bare naked and pressed against one another. If there was any other time to talk about, now was definitely not it. But, Eddie was stuck on it and it wasn’t going to end until he reached his conclusion.

“I haven’t, not to myself,” You explain carefully, finger pointing at your chest, “—I mean, I haven’t to anyone else either, to be clear. But, I know what it is. It’s not weird.”

“You think so?” Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he squeezed at your waist.

“It’s just delaying orgasm.” You laugh softly, the idea creeping up on you suddenly, “Do you—do you want me to try it with you?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing over his shoulders, “I guess it’s not different than when we watch each other anyways—“

“Oh, no,” You interrupt, hoping to clarify, “I meant me edging you.”

“Huh,” Eddie huffs, eyes widening slightly, piercing into you deeply—Eddie was always so remarkably expressive, both in his face and his actions, “uh, yeah—yeah we can do that.”

Eddie’s adamant about taking care of you first, insisting he would take his time and he meant it. He’s soft, but sure in his touches, gentle traces of fingertips along the inside of thighs, over the soft pudge of your belly, using his grip to spread your thighs wide and breath in the smell of your arousal, mouthing at your cunt teasingly, featherlight licks through your folds until it’s nearly unbearable—it’s torture, but you wouldn’t expect anything else, not with the way Eddie cherished you so deeply. He was always afraid he was going to lose you—not that you could ever leave him, but he’s never managed to have any stability in his life outside of his uncle and had to deal with everyone always wanting to run in the opposite direction of wherever he was. He was a disease to the town of Hawkins, a constant stain on their otherwise perfect image, and you couldn’t believe it. Eddie was nothing that everyone said he was—vile, disgusting, rooted in evil.

The only thing Eddie had to offer was love—deep love, for everyone he cared about in his life, and it showed.

When he brings you to a slow orgasm, fingers drifting in his hair to pull at the strands in earnest, you cry out a broken moan as he overstimulates your already sensitive clit, before leaning away to press a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh, smiling against the skin.

Eddie moves slowly after that, crawling his way up toward his pillow until he can plop himself down on the mattress. You’re in the middle of pulling your underwear back up when he shifts, trying desperately to get comfortable. You smile to yourself, hurrying to finish pulling the garment back on before curling up against his side, his shoulder pressed into your chest and his head leaning heavily against the wall as he propped himself up slightly.

“You seem nervous.” You note, teasing him slightly.

“I just—I usually get kind of,” Eddie tries to find the right words to not sound so embarrassed, but he has to be truthful, “loud, I guess.”

“Eddie, baby,” You laugh softly, “that’s not a secret.”

Still, you can see his worry and try to soothe it.

“Don’t hold back, seriously.” You assure him, “I want this to be good for you—and I’ll stop if it gets too intense or you’re not into it anymore.”

Eddie nods slowly—he knew the playing field was level, there was never any type of power dynamic that needed to be fought between you two, it was equal give and take. A mutual assurance that both of you felt good and enjoyed yourselves as much as possible. Eddie was a better lover than he cared to admit.

“Do you still have that small bottle of lube?” You ask, breaking his stupor as he stared over at you. His face tenses for a moment in thought before he suddenly remembers, swinging his body over yours briefly to rummage in his bedside table until he finds the tiny bottle and tosses it into your hand wordlessly. “It’s just—the friction and all.”

“No, I get it.” Eddie laughs knowingly, having been on the wrong side of too many dry handies from himself in desperation, before he figured out what felt good, rather than just crudely trying to deal with the problem.

You do him the favor of warming it up in your hand briefly, his eyes watching intently as you move, rubbing it briefly with careful fingers before taking his already half-hard cock in your hands. It’s a simple touch, nothing to drive him crazy, but the wetness is slightly jarring and makes him wonder just how long he can hold off.

You’ve learned Eddie inside and out, all the small touches that drive him crazy, the little nuisances in the faces and noises he makes when he feels that pit in his stomach growing, pleasure settling deep in his groin and his balls tightening up as it nears, his face scrunching up in concentration. You save him the torture of being too agonizingly slow, squeezing him with a solid enough pressure that has him groaning out into the silence of the trailer, his upright positing faltering slightly as his head hits the pillow.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie sighs and if that’s any indication, you’re not sure how much longer he has left, “maybe—maybe a little less.”

You loosen your grip slightly, still keeping at the same steady pace as before and Eddie’s face relaxing, a subtle nod of appreciation as he shifts back up slightly, glancing up at you briefly before staring down at his cock, delicate fingers wrapped around the length of him. He should feel slightly offended that you’re so good at this, better than him even, but he can’t focus on any of that right now, your hand speeding up gradually as his hands grip for the sheets, his toned thighs tensing and struggling to keep still as his hips bucked into your hand out of pure instinct, not realizing he was even doing it until he feels that heat grow at the base of him and then you’re letting go of him completely, hand moving to rest gently against his thigh.

“Did I time it right?” You ask softly, squeezing gently where your hand rested.

Eddie nods dumbly, still fighting off the urge to come like this, untouched by you.

“Again?”

“Please?” Eddie begs, shifting to rest his palms behind him until he’s leaning up fully, head thrown back in an effort to not look at you or himself, knowing it would push him over that edge quickly.

His voice is soft when he speaks, pleading—it’s a contrast from his usual showy attitude and crass dirty talk, always finding ways to make you blush until your face runs hot, giving you no other choice but to close your eyes and look away, too overwhelmed by his heated gaze. But, it was his turn now and he was just as bad, only a lot more vocal about it.

Eddie alternates between deep, forceful groans when you squeeze just a little too much, to long, drawn out moans as you pull up his shaft, squeezing at the tip and letting your thumb rub over the slit there, spreading around the mess he’d already made of himself just from almost getting there, the slick of precome overtaking the need for any lube or spit. You keep at that for a few seconds—torturous and dreadful for Eddie, but enjoyable for you as you turn to look at him, his mouth hung open in a choked off gasp, eyes shut tight.

When he finally finds the energy to open his eyes, they immediately lock onto yours, and Eddie’s never looked more wrecked or shameful, eyes pleading for relief but you know he can take—it’s what he wants and he can always hit the brakes whenever he needs to, but you knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Tell me when.” You order him softly, squeezing gently at the base of his dick before starting a rough pace, nothing that Eddie’s prepared for as he groans loudly, the weight of him falling into you weakly, using what little concentration he had to pull your face toward him, his lips ghosting over your own, his breath breeching your own lips as he hissed, that initial feeling hitting him quickly.

“Fuck, stop—stop.” Eddie grunts out, pulling your hand away weakly, his dick twitching at the sudden lack of stimulation—his face is flusher than before, breath labored as tries to focus through the lingering ache, letting you lick slowly into his mouth, tongue tracing against his top lip teasingly.

It goes on for another fifteen minutes, slow and languid strokes to keep him teetering on the edge, enough that he can catch his breath and still talk through it, murmuring soft praises toward you despite how well he’s doing himself—he can’t help but compliment you, it’s like a second nature.

“God, so pretty—so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.” He says, voice strained. You smile with a hint of something, daring him to look away.

“I want you to watch,” You tell him, voice steady, “and no matter how bad you want to come, you’re gonna hold off.”

Eddie nods in understanding, letting you guide his face by the chin until he can look down, fingers wrapping around the length of him carefully, even a simple touch was enough to have him taking in a sharp intake of air.

You try not to feel bad about the whole thing, but Eddie thrashing and struggling to hold back beside you is enough to spur you even further into it, working him up the point of him not even making sense, groaning out unintelligible words as you keep up the same rhythm of tugging, waiting for him to give you that sign, and then letting him go completely.

Eddie’s never been so worked up in his entire life, on the verge of tears, mouth falling open in a broken sob.

“Oh fuck,” He curses, “Please, please, please—“

It’s the only thing his futile brain can come up with in the moment, begging and willing to do just about anything if it meant he could finally get some release.

“Are you calling it?” You ask with a soft laugh and despite the obvious welling of tears in his eyes, he laughs too.

Eddie nods furiously, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as his hips bucked up into your fist, “Yes—yes, please, I can’t—“

“Can’t take it?”

“It hurts,” Eddie whines, “Feels so fuckin’ good but I need to come, baby please—“

He can’t even form a full sentence, a mess of broken sobs and pleading words as he looks up at you with wide eyed innocence.

“I just—let me touch you?” Eddie begs, his hand reaching up to push your arm away with not much resistance on your end.

Eddie maneuvers you easily, hands tucked under your thighs as he switches positions, shifting until he’s laying over you and his aching cock pressed up against the soft cotton of your underwear, the only barrier keeping him from slipping inside and ending all his suffering. He doesn’t even think about that, rutting into you with a desperation you’ve never seen before, hands touching whatever he could find until they settle on your face, face pulled taut until he catches your eyes and he’s done for, collapsing and burying himself in the crook of your neck, making a mess of himself and you in the same instance, coming with a deep, drawn out groan. It’s so intense that it aches, even in the aftermath as he catches his breath, feeling like his stomach was in knots.

Eddie releases a long, shaky sigh against your skin, his hand coming down to rub tenderly at the line of your jaw.

“—Good?” You ask hopefully, not sure of his expectations in comparison with his own experiences. Eddie only catches the tail end of your question, until you finally speak again, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie assures you, his voice sounding unnaturally raw, “Gotta catch my breath, sorry.”

You give him a moment, rubbing your fingers through the soft ringlets of curls, pushing his bangs away from his forehead where they were stuck from sweat, his eyes shut in exhaustion. Eddie laughs suddenly, giddy despite his evident exhaustion.

“I’m a horrible person for enjoying that so much,” Eddie says, blush filling his face in embarrassment, “aren’t I?”

You shake your head gently, humming a quiet, “Mmm, no.”

Eddie doesn’t know why he feels so ashamed, but it’s never bothered you—his openness with his sexuality and the things he’s enjoyed—and you hate that he still feels constant shame about certain things.

“Besides, you sound so cute when you beg.” You tease, earning a nose scrunching face of disgust from Eddie at the word.

“Cute?” Eddie asks, “Not me, sweetheart. That’s impossible.”

You nod challengingly, leaning up into Eddie’s space as he pulls away slightly, grabbing his discarded shirt to clean up the mess, “Sorry, I meant adorable.”

Eddie doesn’t argue, but allows himself the final word.

“That’s right,” Eddie smiles, leaning over to press a quick kiss against your forehead, mumbling against the skin, “and don’t you forget it.”

[blazethecheeto]

ATLAS PARADOX RAMBLING

dude this book. i need to talk. about it. im going insane.

everyone who hasn't read it, PLEASE DO!!! it's a dark academia book about a bunch of gay silly magic people that join a society and try to kill each other. there's time travel, a big ass polycule, aesthetic scenes, the prettiest writing style in the world, science, philosophy, and fucked family. (opposite of found family).

(extremely chaotic unorganized long rant below, with spoilers. click at your own risk)

FIRST OF ALL WHY WAS THIS SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE FIRST ONE?!!?!?

i had to power through the first one, it felt long, and unnecessary and like trekking through a JUNGLE with the thickest and most intricate ecosystem that i had to peel back and unravel for hours and hours. only to like move the plot by an inch.

BUT THIS. olivie blake found her footing because this was so good. i am aware the reviews hate on this book and some people don't like it, but personally i adore it and it's really well written.

CHARACTERS

bro they all had such wonderful voices, like they were distinct and unique from each other but not drastically, noticeably different I NEED TO LEARN FROM THIS. six of crows and the atlas six do multi povs so well <3 its like this book was made for me, each character was perfect and incredible and gay and silly and-

reina. love of my life. i look forward to all her povs because the plants are so silly and she's the best character. i said it. she's canon asexual now too YEES. i needed more of her because she was barely in the first one, and they DELIVERED. the juicy plot with her 'god complex' (ily callum) and her feelings getting hurt and learning she actually is lonely and wants friends? she's so wanda maximoff. next book better have her opening up and learning to love people or i riot (and also her killing people and being the badass she is)

parisa always my fave too, i do wish her character wasn't always talking about sex or romance, there were some great moments in this book where she showed off her telepathy powers (the prince in the tower!!) it was awesome. i'm glad they acknowledged that side of her with reina, (oh my god i ship them so much wait till i rant about them-) but dude i still HATE DALTON. SO MUCH. OH MY GOD. every time it's her pov i dread seeing dalton, i wish she could give that up. generic white men should die.

CALLUM. whatever turned him from complex, daunting, and a psychopath last book to janus from sanders sides this book- beautiful choice. he's literally the one sassy wine-sipping gay aunt that feels nothing and everything at once, also extremely mentally ill and depressed. he's SO FUNNY. his povs are fucking hilarious to read, and he quickly became one of my faves bc of how complex he is. i'm not smart enough to decipher and psychoanalyze him but god i LOVE CHARACTERS LIKE THIS.

i don't know what happened but nico is literally one of my faves now too, he's so silly and sweet and kind and i loved his relationships with everyone this book. like him trying to murder tristan in multiple different ways oml. he's my bbg. tristan was hit or miss for me, i did find him interesting but he's not my favourite. doesn't mean i hate him, he's so very british, i feel it radiating off the page. libby my queen my icon, her dream povs were so trippy i loved it- so so realistic to a real dream, that was the most surprising and unique part. also my bisexual queen seducing belen??

i did not like ezra and atlas was a little iffy here and there but tbh the cast was so well rounded and interesting and unique but paralleled each other so well?? THE RELATIONSHIPS. I DONT THINK ANY BOOK HAS THIS INTRICATE WEB-LIKE RELATIONSHIPS WITH EACH OTHER. they're one big polycule.

RELATIONSHIPS

nico and libby <3 i love them so much as siblings/queerplatonic partners. i don't ship them romantically, because i LOVE how they subverted the eye-rolling predictable ' YA academic rivals enemies to lovers' trope. when i started TAS, i immediately thought they were gonna get together and assumed the worst. but no, they still had the banter and importance in their relationship but without the romance? instead both of them were gay af. it's beautiful. i love subverting tropes so much. they're each other's 'other half' and they're hilarious together.

NICO AND TRISTAN. they were such a highlight this book, it was unexpected but so funny. nico trying to murder tristan and their little talks because 'they're not friends...just coworkers' yeah right, the best friendships start with creatively murdering each other. tristan being droll and chill af, and then nico bouncing off the walls my adhd king.

reina and nico broke me?? like that one chapter where they sparred and caught up with each other and reina was guarding her hurt feelings. DUDE THAT KILLED ME. made me stare at the ceiling for a good minute. their friendship is everything to me, they contrast each other so well. she deserves to be treated better- when they had that projection chapter and she saw that nico downplayed her skills...like she was good, but not good enough for him to care about her. AGGHGH.

REINA AND PARISA. NOW THIS. THIS HOOKED ME INTO THE BOOK. i ship them so bad guys. they parallel each other and are both hot and enemies to lovers and wlw slow burn and- look. reina is asexual, therefore the only person to truly see and understand parisa for who she is, and not be influenced by her body. like that one projection. she can help parisa understand HERSELF and who she is past her sexual desirability. how to love someone again. romantically. then, on the flip side, parisa can help reina see and understand OTHERS. reina only sees people as one trait, cut and dry- without any of the complex feelings. parisa is a telepath, she knows how to read others. THEY CAN BOTH HELP EACH OTHER AND LOVE EACH OTHER IN WAYS THEY NEVER COULD HAVE OMFDADJFLSKJADFL- also reina pinned her against a wall and they want to kill each other and every time they interact i scream into my pillow-

-

'You can't love anyone right?"

"I've met very few people worth loving."

-

*throws myself off a building*

now we just gotta play the familiar game "IS IT DELUSION OR IS IT JUST SLOW BURN" and find out whether their insane chemistry pays off in book 3.

the nico parisa scene was actually sweet ngl, even though i don't ship them. the whole callum and tristan thing was so bitter exes situationship coded and i ate every second up. especially that last conversation. AND OFC. GIDEON AND NICO?!!! AAAAA THEY WERE SO CUTE THEY'RE ENDGAME I SCREAMED WHEN THEY KISSED DUDE THEYRE SO-

PLOT

now for the actual plot. this book has so many interesting subjects and philosophies and debates i'm not smart enough for this. but past all the aesthetic glamour, it's science, time travel, dreams, multiverses, fate, reality, and the complexities of the human mind. and my god it's fascinating as fuck.

do i have any idea what they do in this society?? NO. am i entertained? YES. especially that whole explosion paradox to bring libby back to the future. the whole powering the connections via aurora borealis? the whole debate about being gods? i love it. i love it.

alright im so sorry for that rant, i gotta go now but DUDE I LOVE THIS BOOK NO MATTER HOW WEIRD IT WAS

[seokjinsonlyone]

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 2

 -you dislike frank dillane’s portrayal of tom riddle only because you don’t think he’s attractive-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION (and this time, featuring a bit of armchair child psych from a student).

