#sometimes it's a very abstract kind of hurting

[autogeneity]

I think it is assuredly true that people are shaped by their experiences in various ways, sometimes for the worse, and there are a shitton of horrible experiences most people go through... but there is a sort of trauma-centric conception of self that's become popular and I find it rather,,,dehumanizing?

there's two variants of it, one like that healing post where you imagine you were once good and pure and then you were hurt and now you have to fix the damage. and another where you decide that there isn't a secret healed person underneath, and, well, everything you experienced affected you, so really wounds and trained reactions are practically all you really are.

but both seem to conceptualize very low agency, where seemingly the only agent in the situation is you as The Judge And Doctor, they who is looking at the wounds and triggers and reactions and diagnosing them and deciding what to cull. in which these judgements of course are magically free of context or influence. but the core You is only capable of Reacting.

there's this quote that often goes around:

under the present brutal and primitive conditions on this planet, every person you meet should be regarded as one of the walking wounded. we have never seen a man or woman not slightly deranged by either anxiety or grief. we have never seen a totally sane human being. Robert Anton Wilson

I understand it is meant to be sympathetic. and like the implication is that you should be kind and understanding of people's shortcomings or whatever, which you should. and in some ways it may be true. but I don't know if having a concept of people that consists largely of seeing them as a vessel of pain and desperation, is very, idk. respectful.

thinking of this perspective, for instance, it feels to me to rob people, including yourself, of dignity.

and people can sit around explaining how humans actually like sunsets out of trauma, or what kinds of things should be done to people to train the correct reactions (oh, sorry, what good behaviours your therapist says you should reward), or whatever. or like maybe we should have a different abstraction of what it means to be a person.

[goldpilot22]

yesterday I watched the first 3 episodes of princess tutu with some friends. very good show, wasn't expecting it to be so... emotionally heavy ig? but in a good way. the 3rd episode really hit me hard, I had to stop after that and just cry for a while.

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not. 

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life. 

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become. 

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal. 

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain. 

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you. 

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing. 

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it. 

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor... 

Strong boys, they said. 

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would. 

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me. 

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long. 

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?" 

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization. 

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me. 

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival. 

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time. 

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was. 

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me. 

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me. 

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was. 

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?" 

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity." 

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?" 

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort. 

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children." 

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders. 

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day. 

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes. 

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles. 

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen. 

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights. 

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head. 

"Lost in thought?" 

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of." 

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all. 

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled. 

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder. 

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please." 

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice. 

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me. 

[biribaa]

I saw you were taking requests for The Amazing Digital Circus, so if you want can you please write Headcannons for Kinger, Caine, and a character of your choice x a reader who’s abstracting in front of them

Also remember to drink lots of water and to take breaks!

-🧪Anon

Kinger, Caine and Ragatha x reader who's abstracting in front of them

I appreciate your kindness but I'm a computer, I think water is one of the things I need to "drink" less and prevent more.

TW/CW: AHH... Spoilers, also angst. Reader does get abstracted in all scenarios cuz we still dont rlly know if someone can be saved from getting abstracted

Kinger

Imagine lost your partners TWICE. Lolololol loser/J

Everything seems to occur in slow motion from Kinger's point of view, a heart he once had is somehow beating against his body. He prays to any god on this earth, be it real or not, or even Caine maybe, that this nightmare isn't happening again to him. Please, everyone, but not you.

Kinger tries to do everything so his lover don't reach the great peak of their insanity, even though he's not very good at it, knowing his personality. But trust me when I said, he tried. Who cares if he will get all glitched for touching your form, he needs you.

He never thought he would live another nightmare inside a nightmare. And in seconds that felt like painful hours to Kinger, here "you" are, a noisy form covered in eyes that flash in different colors. Your skin (if we can call it skin) moves abruptly as if it were a bag full of enraged cats. And, god, how he wished it was him instead.

Things are resolved by the talking human jaw, and yet the silence in Kinger's little pillow fort is no longer comforting as it once was. Silence now makes the small chess piece itch in agony. Silence that could be enjoyed with your presence, with holding your hand or dancing with you, and chat about random stuff he and you knows. The feeling of missing someone is familiar to him, and yet, it hits him in ways that his years in this circus haven't hit him.

Caine

While Kinger tries to do everything, Caine actually does anything to try saving your corrupted mind, and the lack of power in this situation leaves the digital being in panic. A simple snap of the fingers is not enough, and this information makes him tremble in ways he never thought he would tremble before for a simple human.

You aren't just any character, you are his favorite, the lil' buddy he spoils every hour and that always push a giggle from him. You were his very own star. The show could continue the same without you, Caine was sure of it, but could he? Without a character as entertaining as you in action?

"Of course I can fix them, I am Caine!" It's a phrase that was repeated several times in the presenter's programming, But with every grunt coming from the thing that once was you, it's just a reminder to Caine that he did a horrible job trying to take care of you. There were other characters that were abstracted of course, but... You were special to him. His favorite star. His star.

Caine even feels hesitant to put you in the hole of other characters who were abstract before. He preferred to keep you in a cage away from other people's contact, with no one hurting you and no one hurting you.

He knows, he knows the painful truth that you cannot be considered a sapient being, but even though you are a trace of what you once were, Caine doesn't have the courage to lose you forever.

With the other characters, Caine will act normally, with his loud and lively personality. Only if they analyze Caine close enough, the characters would notice something wrong with him.

And then, sometimes, he just stares at you in the cage. Caine ponders if he should admit the lost of his favorite star, it would be easier, but the pride in his chest screams that there must be some way that he could actually save you from...this.

Ragatha

Somehow, the scene is all silent for her. Ragatha stares at you as if the impossible itself is happening in front of her.

Ragatha holds your hands about to disappear, she caressed what was left from your shoulders, she hurriedly whispers words that would normally calm you down, but nothing can save you from the fate of your sanity, just leaving her with the pain of being glitched.

Of course, she had her other friends like Pomni, but lost you?!

Ragatha thinks she saw everything during her new experience in the digital circus, but something common like losing someone so important was the end of the line for her. You were her darling, her sunshine and her little everything even.

Everything she did sounded slightly more boring and boring without your presence, and Ragatha could do nothing about it. She continues (at least tries) to remain strong after that, still trying to complete the little adventures that Caine gives to the participants. But Ragatha's slow pace and lack of smiles was very noticeable.

The weight on Ragatha's chest is too much, losing someone so sweet and perfect for her in such a horrible way is too much. And the worst part is that Ragatha believes that she could have done something to save you, she could have been with you more often so that your mind didn't fall apart like this. But now, she can do nothing but mourn.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Heartbeat

A short fluff for BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge.

Prompt: Snow&Ice

Tags: fluff, pregnancy

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion gasps as the freezing grasp of the nightmare lets him go. He doesn't remember what exactly decided to torment his mind this time, but it wasn't anything pleasant, that's for sure.

For a few seconds, Astarion can't understand where he is. It's a dark room with a low wooden ceiling. The blizzard howls, threatening to freeze to death anyone who dares step outside.

"Hm?", he hears a sweet sleepy voice. Gentle hands wrap around his body. "Nightmares again?"

Astarion turns his face to you. The warmth of your body returns him to reality, washing away the dirt of the cruel visions.

"It's all right", he whispers back. "Sleep."

You adjust yourself to his body, intertwining your legs with his and placing your head on his chest. You are so close he can hear blood streaming through your veins.

Before, he could ask you for blood. But not now.

Your rounded belly rests on his stomach. Your half-elven body easily betrays your pregnancy - it's visible to everyone with eyes.

And Astarion is scared. That is probably what came to him in the nightmare. Something about this thing that's so natural for mortals and so unnatural for the undead.

Pregnancy.

He caresses the belly trying to concentrate on something else. On something good.

But, gods know, it's difficult.

"Astarion, you are starving. You need to go on a hunt", you whisper to him, finally opening your eyes.

"I didn't know you were so eager to become a single mother", he chuckles. "It's too cold even for me"

"Maybe you will ask someone in the town? They will gladly share animal blood with you."

"Trust me, they tolerate me only because not once in these five years I've tried to feed on something that belongs to them. Vampires can live without food for years, love. I can wait at least a day before the blizzard ends."

You sigh and tug him closer. He can see your freckles, these gorgeous sunmarks. Red hair. Half-elven ears.

He still can't fathom this idea. It's something abstract, unreal. Just a word without a meaning. Your body is changing. Sometimes you have such insane mood swings he has no idea what to do. And you feel so delicate in his arms that he is afraid to hurt you.

"Are you afraid?", you finally ask.

"Yes. I am."

A pleasant silence falls once again.

"Me too. Considering how shitty my own mother was, it's not like I have a healthy maternity example. On the bright side, I have a very clear idea of what I am not supposed to do with an innocent child."

"It will probably be a dhampir, love. Aren't you afraid of that? That it's just a monster inside you?"

"I willingly went to bed with you. What else would I expect?"

