#…or like ‘if they’re willing to say/do this then they’re probably even meaner in their head or with people other than me’ you know

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

Is it normal to be so obsessed with the idea of being a good or I guess even unproblematic person, to the point where you’re nit-picking every single little thing you say or do and feel like shit about yourself for not always fitting your own idea of being a “perfect” person? …what do you mean “no”?

#like there has to be a term for this 😭 #I feel like I’ve become so self-aware that I’m ruining my own life with it #it’s for the dumbest shit too. oh I didn’t make eye contact with someone I passed by on the sidewalk?? #well clearly I’m a rude absolute bitch and they hate me now and I have no manners #I don’t think this makes sense #I’ll think in terms of what I wrote in my post about other people too not just myself #like sometimes I’ll start to think someone’s not a good person over like one thing they’ve said or done #and applied it to other scenarios like ‘oh well if they were willing to say/do this then they would do xyz too’ #…or like ‘if they’re willing to say/do this then they’re probably even meaner in their head or with people other than me’ you know #I’ve done and said things I’m not proud of so many times just like EVERYONE ELSE #but for some reason my brain will just not let it go and I always think I’m a terrible person and a disappointment #but then on the other hand I’ll think oh well I can’t be that bad if I’m always calculating how I react to things #and am actually bothering to think critically about it #I feel like there’s so little goodness in the world and I try to be a nice person but I feel like a fake and that I’m not really one #can’t even stand up for myself or make a joke without constantly chewing myself out #gets tiring but I’ve thought like this for a while now #well that’s my writing goal for the week done #personal #txt

[yandereloversblog]

Howdy! I want to say that I love your blog and was wondering if I may request Yandere Roxanne Wolf Alphabet? Please and thank you for your time and work!

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!ℝ𝕠𝕩𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕝𝕗 -> 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥

  ───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

>Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach

>Character: Roxanne Wolf

>Warnings: Mentions of violence. Abduction. Murder. Unhealthy obsession. Detailed description of said unhealthy obsession. Stalking. Delusional behaviour. Sentient robot. Emotional manipulation. Toxic mindset. Self-esteem issues

>Type of content:... Headcanons

  ───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

•I had this in the works for a few weeks now but never got around it after getting the other requests XD

•Finally, the core 4 will be complete… Now I need Sun/Moon, Vanny/Vanessa and my versions of Glamrock Foxy and Bon-

  ───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

A= Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy doesn't show much affection out in the open, but in private she does like to be physically affectionate, she isn't that intense. She'd rather have you be the more affectionate one, yet if you do it in public she'll be flustered. Maybe why she liked you being kidnapped, she doesn't have to be a stuttering mess in such a private area and she can come see you anytime.

B= Blood: If they’re extreme how messy are they willing to get?

: ̗̀➛ If there is one thing Roxy doesn't want on her it's the dirty filth and blood from someone else, so as long as she doesn't get dirty she herself doesn't care about anything else.

C= Cope: Do they try to deal with this jealousy sooner so they don’t lash out?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy gets jealous very easily, she tries not to act like it but inside she's SEETHING. If that person gets within grabbing distance they're going to get mauled to death by her claws and teeth, on private of course, she'll never show you such a hideous side of herself.

D= Death: Do they feel any sorrow for their victims at all?

: ̗̀➛ They were all losers anyway! Nobody deserves to bother her darling -not even her-

E= Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their s/o?

: ̗̀➛ If you go along with her charades and are affectionate, Roxy will start to become more vulnerable and get comfortable with you, though if you decide to always refuse her and even insult her don't be surprise when she hardens her heart with you, oh she won't give up! Roxy will just turn into a more sadistic version of herself to keep you in check.

F= Fight: How would they feel if you fought back against them?

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't like it. Why can't you just accept it and see that being loved by her is such a privilege! It will also cause Roxy to be angry at you in return and will get meaner in return.

G= Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

: ̗̀➛ Not at all, she's too annoyed to chase you around, and you escaping her will make Roxy feel even worse about kidnapping you and that you don't love her.

H= Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy would carve her name on you, probably really painfully with her claw to mark you as hers completely. So even if you escape you'll always be marked as hers. It will probably every time you try to escape or so something wrong if she's in a bad mood.

I= Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

: ̗̀➛ As long as you love her she'll be fine with anything. Roxy doesn't want to pressure you into a super happy and fantasy future she might have planned, the main thing you need to do is to love her, she didn't kidnap you to just scream and cry every second.

J= Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy's jealousy is just a tad bit lower than Monty's, because she gets jealous a lot, is going to growl at the sight of you with someone that's unknown to her. At least to give her props, she won't attack on sight to those she knows don't love you like she does.

K= Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Sort of cocky, expects affection, not too much, save that for when you're on private, but the the thing she expects the most is your attention, so she'll act like she's the only one who's deserving of it, what the hell is someone else doing that's so deserving of your attention!?... Please pay attention to her or she's going to cry in her room later and just want to kidnap you even more.

L= Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Show off... Not just her skills at Roxy Raceway but also on literally anything, the keytar, her looks -especially her hair and tail- etc, basically anything she has confidence in doing. Even if she acts like it's expectant, Roxy gets easily flustered and embarrassed when you compliment her

M= Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

: ̗̀➛ Nope. Main different would be that Roxy is nicer to you, even sweeter if you're someone who's open to her advances of courting you. If you're kidnapped and she has to help with the search she'll try acting her best but in private won't really do anything.

N= Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy sees you as hers -even though she sometimes thinks she doesn't deserve you- so you're going to get marked a lot, her name being carved on you, scratches, bites from her teeth. She uses these as punishments because she knows they can be painful, and besides, she let's out her frustration easily.

O= Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Um- everything? Unless you two are actually dating, she'd like to be the one that's always the center of your attention, but she'll still let you hang out around other people alone unless she doesn't trust them, then she's coming with you.

P= Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Not a lot of patience, she does enjoy your company and all that but if you're always kicking and crying and insulting her she's about to snap eventually, luckily for you she wouldn't starve you or physically hurt you if you haven't escaped.

