#they were both self destructive and hated when people were self destructive for them

[mythandral]

7. Someone your muse wishes they’d never met

The more I think about this one for Myth the more the answer hurts me, which is always a good sign. There's plenty of people Myth wants little to do with, but I feel for this question it needs to be someone whose introduction into and part played in his life messed things up rather than just someone he hates, and actually someone in that former group is not necessarily in the latter.

This would not be a constant opinion, just that sort of thought that hits him sometimes and he immediately feels guilty about, but I can't help but think he's thought this way about Haurchefant before.

I could write an essay about this, but it's a combination of Myth being very bad at dealing with grief ('if I hadn't met you I wouldn't have to be feeling this way') and that, while they geniunely loved each other, Myth can look back and see that if things kept going the way they were it was always going to end with one of them dying or getting seriously hurt and not being particularly happy with each other. Their relationship definitely did a number of him emotionally for plenty of reasons, and due to never getting any resolution for it I think Myth might wish it never happened sometimes - and consequentially that they'd never met, because there isn't really a timeline where they wouldn't end up in some kind of relationship otherwise.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, bullying, angst, unwanted pregnancy

part two

fem reader

You were a real ugly duckling story when you were young. Pushed around and bullied for nothing, then drooled after the moment you grew tits. Kids are so quick to change at that age. You started hating them for it early on.

You’d keep to yourself most of the time after switching schools—wanting none of the previous to follow you. Still, you’d attend a party or two when you felt like drinking for free. You’d watch the boys act like fools and the girls act like whores with eyes lazy and drunken. But you couldn’t say you weren’t one of them—in your little black dress reaching just beneath the curve of your ass, low in the dip between your tits. 

None of you should have been drinking. You were all still too young for any of it, and none of you knew how to hold yourselves. But a part of your angsty heart romanticized it when you were puking up your stomach in the bathroom—both arms resting on the toilet seat with your head lying cheek-down against the soft and sticky flesh.

You still remember the smell and how you’d imagined the bacteria cling to your sweaty skin like a coat of grime. Something about it was so movie-esque, you couldn’t help but feel like the self-destructive lead in some bad teen drama.

A rude banging on the door had taken you away from the thought—a boy. 

“Oi! Open up—need’a piss!” he’d yelled. Audibly drunk. Not that you judged him with what you’d poured down your throat now in the toilet bowl—just clear spirits with a few suds of spit.

You sighed, lifting your head with a soft blink. Getting up slowly, you’d flushed your vomit and pulled your dress back down before sauntering over to the locked door. You’d twisted the key, and the guy behind it had barged in before you’d even opened it up. Pushing past you, he had his dick out and aimed at the bowl with a heavy groan with you still in the room, throwing his head back in acute relief.

Suppose you’d been just as drunk as he was, looking at him while he took a piss—no, rather… you were a little preemptive because of the shock. 

It was him. The reason you switched schools.

The memories leave you cold as a corpse as they flood you.

You had such a big girly crush on him back when you were kids. You were so embarrassing—following him around with pink love letters and chocolate, practicing writing a thousand Mr. and Mrs. in all your notebooks.

He was your Prince Charming. You thought he was just the coolest, smartest, most handsome boy you’d ever met, and dreaming of being his girlfriend made you kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

But then that dream kicked you in the stomach.

Turned out, he found you dumb and annoying. Actually, he found all girls dumb and annoying, but youespecially—following him around like a lost puppy, being so pathetic it made him cringe at the sight of you, staring at him always like you were expecting him to pull the sun down and gift it to you. You were a fuckingplague.

And he’d made sure to spread that sentiment. 

Soon, you’d become a social piranha—no one dared stay your friend much longer. You were an outcast—a loser—laughed at when walking the hallways, and no stranger to a half-empty milk carton being thrown your way—tripped and pushed and hair-pulled—people would steal your things or throw them in the pond or even try flushing them down the toilets. The only safe place became behind the locks in the bathroom stalls, but even there, it was hard to find peace with all the things people would write on the walls about you—the same nasty things written on your locker and desk and internet… 

The hopeless romantic within you died—and all your fantasies about Prince Charming did the same.

Bumping into him at that party after changing schools was only a twist of fate, as though making a cruel joke.

“What?” he’d bit out, his head lazily slanted sideways to give you a look, but then his eyebrow lifted in late recognition you’d wished hadn’t come. “Tch—why, if it isn’t little miss love hearts.”

He’d shaken off and zipped himself back up—didn’t bother flushing or washing his hands. Instead, he’d gone straight to you, and you’d stood there—still—eyes wider than they’d been for a long time. You’d have been more surprised he even remembered you, but in the oncoming of dread, you were a little too numb to feel much of anything except slightly hung up. 

“Speechless, huh? Still crushin’ on me?” he’d drawled awfully with a sloppy grin, resting his weighty body with a hand on the doorframe, shadowing you as you stood on the threshold. 

You hadn’t been the only one who’d grown up quickly. He was taller, bigger, stronger. In a tight black tee, you’d spotted the rich lines of his muscles. It made him look a little older than kids your age should. But you suppose it was the same with you with your push-up bras and G-strings and high-heels and smokey eyes.

“Barely recognized yah—lookin’ a little better since droppin’ out—or d’yah switch to another crummy school?” His hand had reached out, and your breath had stilled—throat tightening to a choke as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out a laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck. “Guess that’s my fault huh? Since breakin’ your wittle heart~”

You’d wanted to say something snide, walk away casually once and for all. But more than that, you’d wanted to run. You wish you had. But none of the sorts happened. You’d just ended up standing there silently as if someone were capturing the look of pure anxiety in a portrait.

“Tch—since you’ve already had yer wet dreams come true, seein’ my dick—maybe you’d like to touch it too, hm?”

With a breathy hitch in your voice, you only managed to whisper out a weak, “No thanks.” Turning on your heels with wobbly knees with a single blaring thought on repeat in your head—just get out of there, just get out of there, just get out.

You wish you had, but fate had other plans for you that night.

“Oi.” His callused palm had wrapped itself around your arm and stopped you dead in your tracks. “Fuck’s that about, huh?”

Pushed up against the spine of the doorframe, you’d winced but felt too stunted to do much else. “Let go.”

“Tch—that’s not how it works.” He’d snickered again, breath soaked with beer and vodka and smoke while it wafted across your face in the damp heat of his words. “Dress like an open invitation—you can’t turn down the ones who come knockin’, slut.”

You shudder when your memories of the next events start playing. You’d suppressed it for years, but seeing his face and hearing his voice brought it all back. Standing before you, years later, on your doorstep, rubbing his hands together nervously while searching for the right words to say.

“Uhm…” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t—uhm—know if you remember me.” That’s a stupid thing to say. He scolded himself but stayed committed to it anyway. “It’s me… from middle school.” 

He made himself cringe—barely able to look you in the eye where you stood, unreadable expression donning your face. He doesn’t know what compelled him to track you down again after all this time, nor what he hoped to achieve by coming here—all he knew is that in between days of endless drinking and living his best but mostly empty life, the only part of his heart that still bothered feeling something real was hung-up on his memories of you. You, who could have offered him so much more if only he’d had the balls to take it.

 “I—I know this is—uhm—fucked up,” he excused himself in the same fashion a boy up for arrest would. “But I…” Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath, hung his head, then let it go. “I did something unforgivable to you five years ago, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

He looked up to see your features hadn’t changed.

“I’ve tried forgetting—‘cause it’s been eatin’ me up inside, but—this is fuckin’ selfish—but… I needed to let you know how sorry I—”

“Mommy! Who is it?”  The boy had broken everything off. He came running with stomping steps to attack your leg, peering around it to look up at the man standing there.

“Oh! It’s just a salesman, honey,” you excused—your smile a bit too tight to be called natural as you stroked the top of the boy’s familiar hair. “Mommy will be done real soon, okay? Wait for me inside, yeah? You can watch whatever you want until I’m done.”

The boy hadn’t noticed your discomfort, too blinded by the offer. 

“Really?! Score!” is all he squealed out before bolting back inside.

Old Prince Charming blinked. Once, maybe twice, maybe a dozen times rapidly. “Is that—"

“No,” you interrupted, closing the door once the man reached his hand out. Already having taken a step as though he planned on rushing after the kid, he stopped short when you placed yourself in front of the door, blocking him.

He breathed. Once, maybe twice, maybe a dozen times rapidly. “Shit—” Swallowing thickly, he combed both hands through his hair while staggering back. “It is, isn’t it?” He met the metal railing behind him with a clank. “I need to sit down—” Slipping down it until he’d dropped to the floor with a thud—still holding his head. “Fuck—”

“There’s no need for any of that,” you spat coldly. “He’s mine and wants nothing to do with you, so get lost before I call the cops.”

“That’s my son—” he objected, but he hadn’t a complete grip on the situation—voice an overwhelmed and weak excuse, something you easily stepped on and snuffed out like a spent cigarette bud.

“He’s my son.” You’d raised a strict pointer finger at his face in warning—like a sharpened knife aimed right between his wide eyes. A fierce scowl warped your face, huffing stiff breaths through a flared nose—lips in a prim line as you glowered at him in unfaltering disdain.

And his head was in such a state of turmoil that, for the first time in his life, no words could make it out on his tongue to refute it—remaining at a complete loss.

“You came here to apologize, right? Or whatever the fuck you call all that mumbling you just did,” you questioned in the gap of his silence, taking a step back while straightening yourself, looking down your nose at him—jaded with a voice just as cold—void of all emotion, as though you had none whatsoever to spare him. “Apology accepted if you go away and never show your face here again.”

And with that final sentiment, you turned your back and opened the door. 

You didn’t slam it, but you might as well have.

The metal grid he sat on began eating into his flesh, and the bars behind would soon make his back ache—and still, he remained sitting there for a while. Thinking of all the ways he’d ruined your life…

As well as all the ways you were going to complete his.

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

♡ part two ♡ (FEMxM) INSERT masterlist ♡ (GNxM) INSERT masterlist

[astrobydalia]

🪻Lavender Observations🪸

it's pisces season my dudes so here's my fave pisces aesthetic... this music video really spoke to my pisces moon soul so I wanted to pay homage to it. As always enjoy the observations!

work by astrobydalia

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪻✨Capricorn risings are very full of themselves to be honest. They have an overall pleasant reputation and are loved (Libra 10th+Cancer 7th) but for some reason they're actually very individualistic and conceited deep down, like they think of themselves as being 'on other level' than others. I think this is because their shadow revolves around their ego (Leo 8th house) and we all know they love status but unfortunately fame and popularity tends to change them and/or take out their toxic traits (Scorpio 11th house). Basically they’re the type to become extremely entitled individuals just because they’re successful

🪸✨The virgo placement urge to have a harmeless and innocent personality/reputation while also engaging in the most unholy, taboo and sometimes immoral activities behind the scenes............ iykyk

🪻✨I’ve noticed Geminis are what people think Aquarians are??? Idk Aquarius placements are the most chill and unproblematic people I know and typically don’t make any fuss out of their “quirks” or opinions, they’re just living and vibing them on their own. Geminis on the other hand are the chaotic manic pixie girls/boys or the mad scientists with the most random and out of pocket interests and ideas. They always be leaving me like ‘wtf are you talking about?🤨’ They’re also opinionated af and will jump into controversy pretty easily.

