#outside of that because i am confident in my own mind and my own opinions enough that i'm not threatened or feel influenced by seeing people

[holyshit]

.

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes. 

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step. 

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation. 

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need ta talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see. 

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up— literally —that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that. 

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well…maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er ta be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible fer ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse? 

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails. 

“Ya gon’ try n’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment. 

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.” 

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress. 

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers. 

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed. 

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter. 

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle— watching you suffer —wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move. 

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul n’ sings the tune without the words n’ never stops at all.” 

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress. 

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group. 

“Was a, uh…a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks. 

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs. 

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day. 

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you. 

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He was beyond fucked. 

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse. 

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response. 

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before. 

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you. 

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there and babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout wha’ yer doin’ in here! Get on back inside!” 

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun. 

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn. 

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile. 

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone. 

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze. 

Today was one of those days. 

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good. 

Then he coughed. 

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick. 

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table. 

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side. 

You refused to budge. 

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Jus’ take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan. 

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you. 

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process. 

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist. 

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead. 

“Gon’ explain or ‘m I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile. 

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head. 

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the— oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes. 

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag. 

“Yer stayin’?” 

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress. 

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay. 

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes, subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long, that would coerce you to stay. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see. 

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you. 

“Don’ hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest. 

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes. 

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl. 

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder. 

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you? 

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business. 

Still… the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel. 

Anger. 

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still. 

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh. 

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy. 

Needed nowhere around the prison— your only focus meant to be training with Daryl —you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed. 

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep. 

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

Taglist:

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[dreamwritersworld]

Disconnected. (Sully family x reader)

she may have seemed peaceful to Mo’ak on the outside but inside…Y/n was going through war. She never liked resting because her dreams always haunted her…

*y/n’s dreams*

The forest was filled with an Erie silence…water droplets falling onto the muddy floor..traces of footprints imprinted.

Mo’at’s voice caught Y/n’s attention…it didn’t terrify her own grandmother that her granddaughter was walking in blood..

“Do you blame yourself?”

Y/n was taken back and her voice hitched in confusion

“…what?”

“Well it’s quite common for someone like you to feel some kind of…guilt.”

“…what situation?”

The young girl never told anyone about her best friends death. The dead’s child family decided to keep it a secret and protect Y/n’s privacy.

“The accident.”

Y/n was suddenly pulled away back into darkness and drowning in a puddle of her best friends own blood, gasping for air. She yet again had another panic attack.

“Are you tormented by memories?”

Y/n’s final gasp woke her up.

*

The sudden shift back to reality felt sickening. She woke up to Mo’at arguing with Neytiri and Jake.

“How do you go about defining good and evil?!”

Jake was angry, you can hear it in his voice.

“I can tell you right now that child is more good than evil! You are more worried about your reputation than your own kids, and you know it. The same thing as worrying about other people’s opinion instead of your own child!”

“My kids come first to me-“

“Going from one child to the next? Instead of giving them proper time to grow and love them properly? Please.”

“We have a happy household.”

There it is, that same statement Neytiri always makes in different wording. All. The. Time.

Y/n was infuriated sitting there…her grandmother’s saw exactly what she was ashamed of. It brought Y/n to tears, she had to face her own reality.

“Well your kid doesn’t look very happy to me. Really?”

The was a sense of disbelief in Mo’at’s voice, anger and frustration to get snap on her daughter whom she never placed pressure on….

It was visible to everyone, Y/n was broken and she can only be pushed so much till she…well you know how her story would end if she was pushed further.

In that moment all of the screaming and arguing faded away while another’s mind watch Y/n from a far…watched how she cried in frustration unsure on what to do or how to feel when someone like her grandmother finally recognizes her.

Neteyam. Her older brother, he told the rest of the siblings he was going to make sure their home was clear but he lied. Curiosity took the best of him…and watching Y/n show real emotions sent shock waves.

*neteyam’s flashback*

Y/n was always so strange to watch. She was silent and you could never tell what she was feeling.

When I was upset…I usually blinked quicker or shifted but Y/n’s look never showed much. My own little sister was better at everything compared to me, my father just pushed past it. When I was younger and didn’t know better I just figured she was doing everything wrong but now…now I know that’s not true.

So every time father yelled or screamed at me when we were younger, I took it…but it never worked that way for Y/n at the time, when she was younger she couldn’t take it at all. The small tears would fall, the moment she turned around.

“Y/n! Wrong! Again! Are you kidding me? Do better. I don’t know why people don’t say you have confidence. You are the cockiest kid I’ve ever worked with and yet you do everything wrong.”

We watched Y/n train for four hours already…it was now about to be five. She continued but the blood on her fingers didn’t fail to fall like her tears once she looked down at her feet for a small breather.

How can I take it? I wonder. Y/n’s ‘tougher’ than I am. Why can I take it?…and Y/n can’t.

my mind pondered on all the right answers but…then I knew. Training was the only thing Y/n loved and now that passion was gone. Y/n loved training when we were much younger, it gave her thrill until now…

That was the only time I saw Y/n cry. I always believed Y/n was a perfectionist…but looking back at the way our father corrected her every time…it was him not her.

*

So there Y/n was crying while watching her grandmother reveal all her true emotions, for the first time Y/n looked and acted like a child….she resorted back to her younger self.

“You’re making her upset Mother! This is you-“

Y/n spoke up for her grandmother but it was clear in her voice she was exhausted and in pain.

“Im not upset because of grandmother. Im upset because of you. You did this! Throughout my entire childhood you have made me the outcast-“

“Really Y/n? Name one time! I outta tell you kid you better pick your words wisely before your grounded.”

“Again? Is this your solution to everything still?…you just don’t get it. You have always put me again my siblings and constantly perfect me on everything. You have said to me, to a child! the only reason I get complimented on doing everything right is because everyone is delirious. Who does that? You’re awful.”

“You leave right now Y/n! Now! I mean it. I will not have you behaving like this! It’s what you always wanted right?! Go!”

Y/n froze in place and her shoulders fell in defeat…this is what they always wanted, a reason to kick Y/n out.

Mo’at reached out for the now lost girl while her parents just watched.

“Y/n! Don’t disappear, do what you want, as long as you stay with me. I see you my grandchild-“

Those were the exact words Y/n needed until it was cut short with Mo’at falling in her arms. The young girls eyes looked back and forth directly at Mo’at before y/n’s body leaned forward with her grandmothers limp body, falling slowly down with her…letting out the most heart wrenching scream at her grandmothers blood leaking all over her and leaving a stain on her already broken heart.

“Nooooo!!”

Helicopters above shot at the area surrounding them while the village was screaming in the background. Neytiri’s cries were loud before Jake pulled her up to find the other kids.

War was starting. The humans have found their home. Y/n had nothing, nowhere to go. She just wanted a moment of silence.

Sobs were let out while she dragged her grandmother’s body with her sobbing in between rocks begging Eywa to return her.

Mo’at was the only person who understood her and at certain points of their life…they drank poison from the same vine.

!💓!

Going to be honest I don’t know if this is the last part :( I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to produce stories as quickly! I wanted the song to symbolize how mo’at and y/n’s relationship with their parents were very similar and how Y/n was ashamed and saddened by her mother exposing how she truly felt while still being happy that she was now recognized. “I love it and I hate it at the same time.”

I ALSO IMAGINED Y/N’s SCREAM SOUNDING EXACTLY LIKE ROCKET’S FROM GOTG 3

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll l @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul l @goodiesinthecloset21 1 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr r @bat1212 @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon @hotdsstuff @heart-an0n @go-river-flows

[missbabyjay]

New Era - Alex Turner x Reader

You and Al have an intimate moment shaving his head for the TBHC tour 🧡

Fluff!

a/n: OKAY SO!

First of all, I haven't written fanfic since March, and this is the first piece I've written about Alex. I am so nervous to post this lol, but I low-key thinks its really cute. Secondly, it doesn’t necessarily follow the true story about him shaving his head because I'm pretty sure he did it on tour? Not too sure. This is also a shoutout to all the pretty bitches who love TBHC (& the car). They’re such beautiful albums and I can’t understand suddenly ditching a band because they’re changing and evolving! To each their own but you can’t deny they are masterpieces ✨

But enjoy this made up moment I constructed in my delusional head trying to fall asleep a few nights ago :) p.s i am NOT a great writer lol but I do have pieces for Pedro Pascal on my blog as well.

Warnings (?): mid writing 😭😂, tons of fluff, idk if you'd consider it angst but reader is a tad grumpy, insecure AND confident Al?, tbhc era, buzz cut Al!, alcohol, oh & some cheesy British slang cuz why tf not

You exhausted a big sigh as you pulled up to your house. The rain was incessant; refusing to give up as it continued pelting down, creating a symphony of noise on your vehicle. “Fuckin’ rain,” you mumbled under your breath as you prepared for the journey to your front door. You mentally crossed your fingers in anticipation, hoping Alex noticed the text you had sent earlier about leaving the door unlocked. 

“3…2…1,” you counted to yourself as you quickly pushed the driver's door open and made a dash towards the front door of yours and Alex's house. To your benefit, Alex must have seen the text as the large door swung open with one turn of the cold, metal knob. 