Wait, don’t clutch your pearls just yet. Compose yourself.

I am about to explain why it’s not actually that bad, and Dillane’s portrayal is vastly underappreciated.

I definitely agree that his portrayal comes off as ‘creepier’. It’s not helped by the stylistic decisions in the scene -- the smeary, green filter gives the scene a sinister quality. 

Even Slughorn looks suspect here, which is somewhat appropriate, given that he is complicit in this crime. 

Again, this scene is very much intended to be slightly off.

You’ll notice (and I’ll discuss this again when I talk about Coulson’s portrayal) that Dillane is almost always shot from at least slightly below, which makes the lower third of his face look bigger (and thus more menacing). The lighting also makes his eyes glow in a really unnatural way. There’s an echo-y effect to make his voice (and not Slughorn’s) sound unnerving.

People talk about how Coulson would have looked in this scene, and if he was filmed in the same way (monotone, smeary/shadowy filter, and always from below), he’d look a bit creepy, too.

But all of this, imo, is for a pretty good reason. Slughorn isn’t the POV character. Harry is. Harry is learning about how a young Lord Voldemort wheedled the secret of Horcruxes out of an unsuspecting teacher. Unlike in COS, he expects Riddle to be evil. And, so, Harry’s new perception of Tom Riddle literally colors how we perceive him.

Take this shot, for example: he does that head-tilt thing that Coulson does, and it’s actually... kind of... cute???

Imagine Dillane filmed from slightly above, like Coulson usually is, and it looks even more innocent. (I mean, come on, he does not look like he’s killed four people, does he?) It’s not hard to imagine teachers being taken in by this kind of act.

Even that little smirk he does when the camera (aka, Harry’s gaze) pans in, is for Harry’s benefit. No one else noticed that. 

However, I still fail to find this creepy, like, at all. Yes, it’s a fake smile, but he’s portraying a different side of Tom Riddle to Coulson. Whereas, in COS, he’s in his vindictive, murderous element, where he’s free to express himself, in this scene, Tom Riddle is doing what he does best -- manipulating and managing appearances. 

This entire scene is an act. And because Harry knows it’s an act, it should look a bit stilted. 

From the Hepzibah Smith scene in the books: Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

So, Harry is pretty adept at parsing Tom’s fake expressions.

But just look at the expressiveness in his face: he goes from brooding, he blinks, and his entire face changes to this charming (fake) smile. 

At the risk of sounding elitist, I’m a bit tired of seeing the word ‘psychopath’, which is not an actual medical diagnosis recognised by any psychological or psychiatric institution, being tossed about, especially with reference to Tom Riddle (and from a neuroscience perspective, it’s doubly annoying). There’s no such thing as ‘insanity’ or ‘psychopathy’ or being ‘crazy.’

-although I use it too a shorthand in conversation to distinguish ‘canon’ Tom from his ‘softer’ OOC counterparts, I really shouldn’t-

Unfortunately, I’ve seen the ‘psychopath’ comment used time-and-time again as an excuse or a full explanation of ‘why Tom Riddle went evil’ (JKR in fact, has made a weird comment in an interview, basically saying that ‘psychopaths can’t be redeemed or learn adaptive coping skills’ or whatever), which really just goes to show the lack of understanding and compassion when personality disorders, especially, are concerned.

But what I like most about the opening of this scene, actually, is that first, listless expression. And this is where we get slightly into headcanon, but Tom Riddle is the opposite of a happy, mentally healthy teenager. By Dumbledore’s own admission, he has no real friends. He has no parental figures, no real attachments. Yes, he might derive some pride or enjoyment from being good at magic and top of his class and all that, but I really don’t think even Tom finds that truly fulfilling. There is nothing that makes him happy. 

In fact, although some might perceive it as ‘creepy’, I think that listless expression is an accurate window into Tom’s psyche. 

I know people aren’t big on Freud, but I think that he does make some interesting points (also, cut the guy some slack for being relatively open-minded for the Victorian Era, and inventing psychoanalysis and while yes he did say some sexist stuff, good luck finding a field of science that isn’t male-focused and makes crazy generalizations about women, especially back in the day) about the possible origins of thanatophobia, the fear of death.

According to Freud, thanatophobia is a disguise for a deeper source of concern -- he did not believe that people were capable of conceptualizing their own death to that extent. Instead, he believed that this phobia was caused by unresolved childhood conflicts that the sufferer cannot come to terms with or express emotion towards.

Now, I know Freud almost always attributes mental distress to childhood experiences, but I think in this case, it really has some merit.

According to attachment theory, the basis of how we form attachments in adulthood is dictated by learning it from experiences with caregivers in the first two years of life. We know Tom was born in an orphanage, and that he didn’t cry much as a baby, and subsequently, probably received very little attention. Compounded with possible genetic factors and his caregivers being afraid or wary of his magical abilities, he later struggled to form attachments because of this -- I would actually go so far as to say that by the time Dumbledore meets him, Tom Riddle is severely depressed. 

And that flat affect and anhedonia, I think, comes over very well in Dillane’s portrayal. There’s kind of this resignation -- a very deep sadness and loneliness to his character.

Of course, he doesn’t derive any comfort or fulfillment from human interaction, because (to borrow the description from the Wikipedia article on ‘Reactive attachment disorder’, which Tom meets all the criteria for) he has a “grossly disturbed internal working model of relationships.” In other words, he is unresponsive to all offers of attachment because of this unacknowledged trauma.

(You could arguably class Tom as having an avoidant attachment style, but I think in his case the trauma and its effect on him are severe enough to call it disordered.)

RAD isn’t particularly well-characterized (especially neurologically) and quite new in the literature, but here are some links if anyone is interested in doing a bit of digging: Link 1 | Link 2 | Paper 1 | Paper 2

And, instead of trying to resolve this conflict in a healthy way, or at least recognize that this is why he can’t be happy and try to learn how to cope from there, he (a) represses the desire for human attachment and (b) funnels that negative emotion into being the fault of Death, the Grim Reaper (again, to borrow Freudian terms). 

And we all know how that turned out...

(And now, this should go without saying, but psychoanalyzing fictional characters has nothing to do with assigning a morality to mental disorders. Mental illness is neither a cause nor an excuse for criminal behavior -- in the same way that the cycle of violence is a phenomenon, not an excuse. Tom Riddle did not become a genocidal murderer because, in common parlance, he was a ‘psychopath’ -- he was not necessarily ‘predisposed’ to evil and could just as easily chosen to not follow the path that he did -- instead, he willingly made poor choices. This is a descriptive analysis, not a justification -- a ‘how’, not a ‘why’)

Here’s a Carl Jung quote that articulates it better:

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

Yes, he’s a bit stiff (and a lot more formal than in COS during his *conversation* with Harry). But, and here comes the controversial bit, this is appropriate for a portrayal of a schoolboy in the 1940s. The upright posture is accurate -- respectful, polite -- everything Tom Riddle would have been expected to be (and even Coulson, in that scene with Dumbledore in COS, is quite stiff). Even the way he looks at Slughorn and maintains eye contact is very *respectful.*

And, Dillane (I think he’s seventeen or eighteen here) actually looks like a believable sixteen-year-old. I’m sorry, I love Coulson’s portrayal as well, but he looks around nineteen in COS; so in HBP, he probably would have looked at least twenty-two or so. (Sorry, not sorry).

This may be influenced by my own interpretation of the character (because I imagine Tom always looks young for his age, and Dillane fits that archetype, but I don’t think that’s very popular), but I think young Tom Riddle is supposed to be *cute* and a bit stiff/shy/awkward (being charming and awkward is very much possible), if you consider the way Dippet and Slughorn treat him. 

To support this, he says very few words to Hepzibah Smith (in the book, that scene’s not in the movie), and is very... bashful and coy during the whole interaction? I think yes, he’s charismatic, but he’s not loud, suave, openly flirtatious or particularly verbose. Tom Riddle should have a quiet magnetism, and to me, that came across in Dillane’s portrayal.

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

...

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. ..."

Even the ‘ugly, greedy look’ described in the books, when Slughorn starts spilling his secrets, is there. This is how he’s supposed to look! Slughorn glimpses it, but doesn’t understand its significance. Harry does. 

“Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.”

Remember the context of this moment, as well: He’s just discovered how to create multiple Horcruxes. Excuse him for looking a bit creepy (if not now, then when?).

Here’s two direct quotes of Harry’s impression of Tom Riddle in that scene: 

“But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.”

“Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .”

Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes are a direct metaphor for his refusal to allow himself to heal from his trauma -- instead, he continues to inflict destruction on himself and others.

His desire to continue creating more Horcruxes sort of resounds with the fact that self-harm can also become a compulsion.

I’d also like to digress a bit to discuss the Gaunt Ring, while we’re at it. While we’ve talked about his attachment issues in general, this discussion is particularly pertinent to father figures. And while Tom’s attachment issues are extensive, I think there’s ample evidence that as a child, he craved acknowledgement and acceptance from a father figure -- the man who gave him the only thing Tom truly owned -- his name. He would have had a vaguely defined mother figure in Mrs. Cole, perhaps.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.... He didn’t like magic, my father ... He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name ... Tom Riddle. ..."

We know that by June of 1943 (COS flashback) Tom has already uncovered the truth of his parentage; he knows he is the Heir of Slytherin via the Gaunt line, and he describes himself to Dippet as ‘Half-blood, sir. Witch mother, Muggle father.’

In Part 1, I discussed the high probability that as a presumed ‘Mudblood’, Tom Riddle was treated rather poorly in Slytherin House. But by this scene in the fall of 1943, he is surrounded by a group of adoring hangers-on. Why?

In my opinion; the Gaunt Ring. We know that Tom stopped wearing it after school, so its sentimental value couldn’t have been that great. We know he likes to collect objects (which I believe stems from his attachment issues -- he seeks comfort in things instead of other people).

Signet rings (such as the one belonging to Tutankhamun seen above) were used to stamp legal documents and such, in order to certify someone’s identify -- like an e-certificate, if you will. Like Tutankhamun’s ring, the Gaunt Ring bears an identifying symbol -- Marvolo Gaunt tells us proudly that it bears the Peverell family crest.

By the Middle Ages, anyone of influence, including the nobility, wore a signet ring. Rings in antiquity were auspicious -- they signified power, legitimacy, and authority. And so, I believe that all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families would have worn these, too.

And so, bearing the Gaunt Ring would have established Tom Riddle, symbolically and in the eyes of the Sacred Twenty-Eight (his future supporters and followers), as the legitimate heir to the House of Gaunt. This is why, I believe, Tom coveted the ring as soon as he saw it -- not just because it was a family heirloom, and not just because he thought it was a pretty toy for his collection.

(He curses it so that no one else but him can wear the Gaunt Ring safely.)

This is why, to make the legitimization literal as well as symbolic, Tom murders his father and grandparents. It’s not just an act of vindictive, murderous rage due to his perception of being rejected by his father (although it is that, too). And so, Tom, abandoning his search for a father figure (and possibly also giving up on the possibility to allow himself to heal from his own personal trauma rather than continue to inflict it on others), ‘cleanses’ his bloodline, to make himself truly legitimate. It’s rather telling that instead of affirming his legitimacy as a Riddle, which would have put him in line for a nice inheritance, and hey -- money is money -- (thus accepting his half-blood status), he simply kills them all. He has done all the murdering he needs to become immortal (and he hasn’t had the discussion about multiple Horcruxes yet); but yet, he does it again. Frightening stuff. 

(Just look how the others look at Tom. All but the one to his left -- possibly Nott, Rosier, or Mulciber -- have their torsos turned towards him. Their attention is on him, while he knowingly regards the viewer/Harry. Tom seems a little uncomfortable with the attention.).

“And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.”

...

“Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.”

...

“Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.”

The ‘gang’ are true hangers-on; Tom doesn’t seem to pay them much attention. 

So, if not via careful flattery or charisma, the attraction must be status.

And perhaps yet more telling...

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing." “A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.”

That, in my opinion, is as good as we’re going to get as proof that Tom’s shiny new signet ring (and by extension, his new status) made a big impression on his fellow students.

So, when he returns to Hogwarts, he is ‘pureblood’. He is cleansed of his Muggle roots, and becomes the legitimate heir of the House of Gaunt, now well on his way to becoming Lord Voldemort...

Watch the scene again, with a critical eye, and imagine Slughorn’s perspective, instead of Harry’s. There’s nothing creepy about Tom Riddle... unless you know what he is...

Strip away all the effects of Harry’s gaze (and notice, here he’s still looking at Harry), and he’s quite the charmer, actually.

(I will concede that I don’t like the promotional images where they have him looking like he’s up to no good. And I do wish he blinked once in a while.)

My challenge to you: Rewatch the scene with an open mind, and let me know if you agree that Dillane’s portrayal comes off as depressive rather than ‘creepy.’ And if not, why do you dislike his portrayal?

[beyondd-dazedd]

bren’s thoughts from this past episode because i’ve seen it so many times now and i’ve got a lot of thoughts so here’s season 2 episode 7 of hsmtmts (a rant):

portwell morning announcements?? ICONIC whether you’re vibing with a romantic or platonic endgame the fondness and their chemistry is amazing. (sofia wylie and matt cornett better be sending their hospital bill to disney because they are literally carrying season 2 on their backs and i said what i said.)

the rini drama?? feels bad. like the way they built up the end of season 1 with them to have it come crashing down feels like drama just for the sake of drama and honestly it’s a little boring to me which is unfortunate because i really did like them season 1.

ricky my sweet baby ricky. you need therapy. but also he was right about the rose song and i stand by that. it doesn’t fit the show and i think he has a right to try to explain his feelings without nini shutting him down. i am all for nini focusing on her own music and thriving through that but don’t shut him down sis that ain’t it

the costume reveal scene was so funny from the DEH thing to carlos popping off on kourt to seb mediating to EJ and kourt’s convo about the costume i thought it was all really funny. also carlos totally had the right to snap at kourt because wtf kourt. HOWEVER i loved seeing her all giggly and excited. it’s a side of her character we haven’t really seen yet and i think dara completely embodied that high school first real relationship giddiness. also loved miss jenn saying don’t dance with the enemy and all of them IMMEDIATELY ignoring her and going to north high followed by her also ignoring her own advice and going as well.

all of them joining together to sneaky steal the mask back?? iconic. peak friendship vibes. carlos being the leader of the group in a sense this season is something i’m LIVING for. also Gina 1.0 to 2.0 is a spiritual journey and i’m so proud of her. Ash dressing up for the mission?? that’s so her (she’s undercover let her live wildcats). the disappointment in carlos’s face when they all finished the wildcat cheer?? that got me. frankie does so well with carlos’s facial acting and i love it.

also gina baby you got all these boys vying for your attention why are you wasting your time on ricky?? ricky baby i love you but you’re being an asshat about that whole thing. the way ricky hasn’t really taken into consideration gina’s feelings is not it. he really is just kind of trapped in his own world and refuses to see anything from someone else’s perspective. i saw someone talk about how ricky is the beast in this season. like yes he’s playing the beast but he’s also metaphorically taken on that role. he’s lashing out at people who don’t deserve it, he feels misunderstood, he’s struggling, etc.