🪸✨Oh! And Geminis are WAAAAAAAAYYY more detached than aquarius dude. Geminis are air AND mutable, for them it is extremely easy to move on and detach from things

🪻✨All the people I've met who's had cosmetic procedures done (botox, plastic surgery, fillers, etc) always had libra placements and/or Neptune aspecting the ASC. Overall Venus and Neptune influence is big in people who wanna look like a glossy instagram filter

🪸✨Chiron in the 6th house are HUGE control freaks due to feeling like reality overwhelms them too much, they feel like their life is never sorted out. They are also the type to overwork themselves with pointless things or hyper fixate on short-term goals cause it gives them a sense of control

🪻✨Capricorn placements are attracted to ambition and independence. It is not so much about age difference that they look for, but rather they like it when someone has their own things going on for themselves and has solid life values that they stick to. Capricorn's love language is supporting your ambitions and you doing the same for them so.... they need to see potential in you and with you

🪸✨Libra+Scorpio placements are VERY envious people and tbh I've seen this in everyone who has this mix regardless of how developed they were.... The type to befriend/get close to people they're secretly jealous of to either ruin them or get a taste of what they have. Seriously these natives are never happy with just themselves they're always focusing on how good others' things are

🪻✨People with fire in their big 3 HATE it and get defensive when other people make unsolicited assumptions about who they are or when people assume they can know the native better than the native knows themselves. It’s hard for them to brush that kind of thing off, they don’t like to feel like people are ‘appropriating’ their identity. The type to be like “you don’t know me or my story so stfu”.

🪸✨All of the Scorpio moons I've met had at least a phase in their life where they had a very unhealthy relationship (scorpio) with food (moon)..... They always seem to turn to food when going through a hard time but in a very self-destructive way

🪻✨Sagittarius is as much of an escapist as pisces. They both crave for things to be good, positive and unserious (Jupiter)

🪸✨I’ve noticed women with personal planets in Aquarius usually have very thin and sparse eyebrows and usually enhance them with makeup

🪻✨Natives with Mars in Capricorn are SUPER hairy. A very thick and stunning head of hair and/or noticeable and abundant body/facial hair. Their hair is usually deep and dark as well

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪸✨Scorpio Moon men I’ve noticed are attracted to a woman who is a bit cold, mean or is not easy to get to her because it makes him feel like she can handle him and his intensity. They’ll likely commit to a woman that captures his heart in such a way that he knows she can potentially hurt him more than he can hurt her. Deep down they wanna be the softer one in the relationship cause they’re a water moon after all

🪻✨I personally never had any 2nd house synastry relationship that actually involved money (except for business relationships ofc). Instead people who had planets falling in my 2nd house always make me feel like a million bucks frfr 🥺 They made it clear that they valued my opinion, my talents, qualities etc (essentially they valued all I had to offer which is 2nd house themes) and also made me feel like they favored me in many ways, like I'm a part of their top priorities, one of their 'faves' and wouldn't let me go easily. I have to say this turned pretty superficial in some cases on both sides, with 2nd house synastry there's a tendency to think of the person in terms of what they can offer be that money, time, services, advice, skills....

🪸✨That been said, you're more likely to be hired or promoted by people who have their planets in your 2nd house because they value your talent and skills. The best feedbacks I've gotten were mostly from clients who had their planets in my 2nd house

🪻✨Cancer Jupiter gives a very loving and caring husband that will totally adore you and provide for you both emotionally and financially. Husband is bound to be highly emotional and sentimental as well, the type to make it obvious to the world that he is truly in love with you. This is Jupiter's exaltation so this placement really gives Disney's Prince Charming vibes fr

🪸✨I've also noticed Scorpio Jupiter gives a similar kind of husband^ but less Prince Charming and a more 'dark fantasy novel'. This placement is giving Edward Cullen’s “your scent is like a drug to me” vibes when it comes to your husband

🪻✨With debilitated Jupiter (Virgo, Gemini, Capricorn) you might get a husband that is kinda detached and could even be distant or indifferent depending on other aspects or positions. Best case scenario is they love and support you but they are just not good at showing affection for some reason and might provide in more practical/straight forward and less sentimental ways. Again, house position,aspects,degrees, etc will give nuance

🪸✨I find Virgo and Aquarius are so similar in that they’re kinda judgmental of people and also tend to be very detached and analytical

🪻✨A crazy amount of athletes and fitness people have debilitated Mars

🪸✨I've also seen a lot of YouTubers, podcast hosts, etc have Sun-Mercury conjunction which makes a lot of sense lol

🪻✨Moon/Venus in Scorpio/8th house natives have a 'I hate everyone but you' kind of love. They really do have a level of misanthropy in their personality but it's low-key amusing

🪸✨Couples that have this best friends and partners in crime dynamics always have 3rd house synastry, I haven’t really seen 11th house as much… The 3rd house creates a fraternal understanding in a couple, two keen minds thinking alike (Gemini, twins, etc)

🪻✨I’ve actually observed 11th house synastry is pretty messy??? It creates connections (any kind) that are a bit all over the place tbh. You really don’t know if you’re gonna be together forever or fall apart tomorrow. You haven’t talked to each in years now one of you is reaching out like nothing happened and both people are keeping it chill the whole time specially the planet person. I guess this dynamic is okay between friends, colleagues or acquaintances (which is what this house rules) but when it’s a romantic or more intimate relationship…. Like I said it’s just messy, not necessarily bad, it be can refreshing and exciting but it has to be your cup of tea (I assume Air venus/mars people will dig it). You’re always wondering what’s next with this person, it feels like the sky’s the limit. I’ve seen this synastry a lot in couples who make odd decisions in the relationship that make people often question if the couple is actually serious about each other like that or not like being engaged for too long, etc

🪸✨Capricorn moons are extroverted or at least they easily pass as extroverts in social situations. They really stand out to me for having a very defined public persona that they’re mostly known for but they’re not really like that in private at all, you’d be surprised for better or for worse lmao

🪻✨"My love language is all of them" = Leo Venus

🪸✨Virgo placements are just as talkative as Gemini placements, they ramble just as much (Mercury). The difference is Virgo’s speeches are usually more thoughtout and eloquent like a presentation they’ve practiced a hundred times, in fact they tend to talk about the same stuff and repeat the same jokes, themes and rambles in most conversations because they like to stick to what they know (earth). They’re 100% the type to give you an unsolicited lecture on whatever it is they’re interested in. Gemini’s speech on the other hand is usually more spontaneous, random and chaotic, they tend to brainstorm out loud and enjoy finding new ideas in conversations (air). They’re more likely to wonder, play with ideas and ask ‘what if’ questions cause they like to explore the possible connections of different things

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪻✨Pluto-asc aspects/Pluto in the 1st house/Scorpio rising come across as the cool girl/boy. They always have some unattainable energy to them that people secretly look up to and this admiration often translates into jealousy

🪸✨Aries in the big 3 always have something with their forehead. Either they have a big forehead or they have a sacar there etc

🪻✨Capricorn placements work hard and party HARDER. This results in them having a rather fast-paced life style honestly

🪸✨Istg Virgo Moons got a stick up their ass. In their minds they are judge, jury and executioner and never give people grace or just the benefit of the doubt. I don't doubt they're soft deep down but damn they can be very very stubborn and they can get mean easily.

🪻✨Best Virgo placement imo is Virgo mars, I’ve noticed they tend to channel the best traits of virgo (constructive criticism, self-accountability, collaborative, understanding but know what they don’t tolerate)

🪸✨When I first joined Tumblr I read an observation that said Aphrodite (1388) conjunct Mars creates injuries or scars from beauty products and that is SO true! I have this and I've burnt myself several times with curling irons and laser hair removal gadgets

🪻✨All the people I’ve met who loved country music, country life style and that sort of cowboy aesthetic mostly had Sagittarius placements 🤠🐎 (myself included lmao)

🪸✨People with Virgo+Scorpio placements are the most intimidating people I've ever met. Imagine the nitpickyness of Virgo mixed with the intensity of Scorpio.... yeah... not the best at going easy on others or letting people in. Don't test them, they have a “get away from me you fucking scumbag” energy whenever they’re upset or simply dislike something and are the hardest to please. They are very sensitive deep down tho, very sweet and selfless if they genuinely like you.

🪻✨Sagittarius is the master, teacher, guru and guide so it makes a lot of sense for the Sagittarius Pluto generation to be hung up and obsessed (pluto) with influencers, life coaches, etc (sag)

🪸✨Moon in the 3rd house natives tend to make vey quirky movements and gestures with their mouth/jaw when they speak or they're very expressive with their mouth like they may grimace or pout a lot

🪻✨Cancer Mars men are huge mamas boyzzzz!! The type to be completely dependent on their moms/wives to even fry an egg and provide overall home security. They will marry a dominant woman who is fully or mostly in charge of the house and family stuff

🪸✨Speaking of, men with domicile or exalted mars (Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn Mars) can be huge assholes if underdeveloped. If immature they can channel toxic masculinity since mars feels very comfortable here it could go a bit overboard and give fuckboy vibes. The type to be very controlling, inconsiderate and always feel entitled to sex

🪻✨On the opposite end, men with debilitated mars (Libra, Taurus, Cancer Mars) are super chivalrous and often present themselves as very polite, thoughtful and modest. Very popular among women for sure. They can be players and have huge ego too if not mature but even then their energy is very inviting

🪸✨Fire moons process their feelings by letting things out in the moment as they come either through anger, humor or simply speaking their mind. They can often appear rude when expressing something that they feel very strongly about but they'll always value authenticity above anything else

🪻✨Earth moons process their feelings by creating a course of action. Like they internally make a plan for things they will do in oder to make themselves feel better, fix their issue or fulfill their needs on a long-term/permanent basis. They could develop a whole personal system or life style that caters to their emotional needs

🪸✨As we all know Air Moons process their feelings by rationalizing their emotions. Ironically, this can make them lack some emotional intelligence because they put so much focus on their feelings making sense that they don't allow themselves to feel their feelings and figure out what genuinely feels right for them

🪻✨Water moons process their feelings by fully owning their emotions. They find comfort in the mere validity of their own feelings which is why they often have this tendency to victimize themselves, blame others for their issues and constantly look for sympathy

🪸✨I’ve very very very often seen Sagittarius/Jupiter in 7th house, Sagittarius Groom/Juno/Briede creates age gap with spouse!!! As mentioned, Sagittarius is the master and guide of the zodiac so with the influence of this sign in your marriage you are bound to have a teacher-student dynamic where either one of you has much more life experience specially in relationships

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

work by astrobydalia

[krashoutluv]

what do u think ak!jays love language (i think that’s what it’s called 😭) is? also, what type of love language do you think he’d like?? like acts of service, words of affirmation, etc.

also random headcanon but i feel like both ak and comic jay r both good cooks it’s just the vibe i get

-🪽anon

Ahkendidhso Ive written about this before but my brainrot my lovely 🪽 anon…

tw; religious themes but their very very very super metaphorical i pinky swear chat. #i love religious themes as a way to metaphorically talk about devotion

Jason Todd is as devoted to his lover as a martyr to their grace. His faith to his loved one is almost insufferable at its core.