You hug him tight and he is lost in your breathing and the heartbeat. So alive. So kind. So brave.

He willingly went to bed with someone whose weapon of choice is a two-handed axe he can't even lift. Someone who could easily pet a dragon. What else did he expect? Of course you aren't afraid of monsters.

But it doesn't mean he isn't scared of the future to come.

"I am cold", you suddenly say.

"I am sorry", he tries to pull away - his cold body isn't a great source of warmth.

"Don't move!" you tighten your muscles not allowing him to go.

"I will make you colder."

"So what?"

He gives up and keeps enjoying your warmth. Does the baby have this warmth, too? Or it's more undead than mortal? It bugs Astarion that he hasn't found any information on how the pregnancy is supposed to progress if the child is a dhampir.

Does it even have a heartbeat?

It seems like you have fallen asleep once again. He smiles, studying your face in the dark.

The sound of a blizzard lulls him so is your breathing. Nothing to be afraid of. The past is past, no matter how horrible it was.

And then Astarion hears another sound.

He can't understand what this is and is surprised that your heartbeat feels so weak.

Then he hears yours, loud and stong.

And the other one, weak and hardly identified by his sharp senses.

It seems like he flinches because you are awake again.

"What is it?"

Astarion sits up and puts his hands on the belly. The tears flow down his pale face and he doesn't try to wipe them away.

"My love, what happened?" you reach out for his curls and touch the tip of the right ear.

"I-", the words are stuck in his throat. "It's the heartbeat. I can hear our child's heartbeat!"

Astarion tugs you closer for a kiss. He laughs joyfully, muttering words of gratitude in Elven as if forgetting how to speak Common all of a sudden.

You spend what looks like an eternity in each other arms. Then, you pull away a bit.

"Astarion. I am so sorry to ruin the moment but I am dying of hunger, too. Can we go downstairs? I will fetch something for myself and the baby."

He chuckles. "Don't be ridiculous, darling. You stay in the warmth under the blanket and I will cook for you."

"You?" you laugh innocently. You've been together for twenty years and Astarion rarely has to cook only if you fell so sick he has to feed you.

"Well, I suppose our child won't drink blood. So, I have a few more months to learn how to prepare food."

"At least let me help you before you burn the house", you reach out for him and he lifts you in the air. "Will you get me back on my feet?"

"No, why should I?"

You put your head on his chest. "All right, then. Carry us downstairs, my beautiful husband!"

--

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster@astarion-beloved@lumienyx @fayeriess@elora-the-slutty-songstress@veillsar@astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea@herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashiro20 @not-so-lost-after-alll @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy @tugoslovenka

[avatar-anna]

so just an idea. what if few years down the line when prof and h get married and he drops her to uni first time after they are married and people address her "professor styles" or "doctor styles" and she cant stop blushing and harry is just smirkingg. you can totally ignore this if this isn't something you like!

Heyyy queeeeeen, first of all HAPPY NEW YEAR! Second off all this is kinda a request/idea : how about y/n is mad at bf!Harry so she gives him the silent treatment and then out off nowhere he calls her y/n Styles and it gets her attention and then they have a talk about marriage and the end up making love?

I've given this a lot of thought, because on the one hand, I feel like Professor would be the type to keep her last name. BUT I also think she would appreciate the idea of shedding her past for good by taking a new name, Harry's name. She talks about it at length with Harry, and he holds his tongue, wanting her to come to her own decision and supporting whatever she wants to do (but he totally has an opinion and it's for her to be Mrs. Dr. Styles). And because you so graciously requested this, we're going with Mrs. Dr. Styles, so here is three times Professor was referred to as Dr. Styles!

The Professor Series

Harry often thought the way Y/n went on tangents was cute, adorable even, but right now she was being a little...unreasonable.

"Y/n, we talked about this. It happened for a moment, and security took care of it. I'm fine."

"This is not okay! Do you know how many creeps there are out there? So many. I don't need statistics because I encounter them all the time, Harry. This is serious. You could've been hurt, the band could've been hurt, anyone could've—"

"Darling, nothing happened. Come back down to earth for me. Please?" he said, standing up from the hotel bed to come near her.

"I am on earth! Where some...some freak decided it was okay to run onstage and charge you! Why aren't you taking this seriously, Harry? Anything could've happened? So many celebrities are attacked by fans who think they're in a relationship or have a right to..."

And on and on she went.

Harry knew it was scary for her. Y/n got easily spooked by this kind of thing. And he was fine with that, but honestly, hearing about all of this was freaking him out. He'd been fine after the show, but now she was making him uncomfortable.

"Y/n, love, come on. Stop," he said gently, reaching for her hand. But she wouldn't stop, she just kept going.

Harry loved her, he would never want to change a single thing about her. He loved her little quirks and all the things that made up who she was. She wouldn't be his love without them. But sometimes she didn't listen to him, and sometimes she worked herself into a frenzy when she didn't need to.

"Y/n Styles! Stop. I love you, but you need to stop," he said, voice soft but stern.

He didn't even realize what he said until she asked, "What did you just call me?"

"What?"

"Y—You called me Y/n...Styles," she said, and Harry thought she'd probably never looked so confused in her life. "Why would you do that?"

"I...I don't know," he said truthfully. "It just came out. Sorry."

He wasn't sorry, though. Not really. Harry might not have meant to, but he certainly liked the sound of it. They hadn't been together very long, but he knew what he wanted, he knew what his future was going to look like. Harry didn't care how long it took or when that future started, but he could wait.

What he didn't want was to freak his girlfriend out. Harry knew Y/n loved him, but she sometimes got squirrely about the abstract, the unknown.

"No, it's—it's okay, I—I kind of liked it," she said.

Of all the things to happen tonight, that was the most surprising.

Grinning, Harry said, "You did, did you?"

"I know that look. Don't give me that look or I'll take it back," she said, stepping away from him as he got closer.

"What look?"

"That look! Put those bedroom eyes away!"

"Bedroom eyes?" Harry asked, laughing as he cornered Y/n against a wall. In a sing-song voice, he said, "You want to be my wiiife."

"N—No, that's not what I said, I just—Hey!"

"No more talking," he said, carrying her over his shoulder. "We, Y/n Styles, are going to bed."

Y/n tried to say something, but Harry's mouth was on hers before she could make a sound. "I said no more talking," he murmured, nudging his nose against hers. "We're going to bed, and we're going to kiss for a little bit."

"Maybe a little more?"

Chuckling, Harry kissed the top of her cheekbone. "Whatever Mrs. Styles wants, she gets."

"Stop it with that. We're—mm."

"Shh. No more talking."

"It's—It's Doctor Styles," Y/n corrected, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck.

"Of course. Now, where were we?"

"Have a wonderful, wonderful day, Dr. Styles."

"It's review day. My least favorite day," Y/n huffed, slumping against the seat of the car.

"Impossible," Harry said, leaning across the middle console to kiss her temple. "Today is your first day of work as Dr. Styles, which means it is the best day."

Y/n's cheeks flushed at the sound of her name. Her new name. She loved it, of course, she wouldn't have changed her name if she didn't. But it was just so new. They'd only been...married...a few weeks. Seeing the ring on her left hand still surprised her from time to time.

"Are you going to say Dr. Styles every time you address me?" she asked him.

Harry's grin was broad as he winked and said, "Absolutely, Dr. Styles."

"Harry—"

He took her chin in his hand and kissed her long and hard. When he pulled back, her entire face was red. "Harry! Anyone could see—"

"Let them. I love my wife, and everyone should know it," he said. "I'll be by for lunch, okay?"

"Really?"

Harry kissed her forehead. "Yep. Gonna bring you flowers and embarrass you in front of all your students and make them jealous at the same time. So go, I'm looking forward to being a trophy husband."

He was being silly, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. They were married. Harry would shout it from the rooftops if he could, but he would settle for making Y/n blush every chance he got.

Grinning from ear to ear, Y/n surged forward and kissed him. "Do you have to bring the flowers?"

Chuckling, Harry pecked the bridge of her nose. "I have to bring the flowers, Dr. Styles."

Y/n, Dr. Styles, wrinkled her nose at Harry, her husband, who just wrinkled his at her and kissed her pouted lips. "You better go, Dr. Styles. You're gonna be late for class."

She nearly told Harry to drive them back home, that she didn't want to go back and teach, she just wanted to stay in all day with him. But that was impractical. She had to go.

So Y/n got out of the car and went, but not before one more kiss to Harry's lips.

All day, when students called her Dr. Styles, Y/n blushed. She got through her lectures without a hitch, but she couldn't avoid the teasing questions at the end, or the cheers and whistles when Harry came by as promised, a takeout bag in one hand and a large bouquet of her favorite flowers in the other. He ate up all the attention, then sat Y/n on his lap while they ate lunch together. And when her next class was about to start, he didn't leave like she expected. He stayed in her desk chair and minded his own business while she gave her lecture, though she could feel his gaze on her every now and again, each one more heated than the last.