ANYWAYS that’s my thoughts of rina right now so back to the episode. EJ coming in to help get gina out of the situation with the guy was fake dating excellence truly. there’s no way he heard what was being said since you can’t see him in the background at all so either he’s picked up on gina’s reactions so well that he could tell she was uncomfortable or he had a lil jealous moment. either way i’m here for it. and again whether you like them platonically together or romantically together that portwell scene was adorable as hell. the teasing ?? the fondness?? both sofia and matt’s acting is incredible. also a GREAT parallel to the homecoming episode to show just how far their relationship has come.

the rini drama plus kourt being giddy again. portwell standing next to each other?? antoine’s use of the word fugly really shows how unhinged this show is. lily proposing a dance off and everyone being like ??? no that’s fucking weird was hilarious. gina standing up for her sister ashlynn like that was gold.

man you may hate her (i do too) but lily is damn good at stirring the pot. i almost admire her complete understanding of the drama going on in everyone’s lives. she knows exactly what she’s doing when she says particular things.

the scene with antoine and ashlynn was so hilarious. joshua bassett seriously does not get a break from this damn show comparing him to people that are way more famous than him lol. also red hitting himself in the face was adorable and no i won’t take criticisms on that. also antoine is BOLD bold.

EJ cheering while everyone is upset that it was the mob song?? big golden retriever energy. i love him.

i don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion but i actually really liked this version of the mob song. they really leaned into the whole stupidity of the dance off idea and i think it actually works out well. plus there’s a ton of talented people on that track which makes it so much better. (also thought east high should have won on vocals alone. no their dancing wasn’t better but they had that really nice blend on their vocals and they all seemed a lot less frantic than north did.) also if they had let sofia just be sofia and dance. east high wouldve won on that alone.

i liked the song with miss jenn and zack. the choreo was beautiful but god i hate zacky roy. and that’s all i’ll say on that. (miss jenn i know that’s derek hough but you got two other very nice gentlemen who want you. don’t go for the low hanging fruit sis)

what was the point of lily telling them they would be disqualified if they used the rose song?? the only thing i can think of is she wants it to be a fair fight. which is noble i guess?? i don’t have time to psychoanalyze lily and no one wants that.

EJ’s face when they all turned to him for the sports metaphor had me sCREAMING and all of them being disappointed and talking over one another was very funny.

nini joining up with the group at the last minute seems to be her thing lately huh? i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again ricky was right about the song.

the couples walking out together. ft. nini and ricky fighting (again). PORTWELL EXCELLENCE (and huge dorks. i love them). red and ashlynn getting a bit rocky which at first i was like why is red jealous but then i remembered its high school. seb, carlos and kourt is an iconic trio. seb and carlos running off to avoid the drama is the gay agenda but also being in on the drama is the gay agenda. you feel??

HOWIE?!! why am i gasping i knew that? the fact that some of y’all really thought they would cast roman banks on this show and let howie go free without any drama?? nah man he had to be the beast for north fOR THE DRAMA. my baby kourt looked so hurt im so sorry beautiful. howie looking so guilty and upset?? heart breaking.

all in all i really loved this episode. i thought it was well done and set up a lot of plot lines. i don’t love how much some of the stuff feels like drama for the sake of drama but we’ll see. i’m sorta over rini this season as of this point. rina is in shambles because wtf ricky. portwell is alive and thriving as they should. seblos is beautiful and wonderful as always (i think the sassy verging on mean and the literal ball of sunshine is always a great pairing) redlynn is a little rocky but they’re both so empathetic and sweet that i think it’ll work out alright. kourt and howie (kowie?? hourtney??) is not doing too hot but i LOVE them together so they better gets their shit together.

[shutupanakin]

Wasting Your Time ch.2

tw for suicidal ideation

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

...

Tommy goes back to the station. Wilbur makes him think about his relationship with Tubbo and Ranboo.

first chapter here crossposted on ao3 here

Tommy is a fucking idiot.

No, no, no, it went beyond that, beyond that plain idiocy, Tommy was a fucking moron.

He desperately wanted to just forget about the deal he made. It sat in the back of his mind, collecting dust and forming cobwebs. Whenever he began to think about it, whenever he opened that door and the sun would hit it with its light; Tommy promptly closed it.

But it would always just creek back open, whenever Tommy was sitting in a lecture and he felt like tearing his hair out. When Tommy had managed to hang around Tubbo and Ranboo, and he felt like screaming , throwing a fit, wanting to make his existence known. When he had come home and Tommy would make himself dinner and sit at that stupid empty table alone because Sam was working or studying.

The light would hit it, and Tommy remembered he had a bet of wills to win. Against fucking Wilbur Soot. That pretentious prick.

Tommy is a fucking idiot because he came back. The 11:25 train was coming in, Tommy was alone on this stupid platform. No old lady to distract him, to make him hesitate, no one was here this time to make him reconsider against just—

He could—

He could just—

No.

He had a bet to win.

Tommy glared at the lights, the train skidding to a perfect stop in front of him. Tommy entered swiftly when the doors opened, grabbing the same spot at the back as he did last time. There were two other people at the front. Not together, he would imagine.

He threw his leg up on the plastic seat, ignoring the nauseating feeling that was settling in his stomach. What if Wilbur was just screwing with him? What if he didn’t show up?

Why would he? There was nothing that he personally gained by showing up. It was a bet of wills. Maybe he made this deal to give himself some peace of mind, a pity play. To keep the random kid he met in the middle of the night alive, to give the man a heroic ticket. Look! It’s Wilbur Soot! He saved a child from his own stupidity! A self-righteous savior play.

What a dick.

Tommy wondered if Wilbur was thinking that way about Tommy, too. If he was waiting for the tube to come, debating whether or not he showed up. Whether or not Tommy truly didn’t make it to the end of the week, or if he thought Tommy decided he had better things to do with his time.

Tommy was determined to prove him wrong.

They were slowing. Tommy screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to glance out the window, he didn’t want to be disappointed at the lack of that stupid mess of brown hair. The doors hissed open and Tommy didn’t open them.

Tommy counted his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

“You look stupid,”

The doors whizzed shut, Tommy's eyes snapped open.

There was Wilbur Soot, with his stupid glasses and dumb-looking Bush and Reagan jumper and Tommy was wishing that he was less relieved to see the man.

“I win,” Tommy blurted. Wilbur took his place, sitting opposite to Tommy. “I made it to the end of the week.” I proved you wrong.

“Think you can do one more?” What?

“I said nothing about that big man,” Tommy objected. “if you wanna do this again we’re gonna have to put money on it.”

Wilbur rubbed his face, exasperated. “I am not gambling with a child. I had a buddy for that.”

“I am seventeen,” Tommy objected. “Where’s your buddy now?” He sneered.

Wilbur shrugged. “Unavailable. I can not talk to him anymore.”

Tommy picked at the thread, resisting the urge to pull it. “Why is that a fucking pattern with you? Can’t talk to this person, can’t talk to that person— do you just get into the habit of making people dislike you?”

“Do you dislike me?” Wilbur pushed.

“I’m trying to,” Tommy told truthfully. “it is kinda a shit thing to do, though— to drop friends. Act like they don’t exist anymore.”

The train stopped. No one got on. Tommy found himself grateful for that.

“Why did you get the bee pin?” Wilbur asked, Tommy's eyes fell down to said pin, resting easily in the fabric of his jacket. He had forgotten about it, truth be told. No one had pointed it out or asked about it. Not even Sam, who he got the jacket from , when Tommy saw him had pointed it out.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “The bee. Uhm.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Reminds me of my friend. Tubbo. I guess. He has this thing, yeah? For them. Since we were kids.”

Tommy remembered, when they were kids, when Tommy’s parents were still alive and Tubbo’s hadn’t split yet. They were in his yard, Tommy was throwing around a baseball. He was getting better at throwing, he couldn’t wait to show Sam— when Tubbo had yelled for him to look. He thrust his cupped hands into Tommy’s face, showing him the bee he had captured.

Tommy had been around Tubbo in person twice this week. If he saw the bee pin he didn’t say anything

“Why are you not hanging around him then?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the answer to that. He just didn’t like it.

“I don’t think he wants me around anymore,” Tommy admitted.

Another station. One of the stragglers at the front left.

“Why do you think that?”

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy snapped. “Psychoanalyze me? Am I your fucking psychology research project or something?!”

“I am trying to help, you irrational child,” Wilbur stressed.

Tommy relaxed, the glare that had grown on his face only dropping a bit. “I… I— there’s this guy, Ranboo, and I like him, alright? Like he’s cool. He’s from America— living with his cousin, yeah? One of my brother's friends. That’s how we met. I introduced him to Tubbo and—“

“They got along better than you thought,” Wilbur finished.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” He was picking at the thread again. “it’s not like… they completely ignore me. They still invite me to stuff. And ask me if I want to play Minecraft. But it’s third-wheeling, right? Like nothing, I say lands with them. I don’t think they do it on purpose, because Ranboo is such a people pleaser; the biggest one I know, and Tubbo's so fucking clingy. He’s a pushover, too. But they have fun together, whether I’m there or not, it doesn’t matter. So why— why bother getting into the voice call, just to sit there talking to myself while they enjoy each other?”

“So you are feeling left out,” Wilbur concluded. Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s why I like talking to you.” Tommy admitted. “Because you listen to me, the things I say have a bigger impact than a pebble on the pavement. With you it’s— it’s like a crater. But I don’t need to be a world-destroying asteroid when I’m talking to you. I can just be a pebble and still get my point across. You listen to what I say and you respond.”

With them, it was like he was a ghost. Like in Phasmophobia , or something. They’re trying to communicate with him, but are only hearing every other word. Incoherent babbling. With Wilbur, they’re both ghosts— making fun of the idiots with their magic boxes trying to communicate with them.

“Aw, Tommy,” Wilbur cooed. Tommy threw his hands up.

“And you ruined it, you’ve ruined it, Wilbur Soot. You are terrible, downright awful. I’m never saying anything positive about you again.”

Wilbur grinned mockingly. “Oh, Tommy— it is alright that you like talking to me!”

“Fuck you!” Tommy retorted. “You’re a fucking wrongen!”

“I like talking to you too,” Wilbur offered.

They stopped again, someone had gotten. They spared a mere glance at Tommy before sitting in the midsection.

Tommy crossed his arms. “You’re okay I guess,”

“You should probably get on that though,” Wilbur said, Tommy looking at him questionably. “talking to your friends, I mean. Figure things out. I mean, they are doing it on purpose, they are shit friends.”

“They are not!” Tommy hissed. “They’re not doing it on purpose. They wouldn’t.”

And he was right, they wouldn’t. He’s known Tubbo forever , they’ve been stuck together since Tommy could count— so what if Tubbo might have gotten sick of him, just a little? It’s not on purpose, he knew that! But he had someone new to hang around, someone else to laugh with, someone to tell the same jokes he told Tommy and they would laugh because they would be new. Tommy gets it. He does! That doesn’t mean Tubbo was—

That didn’t mean Tubbo was a bad friend. It’s not on purpose. It’s not.

Ranboo was well, Ranboo. That guy couldn’t hurt a fly, even if he wanted to. He had been in the UK for a few months at this point, Tommy did his job of being the placeholder friend— he showed him around, he was his friend when he didn’t have any; now he did. He still cared about Tommy. Tommy knew that! The— the stupid fucking good morning texts, the ridiculous little signs he’d leave in Tommy’s house in Minecraft, the checkups. Ranboo was a good person.

And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t. But he tried.

So if he was jealous of that, of that relationship, of that quick forming bond— he kept his mouth fucking shut.

“They’re not,” Tommy repeated. “I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

“But you are not having fun,” Wilbur pointed out. “and if they are your friends they should care about that.”

“And what am I supposed to do then?” Tommy cried. “They’re all I got! If I— if I lose them then have nothing. I’d rather sit and deal with it than just lose them.”

Tommy meant it, in the most literal way possible, that he would rather die than lose them. He’d rather have died knowing they still cared about him even just a little bit than live not having them in his life.

Another station and Tommy glared at the doors, daring anyone to enter.

No one did.

“You are scared,” Wilbur said.

“I don’t like being alone,” Tommy admitted. He shook his head. “Nope, I’m done talking about this. I’m done.” Topic change, topic change… “Why are you wearing that stupid jumper again?”

Wilbur looked down, pulling at said jumper. “It is… my Tuesday jumper?”

“That’s lame.” Tommy deadpanned. “Of course you correlate your outfits with days of the week.”

“You are literally wearing a varsity jacket, you do not play a sport.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaimed. “It’s my brothers! And— and why the fuck do you have a Reagan and Bush sweater, anyway?! You’re fucking British!”

“It is cool ,” Wilbur dejected. “A friend and I used to go on eBay and buy American President jumpers.”

“Nerd.” Tommy yawned. It was late. “Lemme guess— you don’t talk to this guy anymore either?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the p. “After I left he got divorced, or something, I think. Bad luck.”

“It’s because he buys U.S President jumpers off of eBay.” Tommy pitched his voice lower. “Sorry, can’t pay the bills this month Sandra! I just couldn’t resist this two hundred pound Obama sweater.”

Wilbur stood up, and Tommy realized that the train was slowing. Oh. Were they going back to that shop then?

“Come on,” Wilbur gestured. “you can get another pin or something.”

“I’m going to get scammed again,” Tommy grumbled, bouncing his legs as he waited for the doors to click open.

“You are helping a small business,”

“‘You are helping a small business’, shut up.” Tommy drawled. Someone who was on the platform entered the front, not sparing a glance at Tommy.

Tommy walked alongside Wilbur, exiting the station. They passed a woman who was standing outside a pub, smoking. Tommy only nodded at her.

“Can you tell me what got you banned now?”

“I do not think I will,”

He groaned. “Oh, you cryptic bastard— what if I do the same thing you did and get banned too? Who am I supposed to go to in the middle of the night to get pins?”

“You are gonna get pins again?” Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded his head.

“I think so. I kinda like the bee, and nothing else in there has really interested me, ya know? Could use more of them on this,” He gestured to the front of his jacket.

The blinking sign came up, Tommy standing underneath it. “I will be here,” Wilbur said.

“This is ridiculous,” Tommy complained. “what happens if you go in? Can’t bygones just be— bygones? Is that how ya say it? Jack seems nice. I’m sure he’s not as much of a prick that you’re making him out to be.”

“Nope,” Wilbur shook his head. “No can do, Toms.”

“Ugh,” The bell rang, the door shutting behind him with a thud. Jack Manifold sat at the counter, face leaning on his hands. His eyes met Tommy’s as he entered.

“You again?” He greeted, rather rudely. Tommy gave a small wave, approaching the bowl of pins, looking through it.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tommy joked, picking up a circular white pin. An empty smiley face stared back at him.

“We have to stop meeting in the middle of the night,” Jack corrected. “what are you doing out this late anyway?”

“Work?” Tommy said it more like a question, pulling out his wallet. “Late night shift, that. Yeah.” Tommy cringed. Jack didn’t question it, taking the two pounds Tommy had placed on the counter. Tommy turned the pin in his hand, clipping it into his jacket. “Thank’s Jack!”

“See ya kid!” He called, Tommy swiftly exiting. Wilbur stood waiting for him.

“What did you get this time?” He asked, Tommy held out his jacket. Wilbur squinted at the smiley face. “That is ironic.”

Tommy punched him in the shoulder, lightly, keeping his pace with Wilbur. “It’s not for me dipshit,” Tommy explained. “Sam—my brother— has this friend, Ranboos cousin actually. He’s got this stupid fucking hoodie. Ugliest shit I’ve ever seen man, bright green. He’s like a walking traffic light. Has this giant smile on it. Reminded me of him. Everything about that guy. Fucking weirdo.”

“Because he wears a smiley face?”

“No,” Tommy said. “Because he is American .” He emphasized.

“Ah,” Wilbur realized. “That explains it. Perfectly reasonable explanation. You ever been there?”

“No, but Sam has. He studied abroad there for a few years before—“ Nope. Tommy’s night was picking up. Nope . “Anyway, he came back. Friends with a bunch of them too.”

“I have been,” Wilbur hummed, reminiscing. “California. La Jolla. Sometimes I wish that I stayed.

“That sounds made up,” The cool nighttime air disappeared as they entered the underground again, descending the stairs.

“It could have been. It was nice, sunny. More than here. Cleaner.”

“Why don’t you go back then?” Tommy pushed. “If it’s so much nicer there than here. If I had the chance I’d get the fuck out of here too.”