You let out another sigh of relief as you sat on the cushiony soft ottoman in the front entry of the house. You pondered for a minute as you let the warm air wash over your body, relieving you from the cold and damp world outside. Today wasn’t your day, to say the least, you were knackered. Work was a mess; your boss continually nagged at you over the smallest things and nearly every one of your coworkers were in a sour mood. You faulted the weather outside as no one was ever in a good mood with weather like this, but your fuse was short and you were thankful to be back in the comfort of your own home.

After debriefing the day with your own thoughts, you removed your shoes and made your way into the house. The cool tile of the kitchen floor eased your sore feet as you reached for a bottle of your favourite wine and poured yourself a generous glass. Your brows furrowed as you took your first sip; typically you’d have heard from Alex at this point, but you were yet to hear his silky soft voice greeting you.

 

Alex’s mind raced back and forth as he sat in front of the washroom mirror. His fingers fondled the set of hair clippers before placing them on the counter. He knew what he was about to do would entail more attention and more criticism, but he hoped it would help the fans realise that the monkeys were entering a new era and that to be quite frank, they would continue to change and evolve no matter the criticism. 

He checked the time on his phone, the illuminating screen read 5:42. “Fuck,” Alex cursed to himself. He knew you’d be arriving from work shortly and he was uncertain of your reaction to his somewhat spontaneous decision. Of course your opinion mattered to him, but Alex knew deep down that this change was necessary, at least to himself. “Alright mate, just go for it,” he muttered to himself before reaching for the clippers. 

Unbeknownst to Alex, you had been home for the last few minutes, going about your own business. With one last deep breath Alex pressed the power button and the hair clippers came alive. “Al?” Your soft voice met Alex’s eardrums. He quickly brought the clippers closer to his hair as both his heart rate and breathing increased in speed. “In here, darlin’.”

  

You ventured towards the shared bedroom, noticing a sliver of warm light peeking through the ensuite bathroom door as you entered the contrastingly dark room. “Al?” you called out softly, not wanting to disturb his privacy. “In here, darlin’,” his rich voice echoed back to you from the washroom. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself - you had been craving Alex’s comforting presence all day. He was always the cure to a shite day.

But when you reached the door and gently pushed it open you were met with an unexpected sight. Alex was propped up in front of the large mirror on a barstool from your kitchen, hair clippers in hand, seconds from shaving away his long brown locks. “Bloody hell Alex! Have you gone crazy? What are you doing?” Your reaction came out much harsher than intended but you most definitely weren’t expecting to come home to Alex attempting to shave his hair off. 

Alex’s hand came to a still, nearly inches before meeting his hair. His big brown eyes stared at you through the reflection of the mirror and for a few moments the only sound that filled the room was the low buzz of the hair clippers. “I-,” Alex paused for a second, looking down at the hair clippers as his hand rested them on the counter. He internally cursed himself, wishing he went about this at an earlier time. “With all the stress over the new album I just thought, ‘why not have a new look too?’, everyones already chatterin’ about…” he trails off with a shrug, a light pink tint washing over his cheeks. 

You huffed, setting down your glass of wine before your arms came to wrap around Alex. Your head found solace in the crook of his neck and your eyes met his gaze in the mirror. You gave him a small smile, “Oh Al, I know this has been an odd time for you, but are you sure you want to do this right before the tour starts?” You placed a gentle kiss on the ridge of his jaw, the light stubble tickling your chapped lips. He returned a sheepish smile, “I do, love.”

You removed yourself from his shoulder, “Alright then mister, hand the clippers over.” A childish grin replaced the shy smirk on his face as he realised the intentions of your words. He fixed his posture and straightened out his back, proceeding to run his hands through his precious locks one more memorable time. “Have at it, darlin’.” 

You tousled Alex’s hair a few times before beginning to drag the clippers through his strands. You watched his face soften as his eyes gently closed and he began to embrace the affectionate moment. “I love you,” he said, just above a whisper as his locks began to fall over his shoulders onto the floor. “I love you too Al, I’m sorry for how I reacted… today was just one of those days,” you responded with an equally quiet tone and yet another exhausted sigh. You questioned how many times you could sigh in just one day, making you let out a quiet laugh to yourself. “Is that so?” Alex chuckled as he slowly opened his eyes and met your mirroring stare with a cheeky smile. 

The two of you continued to sit in an intimate silence as you finished the job, Alex’s hand reached backwards to keep a compassionate hold on your leg during the close proximity. You clicked the power button on the clippers and set them down on the counter, delicately placing your hands on Alex’s shoulders to give him a supportive squeeze as he revelled in the moment. His one hand raised, brushing over the short and stubbled hair that now resided on his head. 

“It’s quite alright, isn’t it?” his baritone voice ringed through the small space as a smile grew on his face. “Ya know what?” you started before pausing as you squeezed yourself in between Al and the vanity, bringing both your hands to cup his face as you stood in front of him. “It sure is, sweetheart,” your voice squeaked as you quickly closed the space between the two of you with a passionate kiss, enveloping him in a tight and loving embrace. 

His soft lips were like medicine, as if he could kiss away all the stress and pain. “I am so proud of you. You always do what you feel is best no matter the criticism and that’s really respectable, Al.” His smile beamed, the confidence now radiating off of him the same way the sun radiates a warm comforting glow on a summer day. “I have a good feelin’ about this tour, love. Once the fans hear this album live I think they will truly fall in love with it, just as much as I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says as he lovingly looks at you. You giggled, “Absolutely, Al. You cheeky bugger.”

[bugtransport]

been thinking about "as far as i'm concerned all robots are transgender" for a couple days because when am i not thinking about robots. but also i don't want to write an essay on someone else's post so i'm doing it myself. i think there's a simple explanation for this one: there's an additional axis that you have to consider when you're considering the gender expression of non-human entities and that's how human or non-human they can and want to appear and be recognized as. i call it the humanity axis. 

("humanity" is an oversimplification - a lot of the times when you're discussing robots you're talking about them in the context of a sci-fi story which some of the time can have robots living in largely non-human societies (for an easy silly example off the top of my head think BMO who lives with exactly one human for most of his life) but even then we're contending with the gender dynamics of the organic beings around them that make up the society they're based in. not to mention that we ourselves as humans view and create everything from a human-centric point of view that's kind of inescapable imo. for the sake of getting through this with any kind of coherency i'm going to use the term "humanity")

the closest thing that i can imagine to be what i would consider a “cisgender robot” would be a robot that was created by robots in a world where humans don’t have an influence. this can’t really be the case – robots being inorganic have to be created by some outside being and therefore will always be formed in the image of the societal opinions of their makers. you’re working with a blank slate here; you don’t have to be bogged down by what evolution might just decide on its own. sure, they can in turn create their own robots that may be influenced by other factors and get further and further removed from their original designs, but that begs the question of whether it’s possible to dilute the original influence far enough to where it’s no longer a factor. personally, i don’t think so? 

so, we can agree: every robot has the influences of humanity in them but is still distinctly different, creating the humanity axis. there’s a place that they each physically on there depending on how they were constructed; there’s also a choice each of them must make as to how much they want to adhere to their assigned spot. to fully be human is not an option, as they would have to not know they’re a robot, and to be fully robot isn’t an option either, as they were made by humans. i suppose you could be happy with your assigned place on the humanity axis but you could never truly be viewed by the organic society around you as anything but “other” unless you tried to fully pass as human. then we can bring in characters who never had to consider the humanity axis until, well, circumstances changed (things like cyborgs or mind backups or a good ol’ brain in a jar) and now they have to learn that they actually experienced a kind of privilege that they weren’t even really aware of until they had to question their relationship to their humanity. they don’t even have to view it as a bad thing – it’s not a bad thing. you can be very confident and happy with who you are and your status outside the traditional human framing of whatever society you’re in. being othered isn’t always a bad thing and some can take solace in the fact that they’re able to dictate who they are without having to technically abide by whatever norms biology has been divided into. it lends itself easily to exploring beyond what’s been set out for you from the start. not always, not every robot wants that or cares to explore it, but it can. 

a robot can be a girl and inhuman; they can have no relationship to human gender and identify very closely with humanity. it's about the interactions with those that made you. it's about having to dictate who you are for yourself. tl;dr: yeah every robot is transgender

[slashingdisneypasta]

Okay I'm gonna rant about my mum now, cuz I need to. Don't read under the cut if you don't wanna be dumped on!

This woman-- oh my God. Can I just list some of the things that have hurt me or frustrated me?? Okay. Yeah. Let's do that.

Never comforting me (or my brother) when we were little and scared. We were scared of dogs, which was 'inconvenient' to her since it meant we couldn't go to parks. I would literally bite my nail and skin down until I bled when we did and she'd just get annoyed with me like I ruined the day. (Dad did the same thing but has since sincerely apologised. I'm very inclined to think that it was her influence entirely- she has never apologised and when i brought it up one time she laughed it off like i'm being silly)

Constantly makes me feel dependent. And that is the worst thing to be in her mind-- but she won't change her opinion of me that I am?? Like??? The most recent example of this is that I decided I wanted to go back to school (**I** decided)... and then she made the whole thing about her 'pushing' me to do it. Like it was so hard to get me on track. How the fuck did she get to that? This was my decision!! I brought it up first!!