Y/n could feel each one and tried not to rush through one of her lectures so they could get home. That wasn't who she was, she was a good professor who didn't let her husband's—her husband's—bedroom eyes get in the way of a lecture. She was better than that, she would be better than—

"I think that covers everything. I think you would all benefit from some free study time, so...so get studying!"

Students trickled out one by one, some of them going up to Y/n to ask her a question or congratulate her or both. She answered and accepted each graciously, but her fingers were also tapping furiously against her leg, just below the hem of her skirt. And finally, when the last student was finally gone, Y/n turned around and launched herself at Harry.

"Take me home," she mumbled against his mouth. "Take me home right now, please."

"Darling, you have one more class—"

"Now," she insisted, before going back to kissing him all over. His neck, his jaw, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.

Harry hummed as he threaded his hand through her hair. He gripped her waist and indulged her in one more kiss before he tilted his head back. "I love you, my darling, darling wife, but no."

"No?"

"No. I know you want to now, but you'd be disappointed for letting your students down later," he said.

Y/n wanted to protest, but she knew Harry was right, so she slumped against his chest. "But I want you right now."

"Believe me, you are not alone in that department," he said, squeezing her hip. "But, we have our whole lives together, hm? So I will wait, and so will you, and when we get home..."

"Promise?"

Harry kissed his wife, loving the feel of her body pressed against his. "Promise."

"Okay, we're live in three, two, one!"

The host of The Daily Show smiled at the appropriate camera and did his normal greetings after the commercial break, then announced that Y/n was here.

"Welcome Dr. Y/l/n"

Y/n was nervous beyond all reason, but somehow she managed a small smile. "Thank you. I—It's Dr. Styles."

She wasn't used to this. She wasn't used to the cameras and the attention and the live studio audience. Well, she was, but her lectures were different. That was her safe space. This...a live television interview was not her safe space.

"Right! Of course, congratulations!" the host said. "How is married life treating you and your husband? What's his name again?"

"HARRY!" someone in the audience shouted, which caused everyone to laugh and cheer.

Y/n blushed. How long had they been married, and she still blushed at the mention of her and Harry being married? "Good. Good, I guess. We're very happy."

"I'm glad! And I'm so curious to know how the two of you met. A Cambridge professor with multiple PhDs and a world famous pop star. How does that happen?"

The host's voice wasn't condescending, merely curious, but Y/n wasn't prepared to talk about this. She didn't come to talk about her relationship.

Her mind buzzed with an answer that wouldn't be rude but would also change the subject. "We...met during the pandemic, which was when I realized how lacking schools were in...in so much. Which sounds silly, but I skipped most elementary grades and spent most of my time in higher education. But I...I realized I could help."

"Right! You became quite the internet sensation during lockdown to make educational videos, which obviously led to this. Your very own curriculum."

Grinning, Y/n nodded.

She never set out to write a series of textbooks for children. Y/n had a busy life, a fulfilling life as a professor. And yet somehow, she found herself wanting to do more. Harry had a lot of...younger family, and she liked to help them with their homework and projects and such. But her first look at their textbooks was very disappointing.

"This is what they're teaching you? This isn't even historically accurate! Where's..."

It was safe to say once something was on Y/n's mind, she couldn't let it go. Harry was amused but supportive, his usual reaction when she took on a new project.

"How can I help, love?"

"You didn't even finish school. How are you going to help me write a textbook?"

"Ouch, love."

"Well?"

"I mean you're right, but you could always say, 'Thank you husband. I love you so much.' Now you try."

"Thank you husband! I love you so much!"

"See? Not so hard."

"I started by just writing one. A comprehensive American History textbook," she said now, tapping her fingers under the desk where no one could see. " Kids have the capacity to learn so much more than what schools are currently teaching them. Leaving things out or not acknowledging certain events or painting our nation's history in a certain light is a disservice to them."

Y/n wasn't expecting applause, didn't necessarily want it. So she was surprised when the audience cheered for her answer. She smiled despite herself, then glanced to the side where Harry was standing off camera. He gave Y/n a thumbs up and blew her a kiss.

"That's amazing," the host said. "So you started with one, and it just progressed from there?"

"Yes, I—Once my mind is set on a project, I can't let it go, so I carved out time and just...wrote a bunch of textbooks, I guess. Well, I researched and got a Master's in Urban Education first. But then...then I wrote a bunch of textbooks."

"You wrote an entire elementary and middle school curriculum by yourself! That's incredible, Dr. Styles."

The audience cheered again, and when it died down, the host asked her more questions about her books, which she was happy to answer. She talked about her approach and her willingness to not shy away from or hide unsavory history. "In a way that's appropriate for each age group, obviously," she said. "But it's important for children to understand the complexity of history and that there's never just one side to a story. I tried really hard to be respectful and honor forgotten voices that have been left out for too long."

"Would you ever teach to younger pupils, yourself?" the host asked.

"Oh heavens no," Y/n said quickly. "My students at university can barely keep up with me. No, I—I wanted to do my part by providing well-rounded, unbiased material, but I'm not sure kids would want me to teach it."

And when it was all said and done, when the cameras were off, the host shook her hand and thanked her for coming to the show.

Y/n walked off the set and toward Harry, who was quick to spin her around in his arms. "You were fantastic," Harry said.

"I know! I was nervous at first, but I just am so proud of my work, you know? So it was easy to talk about. And I even managed a few jokes!"

Harry laughed because her "jokes" flew over everyone's heads. The only reason Harry got them was because Y/n practiced them on him the night before. "They were great."

She smiled, but it dimmed the longer she looked at him. "You didn't think they're funny."

"What? I didn't say that! Why would you—"

"You didn't have to. It's all over your face," she said, pouting. "You don't think I'm funny?"

"I think you're brilliant, and I think you have so many talents. Can you let the rest of us idiots be funny?"

"I suppose that's fine," she huffed. "Can we go home now?"

Kissing her temple, Harry took her hand and led her out of the studio. "We can go wherever you want, Dr. Styles."

[proximasc0rner]

Hatchetverse theory/headcanon: the lords in black are monsters of our own creation.

So. In a previous post, I mentioned that the LiB might have ages in that they're born of some kind of evil, with Wiggly being the oldest "sin" for lack of a better word. And I think I like that idea the more I think about it! So, just for fun, I'm making a list of them from oldest to youngest:

Wiggly - Wrath. I- I think this one is kinda self explanatory I mean his name is LITERALLY Wiggog Y'Wrath what else do you want from me here- but in all seriousness, I think it fits. The oldest evils humans have known have existed because of wrath. The desire to hurt others due to a sense of justice or entitlement, or even just because one was having a bad day and needed to take it out on someone. Tale as old as time.

Nibbly - Nibbly. Where to start with you. I don't want to go with the basic-ass "gluttony" thing, sooooo... I think with Nibbly, it's more abstract than that. Humans don't just hunger for food-- they hunger for power. Power over themselves, power over some others, or, god forbid, power over entire groups and nations. Hunger for the prize. Hunger for fulfillment. I think we see this demonstrated really nicely in Honey Queen! But yeah, I think this abstract "hunger" is also something primal, like wrath. I wouldn't be surprised if Nibbly and Wiggly came into existence at the same time, but Wiggly just kinda took over.

Tinky - Sadism. YES I AM ONCE AGAIN GOING FOR THE EASY CHOICE SUE ME. Anyhoo, I personally think that Tinky came into existence with the first real atrocity. Not murder over an argument. Not an act of desperation. Just an act of cruelty for cruelty's sake. Sometimes I wonder why I like him so much. WHATEVER I BELIEVE IN BASTARD OF TIME AND SPACE SUPREMACY.

Blinky - This one was tough, but I think I got a semi-satisfying answer (for me anyway): I think Blinky represents the evil that is being a bystander. Like, someone commits a great evil and destroys someone's life in front of a crowd, and all the people just... watch it happen. They don't step in or intervene. They simply allow this evil individual to keep being evil, thereby becoming accomplices in that way. Again, wouldn't be surprised if Tinky and Blinky were twins, because I think atrocities and bystanders unfortunately go hand in hand.

Pokey - Exhibitionism! No wonder he's the youngest-- while vanity and desperately trying to gain the approval of others has been a thing for a very long time, I think that once better forms of communication and presenting yourself to the world (cough cough the internet cough cough) is when things really would've taken off. Everyone wants their voice to be the loudest. Everyone wants to be a star. So everyone puts on a show for everyone else as they desperately try to claw their way to the top.

But yeah. That's my idea of it. The lords in black are a threat, and we've got nobody but ourselves to blame.

[mishsymishy]

Hi there! Could I request Ragatha, Zooble and Jax with someone who already comes kind of insane when they first arrive at the digital circus? Like having some glitches and abstracting for a couple of seconds? Thank you very much!

Thank you for making the request!(I loved the idea)

It is in drabble format, and it is friendship or romantic but it is more romantic

Warnings:Low self-esteem, panic, pain, rejection, handling, corrupted,Horrible jokes, angst.

Digital Circus x Reader having glitches and abstractions¡

Zooble!