Tommy did not want to go to the states, fuck that. But oh, what he would do to be able to just leave. Travel. Not have to stay in one spot. That sounded nice, being able to pick up and leave whenever he felt claustrophobic. He couldn’t though, because he had Sam and school and Tubbo and Ranboo and he’s standing in quicksand and he’s sinking and he can't get out —

He’d go to Rome first maybe, if he could pull himself out of the quicksand. Berlin? Paris? Ugh, the French. No. Vienna would be nice. Tubbo’s mom lived there. Tommy remembered that he would visit her there during the summers. He’d always excitedly show pictures he had taken to Tommy when he had returned.

“I can not leave,” Wilbur answered, Tommy’s attention snapping back to him.“Stuck here for a bit, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Tommy frowned. “Well, that’s something we have in common I guess.”

When the train arrived, they boarded. This time, there was a group at the front, engaging in an incoherent conversation. Tommy didn’t bother eavesdropping, snatching his spot at the back.

“You want to make another deal?” Wilbur asked, sitting down.

“Like, we do this again? Do you still think I’m gonna jump?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur admitted. “You sounded like you wanted to earlier.” Tommy knew what he was referring to, to his word dump about Tubbo and Ranboo. Tommy was hoping that he would forget that. “I want to add something to it though.”

Tommy's eyes glinted. “Money?”

Wilbur glared. “No. I am not giving you money.”

“ Ughhhh—” Tommy leaned back. “Come on, I’ll stay alive for money, okay? I’ll do that. I’ll take that bet!”

“I want you to talk to your friends. Tell them what you told me.”

No thank you , he was not doing that. The train stopped. No one got on, the group didn’t leave.

“Now that bet I’m not taking. You can keep your money.”

“Tommy.”

“No— no you don’t get it! That will ruin everything!” Tommy expressed. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I’m not going to ruin it for them.” He affirmed.

“It is being ruined for you though,” Wilbur hummed.

“Fuck you,”

They stopped, the group got off. A man entered.

“Listen to me,” Wilbur said. “They are not going to hate you. They are not going to hate each other either. You tell them—“ He pitched his voice. “‘Hey guys, I am feeling ignored and like I am third wheedling but I have been avoiding telling you that because I think it will ruin your fun’ mememememe—“

“I do not go mememememe !” Tommy argued. Completely inaccurate imitation.

“Do that,” Wilbur continued. “If it goes well, come back, right? If it fixes your fucking communication issues, come back here.”

“That’s your bet?”

“Mm-hm.”

Tommy was going to develop a gambling addiction, or something. If that was how that worked. He didn’t— he didn’t want to tell them, he couldn’t! Why should he ruin everything just to prove to this asshole that he was wrong?!

“And if I don’t show up, I’m right. I proved you wrong.”

“I am not wrong though,” He teased.

“Oh get your head out of your ass!” Tommy scolded. “You’re so full of yourself aren’t you?!”

“I am not full of myself,” Wilbur tapped. “I just know when I am right.”

“You’re a bitch.”

Wilbur didn’t hesitate. “You are a gremlin.”

Another station and the man had gotten off, glaring in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resisted the urge to flip him off. It was just them now.

“You’re going to be proven wrong by a gremlin, then I’ll never have to—“ Oh. “I won’t ever see you again.”

“We better hope I’m right then!” Wilbur laughed, clapping his hands together. “That would be unfortunate.”

It would suck, Tommy agreed. Because man, was Wilbur Soot fucking irritating; but if he lost Tubbo and Ranboo this week, he— he wouldn’t show up. Because he won. Wilbur would enter and there would be an empty seat, and he would know he lost.

Maybe, maybe Tommy could fib. If that happened. Act like they went okay. It was up in the air, Tommy was already building the lie that he would tell to Wilbur in case that happened.

“Alright, Wilbur. I’ll take that bet.” Tommy decided.

“We need to find a different word for that,” Wilbur said. “Bet. That is morbid—“

“You’re morbid.”

“It is morbid,” Wilbur continued. “Placing bets on human life. It lessens the value, takes it— and makes it hollow, and if we are hollow, what are we then? We are no better than the people that glare at you when you laugh, or the ones that complain about a delayed train.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy said, slowly. “It’s a word.”

Wilburs shoulders fell. “Words are powerful, Toms.”

“I think calling it a bet is okay. Right? Because it’s a bet on me.” Tommy explained, carefully. “It’s at my own expense. Nothing is being placed on it, it’s... it’s more of a test of wills if anything.”

“A test,” Wilbur repeated.

“I hate tests.” Tommy rambled. “We both have a thesis, opposites of each other, and we’re both trying to prove the other wrong. Like a science experiment or something.”

“I could work with that,” Wilbur calmed. The train stopped again. It was Wilbur's stop. Another night, ended by a train station. Wilbur stood up, standing at the doors, waiting for them to open. “Farewell, my fellow science experiment.” Wilbur joked, Tommy groaned, he didn’t agree to being called that. “See you next week!”

“You hope!” Tommy called. Tommy hoped, but he wouldn’t say that either. A man brushed past Wilbur as he exited, not sparing him or Tommy a glance as he sat in the midsection.

That heavy feeling returned, settling in Tommy’s stomach. He would have to face Tubbo and Ranboo, this week. Probably a conversation that would be easier to do in person, so he would have to wait a few days. It wasn’t just his friendship with them on the line now, anymore. He had the curse that was Wilbur Soot and being bad at lying. His poor, poor unfortunate luck.

Tommy, for the first time all night, pulled out his phone. A few from Ranboo, but nothing concerning. No indication that Sam had caught him. Thank god.

Tommy got off at his stop, not giving the man a glance. The possible things he could say to them running through his head as he ascended the stairs, he needed to word it out carefully. Maybe write like a notes app vent, or something. He needed to think this through carefully. He would do that tomorrow, though.

Right now, he wanted to go home, and collapse on his bed and pretend the last to Tuesday didn’t happen. He could live with that. He would be perfectly contempt with that!

But he couldn’t, unfortunately. He was cursed with the miserable existence of Wilbur Soot.

[kiribakuhappiness]

Hiiiii if you have time could I please request a HC on how bakugou studies and works out? I was down for a few days so I wanted to read about bakugou but there aren't any really. I don't wanna force this on you byyy love you❤️❤️😀

Heyyy, I am super late to seeing this (I’m literally going through hundreds and hundreds of asks right now scouring for prompts and trying to do a little spring cleaning) and I came across this and it makes me so happy to talk about Blasty McGonnaHaveAStroke that I just really wanted to answer it - I hope that’s okay!

My perception of Bakugou Katsuki is ever changing because he’s developing so quickly in so many different areas of his personality (honestly, such a well written character, I’m really enjoying watching him morph and grow over the past few seasons) and I feel like I grow to know him more and more with each fic / drabble I write where I can really delve into his mannerisms and way of being and so I have a lot of ideas for these little nuances in particular!

Studying:

We all know that Bakugou is high key suffering from Former Gifted-Child Syndrome (or whatever the popular term for it is on this site). He’s naturally talented and intelligent - but he’s also incredibly hard working, especially once he’s come to the realization that he’s become a Former Gifted-Child.

There’s a quote I saw circulating a while ago from Bakugou, something about “I came to this school not to find out what I can do, but to find out what I can’t do.” or something similar to that sentiment. Because Bakugou is already perceptive and smart, he recognizes all of the things he can do and all of the things he’s good at, what he needs to learn is how to better handle the things that he’s not good at and how he can work on himself to barrel forward on his path to become the best.

So I think that even though Bakugou is already smart and doesn’t have any trouble keeping one of the top spots in his entire class, I feel like he would also spend a good portion of his free time studying and doing homework. It’s one thing to be intelligent, but to keep such a high position like the 3rd spot or whatever he is, that means that he’s completing and handing in assignments regularly, receiving top marks in most likely all of his classes, and that requires a certain level of dedication.

But again, he’s also already highly intelligent. So he probably gets bored really easily. (I know I’ve mentioned it before but it’s kind of one of my favorite ‘little obscure details’ to note that there are several panels where Bakugou is depicted as not fully paying attention during lessons - gazing out the window or playing with his pencil and even closing his eyes and completely tuning Present Mic out with the internal monologue that English was super boring or something like that).

This is all a long-winded way to back up the fact that I feel like his notes would be quick and sloppy and probably wouldn’t have a lot of context clues so someone like Kirishima just reading over his notes probably wouldn’t understand half of the concepts just because they’re things Bakugou already knows so he didn’t deem them important enough to write down.

Someone else posted a bunch of screenshots of Bakugou Katsuki’s actual notebook or something (fuck, I wish I could find the original post but it’s lost in time and space at this point), and his handwriting isn’t messy per-say but I definitely imagine that they were just lazy, bored strokes maybe pressed down with a little more force than is actually needed, and if he wants to highlight something important to remember later, he probably does that thing where he circles it multiple times or boldly underlines and things like that instead of actually using any highlighters or colored tabs like Midoriya probably uses!

Working Out:

You know, I feel like not a lot of attention gets brought to how Bakugou would work out! Like, in all the fics where they mention him working out or whatever, he’s usually just sparring with someone or they mention that he’s pumping iron (lifting weights), but that’s about as in depth as it goes.

I spend too much of my time at the gym and personally I believe that Bakugou is that one dude that I would constantly pick on for “always skipping leg day” - in the fact that he probably focuses very heavily on core work outs and arms/shoulders, since those are the muscles that are most directly impacted by his quirk!

He probably does a ton of crunches, pull-ups, free weights, push-ups; anything that works his triceps, biceps, abs, core balance, etc. He also probably runs /A LOT/ because he isn’t too bulky, he’s actually got a very slender build considering the muscle mass he carries in his upper half, which means that he’s running cardio on the DAILY. If I were a gambling woman, I’d put money on the treadmill, the stepper, and a jump rope being his most important pieces of equipment for cardio training.

We also have to take into account his dietary habits. Like I said before, this boy is incredibly slender for someone with such broad shoulders and who carries a lot of his muscle mass in his shoulders/back, and it’s commonly accepted at this point that Bakugou is a good chef (judging by the way his parents made him take music lessons growing up, I can assume that it was probably their idea as well for him to learn how to cook - whether that be through cooking classes or home-taught, it doesn’t really matter).

Mitsuki and Masaru are also canonly involved in the fashion industry - and we all know how, ahm... flawed the views in the fashion industry can be depending on location, culture, and societal beauty standards.

Katsuki probably has an immaculate diet. Protein, carbs, fresh fruit, calcium; he probably has a perfectly balanced palate and I can only ever dream cause ya girl just has sushi and LUNCHABLES as my only meal of the day today so, yaknow...

ANYWAYS.

All of that into consideration, I headcanon that Bakugou probably has a rotating shift for his work outs; cardio every day for ~30 minutes (most likely a warm up with the jump ropes or a jog/sprint alternating between low intensity and high intensity settings on the treadmill or stair stepper), then he probably has a circuit. So say for arms, he’d probably use free weights (curls, pumps, etc), then pull-ups/push-ups, I could see him throwing in some shoulder stretches and a very light yoga routine to help keep himself flexible and adaptive.

I totally see him as a man to get hooked on focusing solely on arms/shoulders because it’s very easy to see improvement and quick results, plus the after swell of muscles when you’ve done a proper workout is like the world’s most authentic confidence boost you can ever experience, and I could picture Bakugou being addicted to a feeling like that.

However, as previously mentioned, he’s incredibly intelligent and perceptive, and he’s just kind of a no-bullshit, no-excuses kind of guy? He might WANT to just do arms/shoulders for the rest of eternity, but he knows that won’t make him GREAT, so he forces himself to cycle. Arms/shoulders, Core, Legs, Exclusive Yoga, repeat - all with cardio warm-ups and cool-downs.

I’d gander that on top of his school work and course studies, he’d have to keep his gym time somewhere between 2-3 hours daily, but he probably only realistically hits the gym about 2-3 times a week at most, since all of their other training exercises and other hero activities no doubt work his entire body, and with such a strenuous, active lifestyle, there wouldn’t be much need for him to go any more than that unless he really wanted to aggressively bulk up or something crazy, but with his body type he’ll most likely fill out naturally as well (another thing that’ll come all on its own that he won’t even have to work for; lucky fucking bastard).

-

Okay, I’ll shut up now about it :D Hope that was somewhat entertaining to read? Are headcanons fun to read about? They must be if people are asking but I always get so nervous like, dude literally nobody cares that you psychoanalyzed Bakugou Katsuki to the point where you’ve probably got his entire work week mapped out, and you know what?

You right - lmfao!

[p1nkwitch]

Ok, i did not forget tmastuck is still alive, i just had lots of other ideas, but.

Here we go again. 3 conversations.

@nonbinaryeye

SINNAMONROLL started pestering BEATINGHEART

SR: How long Jonah?

BH: As long as it takes to reach the new session, then I can just leave if my presence is so annoying to you.

SR: Not what I mean and you know it. They are both looking for you. There are just so many times I can lie to their faces. So many times Kitty kat has to lie to her humans, she is sad Jonah.

BH: Do not put our child into this.

SR:...

BH:Ughhhh stupid cat brain.

SR: Still its actually bothering them.

BH: Oh and what should I do, let them find me? How do you think that would end? Hm? I basically took away their powers Barnabas, I let the institute- my institute get destroyed. There is no coming back from that.

BH: Then there is the whole other thing about not actually being anything that a copy!! What do I do with that?

SR: Look, I'm a copy too! I'm not the Barnabas Bennet that was, but I have his memories still. So what? I like this new life. This new chance!! You can have that too Jonah.

BH: We could…

SR: Oh Jonah we both know that it wouldn't work, we already tried and it fell apart. Its not me that you want anymore and I'm… more happy with just being friends this time around. It was stupid of us to even try again, i knew it, but i was just… lonely, heh. Neither is what the other wants. Not anymore.

BH: Maybe if we work on it! I could... try to change.

SR: No, no you won't, and honestly ? I don't want you to. Mistakes happen, otherwise we wouldn't keep falling into each other.

BH: Not all of it was a mistake, it couldn't have been!

SR: … Maybe, maybe not before, I will admit that, but you want more than I can give. That's not bad, it just means I'm not the one you should be getting it from. We worked before, but you have more memories of a life without me and you aren't the same person I loved then.

BH: If i'm not that, and i'm not Jonah, then who the hell am i?

SR: Well, that is really up to you I suppose. To figure it out. I… will keep them away still for a little bit more. But Jonah, I can't keep doing this forever. We are barely halfway through on the trip.

BH: So? Have you seen them, i- they are in love. God why would- i dont even know what else to say.

SR: Try, speak with them, figure out something. You are clever. I need to go, I'm supposed to play cards with Martin. Its funny, he reminds me of Jonathan…

BH: Im sorry.

SR: I know, but its not enough.

SR: Talk to you later ok?

BH: Sure.

SINNAMONROLL ceased pestering BEATINGHEART

BH: …

BEATINGHEART started pestering SPOOKYARCHIVE

BH: How are you holding on?

SA: … Not sure. Its weird.

BH: Breakups are always messy affairs.

SA: You would know wouldn't you?

BH: Rude, do you want me to leave Jon? Because I can. I'm fairly sure i'm the only one you are even talking with at this point.

SA: Not true, I speak with Daisy.

BH: Aha, how does that go for you?

SA: … Its ok, she tries to cheer me up and its… nice, but sometimes she insists on me to stop moping and well.

BH: Tiresome?

SA: Yes, so much. The other just don't want me near, and its- i dont even have my powers anymore, i thought- well i assumed that perhaps like this it would be better, but its like someone cut off something from me.

SA: Georgie tries, but if I mention anything regarding my powers she becomes upset. Melanie is… herself, that bridge got burned a long time ago. Basira.

BH: Ah the detective, she is… impassive i have come to understand.

SA: Yes, and it's confusing, because sometimes we can get along but others I just seem like the enemy. I'm starting to realize that perhaps it was always like that.

BH: Mm, how does that make you feel regarding what happened with Martin.

SA: I- god i was so stupid, i thought we could just be better now that i was cut off, that we could be together but it became obvious that we had two different views of things and it was always grating, I could overlook it, but Martin did not. And it- its not a break up just some time to think.

BH: Jon.

SA: Hahahaha, it's actually funny i think, that's exactly what Georgie told me before breaking up with me.

BH: I do not think its funny Jon.

SA: Well what else am I supposed to take from it???

SA: That I'm terrible at keeping things? That the people around me dont care?