Also on that 'dependent' thing- I am independent to a f a u l t now because of her. For example, I don't care if it's hailing outside with gail force winds, something in me feels disgusted with myself if I accept a ride home.

Oh, more on that dependent thing! I remember going to an evening job interview one time and it was dark when I got out. I thought I could get home on my own so I started walking... turns out it was the wrong direction and I ended up in a very bad area, at night, crying uncontrollably outside a 7-11. She still wouldn't come get me (she was at her boyfriends place) and sent me an uber. There was a random goddam lady getting petrol who was kinder to me, asking if I was okay and offering me a ride home.

A very similar thing happened when I was even younger, 14-16. I got myself stranded in a bushy area and had to walk my ass home- in 35 degree heat, without shoes (cuz mine were so worn out the soles killed), with no water, back to the motherfucking suburbs.

OH! Another thing about her. After she and my dad split up, you know what I noticed??? My brother, sister and I got along so much better when we were with our dad and so much *worse* with mum. You know why?? Cuz she nutures catty behaviour, which is probably why she can't get along with her sister's or her mum. She's always talking to us about eachother behind our backs (I know she talks to me and my sister about my brother, and I know she talks to me about my sister, so I assume she's doing the same with our brother), she gibes us ugly little Looks when one of the others does something she doesn't like and that we 'talked about', and she gives away secrets we told her in confidence??? Like recently my brother was really sad so I asked HIM (I asked *him*) what was up and he said it was nothing- so clearly he didn't wanna talk about it. That's fine. And mum piped up saying pointedly to me that he doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to (True, mum, thanks. I know that)... before telling me his girlfriend broke up with him as soon as he left the room. She did the same thing the last time he had a break up. And then she's also telling me shit about my sister I k n o w she wouldn't want me to know. This is why I don't tell her anything anymore.

And, of course, the pitting us against eachother. Just today she and I had a little argument (argument on her side. I was actually trying my fucking hardest to keep my voice soft and figure out the problem), and my sister comes up to her to give her money for her belly button piercing today. Mum snaps at her, like 'Why do I have to carry that??'. My sister gets defensive, because she's a teenage girl and I mean??? Wouldn't you??? Then my mum 'apologised' by saying '*sigh* sorry, your sister was just snapping at me for no reason'.

And ohhhhh. The guilt tripping. Especially about not getting to move in with her 'love' (This dude, Mark, who works with her. Everyone including my dad and her mother, my grandma, are pretty damn sure she was cheating on my dad with him). She always tells me 'it's because of you that I can't live with him.'.

And the whole thing with Mark is wierd on general??! She got with this man while he was in the middle of a very terrible divorce with his ex wife, who was saying he abused her and their 2 kids. FIRST of fucking all, I understand innocent until proven guilty... but she seemed immediately sure that the e x w i f e was a liar and was manipulating their daughter (who, by the way, has some very deep issues) into saying he did stuff to her? I don't understand why the hell you would jump to that conclusion.

P l u s- she's always taking my sister (the youngest of us. It goes Me (22), then my Brother (20 in June), then Her (16)) on trips with Mark without even telling my Dad?? Surely Dad should have been notified and given Vito power in a situation like this!??

(Luckily I think Mark is actually indeed pretty harmless. But still, none of this is really okay even so)

Small thing, but she has never ever asked me about my writing. She doesn't give a fuck, though she knows it's my Biggest Thing.

Oh, another small thing that gets under my nails. Her thinking I'm so fucking Silly for liking things. And not the good kinda silly- like I'm so dumb and ridiculous for my interests. Like, I'm sorry?? I'm sorry you have no hobbies, you horrible little woman?? I don't need to be patronised cuz I find a little joy in something.

Ughhhhhh she always disapproved of my sister, brother or I ever thinking about us being 'american' at all. Which is??? So ridiculous?? We're not, but our Dad is, and maybe he wanted to share some of his culture, his home, with us??? He moved all the way to the other side of the globe to be with her and this is how she repays it??? We also don't really know our family on that side, we never got phone calls or anything. And I feel like my mum should have encouraged that. So should my Dad have, yes definitely (he's not perfect), but I have a feeling she never supported it. She doesn't even support us seeing her family.

Ohhhh my God. The cleaning. She goes into these hours long Outbursts where she has to clean e v e r y t h i n g in the house, and she's mad at us for letting it get untidy, and if she sees you you're in danger because she's gonna snap at you and make you feel terrible. I now go into the same state every now and then- though I just put my earplugs in and don't speak to anyone.

Ah. And the fat shaming. That's always fun 🙄😒 My sister is so skinny without trying, which is not her fault and good for her- but I have my grandma's hips and larger breasts (I know it's immature to go ha ha mum you're flat chested and I have tits but lool honestly it's cathartic), and that comes with a little belly and wider thighs. That doesn't mean I'm fat. I'm goddamn beautiful, shut up. And I'm tired of feeling terrible about how I look because of her.

... There's more, but I'm losing steam and just getting sad. So I think my job is done for now, thank you for listening.

[royalbilliards]

i would LOVE to hear your opinion on maruki's therapy bc i see a lot of ppl saying he sucked as a therapist and i've never seen one so i can't really say anything with certainty...... but idk, i want joker to have at least an okay therapist just because it's a nice touch. also i think it's more satisfying narratively when maruki is someone joker can lean on for support and get attached to, but then has to oppose because shitty actualization. idk. pathetic wet man makes me go brrrrrr

Welcome to the autism zone.

So a lot of my thoughts on maruki’s therapy comes from my own experiences with a therapist in the past (I’m trying to get a new one right now) but. A lot of what Maruki’s ‘confidant perks’ and what they’re called suggest he’s giving Joker treatment for anxiety and depression, which makes a lot of sense given the way he acts in public outside of the joker persona, and the situation he’s in at Shujin (being bullied, for lack of a better term because it’s 5 am and I just woke up, and ostracised due to Kamoshida spilling his criminal record).

Practices like mindfulness and wakefulness sound like bullshit when you first have to start them, mostly because of the names, but the practices themselves are grounding techniques, being able to be present in your body, aware of your surroundings, and not letting yourself spiral via panic or depression and stuff. Detox is a term for drug addiction and alcoholism rehab, they’re not exactly practices we know Joker needs help with, but they’re most likely preventative measures, so that he doesn’t go Down those paths BECAUSE of his situation, which honestly makes sense, depression, anxiety, bullying from peers and the rest of it, including his criminal record and the way Japan treats students with criminal records, it makes sense that Joker could have easily gone down those routes if he didn’t have his friends and the metaverse to blow off steam and have an outlet for his emotions that he isn’t allowed to have in his day to day life. Flow is also a form of therapy treatment for handling depression, and mostly focus’ on capturing moments of positive mental states and allowing yourself to be completely focused and involved in Enjoyable activities that make you happy.

Because all of these therapy treatments that we get named from his confidant perks are Real therapy treatments that both Work and are widely used to treat specific mental health problems (Depression, Anxiety and Self-worth) we get both an insight into how Joker is actually feeling about things outside of what he shows and how useful these techniques are in his actual day to day life, because he’s using them to handle stressful situations in the metaverse.

There’s also the fact that Before everything, and AFTER everything, Joker doesn’t seem to hold much animosity towards Maruki, yes Akechi does and he’s Totally allowed to hate him, but neither Yoshizawa or Joker do, when Yoshizawa is more than justified in being angry and frustrated with him. And it might just be due to the abysmal lack of characterisation Yoshizawa gets, but mostly she seems like she too, like Joker, WANTS to help him, because we know that Maruki himself struggles with Self-worth problems, delusions of grandeur, a messiah complex (in both definitions of the term) anxiety and depression (along with a few other spicier things I don’t feel like mentioning because I’d need to bring up the psa’s on how demonised disorders need to be treated with respect since no one can do that on the internet). But there doesn’t seem to Be animosity between the three of them. Mostly just worry about someone they both cared about, and trusted.

There’s also the fact that, Jokers interactions with Maruki do not End After you help him with his research, we’re just cut off from the interaction at that point, because Joker in canon is explaining to Sae other more important things, he probably doesn’t feel the need to tell her the confidential therapy treatment he’s receiving at school. Their interaction continues, we get a fade to black, so it’s obvious he is getting actual therapy treatment, but Maruki has probably picked up on Jokers earth shattering savior complex and is easing him into the idea of therapeutic treatment by having him assist in his research, so Joker is more inclined to accept the help, since it’s a Transaction to Joker. If Maruki had more time to be Jokers therapist, and I assume he would have at some point Offered to continue his work as Jokers therapist after his tenure at Shujin ending, he would have eventually been able to work on that with Joker, and weaned him off Needing to help people all the time, and viewing social interactions as a transactional thing.

Anyways, yeah, I don’t think Maruki is a bad therapist outside of the horrors, I think people just don’t think about it because it isn’t spoon fed to them in a social link interaction, which is where the assumption that he’s Only using Joker as a sounding board comes from. But what would I know I just did media studies and have a special interest in analysing media, SHRUG

[foryoupeko]

I saw someone asking why I labeled something as Peko/Buki even tho I'm a Kuzu/Peko shipper. Other then the fact multishippers exist, I didn't consider that as a Kuzu/Peko comic. Ibuki expressed more interest in Peko than Fuyuhiko.