- The first time they saw you, they thought that you were already lost, that you will probably become abstract soon or even now.

Well.., they was surprised to see how you go on and on well, as if the little glitches they gave you were nothing, I was a little admiring how you You still didn't fall into despair and well, end up like a black thing

-After being together for a long time, they starts to care about your constant glitches and abstractions,a little worried more and more that it will really get to the point where you lose control trying to find solutions to stop the glitches or abstracts , even if it is less than before

_You will have many talks, mostly to keep you mentally healthy, although well they too needs that. You tend to go to someone's room to talk or walk around, talking about your past lives or listening to Zooble complain about how unbearable everyone is. Although sometimes you also have talks about what you would do if you escaped and could finally be free

-Jax once bother you because you panicked and almost got a double abstraction eye on the back of your head, Zooble quickly managed to grab him by the neck again and threaten him that if he 'liked' abstractions so much he would be next one

-If you abstracted yourself, they wouldn't cry, but they would feel even worse about herself, as if they had failed you in everything they promised you. Making you believe that you could improve and both get out of there. Over time, they would also end up abstracted

Ragatha!

-She would really be scared to see how abstracted you are, after Kaufmo she's really afraid of being glitched or banged against the walls again. When she sees that you return to normal, she only looks at you strangely while thinking about what she just observed and how is that normal

-As he gets to know you better, he starts to ask a lot of questions about you and your health, etc. You even get the idea of ​​going to talk to Caine to see if he can solve your problem like he did with her and Pomni. When she sees your glitches he asks you if it's hurt. She, maybe, understands you a little And well, she maybe can help you reduce that little by little (At least that's what she thinks), trying to give you advice on what to do in a moment of stress just as she did with Ponmi.

-She worries a lot about you, trying to keep you from doing the hard things, like dealing with Caine's adventures as very difficult missions, and she just tells you to relax while she does all the work. Also try not to let others say bad things to you or even bother you, she really don't want to lose you! She is very overprotective of you like she was with Pomni, only much less so.

- The truth is that she loves you very much, she has captured you with affection and compassion, so if you finally corrupt yourself, She will feel bad too, only she would hit him twice as hard because she never felt too bad about her and now... hate herself a little too much, She feels like her only job was to take care of you and she just failed that simple thing. It will not become corrupt because it knows that there are still people who need her or that is what she wants to think. Oh, and I'm probably less patient now and more worried For your loss she will also have a small offering , like something that reminds her of you in a secluded place in her room.

Jax!

-At first he started insulting you, calling you strange or something like that and trying not to be with you relying on the excuse that you You were a bad and corrupted person and it was better to be away from you , try to convince everyone to stay away from you too using past reference like Kaufmo

-Then after having a mission with you and seeing how black things like abstractions came out of your body ,he was scared (and also worried) because of you.As he got to know you a little more he realized that you were just lost in your mind so you weren't that bad.

-He ends up caring about you but doesn't want to show it, if he gives you a glitch In public he won't say anything but then in private he will probably ask you everything about your mental and physical health.

-Many times he use your abstractions to scare someone, mostly Kinger, by telling them that you are also going to abstract like Kaufmo or Queenie , but if you tell him that you don't want him to make jokes about your problems, he will more or less stop doing it just because he loves you although I don't want to admit it at all.

I hope you liked it! sorry for the delay, a lot of study shit and thanks for make the request!

-If you become distracted, it is more or less that he will feel guilty for not having taken you seriously, for not having helped you so much, for laughing every time he saw something happen to you, thinking that it was not worrying. Surely now I'll stop making serious jokes on people. But he will also be much more depressed and wanting to leave that place.

-

—

Hope you like it! Sorry for the delay!

Please tell me if any pronoun or spelling is wrong, I use a translator and I don't know if some things are spelled correctly

[mr-spotatohead]

-Momentary Stain.-

Welcome Home x Artist!Reader

Words: 3,091

|Contains: Fluff.|

Synopsis: Your hobby is painting and resting. You have recently moved to a friendly neighborhood. You have managed to find a hiding place where you use your time to paint. Although… Maybe this hiding place is not so secret, since it has attracted another artist like you.

The green grass tickled your feet, you breathed calmly, your thoughts beyond on this spring afternoon. Your sketchbook being used for your creative mind once again. Despite the beautiful view you had, you were sitting on the ground, drawing with your trusty pencil. The shade of the tree was refreshing beside you. You slid your old pencil across your notebook, making doodles and shapes that to others would be described as abstract. But you were not ready to finish, as you imagined and then created.

This was your daily routine. Since you moved to a friendly neighborhood to have more time for yourself and take it easy. Your clothes were basic, in shades of beige, brown, white. And your old slippers, which were by your side now. Your legs were bent to support your notebook on them, your back, oddly enough, was not hurting at the moment. Since you were bent over.

This little piece of tranquility was your space of peace. You always visit this place when you need to clear your mind, a moment of serenity, or just rest and spend time doing something you like, like now. Some of your neighbors were… Very intense, very fond of doing energetic things. You unfortunately can't keep up with their pace, but fortunately, they are so kind that they decide to change the pace for you when you are there. None of them know much about you, since you are a person who takes things slowly. So you still don't know some of your neighbors in the neighborhood. But you were excited to meet them. You wouldn't say you were a shy person. You speak your mind when the moment is right. But you don't feel the need to talk sometimes. Just a nod of the head is enough of a message. It's hard for you to get angry about something, even if you're in a pressure situation, you still keep calm and think hard. And sometimes you think too much. Maybe you daydream sometimes, but that's why you paint, why you draw. You put everything you have in mind into painting form. A creative mind needs a specific space in art. Be it painting, writing, singing, playing. You take another deep breath as you remember reality, and then you breathe out contentedly, looking at your doodles around the yellowed paper. Feeling the breeze blowing through your still body. And then. You felt something. You felt something intense, maybe even entrancing. It was as if someone was watching you. And then you raised your head. Already knowing this feeling. You looked at the landscape in front of you and then a smile formed on your face, words came out of your mouth. "Ah, you found my hiding place." You heard light footsteps on the grass and then heard someone's voice answer you after seconds. A monotone voice. "That's good, because I was looking for you."

You raised your eyebrows and looked to the side, noticing the presence of Wally himself in person. You had heard about him in the neighborhood, it wasn't hard not to hear about the famous Wally Darling. Neighborhood friend, caring and talented. Helpful and polite. You had seen him before in the neighborhood, but since it was only a short time since you showed up, you couldn't even introduce yourself to him. Wally was holding two blank canvases under his arms, a paint palette in one hand with some saturated tones of paint, and some brushes. Well, he seemed to have a goal in mind. You looked at the puppet that had been staring at you for a while. "You-You were?" You asked quite curious. Wally hummed and continued. "Of course. Well, anyone would also be curious to find a new person who also has the same likings as you." He said with his eyes half-lidded, a calm smile on his face. The puppet pulled out a small easel and began to organize his things, then stopped what he was doing and looked at you, signaling to the floor next to you. You looked at him and smiled, suggesting that he could sit there. He soon continued his preparations. "It's a nice place, you have good taste in finding a place like this." You hummed looking forward, feeling the eyes of your new companion watching you. You chuckled lightly and sighed deeply, setting your notebook aside. "Well, anywhere is good, as long as it's outdoors." You stretched your legs and listened to the puppet next to you laugh monotonously. He wasn't ordinary in the slightest. "I prefer to be outdoors, too. You have a lot more options for painting." You nodded your head lightly and soon saw out of the corner of your eye Wally reach out to you something. You turned your head and saw a blank canvas being offered to you. You looked into the eyes of the puppet who explained. "I supposed we could paint together. It would be an ideal way to get to know each other, wouldn't it?" You looked deep into Wally's eyes, and sensed no lie in his words. He genuinely wanted to paint with you. Not just for the conversation, but for the companionship. You took the canvas. You smiled lightly at the man.

"But forgive me, I don't have another easel." The puppet left the items between the two of you, a brush for each, the paints for both of you, but only he had the stand for the canvas. You huffed lightly and smiled a crooked smile. "Don't worry." You quickly brought your legs together to your torso and placed the blank canvas resting on your legs. "I prefer it this way." You watched as Wally finally took his eyes off you and analyzed your posture, which was not the best. While his was quite straight. "If it's comfortable for you, then by all means, continue." You smiled with your eyes closed, liking that he simply accepted that. You turned sideways and observed the items your companion brought, the paints seemed to be just like yours that you usually use, though the pigments were stronger and more colorful. You picked up a brush and looked at it. It was clean, the white bristles unused. While Wally's brush was more worn by time. "So, what do you think we shall paint?" Wally began and you looked at him curiously, he took his eyes off you and pointed to the clearing just below you, aiming at a colorful spring tree. "How about that tree, if you prefer." He finished his sentence by looking at you. Yet you just frowned slightly, clearly something you didn't agree with. "Oh… Uh, I thought we were going to paint whatever our hearts told us." You said this without thinking, and when you saw Wally's expression form to a slightly confused one, you tried to form another better sentence explaining what you really like to paint. "Uh, sorry, it's just that I don't like to imitate reality, you know? I prefer to travel deep into my mind," You began to explain your point of view of your own art. "To understand what I feel, or like to feel. Close my eyes and just let the brush flow." You moved the brush as you said this. When you can organize your thoughts, it's as if you just understand yourself or make others understand you. And when you looked to the side, you saw the puppet's eyes on you. As if you had said something that made him look at you like that. Intense. An intense one of wonder. An intense of admiration. You looked at him for a few seconds and noticed the silence. Quickly breaking eye contact you widened your eyes and smiled awkwardly. "Or we could paint the tree too, no problem." "Gee, wow…" You listened beside you, you looked at Wally again and noticed him with a big smile on his face. "I've never seen that kind of perspective before. You have a quite marvelous point of view." You looked at him, not letting your smile grow hidden. Well, the comments of the others that he was a charmer were no lie. He really was good with words.