BH: Purrhaps, you confuse coworkers with friends, Jon. Have… Do you have a good frame of reference? To know what is normal or not? I'm trying my best to not sound pushy since you established that does not help you. So think of this as your homework of sorts.

BH: Try and think of behaviour that points to them being friends or coworkers. Hell just go with trauma victims if it makes you feel any better, take that. Make a list and tell me the results.

BH: As for Martin, as you said I don't have the track record to help. Asking Elias… well he has Peter. So maybe that is more helpfur to you. But I doubt it. Listen, divorce your feelings on the matter and think objectively.

BH: Imagine…. imagine someone else, literally anyone you know and try to put them in your place. Would you accept them to be treated like that? Do you think its normal?

SA: I… don't, I really don't. God i'm a mess.

BH: You are something of a mess, but the blame is not on you completely. That others see you as an easy target for their own insecurities doesn't make you the one to blame. Now, you did make mistakes from what we talked about, and we addressed that and their consequences on your relationships before, like with Tim. But, clearly there are also things they are not dealing with either and they use you as a scapegoat.

SA: Don't try to put them against me.

BH: Oh Jon, the sad thing is, I don't have to.

SA: I… will try to speak with Martin again later.

BH: Ok. Good luck, do try to do what I asked you, ok?

SA: Yes… yes, sure. Thank you Jonah.

BH: You are welcome.

SA: … Will you speak with them?

BH: I can't. Goodbye.

BEATINGHEART ceased pestering SPOOKYARCHIVE

WEBDESIGNER started pestering BEATINGHEART

WD: ::::)

BH: What do you want Annabelle?

WD: Can a friend not say hello?

BH: Considering we are not friends and you weren't supposed to make it here, I hardly doubt it.

WD: Oh buuu you sad, sad man.

WD: Anyways, I saw those two moving around trying to find you, very sad. Peter was looking grumpy. Elias was very annoyed. Do you want a picture?

BH: Why are you bothering me with this??

WD: … Its… the first time in years that I don't have the web controlling my actions. I always liked to play matchmaker, before my change.

WD: Its refreshing to be able to say what I mean without pain or speaking in riddles. The trip gets boring otherwise. I have been pestering Martin, but he is stubborn. Plus poor sad Jon.

BH: Leave him alone please, he is already messed up enough as it stands and im playing therapist for free. No need to add more trauma.

WD: That you caused him, or the other you caused him. Its perhaps a very interesting thing that he chose the version of you that did not harm him to be his confidant don't you think? There is something there to be said, even psychoanalyzed.

BH: Annabelle the point.

WD: Right pictures.

WD: sent (picture)

BH:... Annabelle, they are just making out??!!? How did you-??

WD: I have secrets. Have some more.

WD: ATTACHED (PICTURES1,2,3,4)

WD:??? Are you ok? Its been 20 minutes??

WD: Did I kill you? They didn't even get to lose more than the shirts calm down, I was sure you got into more freaky stuff in your years.

BH: How??

WD: Do you want me to get more?

BH: No!!

WD: Are you sure? Trip is long… maybe you need something to keep you… mmm interested?

BH: I will leave.

WD: Sure, sure. Offer always stands. Anyways. I will just say, because i'm fully capable of it now. They very much want you in there too. Its very weird, but considering the things i have seen and done for the web its the least concerning thing.

WD: So stop hiding and go get your throupe you coward.

BH: ANNABELLE!!

WD: ;;;;)

WEBDESIGNER ceased pestering BEATINGHEART

[anepiphany]

okay wait everyone is doing these cute posts about their moots and so i’d like to write out what havoc a team of one of my mutuals and i would wreck if we were in the bau:

(this is me being dumb at 2 am and i’m definitely going to make some cute sort of post too but i felt like doing this)

((also this took me forever to do lmao so if there’s anyone i forgot i swear it is nothing against you i just did moots i felt like i knew well enough to explain this for))

@ellegreenawy : y’all celie and i would be an iconic team because we come up with so many good ideas but our best ideas are always in the middle of the night. so you best know if reid ain’t solving the case, celie and i crack it at 2 am. also, celie is definitely rossi’s favorite. she’s the only person he lets cook with him regularly, and i’m the one who definitely got distracted and forgot to put water in the pasta pot so i ended up setting the pasta on fire so i am banned from the kitchen most of the time (it’s not that i can’t cook, it’s that i got distracted that one time and rossi refuses to believe me). oh and her and i would definitely write a book together the way rossi did. and we’d guest lecture together too.

@babyblockcolorcat : fabs and i would def be in seasons 8-9 of cm together and we would get nothing done because this girl would not be able to function around alex blake. but also faby would rock a blazer. her and em definitely share a closet. faby around alex is like reid around practically any girl in the early seasons, and it’s kind of adorable but also the rest of us (me and the team) are standing around like “why the fuck is alex so oblivious” (of course this is an au where alex isn’t married). i mean the whole “good morning, faby!” from alex and then faby accidentally walks into a pole and spills her coffee

@reidsemily : bro bekah and i would be an elite partnership. we definitely spend our free time with penny and morgan because i feel like the four of us would be iconic together. also if we’re called in for a case in the middle of the night her and i are definitely the ones that show up and chug five cups of coffee before we can even say a word. and then someone (probably jj) is going to point out that my blazer is inside out and that bekah is wear two different shoes and we’re just going to drink another cup of coffee

@linguinereid : i would love to hear conversations between bee and reid because i’d probably learn more from them than my entire school life. bee is definitely a major part as to why we can solve all these cases, and i feel like her and i interrogating a suspect together would be interesting. i’d probably talk enough to bore the unsub to death, and then bee would just say things and psychoanalyze the suspect until they broke

@ssaemilyprentits : okay so i feel like steph and morgan have been in a prank war since she started working at the bau and somehow i got involved in it and now we’re just this chaotic mess of “ok ani wait you distract morgan and i’ll go mix salt into his coffee” and “steph keep derek busy so i can go and stick this sign that has his phone number and ‘call me for foot massages’ written on it on the back of his car”

@whiskey-fluent and @jenniferxprentiss : i wholeheartedly believe that h and ash would be the most sarcastic and upfront agents. like straight up would make the suspects tremble during interrogation. and they’d always be sent to do stuff together; they’d be the dream team. i know technically i don’t fit into this equation but like their energy together as fbi agents would be immaculate so i needed to talk about it. like that one episode where the unsub is morgan’s cousin’s husband who forced her to marry him and jj and emily walk into the interrogation room and are conversing about will and henry? yeah, that’s h and ash. i’d probably be penny in the trio.

@heat-waveee : ok i think lb and i would honestly be a very productive duo during work. like she’d def keep my procrastination in check on paperwork days and we’d be good at finding info together during cases. and lb would be great at talking to eyewitnesses and friends/family of the victim(s). but when the case is over? we’d be insane. like at dinner parties with the team, nights out at the bar- we’d be going crazy. oh also we’d be crushing on em so much

@apologetically-apologetic : so abbie and i would be great at coming up with theories because in the short amount of time i’ve talked to her we’ve had so many genius ideas. i think we’d observe crime scenes and just piggyback theories onto each other until we figure out a fairly solid one and then use evidence we find later and adjust or expand our theory and then we’d solve cases really well. also, i think if we ever got like trapped with an unsub or like taken together by an unsub we’d definitely come up with a good plan and there’s like an 85% chance that we’d be fine

@reidemandweep : roo and i would just be an organized mess tbh. our desks are for sure next to each other, and whoever comes in first makes coffee for themselves and the other person as well. we’d probably hold off on paperwork till the very last minute but turn it in right on time. i also think roo and i would make a great team when interrogating a suspect. like that one episode where jj and morgan pretend to be a couple and talk to that white supremacist guy? yeah roo and i would be the gay poc couple to annoy the unsub if they were bugged by that. also, we’d definitely be caught trash talking strauss. like “ugh she’s so annoying and messes stuff up for us a lot” and then everyone’s quiet and we’re like “she’s right behind us isn’t she”. we’d also tease rossi about dating her but in the end i don’t think we’d hate her completely because we’re nice enough to understand she’s doing her job but also we’d be like “no <3″ to most of the stuff she says

@eusuntgroot : hj and i would honestly be very nice people together i think. well, hj would be my better half. she’d be really good at talking to families of the victims, because she’s great at being empathetic and she’s so caring. the two of us would probably be sent to speak with victims and eyewitnesses because we’d be good together at calming them down and being there for them and trying to get information. also, hj and i would be great at talking an unsub down together if necessary 

@agenthotchner : honestly i feel like snow and i would be really badass undercover. like i get very “entropy” vibes from the two of us. like tara and morgan vibes in that episode. snow and i would most definitely find an unsub while undercover at a bar, lure him outside, and then threaten to hit him in the face with a pair of heels as we handcuff him and lead him to the cop car

@davidrossi-ismydad : sammy and i would have such chaotic energy during paperwork days- hanging out with penelope, locking jj and emily in a room until they got their sexual tension out of the way, sammy hanging out in hotch’s office doing god knows what. sammy and i would definitely make everyone laugh whenever they needed to but sammy would also come up with some of the most genius ideas that the others wouldn’t think of. he’d would definitely be the character that at the 30 minute mark of the episode is like “maybe we’re thinking this part of the profile wrong” and coming up with the correct profile and we’d be like “yes you’re onto something”

@cinnamon-rroll : okay jemma and i would be great at stakeouts. like we’d have the snacks ready and would have the most interesting conversations while watching our surroundings from the car with binoculars. i also think we’d be good undercover, too

@spideyspencer : listen avery would also be so good at interrogating suspects. like so amazing. she’d just be so good at intimidating them and not taking their shit whatsoever. and when we’d be chasing an unsub i’d definitely chase after them and she’d find an easier route and be standing there waiting for us. she’d be putting handcuffs on the unsub and i’d be wheezing and half out of breath like “how *wheeze* did you *wheeze* get here *wheeze* so *wheeze* fast?”

@prentiss-dinozzo : i feel like noelle and i would probably be like tara together: badass but also good critical thinkers and smart. and i think we’d do similar things to what reid did: go through case files, make geographic profiles, that sort of thing. and i also think we’d be good at guest lecturing together

(not me being dumb and forgetting caitlin because i did this at literally 2 am ugh!!)

@themetaphorgirl : okay caitlin gives me very much garcia vibes and i for sure think her and i in the bau would be best friends with penny. we’d be hosting parties/dinners and coming up with fun ways for all of us to hang out and we’d just have elite energy. we definitely convinced the bau to have a family bowling night and family game night and things like that. i think we’d also be good at talking unsubs down and definitely would be the ones talking to the friends/family of the victims. also, i have a feeling that caitlin would be good at making negotiations too! 

[aliciajamess]

His Shallow Weakness (Tom Riddle x OC)

Summary: Tom Riddle was charming and kind, so encouraging and persuasive. He liked to delve deep into each person’s thoughts and emotions. That was his main goal. But what if there’s that one girl who had nothing different about her, nothing special, no depth? Nothing for him to know?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x OC

Genre: Horror, Romance

“How are you?” Tom greeted one of the fellow Gryffindor girls in Hogwarts who passed by him down the hallway. He gave them a blossoming smile that erupted butterflies in their stomachs, causing them to giggle and blush furiously.

“We’re good, Tom,” said the raven-haired girl, pointing next to who he could only assume was her best friend. “Which class are you headed to?”

“Potions, actually,” he responded. “Do you like potions?”

Both girls nodded intensely. “Oh! It’s our favourite!”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding his head with a clean smile.

“Are we keeping you? We apologize,” hurried the strawberry blonde girl beside her with a bow.

Tom shook his head and held his hand out to humble them. “Not at all, it’s absolutely alright. But we must get going then.”

The girls nodded and went skipping ahead, gushing about the perfectly angled jawline that belonged to Tom. Tom smiled at his friends, Tiernan and Avery, who nodded at him to continue walking to his class. Even though Tom’s potions class was all the way at the other end of school from the other two’s Transfiguration’s class, they still remained adamant to walk him there. They so badly wanted his approval.

“Why don’t you boys get going to your classes instead of mine?” he ushered softly, trying not to make it seem like they’re being forced. They had to want to earn his validation.

Avery and Tiernan shook their heads vigorously. “No need, Tom! We’ll walk you!” said Tiernan Lestrange.

“Very well,” shrugged Tom.

They proceeded to walk down the hallway, entering the potion’s tower that was taught by the head of their house - Horace Slughorn. He was Tom’s favourite teacher, mainly because he’d gotten most of Hogwarts’ secrets from him. And he continued to get on his professor’s good side for more information. That was what this was all about.

Until, he saw her again. His heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. He paused from walking strangely and his other two friends gave each other a weird look. Tom immediately became anxious and frustrated like he’d never been. His mind scattered around trying to find a reason for his unusual infatuation for the tall and glamorous blonde.

What was it about her? No doubt, she was from a genetically-blessed, noble and notorious, well-respected pure-blood family who knew and understood Salazar Slytherin’s values. She was also the owner of one of the possibly best hair’s of the century. Her pale yet slightly bronzed complexion certainly brought out the basic blue in her eyes. And she was blessedly taller than the rest of the girls in Hogwarts, making it easy for her to turn heads around school.

But that was all there is to her. Physical appearance; beauty that Tom would never deny in a hundred years. Other than that, she was as bland as an apple. Her life was as simple as following her parents’ lessons and just plain having her prettiness be her main personality. There was nothing different about her but her face. And yet, Tom was inevitably drawn onto her. And it pissed him off to feel so superficial.

He prided himself in mastering how to psychoanalyze every single person he’d encountered. Professor Dumbledore was wary from the death of his sister, and blamed himself terribly because of it. Avery and Lestrange had major family neglect issues that only made them want to strive for someone more powerful than they were’s approval. And all Slughorn cared about was that Slytherins cared about wanting to be in the Slug Club - since that was the only way he was sure that people still respected him.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out people’s strengths and weaknesses and find his way around them. But this girl, this girl, had none. He didn’t know how to act around her. Everybody else had a story, but her. So what was it about her then?

“Tom!” she cheered pleasantly.

In return, Tom gave her a smile. “Juliet,” he muttered her name like it was addictive poison.

“Are you headed for potions?” she asked, her eyes glimmering so enticingly that it made him weak in the knees.

“Yes, of course, can’t be late to that,” he said with the tilt of his head. “What about you? Aren’t you going?”

“Yes,” said Juliet. “I was just on the look for you since it was written on the board that we’re partners.”

God forbid that I would sleep restfully tonight, Tom thought miserably, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his head later that night, once again.

“Well, here I am,” he said. He turned to his two mates and nodded at them to go to their respective classes and leave him with Juliet.

He walked a little bit to the front and waited for Juliet to turn to the same direction as him, walking side by side to the potions classroom.

“You’re a bit late today, you’re usually very early,” she pointed out.

And Tom was happy, to say the least. Juliet noticed what time he would go into class. Juliet notices him.

“Right. I got caught up talking to Reeva and Eloise on the way.”

She nodded, evidently not that interested in what he was going to say. Like she only asked to start a conversation.

“So did the professor start on the instructions?” asked Tom.

“Not yet. He really wanted to wait for you,” she giggled.

Tom chuckled himself. He loved being Slughorn’s personal favourite. “Well, then it must be a good project.”

They entered the classroom and took a seat on the very front row where Slughorn had seated both of them, being his favourites. Slughorn shed a blind eye to Tom’s tardiness and then started his class.

“Today, we’re going to be making Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Just like we talked about yesterday, its purpose is to tame unruly hair to your wishes. Since I notice that there aren’t any gingers in this class, all of you shall proceed with the making. You will test it out on your own hair later in your own time, report a lab with a conclusion, and it is all due tomorrow. Get along now.”

Tom couldn’t help but fantasize of how he would take two drops of the potion, rub it in between his fingers and palms before running it through Juliet’s golden locks. It looked so smooth and carefree, he could barely resist the urge to just graze his fingers through it purposely accidentally.

But he remained where he sat. He waited for her to make the first move and talk about the project with him. Just to see if she was really interested in initiating a little something with him. So he picked up the Asian Dragon hair that lay on their shared table and looked at her patiently.

“So do you know how to do this?” she asked innocently. “I don’t think I remembered the instructions from yesterday.”