Call me asexual but I don't think just because Fuyuhiko was close to Peko's hip, it should be considered explicit shipping.

So just to be clear on my stance, I am okay with you ppl labeling my art as any ship but there are some boundaries.

Don't label it with problematic ships like incest or age gap.

If the art is clearly about one couple, don't make it about another. But if it's just a group of ppl chilling then you can find whatever couple you like.

I personally hate Mahi/Peko but I know I'm gonna draw things exploring Mahiru's crush on Peko so that's on me if ppl interpret it that way. Just don't be weird, because I have no quams with never drawing Peko and Mahiru within 5 feet of each other. I've drawn Case 2 ten times and I've only drawn Mahiru once.

I made a list of Peko's relationship with others if you wanna know my stance on her ships.

Hajime -I will never let people forget Hajime has a canon crush on Peko. Besides that, Hajime is Peko's first true friend. Outside of Fuyuhiko, Hajime is the only person Peko feels comfortable confiding in her secrets. He doesn't judge and is very kind. Meanwhile Hajime goes to Peko when he needs a cool headed and rational opinion.

Chiaki - Queerplatonic, they snuggle a lot. Chiaki is chill and her games makes it easier for Peko who has no experience talking to people have things to relate to. Peko understands when Chiaki is emotionless for the most part and then burst into excitement when it's something she's passionate about. They developed their own little language in those situations.

Nagito - Nagito likes to take advantage of Peko’s kindness and clings to her. Peko doesn’t mind hanging out with Nagito but stares dagger into him when he’s being too forward with others (he doesn’t read social cues so he’s not gonna catch it). Nagito thinks of himself as a diet Fuyuhiko. As long as Peko provides support, he'll look out for her.

Teruteru - He's super turned on by Peko but gets flustered when she genuinely cares about him (turns out he does not have a mommy kink). Peko enjoys Teruteru teaching her about cooking so the two eventually bond over that.

Imposter - Peko’s best friend on the island. They both relate to not knowing who they’re supposed to be. At the same time, they don’t see each other as just victims. They’re both people trying to grow and become better. When these two are together some say they're TOO COOL (actually Ibuki is the only one that said this)

Mahiru - Mahiru has a giant crush on Peko. At first she believe she knows what’s best for her and tries to takes her away from Fuyuhiko. Once she accepts Peko doesn’t want her help, she tries to be happy for Peko and Fuyuhiko.

Hiyoko: Is jealous of Peko so she lashes out at her a lot. Originally it was for looking mature/sexy and gardening Mahiru’s attraction. But after she learned of Peko’s past, she’s jealous that she didn’t have her own bodyguard to protect her from the multiple assassination attacks she went through.

Ibuki: Queerplatonic, they kiss A LOT. Ibuki loves seeing Peko awkwardly cheer for her at concerts (imagine Pearl from Steven Universe type of awkward) Peko made Ibuki realize that quiet is okay. Because only when it’s quiet, she can hear Peko’s heart beat speed up. I think they would be a cute fling but these two come from two different worlds. Ibuki is a party rocking planet and Peko is a silent moon. Maybe if the stars aligned they could've made it work. But that doesn't mean you can't appreciate eclipses.

Mikan: Mikan’s ability to read micro facial expressions helps her interpret a lot of Peko’s hidden emotions. Peko likes Mikan but Mikan mistaken Peko’s quietness with secret resentment (she can read that Peko isn’t mad but sometimes mental illness makes you ignore facts). Mikan is had to get close to and Peko doesn't have the social understanding to truly know her.

Gundham: He has adopted her as his own. He feels the need to protect this person on par with his traumatic backstory. She must realize this too, that’s why she keeps flocking to him and his four dark devas. Meanwhile Peko only understands 50% of what he’s saying but she’s trying. Sonia (and Gonta in non despair AU) has to interpret sometimes. Giant Big Brother and Little Sister energy.

Sonia: Sonia is the extrovert who adopts an introvert. Sonia wants to hang out with all her classmates and one of the few who doesn't see Peko cool demeanor as disinterest. Sonia is the only one who can relate to Peko's isolation and only she knows the kind of loneliness that can come with being around others. Peko doesn't realize this on her part and it hurts Sonia. But Sonia doesn't stop trying.

Kazuichi: Scared and aroused by Peko. I head anon one time his trash picking robot accidentally took Peko’s sword and it exploded. Kazuichi was so scared to admit it to Peko but once he did - Peko was more concerned about him than her sword. He’s convinced she’s in love with him and begs Fuyuhiko to ask her out for him. Peko bluntly declines.

Nekomaru - Nekomaru passionately talks with Peko about a lot of things. At first it was Kendo, then it was training, proper diet, and it spiraled into Nekomaru talking excitably about his day. Peko is a good listener but even she can go deaf from all the yelling. Ibuki bails her out sometimes. I think Nekomaru and Sonia are the only people who know how to push Peko out of her comfort zone without overstepping. Ibuki can be too excited in getting Peko to do new things. Hajime and Chiaki doesn't see a problem with Peko doing her own thing.

Akane - The girls bond over being asexual together. No talk about love or mushy stuff. They talk with battle! At least according to Akane. Peko is hesitant to train with Akane because she believes only someone strong like Sakura could handle her blade. Akane takes that as an open challenge and tries to blindside Peko until she takes her seriously. Akane does have to learn boundaries at one point. Maybe the person who grew up in constant danger doesn't want to keep looking over her shoulders in case her classmates attack her.

Fuyuhiko - Ultimately, though everything, this blog will always be a Kuzu/Peko blog. Growing up, Fuyuhiko developed a crush on Peko but never acted on it. Only after a chance conversation with Sakura about what being in love is like, Peko realized in middle school she is in love with Fuyuhiko. By that point their relationship is strained. Fuyuhiko is constantly telling Peko he doesn't need a tool and pretend they don't know each other. Peko doesn't want to be forgotten by Fuyuhiko, this person she spent everyday with. She planned on asking him out, as equals, but then Twilight Syndrome Murder happened. There was no time for love when there was so much hate in his heart. Eventually after everything, the two realizes they need each other. Fuyuhiko only pushed Peko away because he thought she couldn't grow as a person if she was constantly worried about him. Peko realizes she can still care and protect Fuyuhiko as a fellow warrior by his side. These two understand each other so well that they don't need to talk. But this also leads to terrible miscommunications.

[taldigi]

I think the reason Joker/Akechi is so popular (other than sadboy angst) is because of how he changed from vanilla to royal. Having Joker mess with his hair, giving him a boathouse scene, the double entendre of giving someone your glove being a declaration of a duel but also sometimes considered a romantic gesture, among other things made people feel as if they were leaning into a romantic interpretation of their relationship rather than the more nebulous original version. Then there's third semester, with Maruki commenting on their "unique relationship," giving the player the option to sacrifice reality to keep Akechi alive, and the whole Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming thing with the fairytale motif... it just seemed like Atlus noticed that a decent amount of people were shipping Akechi with the protagonist and decided to run with it. It certainly doesn't help that the English voice actor for Akechi that Royal's more romantic lean is "not thinly veiled." I still agree that fandom focuses on it far too much, though. Especially considering how much the game emphasizes that it can't actually happen.

ohh, thank you. I highly appreciate the reply!

I want to preface by saying that my reply comes from my experience in interpreting the game and how that's influenced my own opinion. It isn't meant to diminish the argument, despite any harsh wording, but to examine it through my own eyes.

I also don't.. hate the ship (I had been in the ML fandom too long to know that), but am largely overwhelmed by it's over-saturation and domination over the fan space and what I interpret as being... hugely out of character.

The kind of character I see Ren as being- outside his anime protagonist curse- is a highly empathetic (he takes books and media to heart, is able to empathize with the worst of humanity, and is able to touch the hearts of even the most prickly of people) and selfless person. Someone who would do anything to save anyone at any cost short of killing someone else! it's the reason why he's in Tokyo in the first place, and he doesn't stop afterwards. He steps in-between many many possible conflicts and puts himself in immediate and possibly fatal situations in order to keep his friends safe.

The whole premise of his story, and his ultimate choices, is freedom- after all- even if that freedom leads to pain... But and what is more confining, and final, and indisputable than death? Ren, a guy who chose to let each and every palace owner live and make them admit, understand, and face the consequences of their cruelty... would suddenly let Aketchi into his heart and trust him so fully and wholly? How many families has he left torn apart? And not all the victims were high ranking diplomats. The train conductor may have lived, but he died brain-dead.

Like- duh, right. Ren wanted to befriend Aketchi. He sees himself in him- friendless, misunderstood, and a little pathetic. Ren's scenes with Aketchi come before he finds out what he's done, and after that Aketchi changes. As romantic as those scenes might come off to some (I personally took it as pity) That Aketchi was a fake. He fucked with Ren's head and succeeded for the most part- and if Mona and Futaba didn't step in, he might have gotten away with it. Ren might not have been there to see it, the second he pulled that trigger it was over-- and he still had the mind to gloat about it.

All of the phantom thieves, after it's all said and done. Still express empathy for him. None of them will forgive him. None of them should forgive him... and the Joker I've come to know would never ever grant Aketchi any leeway without- bare minimum, Haru or Futaba's forgiveness.