Like in a,’ My lungs only breathe because I have faith in your purity. ’ way, so anyways yeah Quality Time and Acts Of Service.

Quality Time- Jaaon can barely pry himself from your presence at times, and yet he does. Though every moment he’s away from you feels sardonic, like that viscous black ooze that he’s named ‘hate’ is getting bigger. Once he even gets a moment of your time his mind melts. He slowly allows himself to indulge in your presence, but in the most unhealthy way possible. Jason tried to keep himself away, he really did, but he always found his feet dragging to you.

Maybe its the little sacrificial lamb in him, the yearn for a greater good in his destruction. Thats what he believe he was conditioned to be, ’The Greater Good.’ Batman cleaned him from the dirt-stricken filth of Gotham alleyways; Batman would make his coat pure and holy, he learned to achieve that ‘Greater-Good’ when Batman wrapper that rope around his neck and lead him to that devil, or saint, he couldn’t tell the two apart sometimes. They both look the same as his depraved reflection.

When his red branded rebirth came he couldn’t help himself trotting to you like the holy little lamb he was conditioned to be. You, the only compass he had, a sense of direction he couldn’t bear to lose. He sits in your presence waiting for his rapture. When not, he’s stuck in a state where can’t tell if he’s more scared of being lost or alone. Jason finds he’s neither when with you, with you he’s stained red but his neck is no longer painfully warm, his body can be mangled, his mind can be mortal. He always trots back to you, because it is the first place he is welcomed to with open arms, yes, you are the warm light of the heavens he was conditioned to bask in. The personification where the death of his self is meant to be.

Acts Of Service - I believe this side of him comes more when its towards the part of the relationship where he’s most comfortable! He’ll run errands, do your dishes, maybe if the guilt of getting your floor a little bloodied gets to him he’ll pay your rent. It takes him awhile to loosen up and stop acting like a house maid. He still does everything he can for you but in an mundane way, like a little routine. (like a little wife omg chat i love him)

Whenever he slips through that window he takes armor off and sets them down on your floor. He’ll walk over to where you sit and kiss you on the cheek, whispering in your ear on how he ordered take out. He’ll come back to you with clean clothes and washed hair, sitting close to you, yet not closer if not allowed.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, for he always finds his way back to your side. A gentle giant, neither of you can keep yourselves away from each other; tenderly caring for each others needs. With you, he gave up on his divided sense of pride, his fundamentals and foundations that gave his name meaning were reckoned meaningless, he gave it up and swallowed the bitter pill of which he found the unsatisfactory taste of forgiveness; and with that pill he allowed himself to grieve.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, he can guide people to the place they believe to be heavens for their sake of peace. He holds someone in his arms the way they need to be held, he says those things that make someone think, leading them back to the path they left. But most of all he always comes running back to you.

sorry chat this is so bitter sweet i love his self destructive mentality that would take him decades to weed out.

[nicksbestie]

can you do a fic of little! matt where in one of their vids he gets hella anxious and as soon as it ends he just needs you and needs to be in little space

Recording - M. Sturniolo

Summary : Sometimes being in front of camera is just too much to handle.

Warnings : mentions of anxiety, crying,

Word Count : 1438

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

As someone who already struggles with severe anxiety, the automatic pressure that came with sitting in front of a camera and having the knowledge that it was going to go out for millions of people to see was amplified by ten. There is a lot of expectation on Matt’s shoulders every time they get ready to film, and while the majority of the fanbase don’t mind when he’s more quiet in the content that they post, there is always a nagging feeling in the back of his own mind that it’s bothersome, not entertaining enough, that his personality needs to change a bit, and those strings of thoughts do get to him. Not often, but sometimes it is enough to cause some issues during, before, or after filming. 

His brothers often cracked small jokes about him never talking, and while he was generally a quieter person, there was a part of him that was silent because of the fact that he was sitting in front of a camera, and anything he said would be on the internet forever, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. Sure, they had a lot of stupid content out there, but that didn’t mean that the anxiety didn’t grab him by the throat every time the camera started rolling. He was doing better recently, it was not as bad, but he still had his moments. 

Today was one of those days, where he felt like he couldn’t breathe as soon as the light on the camera let them know that it was recording. He had tried to fight through the massive lump in his throat, hoping that they would get enough good footage that Nick could cut out all the bad clips of Matt looking like he was about to cry, which would serve as taking out two birds with one stone, because then he wouldn’t be seeing any extra sad edits of himself in the driver’s seat all over his recommended pages. As much as he loved all of their fans, sometimes seeing how depressed or anxious or sad he looked made it worse because it reminded him that people really were watching his every move in those videos. 

Matt really did love his job. He found it incredibly rewarding that he got to not only entertain but also bring comfort to people through just hanging out with the people that he had been around his entire life, and he wouldn’t want to change anything for the world. But he definitely wished that he could drop the crippling anxiety part of it, especially after such a bad recording day. Both Chris and Nick had noticed that he was off, more quiet than his normal persona on camera, and had tried to question him about it after they had stopped recording, but he had just brushed them off and told them that he was tired. He could tell that they didn’t believe him, but they didn’t push him any further. 

While he normally let his brothers help him where they could, there were a couple times every now and then when he just wanted to keep to himself. This always had the potential to be self destructive, and in the past, it had been, but at this point in his life he had gotten to the point that he was asking someone to come over and spend time with him if he had turned his brothers away. It was the same person every time. It was always you. Sometimes you were there with his brothers, if they had called for him, or if he had opened up enough to let them in too after you were already helping him. He wasn’t always wanting his brothers to see exactly what goes on in his most personal moments, because he held a lot of fear over their potential reaction if they saw what he really used to calm down.

You were more than just Matt’s partner. You were also his caregiver, the person he trusted with the most vulnerable parts of him. You absolutely adored him, and had never once taken that trust for granted. You had no intentions to ever do so. Neither of you could deny the fact that Matt’s way of coping was unconventional, not as heard of as some others, but also infinitely more helpful to his mind than other things he could have chosen. He had already known he was a little before he met you, and while it was a terrifying thing for him to talk to you about, he didn’t think he could be in a relationship with someone who wasn’t open to being his carer, especially knowing he would probably be regressed much more often in a comfortable relationship. 

Luckily, you had already known what he was talking about, and had been a carer in the past. You were more than open to loving that side of your boyfriend, and the relief that washed over his face when you told him that both made you smile and hurt our heart, knowing exactly how difficult it probably had been for him to tell you. Matt’s persona as a little was not very far off from his persona outside of his headspace. As you grew to learn his mannerisms and behavior, you recognized that he seemed to be basically the same person, just younger, smaller. He hovered around a toddler age, but he wasn’t chaotic. He was quiet, reserved, and didn’t talk much, but he was incredibly affectionate. When he was interested in something, you never heard the end of it, but he was content to just sit in your arms silently for a long period of time. 

However, the already small amount of talking completely disappears when Matt is pushed into his headspace from a negative force, like his anxiety. When it gets too bad, he cries a lot, doesn’t speak much, and stays absolutely glued to your side. You normally come over to find him staring in silence, not little, but as soon as you’re hugging or talking to him, he’s crying and it pushes him right in. If it gets terribly bad, it can push him into a younger state, but that is normally when the entire day has been absolutely brutal. Today hadn’t been brutal, but it hadn’t been great either, so you could tell you’d have an upset little when you received the text asking you to come over, and quickly. 

He never really wanted to talk when you got there, so you never pushed him. If he wanted to open up he would, and you knew that if he felt comfortable enough to slip into his headspace around you, when he wanted to talk, he would feel comfortable enough to do so. It didn’t take you long to get there, potentially speeding by more than you should have, but you easily entered after pulling into the driveway, using the key Matt had given you a couple of months ago. You greeted Nick and Chris quickly, moving up the stairs to Matt’s room. You could find him in this house if you were blind, but you still knocked on the door to let him know that it was you outside of it before entering. 

Opening the door, your eyes were met with a scene that was unfortunately fairly normal, but it still broke your heart every time. You immediately sat down next to him, positioning yourself at the base of the headboard, pulling him into you, a gentle pout forming on your lips when you felt his shoulders shake against you. You whispered comforting words for a long time, softly rubbing his back and running your hands through his hair, two things that often proved to be very effective in relaxing and calming him down. You could tell by his body language when he slipped, as his shoulders relaxed, and his arms held you a lot tighter, as if you were going to fly away. 

Comforting an upset little could sometimes be chaotic depending on the level of upset, but Matt normally just cried. It was often just sad to see how much pain he was in, but his littlespace really did help him. He didn’t hide his feelings and was much more open and willing to tell you what was going on, wholly trusting you with his entire being. But despite everything he had deal with so far that day, he knew that once he was wrapped up in your arms with his comfort items and a show playing, he was going to be just fine.

~ taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

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~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[whetstonefires]

Underrated element of where Jiang Cheng is re: wwx after everything is that they always had a sort of dual relationship. Two different relationship premises, superimposed on one another.

There's the one where they grew up together, as close as brothers, beating each other up and complaining and being one another's closest companions, sharing a bedroom as kids and eating at the same family dinner table, actively encouraged by Jiang Fengmian to interact as equals.

And then there's the one where Wei Wuxian was in service to Jiang Cheng's family. Not as a servant--Jiang Fengmian absolutely refused to do that, even if he couldn't adopt him. But as a disciple of Jiang Cheng's father and recipient of his charity, as Jiang Cheng's future right hand and most trusted subordinate.

It's a vertical relationship, intimate in its own way but with very strict expectations about what obligations flow in what directions; they are not identical and reciprocal as between friends and equals.

(It's my opinion that Jiang Fengmian's core deal was a deep-seated discontent with the hierarchies he was at the top of, without access to any way to actually deconstruct them or even coherently articulate his opposition. Wei Changze was his dear friend, and no one thinks that's a good enough reason for him to treat Wei Changze's son like his own, because Wei Changze was also his servant, and you can't make that circle square. That's not a way you're allowed to love.)

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were like brothers; Wei Wuxian served Jiang Cheng.

The personal relationship was always the most important one. To them, in their hearts. But it was the other one that was real, that had weight in the world.

And it's important to understand that neither can be held up as more factual than the other, even though they conflict. Both relationships existed, and had power.

So then when Jiang Cheng chose to hate Wei Wuxian and articulate his grudge against him, he chose to do it in the language of fealty. Because as far as he knew, his case there was secure, watertight, and it wouldn't expose him emotionally or politically.

And those are the terms in which he's been condemning him all this time: for abandoning the Sect, for ingratitude, for lack of loyalty.