Q= Quality: Would they be secretive or be flashy about what they do?

: ̗̀➛ She's not dumb, Roxy isn't going to go and brag to everyone about how she's kidnapped you... She does want to though, you're finally together with her!

R= Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their s/o? Would they ever let their darling go?

: ̗̀➛ Guilty? Definitely yes, even she is weak to your tears and begging. But there's no way to be let go of by her. If you play nice and give in she'll immediatly think you love her back and will assume you have no problem staying with her. If you don't give in she'll think you need some discipline. If you make her feel guilty she's going to give you the cold shoulder.

S= Stalker: Would they stalk their darling? How intense would it go?

: ̗̀➛ Stalking is SO below her, if she feels confident enough she'll just go up and ask you on things she wants to know, though that includes a 20 minutes confident talk to herself to muster up the courage.

T= Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy knows it isn't a good feeling and feels really bad after, but she doesn't know what else to do, isn't really that good with comforting you so her most used method is letting you tire yourself out at first before even attempting to do somethin.

U= Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

: ̗̀➛ Second thoughts, lots of them. She's been back and forth on deciding if she should kidnap you or not, if you will actually love her or not but at the end she gave into the self indulgence and decided that even if you didn't love her, she'd love to keep you close, you'll be hers and that's final.

V= Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

: ̗̀➛ At the beginning, please be sure to go along with it. Roxy's weak to affection from her darling when you're first kidnapped so her guard can be lowered. Though if you do the opposite she'll just get stricter and more egoistic.

W= Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

: ̗̀➛ Maybe it's on accident at first, Roxanne's claws and teeth are really sharp so she will end up hurting you accidentally once or twice but if you've been misbehaving and making her get more strict she'll probably use them as a punishment.

X= Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their s/o over?

: ̗̀➛ I don't think Roxanne is at worship level but she would definitely securely simp for her darling. Maybe show the cool tricks she can do at Roxy Raceway and how awesome her performances are!

Y= Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

: ̗̀➛ Roxy will start off awkward at first before warming up to the idea of liking you romantically like that, once she does she'll try her best to be her coolest self around you, and even if that doesn't work on winning your affection she'll finally snap and abduct you when you have your guard lowered down.

Z= Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

: ̗̀➛ If she would, Roxy would feel so guilty, will probably even try to make you feel better even though she knows it's useless. Maybe it's better this way.

#yandere #yandere fnaf #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere alphabet #yandere roxanne wolf #yandere fnaf security breach

[luimagines]

Perhaps them being protective over you(the reader)? Mostly platonic but hints of romantic(if you get what I mean?) Like, the relationship between them has been platonic and they’ve only really seen it has platonic, but someone(the Heroes) might be catching feelings. Also if it isn’t too much trouble do you think you could keep this in the same timeline? Like, your other scenarios had the same reader and felt like these all happened at some point, can you do the same for this one? I hope this isn’t too much trouble, really love your blog!💖💖💖

Masterlist

Ok, I think I get what you mean. The Hero is protective with a hint of feelings they haven't come to terms with. They're crushing but they don't know it yet.

I don't know what you mean by the same timeline though. It wasn't supposed to be the same reader for all of them but hey! It be like that sometimes, I guess! Especially if they're just friends.

The Reader is also set to be the same age as Wind for his scenario.

Warrior's got longer than intended and there is some catcalling in that one. FYI

Scenario under the cut!

Legend

"You can be seriously going out in that." Legend couldn't help but snap. The group had been dropped into a snowcapped mountain in the middle of a blizzard. The only luck they had on their side was a nearby cave where they all but ran to in an attempt to weather the storm and get their bearings.

But someone still had to scout and you were planning to take Wild and Twilight with you since they were the only ones who could both brace the cold and most likely find their way back.

He, however, didn't like the idea of you going out there period.

Even less so when he found you severely underdressed compared to your companions.

It seemed however, that you saw no problem with it, even going as far as to tilt your head and look down at what you were wearing at his comment. It sparked something in Legend's chest that he wasn't willing to decipher at the moment.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Legend scowled. The top you wore was tight around your chest and the cloak that clasped at the front billowed around you ever so slightly from the wind at the front of the cave. There were thin layers of furs under your linen over shirts that matched the fur lining your boots outlining your figure and silhouette in a way he found irritating.

The light that barely peaked through the clouds lit up your form gave you a halo of light over your head and made you look more of a hero than he ever would have pictured you.

It didn't sit well with him.

"That doesn't nearly look warm enough. If you plan on going out in that then you'll freeze within the first ten minutes." He crossed his arms and stared you down, willing you to disagree, to challenge him, keep you here longer so one of the others can pick up the lack and go instead.

"It's bear fur Legend." You reply instead with an easy grin your face. He elected to ignore it because he was trying to stay mad and irritated at the lack of care you seemed to have for your own safety. Why weren't the others backing him up?! Wouldn't Twilight have said something by now?! Or Time?!

Why was it just him?

How dare you smile like that? And at him no less! He's trying to make a point, darn it! It's hard to concentrate when you look so... innocent and bright and happy and-

Focus Link.

"I actually have four layers on as well." You continue and peel back what you can to show him what your clothing looks like. Unknowingly giving him a great look at your figure beneath said layers. "Two layers of wool and two of fur and I still have my clothes under here as well. Without enchantments like Wild, it's probably the warmest thing here. I'll be alright."

He can't bring himself to believe it.

He grits his teeth and continues to look at you, not bothering to spare a glance at Wild or Twilight when they eventually join your side, both now ready to head out.

"Honestly Legend. I know it doesn't look like much but I grew up around snow and ice and mountainous storms. If anyone knows what they're doing here, it's me."

He knows this. You told him. He knows that he knows this.

Why can't he believe it?

His hand forms a fist with a tight grip and he gets an idea.

Before he can fully think it through, he's marching up to you and snatches up your hand before you can protest.

You haven't put on your gloves yet so it's skin on skin.

He can't think much of it or he'll lose his nerve and he's already gone too far to go back now or he'll only be making a fool of himself.