All that being said, the interpretations of the story given seem highly generous. Ren shows the same affection, offer of understanding, and willingness to assist in any issues to Aketchi as he shows to any of his confidants.

Royal offered more than vanilla, sure- and Aketchi coming back in semester 3 might have been a result of Ren's desire to befriend him or save him (notice how the Aketchi in the stay ending is the softer "fake" version) but it might have also stemmed from the fact that it's in Ren's nature to save others, and the result of the shifted realities Isn't solely reflected in his desire to have Aketchi be responsible for his crimes- but in the fact that he gets to see his coffee family whole and happy- or Haru having her father back and in a good relationship, or seeing Ann or Shiho not having to live with the traumas of sexual assault or suicide attempts, and to see Ryuji and Yusuke living their dreams without pain and with family.

Yeah, they do have a "unique" relationship. They have similar circumstances, they've been pushed to play the same interdimensional game, they're the same person- same coin. But they're never ever going to see face to face. They both chose freedom, but Aketchi chose power and revenge and Ren chose kindness and friendship.

...and you know what? I appreciate that tragedy! I appreciate it a lot. I love what they did with Ren & Aketchi's dynamic and how they expanded it in Royal. It's equal parts deeply fascinating and tragic and says so much about both characters. But just like returning Aketchi to life and free would render that experience void of meaning... rendering it romantic.. seems.. diminishing. It doesn't work as well if it's romantic.

Bah, i'm getting rambly. Thanks for hearing me out.

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (26)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]    

[warnings: smut, sex content, fluff, kissing]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After much persuasion, Aemond and Y/N agreed to stay at his family home for the night. Aemond went out into the garden, said he needed to calm down. Y/N was standing in the kitchen with his mom after she offered her tea. They drank from their cups in silence, even though the tension of the situation eased, Y/N could see that she was still depressed.

"I didn't know Aemond would take you with him. I'm sorry you had to watch this." She finally said, pressing her lips together in a grimace of sadness and self-pity. Y/N looked at her surprised.

"He didn't want me to go with him. And I didn't want to leave him alone with all this." She said with a shrug. She knew things were bad between them, but she didn't know it was this bad. Aemond's mother looked at her thoughtfully. She looked like a huge weight was on her shoulders.

"Aemond was always a quiet, polite kid. I never had any problems with him. He studied well, read a lot, listened to music, played games. He was very shy. The opposite of Aegon." She began to speak as if she felt she couldn't hold it all in anymore. Y/N listened, shocked and unsure, seeing how desperate she must have been to confide in practically a stranger.

"Aegon and their eldest sister's sons teased him often. He confided this to me, I tried to intervene, but his father always thought it was just innocent childish antics. That Aemond needed to learn to stand up, to be a man." She sighed, shaking her head, rubbing her temple. She closed her eyes for a moment.

"He always helped me with everything. I could always count on him. That's why when Aegon started causing problems and his father pretended that nothing was going on, I asked him for help. I know that I am their mother, that I should ride these brothels." She said, finally looking at her, there was a lot of pain in her gaze. Y/N swallowed softly. "But I was afraid that if I saw my son there, something inside me would burst. That I would start despising my own child completely." She pursed her lips, trying not to cry. "But now I see that I did it at the cost of hurting my second child, who feels used."

There was a long silence. Y/N tried to understand her and knew she had her reasons for doing so, but the truth was that she felt even more sorry for Aemond. Despite all his best efforts, he was primarily an errand boy. She wondered if she should say something. After thinking for a moment, she replied.

"You should talk to him frankly about this. Not about Aegon or his father, but about you. He values you very much as parents." She said calmly, pressing her lips together, hoping she wouldn't find it rude to express her opinion. His mother only smiled at her words.

“Aemond never brought a woman to our house. For many years I was afraid that he would never make it, that he would never fall in love. I'm glad he met you." She finally said, her voice sounding tired but also sincere.

Y/N felt herself blush at those words because she was totally not expecting them. She'd only really seen them together once before, so it was fair to say that she had drawn these conclusions very quickly. Y/N wondered if she was just being polite.

“Thank you for these words. I will go to him." She said finally, feeling that she couldn't focus on the conversation anyway. Her mind was still with him, her stomach choked with remorse that somehow she might have failed him today. His mother nodded in understanding and Y/N started towards the terrace. She slid open the glass door and looked outside. It was completely dark and she had to wait a while to get used to the lack of light and to recognize any silhouettes.

After a moment, she saw Aemond crouching a few meters away, petting a large brown dog that Y/N recognized from a photograph in his apartment. Y/N quietly walked over to the grass, the sight of it made her very emotional for some reason. The female dog sensed her right away, raising her big head. Her nose twitched restlessly, detecting an unfamiliar scent. Aemond glanced at her in surprise.

"Is that Vhagar?" She asked quietly, kneeling a few steps beside them. When she was little, her parents had a large white dog named Nora, that she adored. They always said that the dog should be given space and the opportunity to smell and accept you. Y/N extended her open hand to her and placed it on the grass right in front of her, giving her the opportunity to react and decide.

"Yes." Aemond replied briefly, glancing at Vhagar and her reaction to intervene in case she tried to attack her. However, that did not happen. Vhagar stretched out her big head and placed it close to her hand. She sniffed it for a moment without touching it, then sighed and licked it lightly. Y/N, emboldened, touched her nose with her fingers. Vhagar didn't respond to the gesture, blinking lazily.

It wasn't until up close that Y/N could see how old the dog was. There were large wrinkles under her eyes. She let Y/N pat her head, then turned her full attention back to Aemond, laying down between his legs and sighing loudly. Y/N thought she must have missed him since he was so rarely home.

She wanted to ask him about it, but she could tell by the expression on his face that he was still angry with her. She didn't know how she should behave. She was afraid that whatever she said would only make matters worse. She felt that he didn't want an explanation for her right now, just to show her his frustration, and she understood that. 

She sighed softly, taking a sip of her tea. She rested her chin on her knees, looking at them hugging each other. Aemond stroked Vhagar fur steadily, thoughtfully. He finally looked at her. She couldn't see the anger in his eye anymore, but she knew the tension hadn't left him.

"Sleepy?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him in surprise. She nodded.

Aemond stood up and patted Vhagar, who immediately stood with him, looking at Y/N.

"Come." He spoke softly and she nodded and followed him. They went up the stairs and down the corridor. Aemond opened the door at the far right end and let her go in first. 

He turned on the light and Y/N saw a room ahead of her that might have belonged to a teenage boy. Posters of various rock bands hung around, a guitar stood in the corner of the room, various books, game consoles, boxes and cardboard boxes stood on the shelves.

"Is this your room?" She asked quietly, looking around curiously. Despite the whole situation, she was somehow glad that she had the opportunity to see his family home and the place where he grew up.

"Yes." He replied calmly, looking melancholy at the interior. He thought for a moment, looking at his bed, and turned to her without looking at her. "This bed is small, you'd better sleep here alone. Grab a T-shirt from my drawer. I'll sleep downstairs on the couch."

His words hurt her deeply, and she thought he saw it in her eyes, because his expression changed as if he suddenly regretted his words. But he looked away and added nothing more. Y/N swallowed, but didn't dare defy him any more. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence.

"Good night." He finally said softly, turning to leave and closing the door behind him. Y/N burst into tears as soon as he left, but she covered her mouth to keep it from being heard. Since they started dating, they never slept apart. It was unthinkable for him. She could guess how furious he must have been with her to refuse her even that.

But she wondered if it was just her, or if this room reminded him of the events of eight years ago and the woman who had tried to take advantage of him. She tried to console herself that maybe that was the only reason for his decision, but she thought it was just her wishful thinking. Dejected, she began to pace the room. In one of the pictures hanging on the wall, she saw Aemond with both eyes. He was still a child then, maybe 10 years old. It was a very strange sight for her.

Resigned, she found T-shirts in one of his wardrobes and put on the first one that fell into her hands. She turned off the light and got under the covers, deep in thought. For the first half hour she tried to sleep, but all she felt was a pain in her heart and a tightness in her chest. She still wondered if she should have left Aegon and gone with him. Do what he wanted. Some part of her, however, couldn't believe that it would be good and would help in any way. But that didn't change how awful she felt.

She rolled over on the bed once more and sat up. She found herself unable to bear it. She tought that she had to come down to him and lie down beside him, and if he kicked her out, she'd come back upstairs. She wanted to at least try, she felt that she wouldn’t sleep well at night without feeling him at least next to her.

Quietly, she opened the door to his bedroom and made her way down the dark corridor. The lights were off all over the house and it was completely silent. Y/N started to walk down the stairs gently, trying not to make any sound. Halfway there, she saw the living room and the couch where Aemond lay. The light from the street lamps outside shone on him.

She saw his face and that he was awake. His eye was open, he was staring thoughtfully at a point on the wall. The step creaked beneath her foot, and he shuddered suddenly, startled, jumping to a sitting position. Seeing her, he sighed softly. She herself was scared for some reason, as if he had caught her in the act of doing something wrong.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, looking at her surprised. Y/N pursed her lips.

"I can’t fall asleep." She replied in a whisper, her hands clasping the balustrade. He looked at her for a moment and sighed, uncovering the covers so she could lie down next to him. Her heart beat faster at the sight. On legs as soft as cotton, she walked downstairs and headed for the couch. She lay down next to him. There was little space on it, their bodies and faces practically touching. Aemond looked at her.