For fuckups, too, and poor judgment, but some of that now turns out to have been justified and some of it was mostly the fault of enemies behaving badly, or even Jiang Cheng himself allowing himself to be pushed into making unworthy choices.

And it was all for his sake.

The thing, the thing in my opinion, about what Wei Wuxian did, about the core transfer and his silent self-destruction around keeping it secret, is that that is a hideous thing to have done between two people who love each other, as an act of love. Beautiful, but awful. As the man who was like a brother to him, Jiang Cheng has a great deal of standing to object to it.

But as an act of vassalage, it's basically perfect.

If Wei Wuxian were only what he formally was to Jiang Cheng, if he is interpreted through a lens of fealty and obligation, he did exactly what he should have done, and went beyond what duty actually required. And went to his death silently, allowing himself to be judged, taking all the burden on himself rather than let harm come to his lord.

Like, obviously Jiang Cheng was harmed by the part where Jin Zixuan got manslaughtered and Jiang Yanli walked into the line of fire in situations where Wei Wuxian was resorting to violence and probably shouldn't have, but those are one step removed from the core issue. In terms of Wei Wuxian's intentional choices around Jiang Cheng himself, at the times he was feeling betrayed and abandoned Wei Wuxian was in fact being impossibly, poetically loyal, an absolute cliche about it.

But only in terms of the hierarchical form of their relationship.

Which means that even though Jiang Cheng has a lot of reasons to still be mad at Wei Wuxian, his actual complaints that he's centered for thirteen years are basically wiped out by the revelation of Wei Wuxian's sacrifice.

Wei Wuxian was in fact doing the tragic hero loyal vassal thing, which very much includes being misunderstood and slandered by the world. (Chenqing as a name choice absolutely references this expectation, and the idea that Jiang Cheng specifically will never understand that Wei Wuxian was trying to help him first and foremost all along; he is not subtle.)

The debts Jiang Cheng has been spitefully calling in and considering defaulted were already long paid.

So if at this point Jiang Cheng keeps pursuing that same line of rhetorical attack, now that he knows, he'll be putting himself morally in the wrong, and he knows it. But if he pivots to something else, he'll both be signalling the shape of that secret to the entire world and looking like a prize idiot.

Which is already how he feels.

To actually address the remaining grievances between them, which are considerable, would require releasing those safe, open grudges to Wei Wuxian's face and then reclaiming him as a loved one. Which is, one could fairly say, more than anyone could expect.

Which is why Wei Wuxian told him he didn't have to.

Which leaves Jiang Cheng at something of an impasse.

[circeyoru]

Gift = Requested

[Alastor x Cupid!Reader]

The Request

A running gag Alastor would use was that you shot him with one of your love arrows. Then you would firmly deny it and swear that your powers over love weren’t the reason for his infatuation with you. Both of you use it as a playful tease, nothing too serious

You were Cupid, the famous or infamous for your control over love and desire, both for love and hate. Your godly powers can’t be denied and you didn’t have an equal as no one could overcome you and your powers

Mainly working on Earth, you did your job to nudge the soul into the ‘right’ lover. For Heaven folks, you didn’t want to since it was all ‘perfect’ there. In Hel though, well, you saw that the place was already a loss cause so you never even tried. You may have for the pure-hearted ones, like two of the sins that found their love that they would protect for life

Your powers were more like that spark that people would say ‘love at first sight’ or something, you didn’t like the part that you could manipulate love and desire like those stupid love potions (looking at Valentino and Velvette). When you come across one that’s under such influence, you summoned a black arrow of hatred and fired

It was when Alastor witness the play between you and the Vees that he got interested. You had a pair of white wings behind you, but you weren’t an exterminator. You carry a bow with magically appeared arrows and not spears. Your white wings were also much smaller than that of an angels

You didn’t realize you were watched and continued your ‘fun’ sabotaging the love potion produced by the three Overlords. If they wanted to manipulate love, then you can play too. They should honestly be glad you didn’t fire any arrows directly at them

Love is powerful. With a love arrow, you can have the target at your feet, begging for your attention and interest. With a hate arrow, you can have the target self-loath themselves to destruction. You wield power that can be an equivalent to a god’s, but you kept yourself grounded, prefering to interact with the commonality

Since you were holding back, you didn’t realize Vox’s sneak attack. You were that one person and it was one against three! Before Vox could even touch you, he was knocked back by a black shadow that dispersed to reveal a demon in red. You blinked as you stared at your saviour

“Are you quite alright, my dear? That was a close call.” Alastor’s radio voice spoke

You only managed a nod, still shocked that a demon actually came to your rescue. Normally all demons would steer clear of you. Because you look like an angel with your angels and bow. So you were used to the solo travelling and defending

“This has nothing to do with you!” Vox shouted when he got back, he pointed at you, making you hide behind Alastor who proved to be a very very suitable shield. “We’ll settle this later but now,” He gestured to Valentino and Velvette, then himself, “We have a score to settle with that b*tch Cupid!”

“Cupid?” Alastor tilted his head with mild confusion and interest. His head turned 180 and looked down at you, you waved and chuckled, greeting him. He hummed and turned his head back, “Well, I would like some time with the little darling as well! A shame, I don’t like sharing.”

“You used one of your arrows on that f**k face, didn’t you!” Velvette accused, also pointing a finger at you. “Now who’s the hypocrite!”

You peeked your head from behind Alastor, shouting back, “I would never! I don’t even know he was here!”

A fight turned into a squabble as the two sides shouted at each other, Alastor finding himself at the center of something amusing sure, but the attention didn’t seem to be on him. For once, the Vees were focused on a target together that wasn’t him. You were an interesting one. Very entertaining

From then onward, Alastor would seek you out when he knew you were merely a visitor in Hell. You home and work was on Earth as ‘Cupid’ though not your real name, it was one that everyone called you by so you just went with it. Humans and their obsession with higher power

You’d let Alastor hang around you as you stroll in Hell, sometimes even finding couples that you helped in Hell happy together. You would see the same in Heaven, but there were more heartbreaks because their other half would be in Hell for ‘wrongdoings’. It wasn’t your place, but you offered them a peace of mind with your third arrow of blankness. To forget the love and desire held to their target. Naturally, you did it with their consent and you’d travel to Hell to search for that target to offer the same path

Through your work and shadowing you, Alastor learned that you were one that took your duty seriously. It reminds him of his fixation with radios and the older times. While he didn’t think of you as a pawn to use, given that you had no soul and aren’t always around, he preferred your company

The best thing out of your relationship with him was your connections. You told him that your powers weren’t purely romantic on the 1-year anniversary of your relationship together. He was puzzled until you listed examples, from love towards work to friendship love, to even familial love

He wouldn’t forget that moment

When your soft finger poked where his heart would be and laid your entire palm over his beating black heart, you were slightly hovering with your small wings lifting you so you could lean over the meal table prepared by Alastor himself. “There’s another love in you that’s strong. I’m not talking about your love to me.”

Familial love. You were referring to his mother. He felt like the world suddenly went deafly silent as his attention focused on the words that came out of your moving lips. You prepared a gift for him, one that his mother wish to gift you as well. You removed the locket from your neck and passed it to him. It was a manifestation of your power, but it was one that meant so much to him because of what held within

You placed the necklace in his hand, forcefully making him cup it so he wouldn’t drop it since he was still in a state of shock. You gave him a quick kiss and thanked him for his preparations for the anniversary. You gave him his space and left

Alastor went to his forest, the necklace in hand. He walked through the forest, calmly and slowly, replaying that moment over and over as if to reassure him it was real. You found his mother in Heaven, you’ve been talking to her, she missed his sweet boy, she was happy to hear he was doing well, she was relieved to hear he had his partner finally. He looked down at the locket

He found a place to sit down, using his shadows to form a barrier. Absolutely nothing must interrupt him right now. Then he brushed over the surface of the locket and it glowed, a female figure formed, his tears threatened to form. “Mother.”

You hummed a tune as you stared up at the red sky. You knew this was when Alastor was contacting his mother. It took a while for you to perfect, but it was well worth it. Besides, it was because the love between Alastor and his mother was that strong that you were able to link the two. While they can’t physically be near each other, you hoped this would do for now

Alastor filled your void and then some, so you wanted to repay him in some way. You saw the way his love shined when he was talking about his mother and you saw the way her love shined when talking about her precious son. The two were separated by the realms, but they still love the other even with all this time and distance. You admit, you admire that because their love for each other was pure and strong

Since you didn’t do anything on your part

“My love.”

“That was quick, how was—” You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt yourself hugged from behind. “I’ll take a weird guess and say that you liked your anniversary gift?”

Alastor turned you around, staring at you with that look in his eyes. It was much like that time the two of you first met. Interest and fondness, though now there’s love mixed into it. “My beloved. Your gift to me can’t be compared.” 

He hugged you even tighter, he was scared this was all a dream and you’d be gone from his life or you can’t ever return to Hell to see him. Every time you felt Hell for your duties, he lost all connection to you, he couldn’t sense you or feel your presence. He feared that you’d leave him for Heaven since Hell was no place for a being as lovely as you

The two of you shared a kiss but not before Alastor whispered to you, “You are already a gift to my soul.”

Note: This might as well be a post, but meh. I'm lazy to do it. I'm working on the other requests, will be posted soon I think

Circe Y.

Other works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I broke up with my girlfriend for not taking her meds?

My (24M) girlfriend (28F) has bipolar and BPD. We've been together coming up on 3 years now. For the last half a year we were together it was pretty rough and turbulent, she was unmedicated and was having suicidal breakdowns almost every day, ended up in hospital several times, threatened and got into physical altercations with other girls who spoke to me or she thought were flirting with me, and I was spending almost every single day of my life having to take hours to talk her down from suicide or self-harm. It was emotionally exhausting and as someone who's also had suicide attempts in the past it was also incredibly triggering and damaging to my own mental health.

For additional context as to why I feel the way I do, my last girlfriend also had diagnosed BPD and NPD and when she stopped taking her medication she became fully abusive both physically and verbally and it took me a year of being absolutely beaten down to finally snap and leave her.

(Obvious note: I'm not saying everyone with bipolar, BPD, or NPD is abusive or that these illnesses inherently make you abusive. They were an abuser who just happened to have those things, and that played into how they acted and thought/felt.)

Current girlfriend eventually got medication and has been doing much better for most of the time since then. When she's on her meds she's a wonderful and generally pretty healthy partner - she's supportive, understanding of my boundaries, checks in with me, she's a year clean from self-harm, hasn't displayed any kind of self-destructive behaviour. She's gotten a job and managed to hold it down (got fired from several jobs in the past because of her daily meltdowns meaning she wasn't attending work), she's started exercising and going to the gym, she's picked up new hobbies, made new friends, she's just been doing great in general.