"Well, it's all done then." Wally clasped his own hands and cheerfully remarked. "Let's draw the non-existent." You couldn't hold back and laughed under your breath as you heard your companion's phrase. Wally kept a silly smile on his face. You shook your head about this particular situation. You looked at Wally and just continued. "Let's paint something we desire. It's easy, since there are several ways to do that." You opined and the man next to you nodded liking the idea. And then the session began. The two of you quietly began to make different drawings. Some sharp doodles and some softer ones. The two of you were in a comfortable silence until Wally broke it with a hum. You hummed back and watched the puppet next to you stop painting. "Is there a problem?" You asked looking at Wally, who turned his head sideways, and then to the other, and said with a hand under his chin. "It doesn't feel right." He said watching every detail of his drawing, making you look at him. "You don't have anything in mind, do you?" "A lot, actually, I don't know what to choose." Wally answered honestly, he observed his surroundings before looking at you, who gave your opinion. "Try to focus on what catches your interest for being different. By giving you a different feeling. Even if it's just a little." Wally watched you for a long period of time as you smiled trying to help him. The puppet soon had an idea and quickly grabbed the easel and pulled it a little to the side, making it out of your sight. You looked at him in wonder and turned your head slightly to the side. Seeing what the man was doing. "I have an idea. But no peeking." Wally said with his posture a little more confident. You smiled crookedly, happy to see the puppet thinking of what to do.

"Okay, I won't look." You confirmed by continuing with your smile. After this interaction, the two of you entered a comforting silence. With only the natural sounds around you, the leaves on the trees moved with the calm breeze. The birds sang and communicated. And then you stopped painting to listen to your surroundings, closing your eyes and listening to your breathing. You looked for another familiar sound but couldn't find it. When you opened your eyes, you found Wally watching you. You watched him for a few seconds and then broke eye contact, laughing lightly. "Sometimes I like to close my eyes and listen to things. Sorry if that was weird." You heard no response but saw out of the corner of your eye Wally duck his head to look into your eyes. Which worked, since you lifted your head to see him. "Ah. It's not weird at all. Allow me to tell you something I like to do too." Wally kept looking at you until you turned your head slightly to the side, curious. Wally half-lidded his eyes, as he watched you. "I do enjoy eye contact. It's not something common, some people even find it strange. So I understand if you don't like it." The puppet said calmly, not doubting his words one bit. You watched him, your eyebrows rising. Oh now that makes sense. "It's cute." You said without thinking and quickly widened your eyes and laughed embarrassed, but you didn't correct yourself, you just laughed at yourself for saying it out loud. The man next to you laughed along, but at his own monotonous pace. "Well," You began, coughing lightly to continue, you placed your hand on your chest, breathing calmly. "If we're sharing weirdness." You signaled with your hands in quotation marks when you mentioned weirdness. "Then I'll explain why I like to just listen to my surroundings." You closed your eyes and then listened to your deep breathing, continuing. "I like to listen to breathing. It's weird that phrase itself, but…" You tried once more to listen to the breathing of anyone else besides yourself there, but it was difficult. "It's nice to think about, though. You breathing brings life to you. It makes your heart beat." You opened your eyes and watched the puppet in front of you continue to stare at you. "I must admit, it is a beautiful thought." Wally's eyes were still half-lidded as he watched you, you chuckled under your breath and continued. "Maybe. And I don't say that to just anyone." You raised your hand and explained. "I only said it because you also share something in common with me." You joked in an orderly tone and the puppet next to you smiled broadly. Entering into the joke "I am flattered." Wally placed a hand in front of his chest. You laughed lightly and then lifted your brush and continued to paint, your mood lifted. "Let that be a little secret between you... and me." Wally added low after he started painting again. You listened, you just didn't comment. Letting your brush do its work again.

A cool breeze passed by you, you could notice that your painting partner was using a lot of neutral colors, which you found interesting, since you were using the most saturated colors. Despite having only one paint pallet, you were able to use it together. Letting the silence and concentration flow in the air. Comfortably, you sighed and looked at your work after a few hours had passed, almost finished. You and Wally talked at times, joking, getting to know each other, and even giving different opinions in some cases. Until he asked you what made you move into the neighborhood. "Well," you began, putting your paintbrush aside, satisfied with your painting. "Where I lived there were a lot of… materialistic opinions. I like living experiences, and being present to an organic place, like this," You signaled behind you, where the neighborhood was. "It makes me feel more comfortable and accepted." The puppet next to you hummed, understanding you. You looked at Wally after he had finished his painting and saw that he had put his brush down, also looking like he was finished. "You are very experienced in what you talk about. I am happy to know that you are a neighbor now." Wally watched you with that same look in his eyes. You smiled contentedly. "Well, I take it we've finished the paintings." You soon cut the silence, watching as Wally's expression changed from one of contentment to one of realization. He looked down at his own painting and nodded. You got down on your knees and sat on your legs, painting in hand. "What do you think?" You showed your still fresh painting to the puppet who took his eyes off you and observed your painting. After a few moments of silence, Wally raised his hands and looked at you, and you understood, giving him the painting to look at more closely. You had talent, that was for sure. The puppet observed every aspect of your painting. He could see what elements you wanted to show in this painting. He could see that some of the flaws there were on purpose. You had a very specific and beautiful trace to look at. Wally quickly took his eyes off the painting when he heard you laugh lightly. "Hah, you know what? You can keep it. As a gift from me to you, neighbor." Wally understood your comment, for he said nothing, just stared at the painting with a facination that made you smile silly. Wally noticed your action and not wanting to be left out, he signaled to the brush in your hands. "Oh well, keep that, then. As a thank you gift, from one neighbor to another." Wally watched your smile become more genuinely grateful. You were very pretty like that.

"Do you want to show your work or are you going to be mysterious?" You joked and watched your companion place his newest gift on the floor next to him. Wally removed his painting from the easel and turned to you. Seeing that the puppet was offering you the painting to look at. You took it, and when you looked closely you noticed something... Interesting.

You don't know if interesting was the right word. Since Wally's painting was a mixture of some very intense concepts. You could notice that the painting on top was in more neutral colors like beige, browns and whites. It was something softer, serene, beautiful.

You found the overpainting very peaceful. But you could notice what the original painting looked like underneath these soothing tones. Spirals. In strong shades of black with reds. It was… very… Specific. However, he changed later and made this art soothing and fragile.

You looked at the puppet who was very expectant, you smiled with droopy eyes, and honestly you encouraged him that it was beautiful and very original. His signature for this style was very distinctive. You liked it.

Returning the painting to its owner, you noticed the sky on the horizon, and how late it was getting. "Oh, time has passed quickly, I wasn't expecting that." You commented holding your new brush firmly. Wally looked at the horizon and you got up from the ground. Picking up your slippers in hand. You looked at Wally who stood up as well. Remarkable height was made between the two of you.

"Well, it was nice to get to know you better, Wally Darling." You extended your hand to the puppet next to you. The nominee nodded in agreement and shook your hand. "I say the same to you, (Name)."

You smiled pleased and asked the man if he would go along, offering to help carry the equipment. Wally denied this and said that he would be staying a while longer. You then bid him goodbye once more and began to walk down the small slope where you were standing. Walking barefoot in the cool grass.

The puppet looked at you from afar, watching your figure disappear after a few minutes. Wally turned back and watched the beautiful view for a few seconds. He began to whistle, organizing his things so that he would be ready to leave later. Not forgetting to take your sketchbook and your pencil.

You were a bit forgetful. This was rather amusing for him.

-OW OKAY OKAY, WHY DID I FOUND THIS ADORABLE? bruhh, i think i'm getting way too soft for this-

@elegantkidfansoul

[confessionsofamasc]

#1

I was born in a hospital that I drive by sometimes. I don’t understand gender or sex more than anyone. I’ve read a lot of theory. I’ve taken comfort in it. It hasn't changed my conditions, but it's granted me a sense of stability. The best of it offers clarification. The worst of it makes me feel like I don’t exist. It’s like anything, it’s complicated. It has made me suspicious of any unifying theory of gender, of simplification. That abstraction feels like more of the same. The reduction, the disappearance, the slow death. Everything begs the question and everyone is too afraid to try and answer it.