"I'm afraid you won't be more comfortable here." He spoke casually, but she felt something change in his voice. She felt his arms against her skin, his scent filling her nostrils. She thought she wanted him and swallowed softly.

"That doesn’t matter." She said, her lips parted slightly. She saw him glance at them, unable to stop himself, and swallowed hard, looking away. Y/N felt she had to say something. “I know I was selfish today and didn't help you at all. I know I didn't do what you asked me to do, and you have every right to be angry with me. I'm very sorry that I disappointed you. I hope you'll forgive me someday." She said softly, lowering her eyes. She felt him flinch at her words, his face hardened. He didn't answer.

However, Y/N decided that he was under no obligation to answer anything. She thought that maybe he needed time to think it all over, to put it into words that made sense. She pressed her forehead against his neck and closed her eyes. His closeness, even if she couldn't hug him, was a great comfort for her. She heard Aemond draw in a quicker breath. They lay in silence for several minutes and Y/N slowly began to fall asleep. She was roused from her half-sleep by his soft voice, for a moment she wasn't sure if she was really hearing it or if it was just a dream.

"I shouldn't have taken you there." He said turning his head towards her so that their faces were almost touching. "I don't want you talking to Aegon except for basic politeness or when it's necessary or unavoidable. Can you do that for me?" His face was all tense, his voice trembled as he uttered the last sentence. Y/N blinked in surprise, her eyes misty and sleepy.

"Yes." She said softly. Aemond's mouth parted slightly at the words and he let out a soft breath. He raised a hesitant hand and brushed a strand of hair from her face behind her ear. The gesture sent shivers down her spine. He felt it because his gaze shifted and he leaned over her, brushing her lips. Y/N moaned softly, she needed it like water, felt the space between her thighs tighten against this wonderful feeling.

She put her hand in his hair and pressed his face to hers, their lips connected in a kiss full of despair, regret and longing. They caressed each other's wet lips, stroking and touching each other, catching their breath once in a while, pressing more and more against each other. She was surprised at how hard he was already. She decided that he must have been aroused even when she lay down next to him. Y/N put her leg on his thigh and they both sighed, starting to rub against each other more and more.

"You drive me to despair." He whispered into her mouth, and she shuddered at the sudden confession. His hand gripped her breast, caressing it and kneading it lightly between his fingers, and she moaned softly. "I can't even sleep without you anymore."

In one swift motion, he took off her panties. She moaned loudly, but he covered her mouth with his, pulling away with a loud brush. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?" He asked, excitement evident in his voice. "I have never fucked any woman in my house."

Y/N shivered at his words, feeling it literally leak from between her thighs. She stared at him with hazy eyes, and he lifted her shirt up to get a good look at her breasts. She heard him slip off his tracksuits and pull her to him. They lay sideways, facing each other, their tongues touching hungrily, their quarreling making them need sex even more.

Aemond slid his cock between her thighs, rubbing it with her juices. He moaned low as he felt so much of it flowing out. It turned him on even more, he felt that he was on the edge, he didn't even have the strength to tease her. He slid the tip of his cock into her entrance and they both moaned into each other's mouths, feeling how hot and thirsty they were. Aemond slid inside her in one confident motion, and Y/N tilted her head back in delight. She could feel him throbbing inside her, as feverish as she was.

"How wonderful to feel you inside me." She whispered softly, and he flinched at the words with a groan and began to fuck her, hard and fast, without warning. His sudden and brutal pace surprised her, but also made her even more aroused. Knowing that he was as desperate as she was for a shared fulfillment warmed her heart. They kissed and hugged, running their hands all over their bodies, his one hand gripping her buttocks tightly, his hips setting a hard, aggressive pace that made them both dizzy.

They shuddered and froze as they heard someone upstairs open the door and start down the stairs. They were both covered with a duvet, so from the outside it looked like they were just cuddling. They both closed their eyes as they heard a person go to the kitchen and turn on the light there, apparently wanting to pour himself some water.

Y/N, terrified, tried to lift herself up and free herself from his grip, but Aemond impaled her more, preventing her from moving. She parted her lips in a silent moan and tightened her fingers on his back as she felt him slowly and unhurriedly begin to move inside her again. She shook her head, what little of her common sense wanted him to stop, but the rest of her responded to his movements, waves of pleasure rippling through her body. The fact that they might be caught made them both on the verge of orgasm.

Aemond pressed her buttock tighter against him, moving a little faster so the couch wouldn't creak as it brushed against her point of greatest pleasure. She felt that a few more thrusts from him and she would come, and he tried his hardest not to gasp, feeling her wonderfully clench on him, close to orgasm.

She looked at him imploringly, but his gaze was dark and implacable. He punished her for her disobedience and at the same time rewarded her for her love and devotion. He entered her a few more times, and she pressed her face and mouth to his neck, squeezing her eyes shut, waves of heat and pleasure spilling over her body, breathing shallowly, feeling her whole body tighten just to keep from moaning loudly.

She felt his hands gripping her body tighter, his movements becoming more and more irregular, and he breathed softly, his warmth spreading inside her, he hid his face in her hair. Convulsions went through their bodies, they pressed against each other, trying to survive together this wonderful, shared pleasure without any sounds. They froze as someone finally turned off the light and headed back up. All they could hear was their rapid breathing and the pounding of their hearts.

They didn't even have the strength to tease each other or comment on what they had just done. They fell asleep after several minutes in tight embraces, finally calm, soothed by each other's closeness.

_____

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[mysticbewitched]

I was living in the end for about 1 week now but now my 3D has come falling down! I wanna enter the void state tonight. I am someone who struggles a lot with entering the void state but I really wanna get into it tonight.

What are your top recommendations to wake up in the void state ( I have tried to wake up in the void for over 7 months now) but it was died tries but now I am really serious about getting into the void tonight! I wanna really wake up in my dream life I am done with this shit of a life.😭😭😭

You're so focused and fixated on the void state to the point where you have completely forgotten that you are the creator of your reality, and the outside world is entirely under your control.

You are choosing to struggle for the void because you are giving the outside the power to shake your faith in yourself instead of being brazenly stubborn about already possessing your desire right now.

You keep turning to the outside for validation and allowing the reality you control to hold power over you. It needs to stop, or you will stay forever enslaved by the "evidence" of your senses. You need to completely throw away the mindset of victim mentality and embrace your own power as a creator. Screw what the external world shows you. The outside world does not matter because you are the creator. Tell me, why does the external world matter when you are the creator?

You must stay strong in your determination and have an unwavering conviction in your confidence with faith in your power from truly knowing who you are within. You are in total control of every aspect of your reality, and by fixating on the outside, you are giving your own power away to a world of shadows.

The external world is only a reflection of your state of mind, and you are dwelling in the mindset of victim mentality. You lack confidence in yourself and your own abilities as a creator. That is the issue here. You refuse to believe in yourself. Why do you have more faith in the void than you do for yourself? You are the operant power.

If you knew who you truly are, you would not be struggling with the void state, and you would be able to enjoy living in the end of consciously creating your reality. You need to take your attention from the void and completely focus on changing your mindset. That's what truly matters here.

The mindset is the cause of all success and failure.

You must let go of the victim mentality and stand the hell up to take your power back. You decide your own fate. I believe in you wholeheartedly. Why can't you believe in yourself?

You need to take the void state off the pedestal and turn back to your power within. You seem to think that the void state is some magical place that can grant all your wishes, but you must wake up from the illusion and understand that the void is not outside of you. The void state is not separate from you. You are the void. It is only a state within you. The void is you! You are the sole operant power.

Focus on who you really are within. You're not utilizing your own power. If you knew how truly magnificent you are in power, you would never doubt yourself. You need to knock the void off of the pedestal and focus on changing self.

As Neville once said, change your own opinion of yourself. You are infinitely greater than you think you are. Focus your attention on cultivating self-belief and confidence in yourself. That is truly the only way you will win and succeed at everything you desire.

[ivomoon]

My thoughts on Caradoc in Braving the Ocean SPOILERS below

If I were to rank my favorite characters in bto it would be 1. Remus/Sirius, 2. Sirius/Remus (obviously I cannot and will never decide) and then 3. Caradoc. I am in love with him. He is my favorite character I have ever written and for several personal reasons I think he’s just made my writing better

But in the story he is introduced as Sirius’s fuck buddy and a drug dealer. I was talking to my friend about it and at a surface level glance his character is very “come on baby, take some drugs and fuck yourself on my cock.” But that’s not who he is, he’s Sirius’s friend and he loves him. As we learn in chapter 25, their relationship runs much deeper.

The whole thing about them is that although they both think that they don’t have expectations for each other, they do. Sort of. One of the expectations that they have is that they count on each other. Sirius especially, it’s not just the drugs or the sex, he uses Caradoc as a sounding board, he values his opinion so much because Caradoc doesn’t coddle him. James coddles him. And although Marlene pokes at him, she still doesn’t push him. Caradoc pushes him—and Sirius might’ve left because he doesn’t like being pushed because he’s complacent but he stays because he “needs” the drugs. Caradoc knows he can push because Sirius will come back.