For about the past month though, she started going days without taking her medication and when I reminded her she would say she didn't want to, that she hated taking it, that she doesn't like the way it makes her feel etc. This is something my last girlfriend said too, and I know it's really common for people with BPD (and maybe bipolar too?) to stop taking their medication because they feel emotionally flat in comparison to how they feel off of the meds. I pretty much said that I couldn't handle going back to how she acts when she's off of the medication again and that if she was going to stop taking them then I didn't think our relationship would last through that kind of period again because last time it completely destroyed my mental health, my sleep, my life and several of my relationships due to how much energy and time I was having to put into her vs. myself and everything else. I suggested asking her doctor/psychiatrist/etc. for another dosage change or meds switch again to see if that would work better (though up until recently they have seemed to be working great so I'm not sure how good of an idea switching it up again would be).

She agreed at the time but I was kind of concerned about whether she'd been keeping up with it or not because over the last few weeks I've already noticed things devolving again - her screaming at me out of nowhere and having mood swings, intense jealousy and possessiveness, impulsive behaviour, even a couple of breakdowns again and having to talk her out of self-harm for the first time in over a year. True enough, today I found out she's been pretending to take her medication and throwing them out. When I confronted her about it she admitted she hasn't taken her medication for weeks.

I pretty much withdrew after that and didn't say anything at that moment but after a while she asked me why I was being so quiet and I basically repeated what I'd said to her in the last conversation, that I was honestly rethinking whether or not the relationship would work because I can't handle that kind of emotional exhaustion and constant sacrifice all over again. I don't mind some emotional support and some labour of love in a relationship because of course I'm going to need to look out for her mental health and reassure and comfort sometimes, that's the reality of loving someone who struggles, but I can't do it 24/7 again. I can't once again put talking her down for hours every day and weathering screaming and violent lashing out all the time at the expense of even my own basic needs and my own mental health struggles (for example my c-PTSD from my last relationship).

When I said that she got very very upset and basically said I was forcing her to choose between me and freedom or being able to live a normal/unmedicated life (which I mean, I guess I can't argue with because in a way I am making her choose between me and stopping her meds), and that I couldn't control her like that. I told her I wasn't doing it to control her and that if she's really determined to go off of them she could, but that I would have to make my own personal choice to walk away as a result of it for my own sake.

She said she'd think about it but ever since that conversation I've been going back and forth in my head on how much of a dick move it would be to flat out just do a black-and-white "Either you stay on your meds and regulate your behaviour or I leave"

TL;DR Girlfriend wants to go off of her medication, but when she's off her meds she has almost daily suicidal breakdowns and lashes out at me physically and verbally. WIBTA if I broke up with her if she goes ahead with stopping?

What are these acronyms?

[stickyspeckledlight]

Despite Everything, You Still Exist [Yan!Aventurine x Reader]

The short moments when the world remembers you. Hypothetical HSR voice lines based on Sunrise, Sunset, My Destroyed Body In the Onset. Can be read as standalone, though.

Notes: Lol I had some thoughts and doing this right now will mitigate my uncontrollable hype for when 2.1 is out later tonight. (From the future: lol 2.1 is out now ahaha)

Ao3

The air rings with the sound of cranking slots, spinning roulette, fallen chips, and spilled cards. Some visit for reasons outside the sound; the bar's happy hour, a good meal at the buffet, and the venue where musicians of middling to great renown play. They merely chatter amongst themselves, occasionally sparing a look to the many games at play, perhaps spending a few credits if they want to test their luck. But the ones of note are always the ones playing the game. For some, the sound of a shuffling deck of cards is as familiar as the back of their hand, and they cannot stand to be away from it for more than a day lest they live with the emptiness of their soul. Some have already accomplished much, do not know what they want anymore, and are just here to pass the time. Some are fools, believing they can strike a fortune and climb to the heavens. They feel the most, celebrating triumph and wallowing in despair alike.

But those who stand out most are those who decide to test their luck knowing of destiny's inherent unjustness.

Chat: Limits

"Most people do all they can to live within their limits. Whether it be maintaining their mundane routine, keeping to themselves, or turning away from things that pose too much risk to them. When most reach their limit, they tend to completely shut down, and give up—they dread that risk. What most people don’t realize though is that in breaking limits, you go beyond them. My friend, if you ever see someone reach their limit...pushing them past it will yield something truly special or, if you’re lucky, a destructive yet breathtaking beauty."

Chat: Lovely Things

“What do I like? Trying to gauge my weaknesses now are we? …oh? You just want to get me something out of the sheer goodness of your heart? Aw, you’re too sweet; my friend, we’ve already established such a great bond, you and I, so there is no need to exchange gifts between us! And, gift giving always does bring about jealousy; you wouldn’t want to incite that, would you? Besides, I doubt you could gift me anything lovelier than I already have.

Chat: Change

“Change is a wonderful thing! It keeps things from getting stale and predictable and is the prime ingredient for anything unexpected. Change doesn’t necessarily mean massive shifts like how most people envision, and I wholeheartedly believe one’s own self can remain consistent even with change. Speaking of changes to one’s self…heh, no matter how happy they may be as and with their changed self, a part of them will always mourn the person they used to be…even if the person of old runs counter to their changed self. Hm? A distant look in my eye? Nonsense, my friend! Just think of this as some helpful advice, free of charge. I do hope you’ll be able to put it to practice—I think we’d both hate if I were disappointed, after all.”

Casinos are ultimately reprieve, but eventually, one must return to their obligations. One can’t gamble without money, and money must be made from working. Work comes in many different forms—some work aims to increase other’s gains, some to increase its own, others to retrieve the money which is owed. These individuals are not so hard to find at the casino—like moths to a flame they aim to win with the wealth accrued by another, only to find themselves stripped of it unwittingly. It is easy to rig the game when the opponent believes they are the master. Chat: Interesting People

“My work takes me all over the place, so I get a lot of opportunities to meet all sorts of people! Granted, it’s my work that also causes a lot of meetings to not be on especially amicable terms too. And some of the people I have to deal with are…well, there’s a reason I keep a pistol with me. The best meetings though are when you’re off the clock and free to just wander about! Souvenir shopping, trying out local cuisines and experiencing its culture can be pretty nice, and it’s when me and Numby are just out and about where we meet many. I’m sure you Astral Expressers can relate to that. But, as with all things, some particularly stand out even when you don’t expect. Like, a little while ago, I finally finished a project—a big one that had some of us Stonehearts coming together—and I met this rather pleasant individual. Nice, polite, and their sense of humor wasn’t half bad; even gave me some pastries they made! A short but sweet conversation. But…there was just something…off, about them. My instincts are pretty good when it comes to these sort of things; it’s like…they were keeping themselves at a weird distance. Even though I deal with that a ton during negotiations, this time it just felt odd in a particular way, yet quite uncomfortably familiar. But it was after we said our goodbyes and I saw them again. I don’t know what happened, but then I saw the expression on their face, and…I know what that odd feeling is now. Maybe I should reach out, that guy isn’t exactly…o-oh, sorry! I got a little carried away, didn’t I? And I did sort of lead you on with starting things so lightheartedly…here, why don’t I make it up to you? A few Aetherium Wars booster packs, maybe?”

How do people lose money like this, though? Many go into the casino with the belief it is fair and just, not understanding just how rigged the game is. “Shed any and all illusions of outwitting the system,” one is told, left with nothing when they could not draw an ace of spades.

They are here because for many reasons: circumstance, unfortunate luck and their own hubris. And in that last reason lies the penultimate behind their misfortune: ignorance.

Chat: Willful Ignorance

“Ignorance is a horrid malady, but like all forms of malaise there are multiple variations. The most common is unwillful—what most think of when thinking of ignorance. Cures differ from individual to individual of course, but they tend to be the most simple affair; simple pedagogy does wonders in establishing a baseline knowledge, and for matters of great specificity or those already with baseline knowledge, a few thorough lectures are the ultimate vaccine. Willful ignorance, however, is a much different matter. Its cause is not rooted in the absence of knowledge, but of cognitive dissonance—you find it especially amongst those who have aged, already set in their ways and unwilling to engage with anything to broaden their horizons. For this, treatment must be thorough and harsh; it cannot be absolved without stripping down a patient’s worldview, lens, and grip of reality. But this is not the most vexing form. The hardest ignorance to cure is the one taken on fully aware, knowing it is false and knowing of its folly but nevertheless live by it; you look confused, so I’ll put it in simpler terms: a patient who isn’t ignorant, far from it even, but still lives their life as if they were. Curing this places patients in a rather volatile state. This ignorance is often the patient’s way of coping with a situation, when they’ve exhausted all other forms of protection. …But, I am a scholar. Advancements are not made by talking, it is through action, and eventually, I will be the one to make it. …I simply hope I can make it in time.”

But nothing lasts forever. The patrons return home, drunk or penniless, and the sound drowns out. Staff emerge from their shadows and silently do their part in crafting the honey trap, but even they must leave, and the lights are shut.

[diejager]

Can you do a chubby reader? Asking for me 👉👈

Unconditional Cw: body shame, fluff, protective Gaz, self-hate, tell me if I missed any.

You often wondered to yourself why Kyle was still with you, someone unlikable, someone unfitting of the universal standards, someone so clumsy and so self-conscious —someone so fat. You weren’t like him, an adonis walking in the human world, his beautiful brown eyes, so warm and adoring, his smooth skin in the prettiest shade of chocolate that had you salivating and his smile, oh did it make you swoon, eager to drop on your knees for a man like him to give you a second of his attention.

Yet you wouldn’t have to beg for him, to drop to te ground with pleas when he already did it, whispering lovely things to you while he kept his eyes on you, never fleeting towards anyone else as if you were his whole world —you were. He loved you; he adored you, willing to do anything for a smidgen of your time, a small, tender smile of your pretty lips, the softness of your thighs and your warm body, always keeping him safe in the cool, winter times. He made sure to voice his devotion, speaking loudly and proudly how he loved you, unbothered by the venomous and envious stares of picture-perfect women with a model-like complexion. You held a piece of his heart as much as he had yours.

You told yourself that you were just lucky to find yourself someone so accepting, and he would tell you that this was fate, that he was bound to find you and fall head over heels for you despite your imperfections and queerness. He placed you on a pedestal that he was unwilling to let you move from, the shining star in his life, the gem in his eyes. He was chivalrous, a gentleman in today’s standards, treating you so well and confessing his love whenever he could. He took you out and fought to pay for you, reasoning that he was better paid than you and that he had to since he was the one who invited you (despite your exasperated complaints about wanting to repay him without depending on him soo much).

Perhaps that’s why your appreciation bloomed so brightly in your heart in moments like these, his beautiful face screwed in an offended frown, brows pinched and lips curled down. He showed his annoyance through small ticks: gritting his teeth, playing with his hands or jerking his foot beneath the table, but they were so small, inconsequential that most people ignored it for his pretty face.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” The woman - stranger - who’d approached your table looked like a model, a slim hourglass bodice, swaying breasts and round hips. She walked with confidence, her face curled with an air of sensuality and pride, so sure of herself when she had a perfect body.

Despite Kyle’s unamused expression, his eyes dulling, she fluttered her lashes, beating her long, doe extensions, expecting him to tell her what she wanted to hear. She’d probably been given everything she’s ever wanted, using her seductive appearance to garner attention and material with lower men, lonely and tired men, but Kyle Garrick was none of them, he was soft, he was gentle and he was sympathetic, much more human than people would give him credit for, for being a SAS soldier.