The more I read the more ambiguity I am able to accept in myself and others. It usually isn't reciprocated.

I’m a man. Right now my hair is long. It’s annoying, it gets in the way. Recently I was enjoying wearing feminine clothing, but not so much at the moment. I used to date women. I used to be a lesbian. I used to be butch, in a lot of ways I still am. I got myself into a lot of trouble that way. I sought out people who could see my maleness somewhere inside of my womanhood. This was fraught. I try not to blame myself. My maleness made me vulnerable and people could tell. That's on them.

I don’t know what I look like. People see me as different things. I’ve been told that some of these different things lie in complete contradiction with each other. To some people I negate myself and they hate that. I don’t mind being a paradox. I didn’t make it a paradox. I know how I feel and I know what I want. How other people see me is not my responsibility. I know what feels right and what feels wrong. It's one of those things, like love. No justification needed. I like what this has given me, a general ambivalence I find freeing. No one owes me understanding, not even myself, just acceptance. I roll with the punches.

No one’s going to be able to know me from a short interaction. That’s fine. That’s not my problem. It’s not their problem either. But I correct them, I give them a chance. I am as honest as possible. It’s awkward. Sometimes it isn’t, sometimes there is that moment of two people meeting, like two comrades undercover. The nod, the smiles. Some people get angry. I avoid going places where they might be able to react. I don’t go out. Sometimes I don’t correct people. 

Sometimes I know that people want me to make myself smaller, more understandable, that I must diminish myself. Categorize, define, summarize, defend, defer. I get the feeling my complexity is the wrong kind of complexity. I hate deference, I want to be an equal participant in the conversation.

I was in line for a friend’s show, waiting to get my bag searched, my ID checked and a man behind me got close, started touching my bag. Same old. Bad jokes, mean jokes, stuff to try and make me feel vulnerable. Said he was putting his gun in my bag to hold onto. Trying to get me to engage to protect myself. Flatter him, don’t hurt his ego. That boring misogynistic flirting that kids start honing in grade school. I didn’t say anything. I made myself as uninteresting as I could. That hurt his feelings. “I bet you think I’m such an asshole”, he said with little kid anger. I continued to ignore him. I didn’t want him to hear my voice or see my face. He figured I was a girl. It's the hair. Then came his quick turn to vitriol, insults under his breath. I got inside and none of my friends were there yet. I pretended to be alright, cold-blooded. Like I don't feel anything.

I learned that quickly, that being a man is not a trump card, not for me. Some people tell me this can't be true, it's not the part about being a man. I become comprehensible to them only if they separate me from an important part of my whole, if they dictate myself back to me in a way they find acceptable, in line with their worldview. Sometimes I am asked to completely disavow it to be let back into life. That is a very old trick. I got tired of it when I was still a little girl.

I know that it is the catalyst. The thing about me, the nail in the coffin. No matter what kind of man I've been, it's been true. I can't forget it even if I'm told that I must be coming at it the wrong way because I have to hold that knowledge close to survive. When I abandon it I abandon myself. Bad things start to happen again.

Why is my understanding of the violence that happens to me up for debate? How can you debate a thing you can't even look wholly at? Who gets to abstract it, define it? I should really be asking, who decides what is too insignificant to be considered part of the definition? What violence gets to slip through the cracks, undefined as violence? Why? Why are my friends disappearing into abusive relationships like I did for most of my life? Why are my friends killing themselves? Why does no one notice?

I guess there are a lot of questions that everyone's afraid to ask.

[cottoncandyafterdark]

Hyoga SFW Alphabet

Tags: SFW, fluff, headcanons, alphabet meme

Warnings: None

Notes: Originally posted on ao3 here

A: Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Not very, at least when it comes to physical affection. He's particularly against public displays of affection, but you might be able to get a little more out of him in private. Normally the most you'll get from him is an arm around your shoulders, or a similar possessive gesture just so everyone around knows you're taken.

B: Breath (What can their s/o do to take their breath away)

Show off what you're good at. He's particularly impressed by combat abilities, but he'll appreciate any talents you have that could be useful.

C: Cuddle (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

It depends heavily on his mood. He won't shove you away or anything, but a lot of the time trying to cuddle Hyoga is like trying to cuddle a brick wall. However, sometimes, while falling asleep, or after sex, or if he's just alone with you in a really good mood, he'll put an arm around you and hold you close to him.

D: Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

When you became an important part of his life, he essentially inserted you into the dreams he already had. He wants to lead a new world where only the worthy will have the privilege of surviving, and he thinks you not only deserve to be part of that world, he wants you to stay by his side, rule with him, and experience all the perks that come with being the lover of the man in charge.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

More than you notice or realize. He doesn't call attention to the effort he puts into the relationship so it can easily be overlooked.

F: Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

Are you scared because a person or some other living thing is threatening you? He'll kill it. He's not as good at helping you deal with more abstract or irrational fears. He'll help get you away from whatever's scaring you or distract you from it, but he'll be a little disappointed that you'd let something scare you that can't actually hurt you.

G: Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Hyoga isn't too big on gift-giving, but he will give you gifts on special occasions, like if it's your birthday or something. He goes for practical gifts, things you can actually use and might need, like winter clothes or some kind of tool that would help make your hobby or job a little easier. He doesn't see any point to gifts with purely aesthetic value like flowers or gemstones.

H: Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He tolerates being hugged by you, and you alone. Anyone else who tries would be lucky to leave with both their arms intact, but you're special to him so you get to hug him. That doesn't guarantee that he'll hug you back, though.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

He's not romantic in the traditional sense. The closest he'll get to that is when he kisses you. His kisses aren't loving, exactly, but they are deep, and passionate.

J: Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Don't try to make Hyoga jealous if you want the other person/people involved to leave alive. He's very possessive and doesn't take kindly in the least bit to the idea of someone trying to take you from him. He might also remind you of who you belong to in a more, intimate manner later on, but this is an SFW chapter we can't go into that here.

K: Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

His kisses are rare, but surprisingly passionate when they do happen. I think his petrification scars would also add a unique twist, they'd definitely affect the way his lips feel against yours.

L: Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say it or show it?)

He never says "I love you" out loud. And I don't mean rarely, I mean never. He does show it in his own way, though you kind of have to read between the lines- any time he acts jealous or protective of you, or when he lets you hug him, or even the way he just wants to be near you sometimes- in his head, those little things do more to tell you how he feels than any words ever could.

M: Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He's not opposed to marriage, but you'll have to be the one to bring it up. He's not really interested in a ceremony or reception though, he'd far prefer whatever the stone world equivalent of a courthouse wedding would be. Either that, or he'll just start calling you his spouse. I mean, who's going to argue with him?

O: Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do for/with their s/o?)

If you can't tell by now, he's not too keen on acting overly affectionate, or doing anything that would make him seem soft or vulnerable, especially in front of other people. He shows his love for you in his own ways that don't involve any of those things, and he just needs you to accept that.

P: Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Hyoga will joke around with you some, but his sense of humor is dark enough that you may or may not always recognize them as jokes. If your sense of humor is dark enough to match his, though, oh boy, he will be happy to joke with you more than anyone else even thought he was capable of.

Q: Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

If it's relevant to some field of expertise of yours, sure, he'll ask your opinion on something. Otherwise you'll need to speak for yourself without him prompting you. I can't say he'll always take your thoughts into consideration, but he will appreciate you being willing to stand up for yourself.

R: Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

He actually plans pretty far ahead for most things- he wants to do everything properly, after all, he needs time to prepare. Not that you'd know that. He doesn't tell you about his plans ahead of time so it ends up feeling very spontaneous.

S: Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

It takes him a while to be comfortable sleeping next to you, though not as long as you might expect (he's pretty confident that even if you did try to attack him in his sleep or something, he'd wake up in time to stop you doing any lasting harm). Once he is, though, he'll sometimes put an arm around you and hold you while you both fall asleep. He also thinks it's cute if you lay your head on his chest like you're using him as a pillow.

T: Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

His trust is as hard to gain as it is easy to lose. He's going to need to be really convinced that you don't have any ulterior motives or conflicting loyalties before he can really put his trust in you, and he's definitely still got a plan for if you ever do decide to betray him.

U: Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?)

His possessiveness towards you and willingness to use violence against other people (but not you- he'll never hurt you) is a rather unique combo. One that could potentially lead to people getting hurt, but certainly a Unique combo.

V: Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

Hyoga? Vulnerable? Yeah that's gonna be a hard no. You'll see him vulnerable when he's dead.

W: Wild Card (Random domestic headcanon)

He's very protective of you, and hates the idea of you getting hurt. But for that very reason, if you don't already have any combat skills, he's going to want to teach you to fight at some point. He doesn't want you to throw yourself into fights you don't need to, but he knows he can't always be around to protect you so he wants you to be able to defend yourself.