And then he remembered that Juliet wasn’t the brightest bulb around here. She gets Acceptable and Poor, and even at times, Dreadful, on most of her subjects. Don’t ask Tom how he knew this, just know that Juliet has never gotten anything more than Acceptable in any of her subjects. It was one of the things that revolted Tom about Juliet; she didn’t care.

He was normally more intrigued by people who showed interests in their studies and passions. Juliet, however, had none. It seemed that she completely depended on her family name - the Voilette’s - to help her to exceed. Or maybe even her looks that would awe the professors. Though none of the things she does would clearly imply that. She was a mystery box that really held nothing inside. How was that even possible.

Tom stiffened his jaw but still forced himself to smile politely. “Yes, I do. I’ll help you, don’t fret. Just add the hairs on the pot like so.”

Juliet watched blankly as Tom added on ingredients and stirred the pot thoroughly. She was neither bored nor excited. After a few minutes of the mixture blending in, Tom stopped stirring and studied the potion.

“Could you pass me the flask?” he asked.

“Sure,” she mumbled, grabbing one out of the three flasks in front of her and handed it to Tom’s awaiting hands. “Is it done?”

“Yes. Would you like for the experiment to be done on you?” He inwardly was wishing for Merlin to make Juliet agree, just so Tom could have the permission to feel her hair and possibly grab one strand and make a love potion out of it.

She didn’t think anything of it and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Tom smiled cheekily. “Perfect. We’ll meet after school at the library and test it out then, yes?”

She hummed in approval as she leaned on the table and tried to take a whiff of the green liquid. And Tom watched her do so, he almost didn’t care that he literally looked creepy. Not that Juliet would’ve noticed. And everybody else was too absorbed in their own tasks to notice.

“Is that peppermint?” she asked him genuinely.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I-It’s Dragon hair...”

After class, Juliet packed up and merely waved at him goodbye, but not without flashing him her usual I’m-Too-Good-Not-To-Show-Off-My-Smile smile. Tom wondered if he was inching closer into psychoanalyzing her by just her smile.

But professor Slughorn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Riddle,” he called.

Tom looked and moved over to his professor diligently. “Yes, professor?”

“I’ve noticed that you were the only who was doing the work in the project. Is there any problem in there?” he asked.

Tom shook his head. “Not at all. But professor, if I might ask, would you tell me what made you choose.. Juliet Voilette to be the first student in the Slug Club?”

Slughorn was evidently astonished by his question and placed a hand on his beer gut as he laughed foolishly. “My dear boy, Juliet was the reason I had made the club in the first place.”

“What does that mean?” asked Tom.

Slughorn stumbled over his words hesitantly. “Well, I can’t particularly put a finger on that. I mean, Jules has always been sort of a question mark in the sense that she’s not... the most hard-working student — ”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his superior suggestively.

Slughorn nodded and rolled his eyes. “Oh, be it. Jules doesn’t work hard at all. Truth is, I question myself daily why on earth she was sorted under Slytherin. But the reason I made Slug Club was because I thought that if she was surrounded by people who were ambitious, she would then be influenced by them.”

Slughorn sighed and took a seat behind his desk. “But obviously, she’s not trying one bit. She comes and takes a seat, drink tea and eats as if she owned the place. But there is something about Jules that I have noticed...”

Tom took note of how Slughorn had created Juliet her own nickname; Jules. It was cute and whatnot, but he’d originally had no idea they were that close.

“She works half as hard as everybody else, and yet, she would end up getting the same results, if not better. Of course, this isn’t grades-wise. Merlin knows,” he groaned as he delved his hand into one the drawers in his desk and pulled out a handful of magazines.

“She had been voted Witch Weekly’s top Most Beautiful Witch of 1943 last year. And the year before that, she’d won the Most Outstanding Walk Award. Once, she was even on The Quibbler under the conspiracy theory of using a self-beauty spell on herself in an attempt to become more beautiful. She was on the Daily Prophet in 1939 simply for buying a red dress at Madame Malkin, the following day, countless of witches wore the exact same dress. Obviously, I couldn’t let her A-list status go to waste.”

Slughorn seemed disappointed with himself for only caring about his student’s reputation by the way he slapped his palms onto his forehead tiredly. But Tom understood how he felt. Completely.

“Thank you for telling me that, professor,” said Tom with a courteous bow. “I’ll be on my way now.”

Slughorn only nodded at his most prized student and dwelled in his own thoughts precariously. Tom felt weak and disheartened as he came to a realization that he and Slughorn were facing the same issues regarding Juliet. She was a tough yet empty shell to crack. There was no point. And yet, it only made Tom want to try harder.

He barely listened to any of his classes, his mind clouded with the things that could happen later in the library where they would meet. He was going to take advantage of that time and get her to open up, just to give him some peace of mind. Even if it was as small as knowing the things that frustrate her, it would do.

He shouldn’t be liking her at all - or would he even want to call it liking? It seemed like such a muggle emotion. Not even just muggle, it’s a common feeling that everybody gets from time to time. Was he now just like everybody else?

As soon as his last class had ended, he stomped toward the library heavier than ever. But on the outside, he kept his chivalry and polite practices on for show. That was the only thing he felt he could control for now. He held the library door open for one of the girls behind him and stepped aside for them to enter. He waited right on the entrance, looking over the window occasionally in search for a particular pretty blonde.

He tapped his foot impatiently. Where was she? She was about... He checked the pocket watch from the insides of his robe and grunted. 57 seconds late.

The librarian looked over at his hunched back and waited for his word that he was doing just fine. He nodded at her reassuringly and painfully smiled at her. Now people were noticing that he was obviously detered. Only Juliet’s appearance could save that now. Oh, how pathetic he felt. Needing somebody else to make him sane?

“Tom!” Juliet’s voice from outside of the library door greeted happily. Tom resisted the urge to pull her in and just slap her for causing a nuisance in himself. He opened the door for her, knowing she would be waiting for it. “Hey, so where are we doing the thing?”

The thing? He thought irritably. That thing happens to be the thing that determines my grades and achievements.

“Probably somewhere private and quiet,” he directed.

He held his hands to his right signalling her to go first and she did. He watched her walk, her hair dangling in layers, enhancing her soft blow-out. It had a natural highlight of darker and lighter shades of caramel and sunflower blonde. He was so mesmerized by it that he felt this tingling feeling in himself that wanted to braid her hair like a poet would say.

She led him to some of the dimmer parts of the library. It was a small corner surrounded by shelves and only a small and round table in there. Completely isolated from the rest of crowd. He felt much more comfortable in here, much more confident.

Juliet set a single book down on the table and took a seat, Tom did the same and sat across from her. He had her all to himself now. And so he stared at her sharply, intensely, trying to get a look of her light blue eyes and see through them, read the details in them.

Juliet blinked a few times when she noticed this. “Uhm, are we gonna start?” she asked.

Tom fixed his composure and cleared his throat. “Yes. Do you happen to have a hairbrush?”

Juliet laughed lightly. “It’s, like, all I carry around me all the time!”

She pulled out a shiny pink hairbrush that somehow held an expensive aura to it and held it over to him, he gladly took it. She then positioned her chair around and dangled her hair over the back of it, swaying it swiftly at Tom’s face. His head followed the movements of her hair hypnotically.

He couldn’t help it. He just had to take some time to simply look at her hair, study the details, take a mental picture and force it into his dreams later than night. It was beautiful.

“Tom?” she interrupted his thoughts. “Are we starting?”

By the sound of her voice, she was starting to feel uncomfortable. She must be able to feel his stare without even seeing it. So he took the cap off of the flask and dropped a few droplets of the potion on his left hand. He places the flask down on the table and rubbed his hands together, and then he fulfilled his dreams.

He touched her hair. He ran his fingers through her tresses and never wanted to leave them again. It brought him immense pleasure just to touch them, play with them, twirl them around his fingers, fix the knots, flick them. A slight smile formed on his face, he felt that he was in a power position right now. And Juliet had no idea that she was being so submissive like he wanted her to be.

Minutes and minutes had passed. He still hadn’t gotten enough of it. That was until a sigh escape from Juliet’s lips followed by her tapping her slim and dainty fingers over her exposed lap due to her short skirt that she’d overgrown throughout the years.

What a whore, said Tom at the back of his head. He was convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing.

She clicked her black stilettos together and fidgeted around. She was silently telling him to lay off of her hair and Tom unwillingly obeyed her wishes.

“Alright then, that’s it,” he announced. And Juliet let out a short gasp, acting like she didn’t see that one coming.

Her hair was different now. Instead of the curled blow-out it was in before, it was sleek straight, giving her a more sophisticated and posh look instead of the warm sunshine look she usually had. He didn’t know if he liked this look better on her. But he certainly was not complaining.

“Well it worked!” she cheered playfully.

“That it did. So let’s work on the report now,” he suggested, taking a pen and paper out as she did the same thing.

Tom scribbled everything down on his paper speedily, like drawing the back of his hand. He knew everything he had to say to get an Oustanding mark. Time went by prety fast for him on that note. However, he noticed that Juliet barely had anything written down - that was actually related to their potions assignment. She mostly just doodled different types of heels on the edges of the paper, probably thinking that Tom was going to carry her in this partner work.

Tom had no problem with that. If she wasn’t working on their assignment, then she could work on giving him some answers to his own questions.

“So,” he began. “Have your parents written to you at all this year?”

This was his attempt of getting some background information about her parents. Maybe know if their were neglectful which resulted in her superficially attention-seeking and careless ways. Or if they were too strict, resulting in her complexity - or lack thereof.

“Yeah,” she nodded positively.

“Did you write back?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Are you spending the holidays with them then?”

“I think. I don’t know yet. ‘Haven’t really given that some thought.”

“Would there be any reason that you wouldn’t want to spend the holidays with your own parents?”

Fuck, Tom thought. That was too forward.

Juliet looked at him awkwardly, caught off-guard by his question. “I-I don’t really know?”

But Tom proceeded with pushing these questions on her. He needed something. Anything.

“Did they ever do anything that affected your life gravely?”

Juliet’s eyes blinked before slowly rolling down to her paper, which she was now starting to scramble up like garbage. “Uhm, no? I hope not? But I-I think I’m gonna go.”

She grabbed her book and stood up to walk away. But Tom shot up instinctively. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around, lightly yet powerfully pushing her onto the bookshelves. He placed both of his hands beside her head and looked into her eyes with animosity.

Juliet was terrified.

“T-Tom? What are you doing?”

“Tell me something,” he muttered. “Anything. What are you thinking?”

Juliet’s breathing was unsteady as she felt trapped and forced to speak up. His stare made her feel so small. “I-I’m thinking.. why are you doing this?”

“It’s not enough.” Tom shook his head.

“What isn’t?” she asked.

But he ignored her and kept mumbling inaudibly. “It’s not enough... What are your greatest fears?”

She thought long and hard on this. She was never in the position to ever have to answer a question such as this. But ask her her favourite shade of lipstick and she’d spill in a heartbeat.

“I-I don’t really — ”

“ — know. Of course. What do you know? You have no idea what the value of Pi is, 67 squared, 147 cubed, what 1.77245 means. What do you know?” he repeated, only frustrating himself even more.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked.

“Why don’t you try at school? Your grades are Acceptable at best. Your IQ would most likely be a solid 100. Do you think that you’re going to get special treatment for being Juliet Voilette? Is this a superiority complex?”

His hands remained solid on either side of her, he was now closing in the space between their heads. He felt the need to get even closer to her. Physically, emotionally and mentally. He was all about Juliet now.

Juliet didn’t know if she should even answer this. She didn’t know if he wanted a genuine answer or if he just wanted to tell her his questions and stare at her face.

“I-I can’t say...” she cautiously said.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she answered.

“What are you sure of?” he asked.

“That I’m scared right now.”

“Why’s that?” He narrowed his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Am I really?”

“You’re being different. You’re not usually like this. And I’m afraid. That’s what I know.”

“Really? What am I usually like?”

“Nice. Smart. Friendly. Grounded.”

“And now?”

“Creepy. Dark. Pushy.”

He smirked at her answers. “All I’m gathering from this is that you have zero emotional depth. Creepy, dark and pushy? Can you be more like every other girl?” he scoffed.

“I never pretended to be different.”

Bingo.

That was what was different about her. She never denied being who she was. She had the personality of a wall, and she knew it, and fully accepted it. Whereas other girls would’ve tried to force the idea that they were unique and different. Juliet was perfectly comfortable being the way she was.

But there was one thing.

“You’re a Voilette,” he pointed out. “Rich, famous. You were in Witch Weekly countless of times. Daily Prophet, too. Do you think that you’re better than everyone else because of that?”

He begged to know. He was just one step closer into cracking her case, he felt.

“I didn’t do anything to be in there. It just happened.”

True. Her achievements were nothing short of coincidence. Meanwhile, Tom worked for every single thing he has today - his intelligence, his followers, and his reputation. If anything, Juliet was only thriving off of pure luck. It was utterly pathetic. But she never said she didn’t do exactly just that. And he felt even more attracted toward her because of it.

“Does that do it for you?” she asked.

“Perfectly,” he responded, inching his hands off of the shelves slowly.

“Why did you have to ask?”

Tom rolled his eyes and tilted his head away from her, ashamed to even be asked the question. He brought his hands in and crossed them over her chest. “Nothing,” he murmured.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. “No, tell me,” she said.

“It’s nothing, okay?” he snapped, hoping it would get her off his case. He wasn’t used to talking so rudely to anyone, always needing to put up a front whenever he wasn’t alone.

But Juliet didn’t care. A teasing smile formed on her face. “Oh my gosh..” she gasped unbelievably.

Tom looked at her. “What?”

“You like me!” she loudly said.

“No I don’t! Trust me. I’m very repelled by the idea of you. In fact, thinking of you starts this weird feeling in my stomach,” he spat.

Her smile grew bigger into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Butterflies?? You get butterflies from thinking of me?”

Tom’s grimace turned into a look of realization. “Of course not,” he stubbornly denied.

“Sure, sure.” Juliet threw her hands up as if to give up. She began making her way out of their corner. “I’ll see you tomorrow at potions class, lover.”

Tom knew she was only saying that to tease him, but he liked that word coming out of her mouth. Describing him as her lover. Now that was something he could get used to.

Once Juliet was out of sight and had exited the library, Tom’s face softened and he chuckled to himself as he began packing his stuff up. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Juliet, he had a good feeling about it. He felt content. Approved. Validated. Permitted. He liked the feeling of it.

“No wonder Avery and Lestrange always kiss arse,” he hummed to himself.

[eitelle]

Ahh hi i hope im not too late to the event :) i would like a haikyuu matchup, any gender is fine!

Uhh, i still don't know if im intp or infp but i'm a capricorn sun, sagittarius moon and taurus rising. my pronouns are they/she

i'm 5'1, i have brown shoulder-length hair that is half bleached, and pale skin with freckles!

My favorite color is black, and my favorite food are strawberries with chocolate.

I'm an introvert, i tend to get really anxious in public spaces so i avoid going out alone lmao. When meeting new people i'm nervous at first and i don't talk much, but with friends i trust i get more confident and talk a lot more.

I think i would need someone who can listen to me, since i could talk a lot about my interests 😭

i'm always drawing, so if there is someone i like i would express my love by drawing them since i'm not good with words ✌

And i think that's it. If i am actually late just ignore this ask bc that would be embarrassing 😕🤞 have a nice day !