Legend all but rips the most powerful ring he has on his person and shoves it onto your own. It's a protection ring, it'll shield you if anything tries to hurt you.

He's not entirely sure why he cares so much, just that he does, and this is all he can do if no one is going to back him up and stop you from going.

"I want this back." He says. He knows it sounds meaner than he's intending but then you let him put it on, take your hand back and marvel at it for a moment.

"I'll protect this with my life." You flex your hand, testing out how it feels and wonder what magic it must posses for Legend to not only give it up but deem it worth for the storm outside.

"Thanks Vet." You grin brighter and Legend finds himself floundering for a moment at the intensity of it.

The tips of his turn red, he knows this and he forces himself to distance himself or else the others would notice.

Your trio disappears into the white and he sits down by the fire made for the smaller ones of the group. He hasn't made eye contact with anyone since you left and he makes the mistake of trying to casually play it off by looking up.

Time is watching him with a knowing smile on his face.

"What?" Legend barks and scowls at the attention.

The older man just laughs a bit to himself and shakes his head but he doesn't say anything.

Legend thinks back on his actions a little sooner than he thinks he should and glances at his hand. The hand that grabbed yours.

Despite the journey, your hands were so soft.

He can't help but smile.

Time

Time was watching the over the group for the morning shift, his hand over his sword and his eyes watching... well you.

You intrigued Time.

Out all the heroes of courage on this journey, you weren't one of them. You weren't a Link and yet you seemed to fill a gap the group didn't know it had.

He couldn't figure out why or how but he found himself wanting to know what made you tick, why did you work so well with the others, what your world was like, and how did it mold you to be so....

He had trouble finding a word for it.

As the boys rough housed and played around, he found himself relaxing. It was a quiet morning and he had the added support of Wolfie on look out for any monsters.

He put his sword down and and walked over to where you were.

You were sitting with a book in your lap, something he found you doing often. But this time you were ignoring the book, laughing at Wind's and Wild's antics as they blasted each other with their Deku leaves. Wind continuously knocked the Champion around but neither of them seemed to mind.

If anything, it appeared the were doing on purpose and were trying to see how far he'd go.

Boys.

He could feel the smile on his face as he made his way toward you.

"Enjoying the theatrics?" He spoke up.

You jumped with a small yelp, something he found endlessly entertaining.

"You're the biggest guy here! How are you so quiet?!" You yelled in his face with a pointed finger and hand on your chest.

Time chuckles and sits down next to you, sitting just close enough for your knees to brush. "Sorry. It's not always intentional, I promise."

"So you admit you do it on purpose!!" You turn to face him fully. Book absolutely forgotten.

Time finds himself pleased by the change.

"Occasionally." He grinned.

"Oh, and I so happen to be your favorite victim then?" You crossed you arms and leaned closer to him. Your words were biting but the smile on your face was teasing and the glint in your eye was knowing.

"Of course."

"You're impossible." You shove him away. "You're only like this because no one will ever suspect you."

"Is that so- LOOK OUT!" Time had noticed a second too late but in the seconds Time stopped paying attention to them, Wind and Wild had stopped launching each other and started launching objects.

Such objects like coconuts and hard wooden barrels.

Like the ones heading in your direction.

With no time to act, he grabs you and rolled out of the way, pressing you into his chest. The huddling objects bounced off of your spot, some exploding on impact while the rest crashed into the nearby trees and bushes.

It looked like a war zone.

Time held onto you for a second after the damage passed, waiting for any else to come your way. When nothing appeared, he began to let you go, looking down on you to see your reactions. "You ok?"

You had curled yourself into his chest, continuing to press yourself close to him even after he let go.

Time finds himself pleased by this as well.

"Well..." You took a deep breath and slowly looked up and around. "That was exciting."

"Are you hurt?" He asked again. You looked fine, if only a little shaken, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I think my leg got scratched in the chaos."

Time forces himself to stay calm and to not show any reaction. A scratch is better than getting hit head on. You'll be fine.

"What about you?" You look up to him again, eyes wide and bigger than he remembers and they were such a lovely color-

"I'm more concerned about you." He says, cutting his own thought process off. Time proceeds to get up, being as gentle as he can with you still in his arms. "I did just happen to grab you."

"Well, I'm sure it would have been worse if you hadn't." You grin at him and push yourself away.

Time now finds that he misses the feeling of you there but isn't able to focus on why when the two culprits are running up to you at break neck speeds.

"Are you two ok?!" Wind reaches you first.

"We're so sorry, we miscalculated the angle and it went wildly off our target." Wild continues and helps you to your feet.

Wind hovers near Time, unsure of what to do or how to help.

Time looks over to where you are, breathless but smiling dazzlingly. "We're ok." You tell Wild. "Just thrown around is all, we're fine."

Time sighs and stands up, putting his serious face on. "You boys better have a good explanation for this."

They could have hurt someone. They almost hurt you. His only consolation is how they squirm under his gaze.

Good.

Wind

"What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? What is this place?!"

Wind looked over his shoulder from the fight over to where you were, the monster he was fighting falling before him. It was a great thing in his eyes to no longer be the youngest of the group. Not only for there to be someone of his age to talk to but also get the group off of his back for some of their more dramatic attempts at keeping him safe.

Wind was having a blast.

Everyone had found a dungeon in the sense that they fell into it against their knowledge and will and had happened to land with partners.

He hopes so anyway.

But on his end, he's with you!

And he's loving it!

You've never judged him and you've always thought that his stories were great and this was a great opportunity to show you how cool he is in a fight without the others trying to stop him from doing all his cool stuff.

And as an added bonus, he loves spending time with you!

Wind was close to wishing on stars for more time to spend alone with you. The others were always around and always in his business. How lucky that it seems he got his wish without doing that little kid stuff, like star wishing.

He didn't take into account that this might be your first dungeon though.

...Guess you didn't have those in your world...

But that's fine! He'll just walk you through it. They're easy once you get a groove going, and as dungeons go, this one is old hat for him.

The enemies around you fall within minutes and you're a little more shaken up than he likes.