X: X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

If you were injured by another person, that person would have to die immediately. He would take care of you while you recovered, too, and it would really shine through how much he cares about you while he does; for all he tries to play it cool, it's easy to tell he cannot stand the thought of losing you.

Y: Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

Hyoga likes for things to be done properly. So, if you're sloppy or unhygienic he will be very annoyed. You might get annoyed with him if you're particularly opposed to violence or something like that.

Z: Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

He often outwardly acts cold in his relationships, but he has a lot more passion for you than he shows. If he's openly accepted you as his romantic partner, then chances are his feelings run deep- deeper than he'd like to admit. He might not always show it, but he'd do just about anything to keep from losing you. I think that counts as passion.

[spookiesmausoleum]

❛ 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 ❜ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Here's some quotes from "American Psycho" with a few content warnings just due to the subject matter of the movie even if I did try to avoid certain quotes: Drugs , Murder , Psychosis , Cursing , Violence

"Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people."

"I'm into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly."

"Well, most guys I know who are in Mergers and Acquisitions really don't like it."

"There is an idea of a [name]; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there."

"My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others."

"I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself."

"Not if you want to keep your spleen."

"My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected but, uh, I have no other way to fulfill my needs."

"I don't think we should see each other any more."

"But your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends. I really don't think it would work."

"I know that your friends are my friends and, uh... I've thought about that. You can have 'em."

"Did you know that Whitney Houston's debut LP, called simply Whitney Houston had 4 number one singles on it?"

"You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You own a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?"

"You have a really nice place here, [name]. How much did you pay for it?"

"Well, actually, that's none of your business, [name]. But I can assure you, it certainly wasn't cheap."

"Let's see [name]'s card."

"Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh, my God. It even has a watermark."

"Is something wrong, [name]? You're sweating."

"It's a fucking milligram of sweetener. I want to get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal."

"Will you keep it down? I'm trying to do drugs!"

"[Name] has mistaken me for this dickhead [other name]."

"It's impossible in this world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves."

"When I get to [name]'s place, I use the keys I took from his pocket. There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that [name]'s apartment overlooks the park and is obviously more expensive than mine."

"I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust."

"Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why."

"My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy."

"I think my mask of sanity is about to slip."

"Then maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner. I wouldn't want you to lose your willpower."

"That's okay. I'm not very good at controlling it anyway."

"No—I’m in touch with humanity. [name], I’m sorry, I just uh—you’re not terribly important to me."

"What’s that?"

"Duct tape. I need it for—taping something."

"Pumpkin, you’re dating the biggest dickweed in New York. Pumpkin, you’re dating a tumbling, tumbling dickweed."

"I think if you stay, something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?"

"I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood."

"If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I will kill you."

"Now, [name], listen. Listen very, very carefully—I killed [name], and I liked it."

"Make someone happy. Have you ever wanted to?"

"I guess you could say I just want to have a meaningful relationship with someone special."

"I know my behavior can be—erratic sometimes."

"You hate that job anyway. I don’t see why you just don’t quit."

"Because I want to fit in."

"I’m leaving. I’ve assessed the situation, and I’m going."

"Hey, I’m a child of divorce, gimme a break!"

"Oh, that? Just mulling over business problems, examining opportunities, exchanging rumors, spreading gossip."

"Your father practically owns the company. You can do anything you like, silly."

"God—I guess I was probably returning videotapes."

"I need to return some videotapes."

[awakenedsalamander]

Alright, so I’ve obviously given Mage and Vampire some attention. It’s about time I talk about Werewolf: The Apocalypse, you know, round out the “big three.”

Truth be told, I have kind of a love/hate relationship with Werewolf, though that kinda implies it’s an even split of things I enjoy and things I don’t, but that’s not quite correct.

A more accurate breakdown of my feelings would be something like:

- 60% stuff I really love and appreciate

- 20% stuff I go back and forth on

- 15% stuff I dislike but can tolerate (pretty standard for WoD)

- 5% stuff I really, truly, passionately loathe

And it’s honestly that last 5% that I struggle with most. To be clear, a lot of the WoD games have things in them I don’t just dislike, but find sincerely objectionable or harmful. (A certain Vampire sourcebook, the title of which I can’t even comfortably write out, immediately comes to mind.) But I get past those things, because 1) no work of art is morally flawless, and your tastes as a hobbyist or audience member are not your ethics as a human being and 2) a lot of that stuff is from the older editions and has largely been divorced from the game.

So what’s different about Werewolf?

Well, some of it lies in point 2— there are things in Werewolf that are bad and (barring the controversy of 5th Edition’s lore changes, which is a whole other kettle of fish that I’d rather not dive into right now) are still part of the game. Improved somewhat? Absolutely. But the ugliness of some choices still haunts the game.

The ways Werewolf: The Apocalypse talks about native peoples, from Indigenous Australians to First Nations Americans, is a big example. I don’t feel it prudent for me to go into those details, if only because I think it’s not my lane and voices from those cultures should really lead those discussions, but the game has a very weird attitude toward indigenous groups— at one recognizing their history and the atrocities they’ve come through with respect, while still finding ways to exoticize that history, and appropriate much of it. To say nothing of the ways in which it feels comfortable speaking over indigenous groups, even in matters of their rights.

That’s just one example. There’s the way Werewolf conceptualizes ethnicity and ancestry in general, which is weirdly archaic in places despite seemingly trying to criticize that view. There’s its approach to disability and bodies that differ from an assumed norm, which as many have observed can sometimes come across as genuinely eugenicist on occasion.

And of course, the game is about monsters— you’re not meant to agree with the Garou on much of their beliefs, and you’re meant to engage with those very real issues and wrestle with the right way forward.

And honestly? That last part— the reality of the issues at hand— that’s what makes the bad parts of Werewolf so hard to look past. You know, the other games in the World of Darkness deal with real world issues, but they do so in a fairly abstract way. Like, sure I can and do identity the Technocracy of Mage with destructive and cruel systems of power in the real world, but like… there isn’t actually a league of hypereconomists using secret math to influence the fate of the world. That’s just an exaggerated and metaphorical way to engage with the problems at the heart of a late-capitalist world.

But Pentex? Pentex is basically real. The Apocalypse in Werewolf: The Apocalypse is climate change. It’s happening now. When the game tells you that you need to Rage against the dying of Gaia… that’s almost as literal as it gets. And that makes its fumbles, its mistakes, and yes, its deliberate offenses, harder to swallow. The stakes are high enough that when things are wrong, it really hurts.

But… let’s also acknowledge: The reality I’m talking about it? It’s what makes that 60% stuff I like so amazing. The lows of Werewolf are hard to stomach, but the highs are just… exhilarating.

Like, Werewolf is a game that says, “You see the state of the world? You see its monstrous past? Its insidious present that only hides the horror? Do you see the doomed future its on a crash course with? Let’s take it, and let’s rip it to fucking shreds. It these tyrants and thieves want to kill the world, then we’ll kill them first, if that’s what it takes. If the Apocalypse happens, it happens on our terms, on the terms of the people being victimized and shoved to the margins. You and I? We’re gonna build a better world or die trying. All our anger might ruin us, but we have to try. The consequences of our actions are dire, but we don’t go down without making the bastards work for it. Not without a fight.”

And fuck, when the game is saying that? It’s priceless.

In fact, this has all been too down on Werewolf as a whole. I want to get my problems with the game out front, just to acknowledge them and keep space for the critique and change that they demand, but at the end of the day, I am a Werewolf: The Apocalypse fan (if one with a lot of notes). I want to do something a little unusual and show you an outline for an Apocalypse chronicle I haven’t yet had the chance to run, to show you what I love about the game.

So, stay tuned for a glimpse into that later— a glimpse into “Blood Ripples Out.”