“Yes, sorry,” his tone was mellow, hiding well his distaste for her blatant ignorance of you, pushing you aside to make herself the center of his attention. She liked basking in attention. “I’m on a date.”

Her expression tore between shock and offensiveness, hardly containing her scoff when she glanced at you, chubby cheeks, round eyes and softer curves than her sharpness. Her narrowed eyes and little sneer made you flush in embarrassment, the shame boiling in your guts with a destructive self-consciousness about your weight and appearance. You avoided her gaze, preferring to stare at your fumbling hands, fingers knotting together in a mix of anxiety and hate. Kyle caught that.

“Are you-”

“I bloody am,” it was blunt, coldly snapping at her. It shocked the both of you, your demure boyfriend changed for something vicious and guarding. His usually comfortable and easily-approachable character became tall and imposing, someone you wouldn’t want to anger as he completely ignored her in favour of reaching out for you, taking your hands in his soft and warm ones. “Excuse us, but we have places to go.”

Rounding the table, he walked you out, arm wrapped around your pudgy stomach, the rolls plush under his hold, kneading your hip in soothing comfort. He leaned over to place a soft kiss on your forehead, smiling at your avoiding eyes, flushed and oh, so in love with the man you dated.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’re the only one in my eyes.”

He brushed away that pretty girl for you. It made your heart throb hotly, something warm weighing on your chest. It didn’t hurt, rather, it soothed your ache and fears, washing away the dark clouds of doubt and hate that hung over you.

Perhaps you truly were fated to be together.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[veronicaphoenix]

Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

            It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable. 

            But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing. 

            She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her. 

            Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

            Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness. 

            Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space. 

            She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.  

            So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place. 

            Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home. 

            She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later. 

            In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state. 

            In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat. 

            After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

            She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart. 

            Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

            With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.  

            Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination. 

            Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her. 

            Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. 

            His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless. 

            When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

            “What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

            Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?” 

            His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. 

            Of course, it had to be Jack who told him. 

            “But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand. 

            “We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman. 

            Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house. 

            Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot. 

            Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

            “Please, don’t go.”

            “Love, I just got here.”

            “I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

            With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch. 

            Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident. 

            He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers. 

            “I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?” 

            She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him. 

            She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken. 

            She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses. 

            As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table. 

            “Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone. 

            “I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

            “And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her. 

            “No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy. 

            “I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.” 

            She sighed, but she knew he was right. 

            “If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?” 

            His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation. 

            “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing. 

            Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

            “Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

            Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right. 

            She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.  

            Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

            Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.  

            Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too. 

            One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men. 

            Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess. 

            “I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

            Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed. 

            She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul. 

            She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her. 

            “Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him. 

            “Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

            The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy. 

            “What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?” 

            She shrugged, not particularly caring. 

            “Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

            Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah. 

            As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

            “Kitten..”

            She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

            A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said.          Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew. 

            Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

            Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

            All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

            It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her. 

            After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him. 

            “You look tired, too,” he remarked.

            “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted. 

            “Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested. 

            With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his. 

            He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home. 

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

            Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah. 

            Oliver: Still up?

            Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.          

            Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear. 

            “What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

            “She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

            “I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

            “I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

            “Needy, huh?”

            “Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

            “Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

            “Oh, good.”

            “The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

            “In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

            “I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

            “Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.” 

            “Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

            “Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?” 

            “Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.” 

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor. 

            Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

            She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.  

            “Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle. 

            “Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. 

            She gave him a tiny smile. 

            “Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

            “I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.  

            Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

            “You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.  

            “Do I, now?”

            She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb. 

            “Feeling any better?”

            Swallowing, she nodded. 

            “What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

            She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

            That sounded like… Heaven. 

            Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life. 

            “Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

            The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things. 

            By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before. 

            If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table. 

            That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other. 

            Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room. 

            It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family. 

             After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower. 

            As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

            After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared. 

            They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him. 

            When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly. 

            After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands. 

            As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure. 

            She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.  

            Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

            Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace. 

            “You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him. 

            “It’s okay, love.”

            But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers. 

            Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned. 

            Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs. 

            She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.  

            “Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

            She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words. 

            While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore. 

            Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers. 

            Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard. 

            She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking. 

            Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him. 

            “Yeah?” He asked. 

            “Make love to me?”

            Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

            “Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

            Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

            Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

            She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look. 

            Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the  numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

            The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever. 

            He already was. 

            His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

            Her hips arched towards him. 

            “What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

            “Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

             Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time. 

            He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

            When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

            He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence. 

            He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time. 

            Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

            They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go. 

            Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same. 

            That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same. 

            Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

            Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears. 

            A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin.  One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too. 

            The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after. 

            The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex. 

            Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.  

            “Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

            “Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being. 

            She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

            But still. Something was missing. Someone.

            “I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions. 

            “Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

            “I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK. 

            “I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet. 

            It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on. 

            “You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings. 

            “What?”

            “That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

            Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days. 

            He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport. 

             “You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

            “Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

            “I’d love to see that.”

            Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable. 

            He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams. 

            The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip. 

            They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.  

CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON

[momentomori24]

Shadow, despite hating Nine with a passion, is the only person in this entire show that actually sees and understands him in any meaningful way. Sonic's attachment to Nine is based off his friendship with Tails and his inability to cope with the fact that his best friend is gone. In his eyes, Nine is just a gloomy, edgy version of Tails, not his own person with his own motives and desires. He's so used to him and Tails being on the same page, always having each other's back, that he didn't even bother to consider the fact that Nine and him would be any different, and his lapse in judgement is what lead to Ghost Hill being destroyed in the aftermath of Nine's betrayal.

Shadow repeats the sentiment ''they're not your real friends'' over and over in the show. Not only does he offer Sonic a mental out, a way to compartmentalize and stick to their priorities without any regrets weighing him down, it also rings very true to every character Sonic has met thus far. Rebel isn't Rouge, Renegade isn't Knuckles, Thorn isn't Amy and Nine isn't Tails. They're only pieces of their original's personality formed and twisted into their own people with their own lives and their own names. They're similar, but distinctly different, complete strangers in all but appearance. Sonic undoubtably cares about Nine and the others, but that care is built on an illusion, and Shadow recognized that immediately. And for me that's the most ironic and sensible part of it all. That it's Shadow of all people recognizing that so quickly. Shadow, the guy with a history of identity issues plagueing his legacy. Shadow, the guy who cares the least about these other people and made Sonic eat dirt for an entire episode just to sacrifice them one season ago.

And it makes sense. Because he knows first hand how difficult it is to seperate the past from the present, walking the line between being a protector and being a destroyer, his own person or just a weapon and existing as an entity for others to project on until he finally figured himself out on his own, he's able to sniff out Nine's confusion and resentment of Tails from his line ''This is the friend Sonic thought was like me? We're nothing alike'' when they encountered his ghost form before Sonic ever did. And because he doesn't care for him, he never associates him with Tails, giving him the ability to see Nine for who he really is. And Nine's troubled, selfish and volatile, and not to be trusted because his goals never aligned with theirs. He's everything Tails isn't, and that's why Sonic never acknowledged those traits. But Shadow sees Nine, and that's why he was so quick to distrust him.

It's also why he could easily deduce what the motive behind his actions were. Power. It's a motive he can certainly relate to. Something he can understand, but Sonic cannot (bless his heart). It was his driving force for the entirety of SA2. What he was after was the power of the Chaos Emeralds to inact Professor Gerald's revenge on the planet and was he believed to be Maria's dying wish, just like how Nine searches for power to create a paradise where he can live the life he always wanted surrounded by ''friends'' he never had. Both of them didn't think about the damage they caused or those they betrayed in that pursuit because they never factored into the equation in the first place. It's about power to achieve self-fulfilment, and what a broken, lonely, destructive and misguided guy seen by nobody and isolated by everybody will do to see it all through to the end.

Nine and Shadow can relate to each other. They can understand each other. They're can be on the same page when it comes to figuring out what the other person is plotting from eye contact alone (like Shadow immediately realising that Nine was going to use Sonic as his energy source). What Shadow wants from Sonic is to be heard, and what Nine wanted from Sonic was to be seen, and what they can't recieve from him they can give to each other. They're similar, they're compatible, they're both attached to Sonic despite acting otherwise and their mindsets are identical-- and that's exactly why they will never be friends.

[percheduphere]

I wanted to find and gather some lesser appreciated Mobius moments from S1, and some thoughts occurred to me.

When we see Mobius drill into Loki about his choices, his thought patterns, whether or not he enjoys hurting people, Mobius comes down on Loki HARD, cruelly, goading, and manipulating (Sound familiar? Just wait...). He does so in a way that's confident he will get the answers he expects from Loki, which he does.

When we cut to the scenes with Renslayer, Mobius's truer, gentler side appears. The side that is kind and soft and believes in second chances. Notice, also, the difference in lighting between these scenes.

And then it hit me:

Mobius was using a carefully constructed persona--an illusion--with Loki to control the situation and get Loki into the headspace of self-reflection. He uses the very same technique Loki uses regularly to get the outcome that is beneficial for both of them.

Genius, really.

As we move into S1E2 and E3, the power dynamics are decidedly uneven, but once they are out in the field, Mobius's actual power and control over Loki is quite limited and actually banks on a LOT of faith. A ridiculous amount of faith, to be honest. Despite logical misgivings, Mobius makes a POINT of giving Loki freedom and trust because he has analyzed Loki enough to know that lack of trust perpetuates a destructive self-fulfilling prophecy.

So when Loki chooses to escape with Sylvie, all those centuries of belief and good will Mobius invested in him were thrown in his face. He's understandably furious, but the interrogation scene after both Lokis are captured simply does not read as normal without the additional lens of jealousy. If Mobius were not emotionally compromised in some way, he would have handled the interrogation clinically, and he would have sent Loki to be pruned without a thought.

Mobius doesn't do either of those things. Rather than asking Loki objective questions, he focuses on Loki's attention on Sylvie and verbally twists the knife where he can. His punishment for Loki after the interrogation is shockingly personal:

A word about the Sif loop scene: I really, REALLY hated that Mobius did that. It honestly made my gut churn. I think the writers tried to play it off for laughs because Loki gets kicked in the balls repeatedly, but the emotional undercurrent of Sif's words and everything that it means is just awful.

That said, I understand that this scene reveals not only Loki's vulnerability but ALSO Mobius's. This is a "passionate diagreement" through proxy. Mobius knows what would hurt Loki the most psychologically. But why would Mobius choose to hurt him this severely with these specific words?

Remember, this might be a memory, but Mobius is choosing to speak his feelings to Loki through Sif.

I think the answer is 4-pronged: First, Mobius put his career, reputation, and friendship with Ravonna on the line for Loki. The stress of the potential repercussions (which were HIGH) should Loki betray him was a constant heat on his neck. Despite this, Mobius chooses the riskier route of believing Loki would not betray his trust. And yes, within the context of what Mobius has done to advocate for Loki and what's at stake for Mobius should he fail, Loki absolutely betrays him.