"You ok?" He puts his sword on his back and walks toward you. You're staring at the fallen enemy in front of you with your own sword still raised. There's a slight cut on your arm, a red line going across and down, but Wind is almost certain that the cut is across...the blood is just going down your arm.

Wind takes a moment to quiet the sudden and unexpected rage. The monsters are lucky, he thinks, that they're already dead.

He grips his wrist tightly at the sight and places his other hand on your own. You gulp slightly and look at him tearfully. "Wind, where are we?"

You're scared, he realizes.

Scared, and alone and you don't know what kind of place this is.

There's another cut just above your eye and there more blood going down your face.

Wind feels himself fill with determination. He has the experience you lack to make it through here. He has been in more fights than you have. He knows what he's doing.

He's going to make sure you get out of here without being afraid anymore.

"Come on." Wind lets himself go and places his hand on top of yours, gently pushing the sword down and make a small effort to lace your fingers together. His other hand grips his sleeve and he begins to swipe it across your face, trying to clean the blood the best he can. "We're going to find the others, ok? We just have to keep going and if we're lucky we'll find a map, maybe a compass and it'll help us get out of here. We'll be back with the others in no time!"

You gulp and nod, tightening your grip on his hand and let him lead you through the unknown. Your voice is quiet and soft and Wind finds that he wants to hear it more often like this...just not laced with fear. "Ok. I trust you."

Wind nearly preens at your words, a large smile overtaking his face.

He'll protect you and you won't have to be afraid, not while he's here.

"Just leave it to me. I got this."

Warrior

"Whatup, Captain?" Warrior feels a weight be thrown on his shoulder at the call of the voice.

He looks to the side where it is and throws an easy smile on his face.

It's you! And you're grinning fabulously in his direction.

"Nothing in particular. Just checking our supplies, we might need to make a supply run in the nearest town for potions if we're lucky enough to find one but..." He looks at the bag in front of him with slight distain.

Truthfully, the group is low on a lot of stuff. Food, medical and magic supplies, someone is going to have to buy the Veteran more sewing supplies as well with how much battery all your clothes have taken on.

It would have to be a big buy....

A small town probably won't have half the stuff they need. And he doesn't know what kind of budget he's working with either.

But he's dealt with worse with less.

The group will hold on for a little longer if nothing drastic happens.

But Warrior doesn't want you to know that. If he had things his way, he'd let you think that everything was ok. That everything was fine and under control.

He's used to having to keep dire news from the troops so that they can keep fighting the good fight.

Lying to you though feel wrong. Dirty.

He finds your complete trust in him endearing and your willingness to help him with any and all loads on his shoulders means more to him than he'd ever be willing to tell you to your face.

You brighten and throw a thumb in the direction behind you. "We're in luck then. There's a town, that-a way according to Wild's weird telescope from his slate. I was planning to go check it out regardless but was in need of a partner. Wild can't because Twilight benched him after last fights stunt. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone?"

That idea sounds fantastic.

"I'd love to." He says easily. "Got anything to do before we head out?"

"Nope. Ready to leave immediately." You get off of him and he follows after you without missing a beat, quickly falling into sync with your steps. It's a habit he has trouble breaking, but if he can focus on matching your stride instead, he can stay by your side for the walk.

"We're getting supplies from the town. Be back soon!" He calls out to Time and the group as you walk by.

Time raises his hand in acknowledgement and goes back to pinning Wild down with his stare alone. Warrior doesn't feel sorry for him.

With that taken care of, you both pick up your speed and quickly leave the range of your little camp. Jokes are traded easily between you two and Warrior finds himself relaxing.

It's a strange feeling but one he knows that he can share with you.

You put him at ease and there's something about you that calls for his attention.

Maybe it's your attitude. Maybe it's your determination. Maybe it's the way you fight and the grace you carry yourself with.

You're a good fighter, a good team mate, and a good person.

You take care of the others. You take care of him.

He doesn't know how to thank you.

Warrior notices that you both reach the town in record time, the conversation seeming making time a useless way measure distance.

You both walk in and begin with Warrior's shopping list since it has a higher priority than simply exploring.

Warrior makes a promise to himself to find something for you.

A small gift, if you will.

He's not entirely sure what you like just yet but he thinks you deserve something nice and if he's here to buy nice things, then why shouldn't you get something as well.

The trouble is getting it without you seeing him buy it, or figure out his plan.

You were always able to read him like a book.

"Lookin' good sweetheart!" A voice calls from the side. A loud and obnoxious voice followed quickly by multiple cheers and whistles.

Warrior instantly has a spike in irritation and he forces himself to not shout back. He's used to this. It happens sometimes back home. He's not surprised it can carry elsewhere. There's pigs everywhere.

He ignores them.

"Why don't you leave your boy toy and come find out how a real man can treat you darlin'?!" Another one comments. More cheers and howls.

Boy toy?

That's new.

Warrior looks in their direction and comes to a startling discovery.

They're not looking at him. THEY'RE LOOKING AT YOU.

Now... Warrior likes to think he's a rational man. He's good at keeping his head on straight in tough situations. He's good under peer pressure and under stress.

He takes one look at you and sees your smile gone, your head is down and your face is red in shame, anger and embarrassment.

But you don't say anything in reply and only shuffle closer to him, trying to get in front of him so he'll shield you from their gaze.

Warrior is a rational man.

Many would agree with that.

He wants to tear their heads off.

"Come on baby, don't be that way! As easy as your back is to watch, we want to get a good look at your pretty little face!"

Warrior turns suddenly and faces them all head on. "Thank you for the compliment doll face! I'm new in town and just passing through but maybe-"

He starts walking towards them as sultry as he can manage, pulling on every acting cell he has in his body.

Which is a lot if you ask him.

The tactic works as he wants it to. Warrior knows he wasn't their target and the idea of him responding instead throws them off their rhythm.

"No, no, wait-" One of them holds a hand up and takes a step back. "Not you."

"Who else darlin'?" He mimics their drawl and smirks at their instant discomfort. "You want a good time?"