HI LOVE!! tbh u werent late if anything im the late one since im so late to this ask bye- its like 2 months later n i still have this im gonna kms /j

U SOUND SO PRETTY. N I LOVE UR PLACEMENTS. N I WANNA GIVE U A KITH. OOH N I LITERALLY RELATE TO U SM BYEEEE

ok so anyways ive matched you up w: miya osamu!!

ok so some hcs

he always thinks hes the forgotten twin n he lowk has trust issues from people saying “no ur my fav twin!! atsumu” so he doesnt even rly like words!!

he also expresses his emotions n love through his food so ur art will never go underappreciated with him

he also loves physical touch tho n deals w his brother and suna a lot so he knows ab introverts AND extroverts so he knows hoe to get u out of uncomfy situations ;DD

he often had to hear atsumu ramble so hes a vv good listener but he knows when to push u a lil bv he can read people vv well, yet another reason why words arent needed!!

sometimes people forget ur dating bc yall both lowk dont like pda but yall r in love so who tf cares?

he loves yalls height difference

he gets to ramble to u while u draw so u can focus on him n not any intrusive thoughts since sometimes that can cause ur hand to shake n thats the worse

he likes laying his head in ur lap

he can always read u so hes like a rock for u n hes p big n beefy so hes just like always there n thats amazing

he def like has ur art in his restaurant pls. (w consent ofc bc consent is seggsy)

idk why but i feel like yall have a shit ton of those reversible octopus plushies?? idk SJJSS

COOKING N ART DATES OH LORD😫‼️

yall r literally such a hot couple

also me n my husband by mitski (but like when u dont psychoanalyze the lyrics n take it as some cute thing) is yalls theme song i dont make the rules 🤚

u guys have promise rings WHSGSH

OK NOW ONE SHOT DRABBLE THING SJSHD

also why were the gifs all atsumu not osamu 🤨⁉️ i typed in miya osamu or sum shit like that. wow this is osamuphobic tbh 😐☝️(ps: manga timeskip spoilers ahead)

“osamu where are you taking me? dont run me into a pole babe HAHSHSHS” you giggle as your crazy boyfriend osamu miya drags a blindfolded you across the city where a rose petal and candle decorated restaurant (his restaurant) awaits with your fav food.

“ok ok i wont i swear. ok now here we are, open your eyes baby,” your boyfriend encourages.

as you open your eyes you see your favorite food in a romantic setting, completely unrecognizable as osamus restaurant and you over your mouth with your hand. “oh my god, ‘samu this is so much. what even is today? its not a anniversary right?” you question wondering how you scored such a thoughtful boyfriend.

“no its not y/n, i just thought youd like this gesture more as we havent spent as much time together :)”

“well consider this gesture appreciated i love it and i love you samu.” you say knowing how ooc it is but he deserves to hear it after all this.

“damn baby today was supposed to make you cry not me!! you ruined it >:(“ he jokes with you, teasing how flustered you got after proclaiming your love (not the first time tho might i add)

“well im sorry mr. better twin,” you tease right back.

the rest of the night is filled with laughs, smiles, love, and happiness for you and your lover.

NO BC THAT ONE WAS CUTE. ANYWAYS ARTBREEDER N THEN TEXTS!!

no artbreeder 😠 but i found this!! so... YEAH SJSHSJ

TUMBLR IS BEING N ASS AND ISNT LETTING ME PIST THIS BUT HERE U GO I HOPE U ENJOY!! (also the fish thing is osamu dropping a piece of fish on his lap picking it back up blowing on it n trying to feed it to u. thats so nasty)

[smile-files]

melon’s comprehensive kinlist!

including name of character, source, image, short personality description, mbti, and then why i kin them! take your time to read, or don’t. i get it if you don’t want to scroll through an entire page just to psychoanalyze me lmao, have a good time

1. wirt (over the garden wall)

an angsty, socially awkward dweebus who nerds out over interior design and plays the clarinet. fears death. infp.

my first kin! for a month after rewatching otgw i desperately wanted to be him. to be like him. anything!! it eventually wore away but i still feel that urge sometimes - the urge to write r/im14andthisisdeep poetry and to distance one’s self from their siblings... and heck - his tape for sara is indeed just as awkward as he is but let me assure you that his poetry and clarinet are actually pretty cool. 9/10 i need to see him more. give me more otgw comics. ok thanks.

2. snufkin (moomins)

a philosophical vagabond of vague age. acts stoic all the time but can and will leave every social situation whether or not it’s humanly possible. infp.

after watching some 90s moomin (and later on moominvalley) i realized how much i liked him and how much i was like him; i soon daydreamed of myself, as snufkin, venting to someone. it made me very happy. i vibe with his general demeanor and ideals (minus his gripes about rules, i follow those by the book) and i love psychoanalyzing him. so fun. so fun.

3. arnold perlstein (the magic school bus)

overly-anxious jewish kid and certified expert on rocks and panicking. owns a pair of fire-proof pyjamas in a lovely shade of green. isfj.

you all saw this one coming. my early childhood lives in my mind rent free and such i can’t help but revisit arn and his character. i’ve always loved him (even in, and quite possibly especially in, the reboot) and i’ve always loved psychoanalyzing every single little thing he does (remember that one time he said he was traumatized? me too). i soon realized a lot of it was me projecting! so sue me. actually, sue miss frizzle. either one of them. i mean, if arnold really didn’t like the field trips he could’ve just filed a restraining order! ...just saying.

4. fluttershy (my little pony)

anxious pastel butterfly baby child. probably loves animals more than she loves herself. cries upon impact. isfj.

the pony i’d mentally point to and think “me”. i had like 10 fluttershy-related things growing up, like plushies or funko pops or that sdcc guardians of harmony thing. while not shy in the same manner, it was nice having a character i could relate to about so much! i cosplayed as her equestria girls form for my first comic con as well, so that’s pretty cool. in addition, me being a little lepidopterist means i was bound to love her. it was destiny~

5. lammy lamb (um jammer lammy)

socially anxious and generally anxious rock star who thinks literally everything is a guitar. has an emotional support girlfriend. infp.

man!! she embodies the feeling when you have to go to the eye doctor by yourself to get your glasses fixed or when you have to call someone over the phone... that sheer tension. the panic. the feeling of ‘i want to throw my entire being into the trash can’. but lammy has a bunch of friends to support her, so she’s cool. died by slipping on a banana peel! same, sister. and man would i like to shred on my ukulele now...

6. loser (bfb)

humble (screw bfb 21), supportive, well-loved cube dude who’s voice is like that of an angel. has an entire fanclub in his honor. enfj.

okay, no, i was never a cool kid or ‘popular’, really, but in school i was never bullied for whatever reason and was generally well-liked; i hung out with a squad of weirdos and yet the cool kids would often talk to me? and try to engage me?? despite my very apparent self-deprecation and awkwardness??? either way i feel like it’s such a blessing to me, that i have so many friends! i often feel like i don’t deserve it, but hey. it’s nice! and heck, back when i was on scratch i had a little fanclub myself :0

7. fan (inanimate insanity)

nerdy, friendly aspie boyo who subliminally vents via blogging. longs for stability in his life; was best friends with an egg. entp.

ever since i noted his aspergers-like behavior i became super attached to him - whether or not it was intentional, i found it nice having a character i can relate those feelings with. he’s really sweet and dorky and i love how he gets along with test tube, paintbrush, and lightbulb! it makes me really happy to see him whenever i do. it made me really sad when he was eliminated. what the heck. yeah i dunno i don’t kin him super strongly but i love him to bits.

8. spinel (steven universe the movie)

emotionally unstable clown girl who stood in a garden for thousands of years. patience of a saint. edge like an 11-year-old me. esfp.

uhh um uh totally wasn’t completely disturbed by how much i related to spinel after watching steven universe the movie... totally wasn’t reminded about how and why i hated middle school... totally didn’t rethink my life that day... that’s it. this is all i’m saying.

9. molly blyndeff (epithet erased)

innocent child who has a terrible father and a wonderful demeanor. teddy bear who needs a hug and a criminal as her new dad. infp.

epithet erased is adorable okay?? i knew molly was infp in the first few minutes... more precisely, i knew she was me. man!! i don’t relate directly to her angst but i still feel it. i can replicate her voice so accurately it’s scary. also, i coined a new thing -  ‘molly cake’! you have a chocolate cake, preferably with chocolate chips inside. use chocolate frosting and add little pastel star sprinkles! on top! my mom would make this cake for us anyway but then i realized it was literally just molly in cake form. and it’s just as sweet!

10. tommy coolatta (hlvrai)

a 30-something-year-old child who rocks a propeller hat. chose his last name off of a dunkin donuts menu despite the fact that he has a father. infp.

everyone loves tommy. he’s so sweet? and funny and loveable?? often times when i say something funny but bizarre, i just remember that tommy has said ‘soda helps you see faster’ and it makes me happy. if i’m going to be a weirdo i want to be the wholesome weirdo who loves soda and has a .png for a dog! also i legally have to kin tommy. i took a test for it (and i’m not complaining! i find it quite flattering).

11. twyla (monster high)

the daughter of the boogeyman; would very much like to boogey out of here, if you know what i mean. avoids people like the plague. infj.

seeing her role in the show and in the movies, i really love twyla? first of all, her voice is my new favorite thing. it’s like... gravelly? and soft? she’s the type of person who would very much like to disappear when in a crowd; thankfully, she literally can. i am drawn to any sarcastic, self-deprecating introvert who takes care of their bonkers extrovert friend (in this case howleen), as i often act as such myself. also the phrase ‘boogey sand’ will never leave my mind now :)

12. lapis lazuli (steven universe)

water gem who wants you to leave. cynical as all heck, sensitive as all hell. is there such thing as a gem therapist? just asking. infp.

in a similar way to twyla, i vibe with lapis’ sarcasm and wit as well as her emotional side. it can be kind of addicting, isolating one’s self. anywho, me and my sister used to do this routine of yelling up to each other this certain dialogue between lapis and peridot when peri was leaving for something (in which lapis replied to everything she said with dry ‘yeah’s); i would always do lapis’ part. i do reply a lot with ‘okay’ or ‘yeah’ or ‘cool’ to things people tell me, as i never really know what to say.

13. brad meltzer (xavier riddle and the secret museum)

shy jewish butterfly kid who absolutely hates time travel. attracted to people who know how to socialize like a normal human being. infp(?).

okay okay so... combine everything from arnold and everything from fluttershy and that’s basically what brad is to me. a jewish socially anxious nerd who loves butterflies and drawing. badabing badaboom, there i am. that’s it.

and boom! all of the kins i can think of, of course not including comfort characters like will byers from stranger things or isabelle from animal crossing. if you have any kins to suggest to me, i would love it! thank you for taking your time to read this, friend! have a fantastic day :)

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “ What Death Tastes Like” Part 5

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3     Part 4

The Joker feels his face covered in soft kisses and although generally speaking he loves being pampered, this particular instance awakens his self-defense mechanism.

“What time is it?” J mutters.

“Let me see,” you stretch for your phone. “12:03 am.”

“I should go,” he lifts his head up from the pillow and you pull him back in your arms, yawning.

“Stay for a little bit longer, ok?”

“Why?”

“I wish to hold on to my birthday present for a few more minutes,” Y/N pleads with the man she senses doesn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t worry, I’m aware it was a casual affair,” your sad smile prompts a completely out of context answer:

“If you noticed I fell asleep, you should have woken me up!” The King of Gotham complains.

“I fell asleep also,” you snuggle to him and since J is suddenly quiet you whisper. “It was amazing.”

He keeps staring which makes you wonder what the hell is going on in his mind right now.

“At least for me,” you underline after you grasp he won’t comment on the subject; you didn’t have a clue he’ll convert the night you spent together into awkwardness for no reason. “Get out of my tent!” you snap at his behavior, irritated. “Get out!” you shove him and The Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t budge.

“Why are you mad?” he finally addresses the annoyed Y/N.

“Because you’re a jerk!”

“Come again?!” The Joker frowns and Scarecrow’s daughter has a clever response; she doesn’t share his genes for nothing.

“I would but I guess you’re not a big fan of us having sex a second time!!!”

“Wow!” J bitterly scoffs. “You sure can twist a guy’s words, huh? If you really must pry into my personal life, I’ll have you know that I’m not used with small talk afterwards, understand?”

While you wonder if he’s bluffing, you can’t help offer the benefit of doubt served with a side of insolence.

“Well, maybe if you would give it a try with someone that actually cares, you’d have stuff to discuss.”

“Miss Crane, what makes you think Mara doesn’t like me?”

The Joker expects a feisty reply to his audacious remark yet he receives a piece of sturdy logic instead:

“If she was crazy in love, she wouldn’t agree and with this on and off relationship you two have.”

J is obviously displeased at your statement thus Y/N has to unleash her creativity in order to push him comprehend what she’s aiming at.

“The problem is you don’t approach anything important, you only shut down everyone. Even Emma believes she’s not yours.”

The King of Gotham was preparing to lash out but your latest sentence totally catches him off guard.

“What do you mean?!”

“You never talk about her mother granted she keeps asking so Emma presumes you probably stole her from an individual you consider your enemy and raised her as revenge.”

“Huh?!” The Joker gets on his elbow, appalled. “She is my daughter!”

“I say that to her when she panics, unfortunately random people do look similar…,” you twirl a strand of his green hair around your fingers. “Steering clear from issues we’re uncomfortable with doesn’t necessarily result in a positive outcome,” Y/N concludes and her partner is not excited at all.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?!”

“I’m a Crane,” you peck his lips. “It’s in our blood.”

A lot of thoughts rushing behind those blue eyes and you’re confident his patience is running low; add a short fuse to the combo and according to your flawless instinct J will bite soon.

“Take me for example,” you attempt to cram in the main point of your dialogue before it happens. “I don’t care you’re older, I fancy your company nevertheless: you’re super handsome plus emotionally unattractive…”

“I’m what?!” The Joker interrupts.

“Umm… emotionally unattractive?” you hesitantly repeat while watching him jump off the pillows and start to collect his clothes in the semi darkness.

“Serves me right for sleeping with somebody half my age!” he growls at the young woman realizing she upset him with her rant.

“So you’re 46?” you struggle to joke at his affirmation.

“Listen here, Miss Crane!” J dresses in a hurry, angry at your stunt. “If you imagine you figured me out, you didn’t!! Nobody fucks with me!” he violently kicks the mattress and you can’t avoid it:

“I think I just did. Literally.”

The hate in his demeanor makes you regret opening up; your goal was to imply you like him no matter what yet the aftermath is way off what you intended.

“I apologize, OK?” you sigh and reach your hand for his.

“I hope you perish!” he strikes your fingers with such brutality it stings. “You’re dying anyway but hopefully the Cromyxillium kills you faster!” The Joker unzips the tent and leaves a shocked Y/N breathless at his hurtful tirade.

“That’s all you got? Stupid old man…” you whimper and cuddle under the thin blanket with his cushion.

Grief is not the correct term to describe what you experience for the moment: a perfect birthday turned into exactly the opposite in a blink of an eye simply because The Joker proved once more he has no concept on how to handle dynamite; fire suits him better.

***************

Next morning, 10:14am

“Are you hot or cold?” your father inquires since your intravenous therapy commenced 10 minutes ago.

“No,” you gaze at the IV bag and Jonathan lingers by your bed, reminding his offspring about their plan.

“We’ll do 3 hours on, 3 hours off; I’ll monitor your vitals and if you feel strange alert me immediately, deal?”

You nod a yes and his perseverance in aiding you with your terminal cancer evokes a sincere confession:

“Daddy…Thank you for trying to save me…I’m sorry I’m a burden…”

“A burden?!” Scarecrow mumbles.

There are a million facts you should evoke, yet the predominant one keeps hunting you.

“You buried yourself in the lab because of me…and Evelyn left…”

“Evelyn and I broke up for various motives,” your parent grumbles. “Saying I immersed myself into working because of you hints that I was forced into it against my will which is not true. I did everything out of love… I can’t bear the idea of losing you,” he kisses your temple; you wrap your free arm around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You’re the best dad; I’m lucky you’re my father. If I die… you think mom is waiting for me?...”

Jonathan Crane has the weird sensation he’s choking; his wife died after you were born due to leukemia, now their daughter is fighting for survival: she’s plainly the last fortress separating him from utter madness.

“I couldn’t save your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let you die kid,” he caresses your cheek. “She can wait; I bet she’s not eager to take you with her,” Scarecrow reassures his daughter. “Rest honey.”

“I will…” you consent and Emma barging in the bedroom with her duffle bag switches your attention.

“I’m here, I’m here!” she exclaims. “Traffic was horrible, bad accident on the freeway!”

**************

11 am

“Are you comfortable?” Emma checks with her friend, not entirely certain how to bring up a very delicate topic clouding her usually bubbly disposition.

“Of course,” you smile and she wiggles in her recliner. “Are you?” you wink at her visible restlessness as you attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Y/N…,” she taps the fluffy carpet with her feet. “Mmmm… last night after we returned from the river I dropped by to see how you’re doing and… I came to your tent…,” Emma pauses seeing the stupefied expression on your face. “I…I found my father sleeping in there with you…”

You lick your lips and strain to keep your calm even if your heart is pounding out of your chest.