Second, Loki told Mobius everything he believed about the TVA and his place in the multiverse is a lie. When was the last time Mobius reacted so violently?

When Brad called him a "nowhere man".

Mind, there is guilt beneath this anger. Not only has everything Mobius believed in been revealed as a lie, it is revealed he was complicit in the genocide of multiple timelines for which there was never any ultimate good. YIKES. That's a lot to take in, and Mobius at his core is a deeply empathetic person. The guilt of this horror, at his hands, is probably why Mobius does not defend himself when Sylvie tears him a new one in S2E4.

Three, I think Mobius may have wished for a friendship with Loki long before his intervention. I've written elsewhere that his intervention appears to be premeditated. Mobius was only waiting for his chance to come along. Who knows how many centuries that took. I believe he may have rationalized away his emotional attachment as a means to help the TVA succeed. Mobius is adept at suppressing not only his emotions but his wants.

Four, by S1E3, Mobius came to love Loki to some degree, platonic or otherwise. I think it's very difficult to not develop love for someone or something you've been tasked to be an expert on. Having Loki actually beside him, engaging with him over lunch and work, no doubt added some much needed color in Mobius's life. It's hard not to become infatuated with someone fun and exciting.

The jealous rage that overwhelms Mobius doesn't last long. When it comes down to it, Mobius can't help but believe in Loki. Doubt in the TVA takes root once his immediate anger dissipates. So Mobius steals Ravonna's TemPad, verifies Loki's claims, and immediately self-corrects. Mobius could have dug his heels in with more denial, but he doesn't. Why? Because Mobius ultimately cares more about Loki than himself.

When Mobius returns to Loki, he asks a few other questions that I can't share images for because of the 10-image limit. Those other questions include but are not limited to:

Do you care about Sylvie?

Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?

I should point out these questions are not at all tied to the well-being of the TVA or the multiverse. They are specifically tied to Loki's well-being. Loki's happinness.

Why does Mobius ask these questions? Because, in my opinion, Mobius was preparing himself to let Loki go, be with who he wants to be with (Sylvie), and fight the battle he wants to fight. Mobius will not be the obstruction to Loki's path to personal success even if that means letting go of the TVA, letting go of Ravonna, letting go of Loki himself.

All of this is a selfless act of love. What kind of love that is is up to the viewer, but it is very much there. It's real and integral to the story.

Classic Loki points out that this is a high cost. In response, Mobius takes the crux of his belief in Loki and directs it to himself.

The beauty of the goodbye scene in S1S6 is that the emotional thrust of selfless love is echoed and amplified in Loki's own self-sacrifice in S2E6. Loki lets go of the TVA, lets go of Sylvie, lets go of Mobius himself. Ouroboros.

[rubydubydoo122]

could you talk more about fanon vs canon tim drake? i havent gotten too far into the comics yet but have seen a lot of him (mis?)characterized by others

Just a preface, I'm not gonna crucify any Tim fans who find themselves writing these tropes, because it is fandom, and everyone's allowed their own interpretations of the character, I'm just personally not a fan of these takes on Tim because in my mind they just don't make sense for the character. If anyone has differing opinions, feel free to (politely) explain them to me, because I'm happy to hear them.

Ok, so much like Fanon Dick Grayson, there are two versions of fanon Tim Drake.

There's version A.) where where he's one minor inconvienience away from becoming a supervillain (I understand where this one comes from and I don't HATE it) and there's version B.) where he was criminally neglected as a kid and is infantalized (This version of Tim I Loathe)

I'll start with version A. I see where it comes from. Mainly the Red Robin 2009 run, but we have to remember that Tim was grieving pretty much everyone close to him during that era. He was being self destructive because of that grief, and yeah, grief changes a person, but Tim is the type of character who would still turn out good despite all the hurt handed to him. Oh! But Gun Batman-- Tim actively chose against being that. He would rather kill himself than let himself become a version of Batman who went against everything Batman stood for. I know there are multiple storylines where Tim meets and evil future version of himself, but those versions would constantly be like a weight on him to be good. All in all, if I had to choose between the fanon Tim Drakes, I would choose villain Tim Drake, as long as it's done in more of a character-study way rather than a 'He deserves to go evil, as a treat' because it's an interesting take with the right motives.

Now onto Version B. Loser Tim Drake. The reason I Loathe this version of Tim is because it usually involves Characters Assassination of the characters around him. Ok, so do I agree that Tim Drake was somewhat neglected? Yes. But goddamit, the way I see Jack and Janet portrayed, you would think that they were running from the feds or something. They were good people, just bad parents. Maybe a little immature to raise a child, but it wasn't to the point where they would probably need to call CPS. Neglect isn't black and white, and the Drakes fell into that grey-- which I personally believe to be a lighter shade. You do have to remember that a lot of Tim's introduction was written in the 90's where parenting styles were a lot different compared to Today. Still, they sent him to boarding school, meaning they made sure that some form of adult was taking care of Tim AND a lot of people try to make Jack Drake out to be the villain for stopping Tim from being Robin, and blackmailing Bruce for it, but... It's What Any Sane Parent Would Do? I'm 18, but I know if I ever had a kid, and then fell into a coma and then woke up and found out that my Kid was fighting crime in one of the most CRIME RIDDEN CITIES alongside my middle-aged neighbor who dresses up like a furry I WOULD CALL THE FUCKING COPS. But enough about the Drakes. Because not only does Loser Tim Drake assassinate their character, but why is 17 year old Tim the victim when it comes to 10 year old Damian-- "Oh he tried to kill him' They're both trained by assassins. They're both trained. They're both Trained. Why Is a Junior/Senior in high school hurt by the actions of a 5th grader. I have a similar age gap with my younger brother. We have had pretty brutal fights and the next day we're fine. I'm not going to get into "Attack on Titans Tower AUs" but I will say this, Every Time I Start To Read One Of Those, I Lose Half Of My Hair Because of How Bad the Characterization Of Both Jason And Tim are. Please, Read, The, Comic. Jason Wasn't Trying To Kill Tim. If He Was, Tim would Be Dead. ANd Tim was Snarking Jason Through The Entire Confrontation. Lastly, Why Has DICK 'BAMF' GRAYSON TURNED INTO TIM"S NUMBER ONE OP????!!!! DIck IS LITERALLY TiM's ChiLDHOOD HEro!!!!! NoT BAtMAN, DICK GRAYSON. And like, not only that, Dick and Tim are the most brotherly. I'm Begging, Please go read a 90's comic. Why is it, the only time I see Dicks Manipulative side in fanon, It's in opposition to Tim? I bet it's bc of Teen Titans Go. I bet the only Tim and Dick interaction they've seen is TTG Robin going "No BOdy cARes AbOuT TiM DrAke"

Sorry that ended up becoming rant-y, and less objective. Since actually reading comics, fanon Tim Drake gets on my nerves.

[lurkingshan]

On Boston and Brian Kinney

I’ve seen a lot of folks in the Only Friends tag recently making connections between the show and Queer as Folk, both US and UK versions, which makes sense because QaF is a clear reference for the show, both visually and thematically, and we know Jojo likes to reference western media in his work. One parallel folks are drawing is not tracking for me, however, so I am jumping in the wayback machine and putting on my old QaF stan hat to talk to y’all about Brian Kinney, and why Boston is actually nothing like him. Tagging @bengiyo and @neuroticbookworm who talked this through with me and also @slayerkitty because I saw you were contemplating this connection between the two characters.

So, first, why are people making this comparison? It really boils down to one thing: Brian and Boston are both sluts. That’s… pretty much it. They both like sex and prefer to have it with many different partners, and neither has much use for monogamy. But this is pretty much where their similarities end. 

So let’s remind ourselves who Brian Kinney is: a kind of fantasy of a hot, rich, self-actualized gay man with unmatched sexual prowess and a surface level flippancy masking a heart of gold. Brian is an adult man with a thriving career and money that he earned for himself after leaving his abusive and homophobic family (who would eventually explicitly reject him because of his sexuality). As a result, he is defiant in his commitment to live his life as loudly and queerly as possible—which includes a dedication to fucking and sucking, public sex, and a rejection of heteronormative constructs like monogamy.

Brian has a very clear moral code he lives by, even if it’s not one most can relate to. He decides to have a son with his (lesbian) best friend because part of him wants to believe in a better future and build a family of his own. He is extremely loyal to his found family even as he’s a jerk to their face most of the time, and he is always working behind the scenes to protect them even as he often hurts their feelings with his glib remarks and shitty behavior. Despite his disdain for monogamy, he never actually tries to destroy any of his friends’ happy relationships (in fact, he tries to sacrifice his own friendship with Michael to ensure he stays with his boyfriend).

Brian has a sense of responsibility to others and often takes on the blame for things he didn’t even do, which is why he takes baby gay Justin to Debbie and ensures he is cared for even as he tries to dissuade Justin from getting attached to him, and why he cares for Justin in the aftermath of his bashing. He cares deeply about his community, to the point where he pours his money into protecting the local gay scene, literally bankrupts himself to stop an anti-gay politician from winning an election, and gives up a dream job to stay put in Pittsburgh and help rebuild the community after a hate crime.

Brian is unflinchingly honest and he avoids making promises because once he does, he knows he will absolutely keep them—he takes his commitments seriously and he always does what he says he will. When he falls in love, he does not abandon his core values but he is willing to make some compromises. And he hides his better self and often wallows in self-destructive behavior because he feels deeply unworthy of love, which goes back to the intergenerational trauma he experienced as a child in an abusive home and the parental rejection he felt due to his sexuality. 

Boston, by contrast, is a character who feels more rooted in reality. He’s a pampered rich kid who is indulged in his hobbies and who already has a life plan laid out for him and paid for by his daddy. He likes to sleep around mostly because it’s fun, and because he knows his life here is temporary so he doesn’t see any point in getting attached to people. In stark contrast to Brian’s out and proud and fuck you if you have a problem with it brand of politics, he is still trying to hide who he is in service of his father’s political career, even if he’s pretty sloppy about it (see him fucking Top in a car with giant windows parked in the driveway at a house party).

Boston’s moral code is fungible and ever-changing to fit his circumstances—boy is a hypocrite (see his opinions about people filming and photographing him even as he does the same to others constantly). He has no loyalty and no qualms about hurting and betraying his friends, and actively tries to destroy their relationships for sport or as a means to get what he wants. He does not feel responsible for anyone and often lies and ducks accountability for the things he does. He does not care about his community at all, and in fact already has a NYC escape hatch in his back pocket for when he inevitably burns his bridges. He is not as honest as Brian and sends a lot of mixed messages to keep people guessing and on the hook.

Rather than hurting people by being brutally honest as Brian does, Boston plays psychological games and manipulates his friends and lovers, and he seems to take twisted pleasure in blowing up their happiness. We haven’t seen him make a promise or fall in love, and while there are some signs that he may have some sort of inferiority complex at play (with Mew in particular), his motives are not tied to any past trauma. Boston is just a messy bitch who loves chaos and doesn’t really care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants and stays entertained. Where Brian is literally a superhero to his loved ones, Boston is just a very flawed human being. 