"I'm leaving." One of them says after a second of horror shows on his face and not so subtlety turns on his heel and leaves. The third follows without saying anything and it just leaves Warrior and the first caller.

Warrior likes these odds.

He drops the act and lets his murderous intent shine on his face. "Got anything else to say?"

Warrior reaches for his sword and the idea finally gets through the guy's head. Leave us alone or else.

"...No." He says and finally leaves as well, not looking back at either of you.

Warrior nods at his retreating form and returns to you, a little ashamed by how long it took him to react. For your sake.

His head is low when he reaches you and he scratches the back of his neck instead of making eye contact.

"Um... What do you want to do now?" He asks lamely. By Hylia, he wants to kick himself into oblivion.

A small snort catches his attention and he snaps his head up.

You're looking at him, hand over your mouth and crinkled eyes giving away your not so hidden smile. Your shoulders are shaking and it only grows as he stares at you.

You're not mad? He has trouble believing it because he's still furious.

A small bark of laughter escapes without your consent and it's the last wall to break as the dam flows out. You're laughing hysterically and it's beginning to scare him a little.

"D-Did you see their faces?!" You nearly scream. "Oh my god, Warrior, I love you. That was amazing."

Warrior shakes off the shock and feels himself blush. "It wasn't that special..."

"Wasn't that-? Oh boy, I wish Wild was here. I would have loved to get a picture! Warrior that was awesome. I'm so glad that you agreed to come with me." You walk beside him and grab his hand, beginning to drag him through the town. "You know what? I owe you. I have some rupees and we're not expected to come back to camp yet. You want something? I'll get it for you. My treat. Anything you want."

Warrior begins to flounder, and he's uselessly dragged behind you while your grin grows with every second that you talk.

While this all happens and you talk about the ways you plan to treat him, Warrior starts to think that he might just do anything for you.

Hyrule

Hyrule was busy enjoying the scenery of their most recent trip. He had managed to sneak away from the group and walk around the area without having to worry about the others for a moment.

The quiet was nice and familiar. The place was new and begging for him to explore what it had to offer.

Hyrule... found himself wishing for companionship, weirdly.

Well, as long as his travel companion is you.

He supposed Wild would have been just the same....but he found himself wanting to be with you instead.

He just... he doesn't know why. It doesn't bother him.

There's just.... He has trouble finding the words.

You're warm and gentle and it reminds him of casting his Life spell on himself before he met the others. There's a sense of safety, of calm.

A cool breeze on a warm summer's day.

A smile creeps on his face at the thought of you. Hyrule knows that he does it often but he still can't bring himself to care about it.

"Oh my- NO! HEY!" He hears your voice. Panicked, frantic and shrill.

And it gets cut off.

It's a bucket of ice water dumped over him. His heart launches into his throat and his stomach drops to his feet. His feet are moving in the direction towards you before he even realizes it.

Hyrule has reached a full on sprint and has to continue to run when he fails to find you. He takes a moment to be grateful for his stamina and how he's used to running but you're not.

At least he doesn't think so.

But he hopes this isn't where he finds out.

He trips over something. A sharp pain cuts across his shin as he falls to the ground, palms barely sustaining damaged thanks to his armor.

Hyrule gets up and sees something even worse than what he thought.

It's your sword.

You don't have your sword.

You're unarmed and alone.

Hyrule picks himself up and your sword and continues running at an even quicker pace.

He reaches you eventually and feels unadulterated rage flood through his system.

There's a pig monster over you, cheering and dancing in victory. There's only one. He thinks it's one of Wild's bokoblins but he calls on his magic and sends his sword straight through the monsters beating heart.

There's no black blood as it falls.

He sprints even more in your direction and begins to cradle your head, gently checking for blood any injuries.

He lets the healing spell move through his fingers to catch whatever he might be missing, whatever he can't see or get to without hurting you further.

He can feel what areas need the attention the most and can almost reconstruct the attack.

There's a large bump on your head, most likely the hit that knocked you unconscious.

Your arm is scratched and multiple pieces of skin have been torn off but it's a graze more than anything, it's not bleeding and doesn't goa any deeper than that.

Probably the hit that knocked your sword out of your hand.

There's a bruise blossoming on your knee and on your stomach and he has trouble figuring out what came first. They could have come from your fall or the beast could have simply hit you again.

The magic works its way through your system and subsequently heals him as well from his own minor injuries.

There's no way you can wake up fast enough and it leaves his heart pounding in his chest.

Hyrule knows when there's nothing left to heal and has to force himself to stop before he overexerts himself. The uncertainty is killing him. Just when he was hoping to spend time with you alone, this happens.

You groan and begin to sit up, your hand going to your head before realizing that it doesn't hurt and that you're not alone.

"Hyrule...Hey." Your voice is soft and a smile overtakes your face. You looks around and sit up straighter when you catch the dead body of the monster not two feet from you. "Guess that's your doing?"

Hyrule nods and moves to give you space, reaching his hand out for you to take. "How are you?"

"Good, all things considered...." You shrug and pick up your sword. Hyrule didn't even notice that he dropped it. "I was looking for you."

A mix of emotions fills his heart. Guilt at being the cause of it. Relief that at least you're together again. Happiness, strangely, at the thought of you thinking about him.

"Well I'm not lost, just..." He nervously looks up to you, his hand coming to scratch the back of his neck. "Got left behind."

"We noticed." Your smile fills with mirth and it's borderline a smirk.

Hyrule is not prepared by the realization that he finds that incredibly attractive.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue." You say, wrapping your arm with his. "The rest of the group is over here by the way."

"Yeah... Yeah ok." He grins and tightens his grip around your arm. "Let's meet up with our friends."

Yeah....friends...That's just what friends do.

Why does he feel weird about it?

Twilight

"On a scale of one to ten, how hard is it to learn how to ride a horse?"

Twilight looked around Epona's form, pausing his motion in brushing her to see you leaning up against her, a hand on her neck and brushing ever so slightly.

"Some people are more natural than others I suppose..." Twilight responded, an idea forming in his mind. "But it's not difficult."

You nodded in response and continued to pet the best girl around.