“Did my dad take advantage of you?” she lowers her voice and you can tell she’s torn apart by the horrible notion.

“He didn’t,” you shake your head.

“Dumb girl…” Emma admonishes without any trace of resentment; what else can she articulate in these circumstances regardless?  

“I can’t believe I’m inquiring… Did you use protection?”

“No…It just happened…”

“Oh my God!” the concerned judgement pressures you to continue:

“It didn’t end well so it’s fair to assume we’re not in any danger of me becoming your stepmom,” your tone diminishes and she leans over to scold when The Joker passes by the opened door without bothering to peek inside your bedroom; you didn’t spot him but Emma did.

“I’ll be back!” she hisses and you’re confused at her desire to leave you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She ignores your question and races after The King of Gotham, catching up with him at the end of the long corridor.

“Dad!” Emma shouts and he turns around.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?!” she interrogates the clueless Joker.

“I’m meeting Crane. Is he downstairs?”

“In his lab compounding the next batch of Cromyxillium for Y/N,” she fumes at J’s impertinence. “Didn’t you forget something?”

He seems puzzled and Emma is not tricked by his deceiving performance.

“My best friend is in her quarters, uncertain if she’ll survive the cancer treatment. Are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“Meaning?” The Joker sneers.

“I know you slept with her!” the accusation follows instantly. “Don’t deny it! How could you take advantage of her?!”

The Clown Prince of Crime straightens his shoulders, aware he can’t negotiate his innocence out of this complicated riddle.

“I did not take advantage of her! How dare you accuse me of such low move?”

“You didn’t?” Emma closes the gap between them. “You know she has a crush on you and she’s vulnerable; what type of man would prey on that?!”

J is not thrilled with the innuendos and cuts her off:

“She basically begged for some and I obliged out of pity!”

Emma slaps him and The Joker gasps, enraged she had the audacity:

“Do that again and I’ll neglect you’re my daughter!” he growls and the serious threat doesn’t faze her.

“Hurt her more and I’ll forget you’re my father! If you are indeed my father,” she emphasizes while stomping away towards the kitchen.

“I am your father!” J simmers at her impeccable strategy: Emma is retreating to a different corner of the house giving him the opportunity to choose.

Who the heck knows if she’s actually his?

One thing is undeniable though: they share the same despicable temper.

****************

You discern The Joker in the doorway and your body stiffens; you stare at the TV screen wishing he’ll disappear.

“Where’s Crane?” J analyzes Y/N’s IV pole.

You don’t engage so his crankiness emerges.

“I suppose you didn’t flatlined yet!”

“Nope,” you grunt at the provocative declaration that served its goal: you did reply to The Clown’s rubbish.

“Where’s Crane?”

“I heard you the first time and I’m not sure why you focus your energy on a useless interrogation. You know where my father is!”

“Where?” The Joker’s vile attitude can’t compromise for less than instigating his fling.

“Please take your stuff that’s firm now but will get saggy in maximum 20 years and vanish!” the poisonous remark makes him groan.

“What stuff?!”

You check him out glaring at his mid-section before dismissing his presence.

“That’s the rudest fucking criticism ever!” The Joker barks and Y/N crabbily indicates:

“It’s not criticism, it’s reality! Gravity’s a bitch! Mara won’t mind, won’t she? After all, you two share a very special bond: on today, off tomorrow, hookup next week, take a break next month. Such dreamy relationship!”

“Do you have more derogatory references to my private life?!” J grinds his teeth ready to unleash several atrocities your way.

“No, too busy dying…” you show him the needle in your arm. “I don’t feel the pain from the medication burning my veins; I’m used with my sickness, with the ups and downs. What I do feel is the pain of being taken for granted.”

The Joker is not a fan of the insinuated context.  

“You said no strings attached!” he stresses the lack of commitment consented the previous evening.

“You’re the one that came to me; I thought it meant you were accepting to be the center of my universe.”

J ogles the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom and assembles a couple of harsh disclosures in his brain when her entitled smirk halts the project.

“You’re buying it, aren’t you?” you chuckle at his astonishment. “I’m just messing with you Mister Joker; who in their right mind would make you the center of their universe?! You have 10 seconds to leave, otherwise I’ll scream and security will come!” you shelter your head with the quilt so you don’t have to see his mug anymore.

No outpour of vexation from his part which is cool: means he bailed.

The blanket is slowly pulled until your eyes emerge; J hovers your face, pissed at the unwelcomed clash.

“I’m checking if you kicked the bucket; corpses are usually covered thus my dilemma.”

“Go away!” you advise. “Or I’ll scream!”

You inhale preparing to yell: The Joker didn’t predict you’d defy him and he swiftly kisses you in order to stop the sounds.

The door is cracked and Emma witnesses the scene, reckoning bizarre elements:

Her father holds grudges and was mad at Y/N earlier due to whatever happened yesterday; nevertheless he still kissed her.

On the other hand, you were definitely miserable after your escapade, yet you didn’t reject him.

Emma may not be informed about the entire story, but one detail is crystal clear: the future is far from being simple.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

[biavastarr]

Co-Parents (Chapter One)

Pairing: steve rogers x you (fem!reader)

Warnings: language, mentions of adult activities, mentions of (robot) child endangerment

Word Count: 1,386ish

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the media or characters mentioned in this story.

Author’s Notes: there is no structure or plan or anything yet, but I’ve always loved those shows where they get stuck with a robot baby and for some dumb reason I decided it’d be a good fic. this is definitely going to be messy as it’s my first series but I’ll do my best,, unfortunately with my crazy schedule it’ll be a couple weeks before I update again? the reader in this will be bi, but if you’re not, don’t worry, I think it’ll be easy to skim over. I also do not know anything about developmental biology so please excuse me being dumb.

I don’t really know what’s going on with this whole “co-” theme with my titles, but that’s not going to be a recurring thing. probably. ignore the cheesiness of the summary, I’m gagging.

Summary: College!AU: You, a Pre-Med student with commitment issues, and Steve Rogers, your reckless best friend, are paired together for a project that requires you to co-parent a high-maintenance robot baby. Will your grades - or your hearts - survive this assignment? 

“Dr. Fury, how is a robot baby going to accurately assess our understanding of child development? With all due respect, it’s kind of an outlandish assignment. Also, largely centered on a very specific topic, y’know? This is so focused on just humans, for such a small part of their lives. Wouldn’t it be better if we did, I don’t know, one of those things where we raise butterflies in a tent, or baby chicks in an incubator, or, like, tadpoles, I guess, in a tank?” Lilting your voice up in question at the end, you paused to try and think of more examples. 

You were babbling, you knew, it was embarrassing, but your sense of self-preservation had just allocated all of its resources into trying to talk your Developmental Biology professor out of this absurd assignment that he had just announced, absolutely spoiling what had been an otherwise pleasant fourth week of your junior year.

Natasha leaned back in her seat with a small quirk of her red lips. “You’re only fighting this so hard because you’ve got commitment issues, kroshka. God forbid you have to put up with something for more than a week.”

“Is this really the time to be psychoanalyzing me in front of the whole class?” You glared at her petulantly, trying to ignore Clint’s snickers beside her.

Dr. Fury cleared his throat loudly, his one eye narrowing at you as he spoke. “This is to emphasize the significance of care within the first three months of birth. It will help flesh out your understanding of human biological development as well as the role of nurturing within any species’s growth. Choose your partners wisely; I reserve the right to break up any group I think will be a bad fit. And, as it is the largest project of this semester, it will count towards 30% of your final grade.”

You gaped helplessly, your pen falling from your hand with a soft thump. “Oh my god. I’m gonna die.”

Wanda rolled her eyes from the seat on your other side, nudging you with her elbow good-naturedly. “Maybe this pseudo-kiddo will teach you some responsibility, sestra.”

You straightened your posture, reaching over to play with a lock of her long brown hair. “Heeeeey, Wanda,” you started innocently, “as my super nice and helpful roommate that would make this entire project convenient and fun, do you want to be my partner?”

Wanda faltered slightly. “Oh, I would, I really would, but when you were trying to talk Dr. Fury out of it, I sorta, um, asked Vision?” She looked at you sadly, and you hid your disappointment because no way were you going to let your fear of this assignment ruin a good thing for her.

“Wanda, I would never fault you for that, my god, are you finally going to ask him out?”

She grinned sheepishly. “Maybe? I kind of want to see how this goes. I bet he’d be so cute with a little baby, though!” You shook your head, smiling, not really seeing how just the thought of her crush with a kid could make her swoon, but let her have her moment. You scanned the rows of the small lecture hall, trying to scope out a potential partner.

Glancing to your side, you weren’t surprised to see Natasha and Clint writing their names down on a paper they’d torn out of your notebook, which, hey, but whatever. Maria Rambeau and Carol Danvers were laughing together and talking to Fury, they’re for sure out, shoot; Brunnhilde? Nope, Thor was sitting down next to her with hearts in his eyes, damn. Pepper Potts? God, I wish, but she was sitting next to Rhodey, another catch. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner were writing their names down on a paper together already, too, and Sam groaned loudly, catching your attention as he and Bucky moved to grab a sheet. Shit, you thought, trying to find an odd one out. Scott? No, he’s making his way over to Hope. Loki? No, I’m not even going near that. Is it weird if I ask the TA, you wondered, glancing over at Maria Hill, who was sitting ramrod straight as she graded papers next to Fury.

“Oh my god, please tell me you don’t have a partner!” You twisted your head back to see one very relieved looking Steve Rogers drop into the seat behind you, leaning his whole body over to flash his signature puppy eyes at you.

“Steve,” you started with a small smile, "you know that I love you, and you’re an absolute sweetheart, but you also know that we would be the most chaotic combination in this room and our robot child might not survive the night.” He pouted at this assessment, melting your heart just a little, but you fixed him with a stern glare. You weren’t lying; while you were both at the top of your class, the two of you were notorious for breaking rules (well, Steve was, at the very least, though he considered it more a disputement of personal interpretation), partying (at least you were, but hey, you were young, pretty, and conscious of safe sex practices), and being, overall, irresponsible messes.

“I can be responsible! I bought a helmet for my motorcycle just last week!”

“Steve, you’ve had that bike for a year. The “just” doesn’t really help you.” He moved to protest, but you stared at him again disappointedly. “When was the last time you got into a fight?”

He flushed a bright red, knowing you’ve caught him. “It wasn’t really a fight, more like an uncivilized disagreement, and 'sides, the guy was bein’ a real jerk to a lady!” His Brooklyn accent thickened a bit at the end, and you looked away so he couldn’t see the darker color of your cheeks.

“Steve, I think we both know that we’re a disastrous combination, and besides, do you really want a baby momma who’s working all weekend? I can’t change my schedule and the kid will either be stuck with you or one of our roommates.”

Steve leaned in closer, his head hanging above yours, lips drawing up in a cute smile. “Babe, I am more than happy to be a stay-at-home dad, so long as you’ll have me.”  

You breathed in deeply, nodding through your exhale. “This is so not going to get approved.”

Fury swept over to your aisle, his trench coat swaying behind him. Stamping the paper that listed them as a pair, he nodded shortly at Clint and Natasha, who high-fived smugly after he passed. He paused momentarily at the next desk, Sam and Bucky sending him their most charming smiles, and, after a moment of silent deliberation, he rolled his eye and stamped their paper in approval. You swallowed dryly.

He came to an abrupt stop at your desk, where Steve was sitting up with a hopeful grin. You smiled weakly, and Fury narrowed his gaze in suspicion. “You and Rogers?”

“Yep,” you squeaked out. “Me and Rogers.”

“This robot baby isn’t going to die, are they?”

“We’ll try our best, sir,” Steve piped in.

“You are aware that, for all your brains, both of you are completely reckless and irresponsible dumbasses?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Am I going to regret stamping this paper?”

“No, sir.”

He drew in a heavy breath, and you sent Steve a nervous glance. I told you so, you mouthed at him. We are literally the worst pair.

Steve shook his head, mouthing nah at you as he flung an arm behind your chair. You tried to stifle the dramatic roll of your eyes at his nonchalance. Oh god, you thought. I’m going to get stuck with fucking Loki, and he’s going to, like, stab the robot because he needs an outlet now that Brunnhilde doesn’t let him stab Thor now, and I’m going to fail this class because my robot baby got shanked, and-

“Alright. Rogers, you’re a father now. Don’t get into any more back-alley fights. I suppose street fights are still game.” You blinked yourself out of your panic-spiral.

“What?”

“Congrats, you two, you’re parents. Ta-da,” Fury deadpanned as he stamped the slip of paper, moving on to the next group. Steve chuckled deeply, squeezing your shoulder as you sat, still frozen in shock.

“Hey, babe, look at us, growin’ up so fast.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out nervously, staring at Steve as he grabbed a pen out his backpack. “Yeah.”

[faithinthestory]

Why yes, I'm spending my weekend trying to psychoanalyze Aziraphale. Obviously, what else would I do?

Both he and Crowley are both wonderfully deep characters with layers upon layers of emotion and motivation, and I'm trying to tease out how their Love developed. Crowley's side was way easier lol, so here I am trying to think through Aziraphale.

When we meet Aziraphale in the Garden, he - unlike any other angels we meet - expresses self-doubt. His anxiety is immediately made clear to us (as is Crowley's ability to help ease it). He doesn't question God, but he questions himself. And then here comes this demon who also questions himself, who also worries about getting in trouble from his bosses... but he's fairly laid back about the concept. Aziraphale is cautious and caught wrong-footed by Crowley, but he is also instinctively PROTECTIVE. That's just who he is. And if he's worried about what the consequences from Heaven might be for HIM, this ridiculous demon must have no sense of self-preservation! To be laughing at the idea of being caught by Hell doing the Right thing, even by accident? That's just reckless! So he literally takes Crowley under his wing to protect him. (Besides, I think Aziraphale was lonely, and Crowley is someone to talk to, someone who is able to make him feel less uneasy.)

As we get to Rome, Aziraphale has begun to understand the joys of the human world, and that those joys are amplified when shared with another. And there's Crowley, how perfect! I think that's really the point where Aziraphale ACTUALLY begins to consider Crowley a FRIEND, wanting to spend time with him simply because it's PLEASANT. He's always a step or two behind Crowley in their dynamic (but of course Crowley will always wait for him to catch up).

By the Globe, Crowley is in Love, but for Aziraphale, I think he experiences something closer to a crush. Infatuation, interest; but the friendship is paramount still. He's having FUN, and the suggestion of anything deeper triggers his anxiety. And his PROTECTIVE aspect is back in full force, but that's innate to Aziraphale. I do think that by the time we get to Crowley asking for the holy water, Aziraphale IS in Love (though he doesn't realize it till the church), which is why he gets so scrambled and OVER protective. He hasn't sorted out his feelings properly at all. He can't quite tease out that his innate protective drive to keep Crowley safe is perhaps separate from this desperate panic at the idea of handing over a weapon that could destroy him utterly.

Then the church happens and Aziraphale REALIZES he's in Love.

Now that he's AWARE of it, he can start to process it. He can begin to understand his more irrational fears and anxieties in context and can choose to face them. And he does.

And we come to this amazing line. The greatest line ever. "You go too fast for me, Crowley."

So much analysis has already been had about that line, the DEPTHS of what it expresses, so I'm going to skip over most of that. We know what it says about Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley.

But what does it really say about what Aziraphale KNOWS about Crowley's feelings for him?

It SEEMS to imply Aziraphale knows how Crowley feels and recognizes the demon is a step ahead. But "present day" Aziraphale seems incredibly unaware of Crowley's feelings at times. Has he retreated behind a barrier of denial? Is the stress of Armageddon itself throwing him off?

It's like he SEES it and WANTS it but is terrified (which is understandable), but he never seems to TRULY take into account the fact that Crowley WANTS also. It's self-centered in a way that Aziraphale generally doesn't seem to be.

I can't help thinking it implies that Aziraphale panicked a bit after his confession, anxiety spiking, and he began to doubt that his feelings were reciprocated, fearing that maybe he'd been projecting (self-doubt again). So he dialed things back and reverted to denial and aspects of the party line.

Sorry for rambling, trying to organize my thoughts on this one is a bit much. Each piece by itself is a whole damn essay, and teasing out unspoken continuity across 6000 years of timeline is probably an unwise venture; yet here I am.