Their relationship is an unusual one, are they friends, are they fuck buddies, are they dealer and client, are they subject and photographer? They are all and they transition between it because that is one expectation they don’t have. And it works, when Remus and Sirius get together, they don’t cheat because that was never an issue, Caradoc may be a cheater, but Sirius wasn’t—so their relationship lost the sexual aspect, until everything went to shit at least.

I think that Caradoc and Sirius needed each other, but I don’t think that their relationship was healthy or good. Sirius needed someone outside of the band, someone who he could express his sexuality with—Kingsley and Fabian were both dangerous in their own respects, and I’m not saying drugs aren’t, but Caradoc was a tad bit safer. Caradoc cared more. Caradoc wasn’t just there for rockstar Sirius, the sexual being, he was there for Sirius. Sirius needed someone who he could ask questions with, talk to about Remus, and just be around that wasn’t tied to his fame.

But their relationship obviously wasn’t healthy. It was tied to drugs. Every part from the beginning was intrinsically tied to drugs, I don’t know if anyone caught this, but every memory with Caradoc was one where Sirius was high. Sirius isn’t the type of person who can do drugs occasionally, and Caradoc thinks he can. Caradoc thinks being sober is bullshit and Sirius needs to be sober (from drugs). They don’t work well. They aren’t compatible. Caradoc wants to support him, but he simply doesn’t understand that Sirius isn’t the same as him.

But back to Caradoc specifically, we don’t get much of his background because simply Sirius doesn’t care. He cares about Caradoc, of course, but he sees him for what he is, useful. So now, I will add details:

I always pictured him coming from a modest background, but with a family that knew that they had to work

He went to college for photography and worked as an assistant and in his final year, that’s when he met Sirius

He got involved in drugs pretty early on, when he was twenty or so his addiction got serious, but it was never exactly hardcore, especially when you looked at someone like Sirius, he hid it so much better, and would often try and quit but then be like “fuck it sobrieties a joke anyway”

Knew his sexuality since he was fifteen, but only admitted it when he was seventeen, never told his family, confident when he goes out, but still doesn’t tell many people, and this surprises Sirius

And a funny one: when Sirius got the NEVER MIND tattoo on his knees Caradoc got a tattoo too, and that was Ralph from Ninja Turtles (cough cough aka the worst one, according to my cousins)

Ending thoughts: I was surprised that people didn’t like Caradoc as much as they did—I understand that he got in the way of wolfstar (SORT OF) and is not a healthy person for Sirius, but still?? I love him so so much. Is it because he’s a drug dealer?? Do people not like drug dealers?? Regardless, that sort of surprised me. He’s probably my favorite character in this story excluding wolfstar, so I suppose that’s good that people couldn’t tell that I favored him. And I think he and Sirius will be friends forever, even if Remus doesn’t like it, Caradoc has helped Sirius so much, that’s not just something you forget.

Anyway, my Caradoc analysis — above all, he’s a very crucial character to the story.

[adrianasunderworld]

All of these Evil Mama Rosehearts stuff gives me Odalia vibes from The Owl House, and I’m all for it because of how similar they’re both are: They’re both manipulative, controlled their child(s), and a bitch.

I’d love to add more ideas for this idea. This was also inspired by emyluwinter's concept:

Even though phones were prohibited on campus, that doesn’t mean we could use a camera. Since the headmistress couldn’t keep up and watch every single student, Yuu used this chance to be sneaky and capture pieces of evidence of every rule and punishment that went too far with the ghost camera that Crowley gave her. She would also give private interviews with the majority of students to learn more about their opinions on various topics. However, Mrs. Rosehearts became aware of this and grew suspicious. She summoned the prefect to the office to give her a little talk…

“I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to a variety of students. Are you perhaps planning on something?”

“Oh, not at all, headmistress. I’ve noticed everyone seemed so… Uncomfortable the past few days. As a prefect, it is my duty to check on every student and make sure they’re not breaking any rules.”

Mrs. Rosehearts arched an eyebrow, but she was just barely convinced. She knew about miss Yuu's lack of magic and thought it was pathetic. She tried looking for documents about her, but none were found. It was like she appeared out of nowhere. The headmistress also heard that she has no parents, assuming she is an orphan (you could add the papa Crewel idea here and say that Yuu sees him as a father figure). Sadly, Mrs. Rosehearts fired him for standing up for his students and his beloved pup. How even did a magicless, orphan girl not only manage to enroll in an all-boys school but also become a prefect?

Sure the prefect is magicless, but she could tell how capable Yuu is and always up for a challenge. She gets along with everyone, including Riddle. Mrs. Rosehearts somehow sees the student as a threat and threatened her. She later confiscates your phone, preventing you from doing something.

“If I find you doing anything suspicious or breaking any rules, I will have you removed from this school.”

“You do not have to worry about me, Headmistress. I assured you that removing me from this school will be a decision you will regret.”

“How so?”

“See, I am the reason why this school is still in one place. Heck, I'm basically the therapist of this school. If I take one step away from this campus, I bet you my magicless, pitiful life that this school will fall apart within a day. Although, I don’t mind getting expelled from this school. After all, I have other options like Royal Sword Academy. I’m sure they’ll happily let me in. Oh? You weren't aware that RSA knows about me? Well, it was at first a rumor about me there, until they've seen stories and posts from Magicam and the National Wizarding Boarding School Joint Culture Festival. In fact. I met a few people who attend, like Chenya and the famous celebrity, Neige Leblanche. Anyways, my point is they will demand an explanation for why I’ve been kicked out to their rival school. And I am confident they’ll be "thrilled" to hear the stories I’ll get to tell them about this school with every. Single. Details, including the overblots…”

“O-Overblots!?”

“Oh right, you didn’t know about them. Funny thing is, there has been a total of 7 overblots here in this school. The very first one happens to be your own son! Crazy right? Don’t believe me? You could ask him and any of the Heartslabyul students, they’re all witnesses. Me and my lovely companion, Grim manage to defeat them with the help of others. If words go out that 7 students have overblotted within a year, there will be cameras outside gates, begging for students and the headmistress for answers.”

Mrs. Rosehearts was stunned by all the information and threats she had received. She knew she should have listened to her instincts and taken action right away. Similar to what Yuu said, it will be a tremendous problem to expel her from school. She had no choice but to make an attempt to send her away. She gave Yuu a brutal "punishment" and gave Riddle harsh lectures that very same day.

The very next morning, she barged into the Ramshackle dorm, only to find it empty. There was no sign of the prefect anywhere, and the ghosts were gone as well. She looked for Yuu the entire day, but she was unsuccessful. For the next 3 days, NRC has grown into despair. It was all gloomy and chaotic. Every student was raging and depressed, Yuu’s friends grew anxious and were all worried sick. The weather was all rainy with thunder due to Malleus. He was saddened to hear about his child of man’s disappearance.

It all changed when the next day arrives. All of the students gathered in front of the school gates. Mrs. Rosehearts tried to make her way into the crowd to investigate the fuss. As she got to the front, she sees many people in front with cameras and microphones. Right when they all saw a glimpse of the headmistress, that’s when the chaos began. With lights flashing all around her, it was chaotic. She was constantly being bombarded with inquiries from the media.

“We heard the complaints of many students about your strict rules and punishments.”

“Did you sign yourself to become the headmistress to abuse your power over the scholars?”

“Have you assulted an underage student?”

“Are these rumors true, Mrs. Rosehearts?”

Not only that, she notices the Kingscholars and the Asim families gathered together with angry faces. She was frozen in shock. She was at a loss for what to do now that everyone knows. The students were all confused, but happy that the rules and terror are over. Riddle was mixed with emotions. He was sad about his own mother at first, but he felt grateful and satisfied that she would get what was coming to her.

“W-What are you all talking about!? That’s all nonsense!”

“But those are what that one student stated. She said you physically abused and threatened her. She also stated you emotionally abused your son as well!”

In the middle of the crowds, Mrs. Rosehearts could see Yuu, with Grim in her bandaged arms, petting him with Crewel standing by her side. The three of them were all dressed in black as if it was someone's funeral. Her eyes widened, realizing it was all Yuu’s doing.

It turns out that after Yuu gathered every piece of evidence through the ghost camera, she gave it to the ghosts, who then gave it to Sam, who was forced to close down his shop that same day. Sam later handed it to Crewel, who then reported it to the police and posted it on social media. After receiving her punishment, Yuu was able to steal poor Grim back, who was abducted by Mama Rosehearts herself. With the assistance of the staff, she successfully leaves the campus. The two are now free and secure in Crewel's care. Although, they both were interviewed by the police since they were both victims and witnesses. Yuu was evidently one step ahead of Mrs. Rosehearts. She knew her phone will eventually be taken and used other ways to gather proof.

Yuu let out an evil smirk, signaling to the soon-to-be ex-headmistress that she has won. She couldn’t wait to return to her not-so-normal school life and, surprisingly, have Crowley return as Headmage.

Honestly, the wearing all black for the death of her career is iconic. I know it was Crewels idea.

I can picture so many students that sick of her saying "fuck it" and running up to the reporters and answering all of their questions. Some even rolled up their sleeves and showed for the world to see what the headmistress had done to them. Each one more damning than the last. When she was removed as headmage, it was like Oz after the witch died, it was glorious.