"I can show you how... If you want that is." Twilight grins to himself, leaning closer to Epona so you don't notice. The thought makes him giddy in a childlike way and he doesn't want you to be put off by his overexcitement.

You snap your head in his direction, a bright and excited smile on your face. "Really? I've always wanted to learn but I didn't want to impose."

Oh.

Out of everyone who could easily show you how to ride a horse, you came to him.

Well... doesn't that do something to his heart.

I mean, he is the only one with the horse but -DETAILS!!

He doesn't care for them.

"Here. Get on." He walks around and holds the reins, gesturing for you to get on Epona's back.

"Right now?" You're surprised, but delighted.

Twilight thinks it a good look on you.

"Sure. We're not going anywhere just yet and Epona can use a walk to stretch her legs." He says and helps you get up. Twilight is quick to follow after you and sit behind you, your back pressed up upon his chest.

"Ok, here's what you're going to do." He gives you the reins and places his hands over yours, leading you and Epona to where he thinks is a good place to go for a small trot.

It's effortless for him to lead you both through the trail.

Your trio actually pass by the group who are resting for lunch and wave to them as you go. Twilight catches the smile Time has on his face and is quick to put together that he knows something he doesn't. He'll ask Time about it later.

Twilight talks to you about how to hold the reigns, how to kick the horse into gear, how to steer and anything that he can think of that means safety for both you and the animal.

"Hey Twilight-" You mention suddenly and point just beyond the distance. "-Should we be concerned about that?"

Monsters, also on horses.

An arrow wizzes by suddenly, imbedding itself in Epona's side.

Shocked by the pain and scared by the suddenness of it, Epona takes off in a sudden sprint. Encouraged by the reaction, the monsters give chase.

Twilight notices that they don't have as much control over their chosen transportation.

He has the advantage.

Epona's first instinct is to run back to the group, back to the numbers and safety. Twilight knows better though, he can't lead the monsters to the group, even if he has a sizeable lead on them. He quickly turns her away, a plan forming in his mind.

You don't have weapons or back up, so this is going to get interesting.

"TWILIGHT!" You scream and throw yourself against him, covering your eyes with one and and gripping him tightly with the other. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Trust me!" He yells over the rushing wind. "I think I have a plan!"

"YOU THINK? You're crazy!" You reply, directly into his ear. "But I trust you... so I guess I am too!"

"That's the spirit!" He grins. Twilight knows Epona won't be able to do much more without injuring herself further and he doesn't want to make any reckless decisions with you right next to him.

He'd hate for you to no longer want to ride a horse over this bad experience.

"Hang on tight!" He finds himself yelling, adrenaline in his veins and he pushes Epona to go a little bit faster.

There's a cliff nearby, a ledge that if he can Epona to go fast enough, she can jump it.

The monsters may try to follow but Twilight is riding heavily on their lack on control and the horses will to stay safe.

Epona reaches it and jumps.

There's a moment of weightlessness and Twilight's heart floats up to his throat. You gasp, and fling yourself around to press your face into the crook of his neck.

Twilight takes one arm off of the reigns and wraps it around you, pressing you tightly into his chest.

Epona makes the jump, landing on the other side with a little more turbulence than Twilight is used to, but he'll blame her shot.

He slows her down and looks to the other side of the ledge.

The monsters do in fact try to follow but Twilight's gamble and intuition pays off. The horses stop just by the edge and several monsters fly off of their backs and down below. The other monsters who can't get by, stop in anger and scream from the other side.

But it appears they lost their archer to the abyss.

So you're safe.

"Oh my goodness..." You gulp and remove yourself from him. "Holy cow... You did it. You mad lad, you did it."

Twilight chuckles nervously and begins to lead Epona back to the camp, gentler and a little more aware now of how she's moving, how much she's been hurt.

"Is Epona ok?" You try to look around him and spot the injury, but there's not a lot of space on the saddle to manage that. He does it for you and sees that it's mostly blocked by the saddle itself, the arrow imbedded deep into the side, just missing the both of you.

Epona most likely only has a scratch and was more startled if anything.

Twilight's not happy about his girl getting hurt but knows that she's taken worse hits. He'll tend to her later, he's worried about you too.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, but Epona?" You insist.

"She's fine. It mostly hit the equipment. They were terrible shots." Twilight grins easily, taking the lead in steering Epona and leans into your back.

You laugh breathlessly and turn your head directly into his. It gives him a great view of your eyes and how they seem to glow in the light. He finds himself entranced and almost misses what you say completely.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

He nearly preens and he pulls himself back. "You think so?"

"Incredibly reckless." You snort. "You've lost your privileges' for yelling at Wild. You're just as bad as him."

"I-..." Twilight starts but can't finish.

"But hey, at least we're ok." You lean back and make yourself comfortable against him. "That could have been worse."

Twilight doesn't move a muscle while you're there, if you're comfy against him, then he'll keep you comfy. "Yeah. Sorry about freaking you out back there."

You go quiet for a moment and he wonders if he's ruined something. Twilight doesn't know if there's something to ruin actually, and he doesn't understand the thought now that he's had it. He doubts you'll stop being friends because of this, so that's not at threat. Monster attacks are not something new. But...

He wants to do this with you, for you.

He doesn't like the idea of you turning him down.

"I don't know..." You say eventually. "Maybe you can make it up to me by continuing these horse riding lessons. Maybe I'll forgive you then."

Twilight doesn't look at your face, he doesn't turn to look at you. He's afraid he'll give too much away on his face if he does.

"If you're still up for it?" It's question. It wasn't supposed to be a question.

You nod and fully relax, your heartbeat gently beating against his own. "Maybe less monsters next time?"

"Agreed." Twilight grins. "Not until after you learn to go out on your own."

"How about... No."

Wild

"Wild. I. Have a question." Wild looks up to your approaching form, tensing up in anticipation.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tries to grin naturally. Wild feels his heart start to beat faster and his face heat up. He gets nervous around you even if he wants to be by your side, but he doesn't know why.

He knows you're friendly and sweet and nice and incredibly smart and there should be no reason that you do this to him and yet he wants to impress you so bad....