But Shan, I hear you saying, I thought you liked Boston! I do, besties, I do. He’s a fantastic character and a very real kind of person many of us encounter in our 20s. Because that’s the thing: Boston is so young. He hasn’t developed any sense of responsibility to others or any understanding of the importance of queer community, and he has never had to take care of himself, which is perhaps the biggest difference between him and Brian. Brian has lived independently for more than a decade when we meet him in QaF, whereas Boston is a spoiled rich kid who has barely lived. Brian is a fully realized adult and his more nuanced characterization is a reflection of that; Boston is actually a pretty basic chaotic drama queen who will grow up eventually. 

TL;DR: Aside from being promiscuous, Boston has very little in common with Brian Kinney. He is more a reflection of a very real kind of person you will meet on the scene in queer communities than an homage to a larger than life fictional QaF character. And while OF is absolutely referencing some of the themes and values and stylistic flourishes of QaF, it is not making direct parallels to its characters. 

[dreamcaught]

Fandom has Critically Failed a Media Literacy Check: Thoughts on Ascended Astarion

TLDR: Yes, he's evil. Yes, he's still in love with you.

Okay so now that I know more about both Spawn and Ascended Astarion from personal playthrough experience, I have to say it's really weird to me how much the fandom is pinning them against each other. In all practicality, they're the same fucking person.

Astarion's non-romance specific lines are practically identical. If you're his friend with high approval, he's pretty badass, if a megalomaniac. His self-obsession and self-importance make sense in context, though, and they aren't even that much more pretentious than his earlier expressions of desire for power. It's just that he has the power now. He says he's happy, is excited to be prosperous in his own way, and continues helping you. He's no more cruel than he was before. I can't speak to low-approval lines because my games will always reach "Exceptional" levels of approval for my favourite party members, but I can't imagine them being any different than low-approval spawn lines.

On Love

When romanced, the biggest fandom criticism I'm seeing is this idea that Astarion no longer loves his romantic partner. I have been looking for evidence of this and can't find anything indicating its truth. The closest thing is a post-breakup conversation which, in my opinion, is a huge cop-out. Even still, it does not say anything about his love for you -- only your love for him.

"Of course I understand love. All too well. The greatest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. A hunger crueler than bloodlust. I know how to play with it, and I can't resist playing the hand I know. I would have ruined your love, used your trust until you were nothing. So, for what it's worth, I respect you for making the choice you did. I never knew you had it in you."

I can imagine these lines were written for a very practical reason: They don't want break-ups to affect game-play. An entirely evil Ascended Astarion would just swan the fuck off if his partner left him, and that's not fair to a player who just doesn't want to be in a relationship in-game anymore. This is different than if the character breaks up with the player, because that usually happens because of some sort of cruelty the player chose. Actively trying to kill him, failing to persuade him after showing support for his ascension, or kicking him the balls after agreeing to be his spawn are all actively mean on the player's part. (Or an unfortunate dice roll, but it is - after all - still a game.)

Having Astarion leave the player after he breaks up with you is a consequence of these cruel actions; having Astarion leave after you break up with him is a game-play issue. They can't realistically account for why the player would do so. So they've thought of a realistic reason for Ascended Astarion to stick around: he respects you.

But I also think this speaks to Ascended Astarion's character.

People like to point out the way he says love in this line, as though it is something disgusting - something beneath him. Yes, he probably hates the concept, hates the feeling of it. But: he didn't like it much when he first fell in love with you either, as a spawn.

And he's only felt it once before you broke up with him, so there's that.

Astarion is insecure, even ascended, and if the player speaks for him - tells him he can't love, says he is too cruel, his actions thereby will only justify those concerns. It is a self-fulfilling prophesy, but that is not a result of him not loving you; that's a result of you saying he can't.

Reflect on this: Of course I understand love. All too well. I would have ruined your[s].

He loved you. He loves you, still. He can't say he doesn't, even if he respects your decision to leave him. However, he also feels that love is ruinous. He has become an even darker, more evil creature than he was before, and he believes your connection to him would be destructive. Consider that you have just denied him what he wanted: you. His love for you has hurt him, so he feels that he would hurt you back. He gave his trust to you, and you broke his heart, so he maintains that the same would happen to you: that he would use your trust until you were nothing, like he is. That is Astarion's nature both before and after ascension, but it is not an argument to show that he no longer loves you. That is an argument to show that ascended Astarion is just as lost, insecure and retaliatory as he was when you first met.

On the other hand, if you do not break up with Astarion, there are copious lines which showcase his love and complete devotion to his partner:

"You sweet, sweet thing. I want what's best for you too, of course." (In response to: "I hope you learned to love me," he says,) "What's to say I don't? I'm willing to share all of this with you. What's that if not love?"

(In response to: "I hope we can work things out and stay together," he says,) "Of course we can. You're the one that I want, the one that I love... My dark consort. My right hand. My most beloved spawn."

("So what would I be? A vampire, or your spawn?") "You wouldn't just be some spawn - you're far more than that to me. We could be together for eternity, ruling this world side by side. We could have it all."

("It sounds like you'd have it all.") "I already have everything. Except you by my side."

These lines come from the conversation before choosing to become his spawn or breaking up with him. All of these responses explicitly demonstrate Astarion's love for the player. Now that he achieved his greatest goal to become his strongest self, his desire is to share his success with you. As a vampire, that means to become like him, to become his. In a very real but evil way, he is very obviously asking you to marry him. And he's being very honest about it.

I've seen a lot of arguments about these lines which pretty much come down to: he's lying. But, kindly, fuck off. That isn't an argument; there is absolutely no reason to think he's lying here unless you have already chosen to think he's lying, and that's just another self-fulfilling prophesy.

Astarion being evil does not automatically mean that he's lying. Astarion's voice acting here does not automatically mean that he's lying, either. Yes, he sounds different: he is more self-assured, more powerful, more arrogant - but he's not fundamentally different in his ideals or desires from his spawn self. There is no evidence to support the claim that Astarion is manipulating you or lying about his feelings to - what? Stay with you? Why would he? It is through this very conversation that he allows you to decide for yourself what you want to happen next, so trying to claim he's manipulating or lying to you here is shallow.

And at this point, people will bring up the wisdom check. Look, I have no idea why this check means that Astarion couldn't possibly love you or respect you. In fact, I argue that it's much the opposite: he respects the player so much that he thinks that they're degrading themselves to be with him. He thinks so little of himself that you are lowering your standards, lowering yourself, to be with him:

He will always see you as degrading yourself if you continue to be with him. But perhaps you wish to degrade yourself. And he knows it.

Your choice to become his consort is beneath you - not beneath him. Your wanting to remain at his side is not what you deserve because he thinks you deserve better: but he knows, at this point, that it's what you want anyway.

Dominant/submissive Undertones

"On your knees, darling." A lot of people feel uncomfortable with the new dynamic created when Astarion ascends. His relationship with the player is significantly more defined than it ever is when he's a spawn. This is true throughout a spawn playthrough, as well: it is only at the very end of the game, in the epilogue scene, that spawn Astarion confirms your relationship as fully established. Whereas with ascended Astarion, he considers you his established partner now - his eternal lover and consort.

The Dominant/submissive undertones created by the master/spawn dynamic makes some people argue that ascended Astarion is abusive, for some reason. But - no, it's not. Just - understand that actual abuse is a sensitive topic wherein claiming Astarion's dominant aspects are abusive is actually offensive to both people in D/s (Dominant/submissive) relationships and to survivors of real abuse.

But a few things:

Astarion is evil. Astarion is always evil. Astarion is chaotic evil as a spawn and more lawfully evil ascended. He is cruel with his words, has a twisted sense of pleasure and pain, acts selfishly and relishes in having power. He "has a casual relationship with murder," genuinely dislikes children/the weak, and legitimately does not care about most people. Ultimately, Astarion craves for control - over himself, over his life, and over others. But as Astarion learns in his own story arc: being evil does not mean he cannot love. These things do co-exist, and you are the exception. Your friends are like salads (side-dishes, add-ons, auxiliaries... they don't really count as much as the main course). So yes: he can be mean and he can be cruel - because he is, from the start, fairly evil. But since that's true for both spawn and ascended versions of him, this doesn't matter. You must accept this as part of his character; if you don't, that's on you, not the text.

Being dominant is not fundamentally abusive. There are countless real life examples of D/s relationships which are based on love and respect. These relationships are just as real and just as valid as any other kind of relationship. They are not based on abuse and should not be seen as such.

This relationship, as degrading and submissive as it is, is still based completely on consent. Astarion never forces you into your agreement, whereas he does thank you for it twice: "You have given me everything. Thank you." and "Gods, you're beautiful. And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you, for trusting me." Many people will see the subsequent inability to break up with him as abusive, but I must insist: he is very clear that this pact is eternal. That this is forever. If you break the consent of forever, then that's you being cruel again - not him.

On Possession

Another line he says in this post-breakup scene is this:

"And if we were beholden to each other? Well, how is that too different from being enslaved?"

In my opinion, this line is much more significant than the previous. It speaks to Astarion's tenuous grasp of relationships in general, but also how he views both himself and you when partnered.

Importantly:

"beholden to each other" is not "my ownership of you"

From the beginning of the game, he's using you and he's expecting you to use him. For Astarion, every relationship in his life has thus far been transactional. Every relationship except yours, which is the only one he wants to be real.

If the player breaks up with Astarion, the reality of this relationship is broken. He reflects on it once again as being transactional. He is no longer attached to you romantically, and so he strikes a business deal with you instead.

This devolution of Astarion's understanding of relationships does not happen if you choose to stay with him. He doesn't think of your relationship as transactional at all - in fact, he shows trust, devotion and reciprocation of possession and affection. He considers the relationship to be established and the most authentic one he's ever had.

Ascended Astarion considers his consort his "right hand," "by his side," -- these are just different, fancy ways of saying that you are his equal without saying it outright. He is as beholden to you as you are to him.

Astarion may be more open about his possessive tendencies toward his partner - but saying "my treasure," "my beloved spawn," or any other endearment with the possessive "mine" at the start of it isn't nearly so damaging as some people are claiming it to be. Spawn Astarion's "my love" is really no different. That Astarion is open and vulnerable with these endearments is just showcasing his trust in your shared devotion to each other. Think of it this way: you could very well be calling him something similar right back.

--

If you have not actually played an ascended playthrough - or, heck, if you haven't played the game at all and are making loud opinions about Ascended Astarion as a lying liar incapable of love or of Spawn Astarion being the better choice -- maybe stop. Maybe just enjoy what you like and let others enjoy what they like. Maybe practice some media literacy and note that Astarion is Astarion is Astarion - he's the same character, both beloved and hated by many, with virtues and vices that are compelling and flawed.

The writers have created a rich story. Understand that the story being told is the one being chosen by the player - whichever direction they choose to take it.