[bredforloyalty]

well

i want to hurt people but it's fantasies it's abstract and yet very very specific i think i have the normal level of like sensitivity and aversion to fellow humans' suffering. but then again 'sadism' makes no sense without empathy cause there's that quote about identifying with the victim like if one doesn't know what hurt is then why cause it y'know it'd be meaningless. so sadism and empathy don't cancel each other out at all. but again i consider my day to day conduct normal and i think i never had a problem with not caring about others' pain or wanting to cause it, i feel like that's just not my vice (i fuck up my relationships through other means) and even if i do love sick shit and if that were a particularly prominent characteristic (super debatable. i love many other things not just sick shit) i still can't fathom doing it . i mean what's a "want" that's so removed from anything real like does that even exist if it's in no way plausible. if a tree falls in a forest and there's nobody around to hear it.... + what if the world was made of pudding. and basically my conclusion is that if "sadist" means someone who gets off on hurting others (Or someone who just finds enjoyment in that on any level and seeks it out) and i don't hurt others like that cause i don't have the type of relations with anyone that would induce this in me then by definition i am not a sadist. like it's not real it's not relevant no one fucking cares if i have that seed in me or cares what i would do if i could go to an alternate dimension and like commit heinous acts without consequences.. ofc this is an insane level of overthinking for something that's not real but y'know it matters to me and sometimes i wonder if i'm an evil person and if it's gonna jump out of me one day, the dysfunctional ruiner degenerate misanthropic violent sex freak or if i don't have to worry about that cause i value autonomy and human lives. i don't want ruin i just want ruin and wish it was real. also i kind of wish i could be more real

[killingsboys]

You briefly mentioned Gale in your post about Lucy Gray being everywhere (🫶🏻) in District 12 and I wanted to ask what do you think of him as a character. It’s been 10 years since I’ve read the books so I don’t remember exactly how things happened in Mockingjay, but I think it’s unfair how people make everything about the love triangle and in order to praise Peeta for everything he does right, they tend to be really nasty about Gale when imo what happened ~ because ~ of him is really heartbreaking and just shows how war destroys people and who they love. Idk if I’m expressing myself well but I think people do miss the point sometimes. Peeta is a sweetheart but there’s no satisfaction to me in simplifying everything that happen by calling Gale a villain or a toxic guy. This sounds so boring sorry, I just loved your post about Lucy okay? Please yes talk more about books here next year! 💌

hi anon!! thank you for your kind words <3 and thank you for your question! i have THOUGHTS about gale so i am soooooo ready to talk about him <3

first and foremost i am & always have been a peeta girlie, he is truly one of the greatest fictional characters of all time and i'll die on that hill. but i actually do like gale, and i think he gets a very bad rap in fandom!

i think the first mistake people make is assuming that katniss/peeta/gale is a love triangle. it isn't. the struggle of katniss choosing between peeta & gale isn't actually about "omg who will she end up with" but about the life she will choose for herself. katniss herself explains it in mockingjay: it's about choosing the dandelion in the spring, or the fire. she chooses the dandelion in the spring because she needs hope to sustain her. she has enough of her own fire; adding someone else's to it will only hurt her in the end. that doesn't mean she doesn't love gale in one way or another. that doesn't even mean that she condemns the fire. she is the fire! it only means that ending up with gale would hurt the both of them.

gale is not a bad character, and he is not a bad person. it's insane to me that people think he's a bad person, actually! he's a traumatized child whose father was killed in the mines and who has spent the formative years of his life risking his life to break the law so he can provide for his family. exactly like katniss. and he's angry about it. but not angry in an abstract way — he's angry in a directed way, in a way that makes him want to change the world they live in. and he should! that's the whole point of the series!

gale spends most of the first games with katniss's family, because he loves her and he loves them and he doesn't want them to be alone. he promises he won't let katniss's family go hungry if she dies. he takes extra tesserae so his younger siblings won't have to, even though they could use the extra food and fuel, even though it puts him at additional risk. he leads 800 scared, hungry, injured people out of district 12 when they're firebombed. when the bombs are coming for district 13, he goes upstairs to check katniss's family's compartment to make sure they're all safe and to grab the things most precious to katniss and her family, risking his own life in the process. he throws himself over katniss when the bombs drop in district 8 and follows her up to the warehouse roof without pause. he lies for her, a thousand times. he follows her across the capitol on the pipe dream of killing president snow. he doesn't hate katniss for her relationship with peeta — he even says that he knows he can't hate her, that it wasn't fair to her. he isn't even angry. he's heartbroken. he's an 18 year old boy in love with his best friend and the world keeps on ending and she was sent to die and the only way she could survive was by pretending to love another boy sent to die — and she might not be pretending, and she doesn't know, and gale is caught in all the middle of it. he's allowed to be upset! everything is so messed up!

katniss doesn't agree with everything gale does. neither do i! i don't think killing the people in the nut in district 2 was the right choice, and i'm glad katniss interrupted. but it's very easy to see where gale is coming from. one of the core themes of the series can be summed up with haymitch's repeated question: "who is the enemy?" over the course of the trilogy, we see katniss begin to comprehend the true answer. she starts off challenging the idea that the richer people in her district are the enemy, even though they don't have to take the tesserae. then she thinks it's the kids from the richer districts who are her enemy, but when she kills marvel from district 1, it feels wrong to her because he's also just a child being manipulated and used as a pawn by a violent government. like her. like rue. the enemy is not any of the people dying in the capitol's mines and orchards and factories and arenas. and in mockingjay, katniss realizes that the normal civilians in the capitol aren't even her enemy. the enemy is the ring of people at the very, very top.

where gale goes wrong is he doesn't reach the end conclusion of that. gale hasn't gone into the arena, he hasn't had to face down other scared children to atone for the "sins" of people they never met. he doesn't get it. he never will, not in the way katniss does. so he doesn't find the same answer as her.

and as for the bombs that kill prim. you see. i really, truly do not believe that they are thirteen's bombs. snow's points in his discussion with katniss don't hold up enough for me personally, and knowing as much as we do about snow, i truly do think he was trying to mess with her one more time. but within the confines of the story, it doesn't matter who dropped those bombs. in real life, yes, it would absolutely matter. but within the books, it doesn't. what matters is that it could have been either of them. capitol or thirteen. snow or coin. the point was they were trading one evil for another, and katniss couldn't be made in a pawn in that, too.

but it doesn't matter, because she will always associate that with gale. it isn't fair, because even if it was thirteen's bomb, there was no way he would agree to that, no way he would help to kill children to prove a point. but she cannot help but associate that with gale. and gale, oh gale. he will always think it, too. he will always wonder if he was the man that killed prim. the little girl he helped to take care of for years, almost another sibling to him. the little girl he helped katniss bring lady the goat home to. the little girl he would not have let starve if katniss died. the little girl he led to safety when the firebombs dropped on district twelve. he will live the rest of his life having to think he is responsible for her death.

i find gale to be one of the most tragic characters in the series. he tries so hard, to take care of the people he loves, to help others, to build something worth having. and he loses very nearly everything for it. and then the fandom vilifies him and treats him like he's worse than president snow. when really, gale was just another exploited, traumatized child whose life was warped and twisted and burned by the capitol.

[kylejsugarman]

Are there any AU² thoughts you're having that you haven't gotten an excuse to share yet? I love the concept so much!!

anons flexing on me by figuring out how to superscript the 2.....au squared is so self-indulgent that i hesitate to make posts just to say silly, cutesy things. but i cant get enough of jesse coming to skyler with childcare questions because he hates to ask his own mom for help and shes the only person he knows who also Has a baby. skyler is initially super resistant, but jesse is so goddamn sincere and as obnoxious and sometimes clueless as he is, he really Wants to take good care of baby and its kind of refreshing to be around someone who actually loves their child rather than loving them in a technical, abstract sense (<- walt). hes like "hey missus white um. uh. are u supposed to like. brush ur baby's teeth" and skyler's like (taking the world's longest drag from her cigarette with her eyes closed). skyler's tolerance for jesse remains mostly limited, but she does field his questions and she does love baby and she does somewhat reluctantly show jesse how to put hair up because baby was born with like a full head of hair and he doesnt know what the fuck to do with it and if she smiles during most of the process, its just because she likes doing baby hair and holly's not old enough for pigtails yet.

au squared captivity arc is also like. particularly oughhh because uncle jack makes it clear from the jump that if jesse steps out of line, they will kill baby. they will kill his two-year-old and make him watch and then take him right back here to keep working. so even when the chances to potentially escape present themselves, jesse cant force himself to act until everyone is literally shot to pieces and too Dead to follow through (and even then he looks over his shoulder for the rest of his life). jesse pulls the gun on todd in the desert, the clearest shot he's had at escaping so far, and todd just says "hey. u dont have to do this. i don't think it'd be very good for ur daughter. :(" not even in a threatening way. almost like todd means it in like an emotional sense. it would hurt her if u hurt anyone else :( and then todd takes it one step further and says "hey. why dont we get a pizza or something? we'll go back downtown and pick something up and maybe drive by where she's at. just drive by. that'd be nice, yeah?? u did real good work today, u deserve a treat. what's ur favorite pizza topping?" and jesse crumbles. he sits on the floor of the front seat at todd's feet like a dog, not allowed to look out the window and having to believe todd when he says "yep, i think thats the new place shes at. looks pretty nice :)" its foolish to trust him, but jesse does anyway and closes his eyes and just imagines that hes passing by baby. hes seeing her little freckled face, her smile with the big gap between her two pearly front teeth, her tiny hand reaching out to grab onto his sleeve. for a second, hes with her. he may never, ever see her again because he may be trapped in this nightmare forever, he may have to work for eternity to keep the gang away from her, but for a second, jesse is close to his baby again.

on a lighter note, jesse is stupid impressed when baby starts imitating the animal sounds she hears on her little mechanical farm toy and shows this new talent off to Everyone. skinny and badger are barely through the door before jesse's like "SHUT THE FUCK UP. SHUT UP. check this out." mike staring vacantly at crusty flip phone video after crusty flip phone video of baby saying "moo". jesse even brings baby with him to show walt and is just beaming with pride and also silently hoping walt thinks that his daughter is super smart and walt's like "sure, whatever, have u killed gus yet"