But he doesn't know how.

"Your slate has that crazy inventory right? So you carry a whole bunch of stuff on you at all times?" You try to stand tall but you dip your head and thread your fingers through your hair.

You're nervous.

Now you really have his attention.

"Yeah. I might have enough stuff to rival the Veteran and he's known as the Collector as well." Wild sits back and tilts his head at you. "What's up?"

"I..." You start and bite your lip. Wild's eyes land on it and he focuses there for longer than he thinks is appropriate. "I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a sword if you had extra... Mine's about to break and I don't want Smithy on my case about it, since I don't have what I need to fix it. But....um...You know what, nevermind. It's not a big deal, I'll manage, I'll-"

"No! It's fine!" He shoots up to his feet and grabs your hand to keep you from leaving. "Got anything in mind? I've got claymores and short swords, elemental weapons and sheikah blades. I've got some cool boomerangs or clubs from monsters if you want those."

While he's talking, he brings up his slate and begins sliding through the pages and icons, bringing it up to your faces so you can get a better look at what he had to offer. He's quick to point out what weapon can do what and how he has one story for each of them.

He takes a look over to your face and is overjoyed when he sees that you're looking through the screen with as much fervor and excitement as he did when he first came into contact with his world's weapons.

"..." He sees your eyes lock on one of them and voice comes out in a giddy giggle. "This one."

"Which one?" He leans over and places a hand on your shoulder. You let him, or you don't notice but the fact that you don't shove him away makes in happy in a way.

You point to it and he has a brief moment of panic when he sees the one you want. It's one of Robby's creations, a sheikah chainsaw so to speak. It's one of the biggest weapons he has.

"OK." He gulps and takes it out. He presses the activation button and watches your face when it lights up the blade.

A large grin over takes your face when you see it and stare at it for a moment. The light is bright in your eyes and you let out a giggle that's borderline hysterical.

"This is awesome!" You make grabby hands at it and he hesitates to give it to you.

He likes that you like it....but he's suddenly not all to convinced that he should. Wild knows that he's reckless and that he gets hurt a little more than anyone appreciates but... What if you get hurt? With his weapon, no less?

The thoughts scares him a little more than he'll admit.

Maybe you should have that one.... Maybe a more... normal weapon would have been better?

You step away and give it a few experimental swings and his heart launches into his throat.

"Ho-ok!" Wild frantically opens his slate again and takes out a another weapon, a normal iron sword. "Take this one as well actually."

"One is enough Wild. Thank you but-"

"We don't want the others to get jealous, now do we?" He lies. "This way it'll be easier to explain...so maybe save that one for emergencies?"

"Alright." You press the button and stash the weapon away, taking the other sword from his hand. Your fingers brush and he tries to not jerk his hand back and make it awkward.

"For the others sake." You grin, and there's a glint in your eyes that makes him think that you're on to him.

But you don't mention it.

He won't plan to mention it either.

He'll gladly share anything else with you though. You just have to ask.

Four

"RUN! WE HAVE TO RUN!"

Four's head snaps up and he doesn't have the time to register why before you run past him and grab his hand, dragging him behind you.

"WHAT?!" Four yells next to you and matches his stride to your easily. "WHY ARE WE RUNNING?!"

"THEY'RE AFTER ME!" You cry and continue running, taking a sharp turn. "NO TIME TO EXPLAIN!"

Four isn't prepared for the level of rage and concern for your behalf as he begin to reach for his sword and turns around to fight whatever has you in a panic.

"Don't!" You pull his hand harder and nearly throw him off of his feet. "It's not worth it. Just run, maybe we can find a place to hide."

"What's after you?" He asks instead. How bad did it have to be that you didn't even want to fight back? Was it monsters? Did they have numbers on their side? Was it the weapons they had? Were they infected?

He'd gladly fight them for you.

But if it's bad... it's bad and he knows that infected monsters take more effort then they should and they're not something he can do alone.

"Here!" A smile appears on your face and with another sharp turn to press him close to your body and squeeze into a small space. There's no space between you two, it's chest to chest, completely up against each other and Four suddenly has a hard time concentrating.

Four says your name in an attempt to distract himself from your body and eyes the hand you press against his mouth in response.

"Shh..." You look outside the hidey hole and snap back in.

Familiar voices ring with mirth and exhaustion but they are not dangerous. Four finds it in himself to be a little miffed at there not actually being any danger but he keeps quiet at your request.

"Where do you think they went?" Wind has a grin in his voice.

"I don't know. I think they actually lost us." Wild replies in kind. "But they can't be far. It's not like they can out run us."

"You take the right and I'll take the left?" Wind offers and Four has to wonder what they want with you.

You keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer before slowly retreating.

Four gulps and takes a breath. He's immediately assaulted by how you smell. It's weirdly not just sweat, but apple blossoms and some kind of herb that he's having trouble pin pointing.

It's intoxicating and despite the lack of personal space, Four thinks that this is the most comfortable place he's been in a while.

"Ok. I think they're gone." You turn and begin to shimmy out of the hole. "Sorry about that. They want me to do something dumb with... an item of mine and I don't have the heart to tell them no. So I ran... Which didn't really work because they followed."

Four follows out of the hole and brushes the front of him off. He places his hands on his hips and fixes you with a stare.

"And then I ran into you and I didn't want to explain everything but you're a good guy and you'd just tell them where I went because you wouldn't know and I didn't want to risk leaving you behind-"

A good guy?

"So you kidnapped me?" Four raises an eyebrow. "That was your solution?"

"Well... How else do I get your attention?" You mimic his position and look him in the eye.

Four's about to retort with something that you could do before he stops himself. It's... not something one would just say to a friend. But he finds the idea very appealing for a moment before being disgusted with himself for thinking that about you.

He rolls his eyes to change the conversation outwardly but he continues thinking about it. "There are easier ways to get my attention. One of them, for example, say my name."

"Hard to do, if all of you have the same name." You grin.

He smiles back.

Truthfully, now that he's thinking about it, a lot things that you do catch his attention.