[inchidentally]

Firstly just want to say I love your posts and opinions <3 Sorry this is a bit long, I only lurk around so I wanted to share my thoughts with someone (if that’s alright!)

As a Lando fan through all his teammates, I really love his dynamic with Oscar the most. I love that Lando always brings up how good Oscar is (even though everyone in the world loves to spread the narrative that Lando is washed because a rookie beat him*), and I love that Oscar is always supportive of Lando’s achievements too. They both put the team first before all else, and what happens in the race will stay in the race (no hard feelings after). Despite what the media pushes them to say or the narratives in articles, they both have a quiet understanding of each other and a lot of respect. What they have now is really sweet and I’m really hoping none of this would change for the years to come, even if they have a race winning car. Of course as a Lando fan first, I want him to win all the races, and I’m sure Oscar fans want Oscar to win all the races, but I hope that everyone can also learn to let what happens in a race stay in the race, just like them. For me anyone who shades/hates on either of them in any way just gets an instant block, I don’t want to hear it <3

*I hate how people always turn to shitting on Lando instead of saying Oscar is also good and equally competent?? I know Lando is supposed to be more experienced but he’s also young and he’s apparently never allowed to make mistakes. And I think not giving Oscar the credit is also disrespectful to him.

I also do hope this year they are even more comfortable with each other and will hang out more outside of races (even if they don’t share it). More than the media stuff, I am always so much more happy when they do something on their own, like how we found out Oscar was also in one of the planes from the recreating Instagram photos video, or that photo of them playing cards, that photo of them eating together in the paddock, or “what happened in Vegas stays in Vegas” that still haunts my mind….. (hate Vegas GP though, burn it).

tldr; Oscar is good for Lando and Lando has always been good in Oscar’s eyes, and can next season come faster

tysm anon and I'm sorry to be so late replying !!

god I am the same anon - I don't personally have favorites bc his dynamic with Carlos and Daniel was so much abt him being the baby duckling (and that on track Lando struggled privately w insecurity so much his rookie season whereas his confidence was building separate from what Daniel was experiencing). but what I love about the Oscar era is the way Lando just like, blossomed into McLaren being his home and his team when Oscar made such strong gestures to acknowledge Lando that way.

like so many ppl questioned Lando's ability to be in the senior/experienced/leadership role and wondered if he'd always prefer to be a little brother for a couple more years yet (and I think Lando wondered that too).

god yea I am so happy to leave ppl who try to pit teammates against each other in their own filth. like, enjoy being full of impotent rage ig?? bc apart from a VERY few instances these teammates are always able to be professional - and if they were already friends, remain friends. not only has Andrea instilled this from the start with Lando and Oscar, neither of them literally ever has had a history of friction w teammates or w each other. we've been through Monza before their relationship had even gotten settled so we're fine lol

and anon so far I'm genuinely amazed at how much content we're getting of them, of their own volition and McLaren's sm. the McLaren media fell off so hard right when the double podiums happened so I was worried that was how it was going to stay for 2024. hopefully stays this way!

[uniiiquehecrt]

Thor Odinson

tagged by : @beheworthy bc i would ALWAYS like 💖💖💖

Give me a fictional character and I will say:

Favorite thing about them: His big dumb hero's heart. His compassion. How much he loves his home, his people, his family, his beloved, his friends — how much he loves.

Least favorite thing about them: //stares pointedly at his inability to form meaningful connections because Thor is Not Allowed to be Not Okay (even when it's obvious and people he loves asks him to share his heart).

Three things I have in common with them:

I am, myself, an elder sibling!! And one whose younger brother was/is someone I am incredibly close to, care a great deal about — that entire drama is very close to home for me.

A passion bubble for friends and family that's, on occasion, close to the surface... but otherwise am chill 👍

and .... bunt out golden child syndrome vibes. Especially that vibe of "do it on your own and put on your leader face at all times, because all eyes are on you, good luck"

Three things I don’t have in common with them:

His ... overly reserved nature. I've been told I can be serious but I don't think I brood the way he does.

One day I will be nearly half as eloquent in my speech outside of writing 🙏

The way that Thor is able to just command a room???? Goals. Total goals. I'm either very good at directing conversations or shaky at it and I wish I had Thor's level of confidence.

Favorite line:

"i would rather be a good man than a great king."

OR ALTERNATIVELY.

"is that why everything's on fire~?"

BROTP: Brodinsons 100% . Then the entire warriors + sif squad dynamics! I'm forever sad we never got more of them all together. Then Heimdall, because Thor deserves positive mentor figures in his life. (and as far as the avengers proper go: Thor/Steve absolutely deserves more recognition they were the og duo as far as Age of Ultron is concerned and y'all , we've all been sleeping.)

OTP: Fosterson ! :D They're adorable star-crossed lovers, and he loves her very much. (and she feels the same for him !)

NOTP: if i see (1) more fan art of thorki in the thor tag i will scream. I guess also bruce/thor and valkyrie/thor exist ...??? I'm not really sure who Thor's exactly shipped with in the MCU besides Jane.

Random Headcanon: One time I considered the thought of little!Thor being exceptionally friendly with his kitchen staff servants, and because he's a strong little guy, he'd pick up giant barrels 3x his size and lug them around just because he wants to be helpful. And he'd do it with or without the prize of getting snuck goodies (though he would definitely prefer the goodies, were it up to him.)

Unpopular Opinion: I'm not sure if this counts as an unpopular opinion exactly, but I do always find it interesting that in the Frozen Vault Scene in Thor (2011), what the cinematography and editors show us that sets Thor off is seeing the dead einherjar...

And I'd actually say that this triggers his anger more than the interruption of his crowning ceremony.

So with that in mind, I'm not actually sure that (most of) his rage regarding the situation was about the coronation at all, in that case. At least, not in comparison to the fear he states (semi-subtextually) about being strong enough to maintain Asgard's borders were. ("They know you are vulnerable.")

He actually seems to only be upset about the coronation AFTER Odin makes it very clear he's decided to change his mind and rescind the crown from him entirely ... which only further fuels the point that Thor isn't ready. (aka: the one thing Thor is keenly aware of, scared of, and is scared the Frost Giants also know.) Which, you know, he's not at that point in time, but I don't see a lot of people talk about the details of that particular inciting incident all that much.

(honestly the ENTIRE text and subtext of the frozen vault scene absolutely FASCINATES ME so maybe I'll do a deep dive on it one day idk)

Song SONGS I associate with them: ... //looks at my 5-minutes-until-13 hr playlist uh...

Glowing, Boreas, and Rounds by The Oh Hellos

Plant Life, The Real World, and Bird with a Broken Wing by Owl City

No Sanctuary by UNSECRET (ft. Sam Tinnesz and Fleurie)

Afterglow and Places by Portrair

Paper and Ink (fosterson) and Everything Changes in Time (brodinsons) by Madds Buckley ... also Hoping on Another Life by Madds Buckley

Favorite picture of them:

//pulls out my entire dark world screenshots folder bc are you really going to make me choose, quirks, are you really going to make me choose

soft beautiful 🥺🥺🥺🥺 precious boy ... give me more of that poncho look tho thanks

Tagging: @darkwee009 for pinkie pie or for kirby ! :D whichever you'd like more, friend !!!

[fr-economics]

are you my secret twin or something because your posts pretty much describe my thoughts and feelings to a T, down to the "lowkey feeling like a rightwinger" part (which makes me feel dirty, as a queer mentally disabled person)

Thanks so much for writing in!! I was so busy this past week but was looking forward to finally getting a chance to respond to you.

We're NOT right wingers, obviously, it's just that there's a certain conformity of thought expected (and enforced!) in a lot of left-leaning spaces, which combined with black-and-white thinking (that is more common in traumatized or otherwise mentally unwell people) means that if you step one foot outside the circle then you're on the "bad" side. But actually that dichotomy doesn't exist.

Yes, Republicans and Democrats (and the left/right in general) exist as a dichotomy. But just because an ideological dichotomy exists doesn't mean it maps neatly onto real people. People have different opinions for what can be incredibly intricate reasons that are often reflections on their own experiences. And as we all know... it is critical for any individual's well being (even privileged ones) to validate their lived experience.

Your ask is really a great example of how Puritan politics manifest in these spaces. We've been inculcated with the idea that diverging from the dominant opinion makes us dirty/sinful/on the "bad side", and this policing has been established in our own minds! That is the dream of any group or person with authoritarian vibes—for their subjects to self-police, and police each other (and maybe even go on to punish themselves or their peers... ugh!) A lot of people in our communities are unfortunately not self aware enough to kill the cop in their heads.

It's frustrating because everyone maintains the charade of inclusivity and belonging and valuing different experiences and blah blah but it's just not true at all. Acceptance is conditional and the conditions are often vague, which is not healing to people who have trauma from rejection or other such experiences.

I am really happy if I provided any bit of support to you and the other anon. You are not alone, and rest assured there are plenty of random people out there like my parents who are blissfully unaware of all this internet leftist discourse and quietly and effectively working to improve the material conditions of people in their lives (while also maintaining that Biden isn't as bad as I claim he is lmao).

I don't have hope for "the left" as a movement, but I do feel confident that each of us can make tangible, important improvements in the lives of individual people we encounter.