The way you move your hands when you talk. The way you move when you fight. The sound of your laugh. The color of your hair and your eyes.

"Um..." You laugh nervously and scratch the back of your neck. "Would you mind staying with me for a moment longer? I uh- Don't know the way back and I don't want to risk running into either of them just yet But.. I did kidnap you, so if you have something better to do-."

Oh yeah, he'll stay with for for longer. He doesn't mind one bit.

Sky

Sky yawns and rubs at his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back into the fire.

It's early.... like, stupid early. He hates getting up before the sun and would have gladly stayed in his bedroll... but it's his shift.

Admittedly, he doesn't mind being on watch.

But it's the whole concept of being up before the very time keeper in the sky that miffs him. His body wants to fight it and he typically has to put his whole bed roll away when it's his turn or else he'll be tempted to go back to it and sleep the rest of the night time away.

The only bonus, he supposes, is the chance to watch the sunrise.

It's so different on the surface than on Skyloft, there's more colors and it's not as blinding. He can't to experience more when he reaches his own time again.

The other bonus, he supposes, now that he's thinking about it, if the chance to watch over his new friends and that includes you.

You... Are just as mesmerizing as the sunrise, he thinks.

There's something about you that he finds completely captivating. Your endless colors and arrays of simplistic beauty keep his attention in ways he wouldn't have thought possible. Bringing peace and tranquility to the group when they need and being a signal to start the next leg of the adventure.

And yet, he can admit that it's nothing extraordinary.

You're not trying to impress anyone. It comes naturally to you.

Like the sunrise.

Sky smiles to himself and....he's mature to admit that he's glad he met you, and he think he'll miss you the most when this is all over.

When Sky comes back to the present instead of being trapped in his own head, he realizes that he's been staring at you for a while.

You're still sleeping.

He takes a breath. That wouldn't have been awkward. He prides himself on not being a creep, thank you very much.

You turn in your sleep and a sound escapes you.

Sky sits up a little straighter and watches you again. He knows that everyone has their fair share of demon to fight even when they're asleep. It wouldn't be all that surprising to learn that you had your own battles beyond daytime.

You move again, lifting your arm to fight whatever your brain says is in front of you and a gasp comes through.

Sky shoots up again begins to make his way over to you. He's careful not to wake the others but if he kicks Wind's on the way over, he won't mention it... It's not like that woke him up anyway.

When he finally reaches your side, you're shaking and moving side to side without knowledge of what is happening outside your own mind.

Sky nearly growls and kneels next to you.

"I wish I can fight those things for you..." He says out loud as he begins to gently shake your shoulder. "How dare they still plague you. They're not even here. Who gave them the right?"

You give out a small scream, something in your mind terrorizing you and it prompts Sky to shake you by both your shoulders until you wake up.

Your eyes shoot open with a gasp. You're covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. It takes you a while to realize where you are and who's in front of you but in the meantime you try fighting Sky off, still not fully aware that you're awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me." Sky takes a step back in hopes of calming you, even if it's the last thing he wants to actually do. "You're safe now. It's ok."

You finally stop and look at him, staring for a moment until he can see the moment when you see him. "...Oh..."

"You ok?" Sky takes the step forward. "That seemed rough."

"I... Um..."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He takes another step forward and places his hands on your shoulders. You're still shacking but instead of answering him you launch yourself into his arms.

Sky doesn't hesitate to hold you and lets you cry into his shoulder for as long as you need. He makes a vow to himself right then and there.

He's going to do his best to protect you... and the others. So that even if things get hard, maybe you'll have less nightmares to deal with.

If you'll let him, that is.

For now, he's going to hold you and be there for you when you need him.

It's... really all he can do.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #IT'S DONE!! #I'm not so proud of Sky's and Wild's but feedback is always welcome #Hopefully the mess of posting it unfinished is the first and last time I do that #Will it happen again? #most likely but ehh...

[vickyvicarious]

I really like your meta on Hardison in the Gold Job (and throughout the show) and the convo you had with the other user who’s username I forgot!

I kinda disagree that it’s related to race though? (The in universe stuff I mean) All the characterizations/issues with the team being annoyed with Geek Spirals, his perfectionism, him overcompensating/overselling and such always struck me as a Gifted Kid and ADHD(/related conditions) thing.

Although I do think the lack of Hardison centric episodes is related to him being the only black main character. Probably not even intentionally but as a product of subtle biases that make it harder for the writers to make stories for them. (This is poorly phrased but I can’t figure out how to fix it. I don’t mean to make it seem that that’s reasonable, just that that’s how I think the disparity came about. For example, I used to think that we had fewer Hardison centric episodes because he doesn’t really have a tragic backstory. But you and other users have given great examples of ways to center on him without needing Dark Drama. Which makes me think the writers may have had similar mental roadblocks).

(Referencing this conversation with @jesterthepink. Who should feel free to chime in as you like with your thoughts, please!)

So... hm. So where I come at this is that, yes, I do see the stuff about this frustration being related to ADHD and being a gifted kid and all that jazz, in-universe. I certainly don't think Nate is sitting around thinking "Hardison's black therefore I'm gonna be meaner to him" or anything like that! However, I don't think that even in-universe you can 100% separate it from him being black. That's a part of who he is, it's a part of the world they all live in. I don't think they are being intentionally racist towards him ever, but I think that maybe the other members of the team have some slight unconscious biases. I think pretty much all white people in America do, to be honest. There's always going to be a point where you realize that thing you did or said or thought years ago (or more recently) was a product of you not recognizing your own privilege, or maybe was informed by stereotypes. It doesn't mean you have any conscious desire to be racist, but in a society that heavily prioritizes a certain group of people, as a member of that group those situations will pretty much inevitably happen. That's why it's important to always listen to POC and to be willing to admit you've done wrong and work towards doing better. Doesn't mean you're evil, but that you live in a society that has influenced you as you grow up (which is true of everyone in one way or another).

So like... Nate may think that he's reacting more harshly to Hardison only because his overeager attitude and infodumping and etc. etc. neurodivergent behaviors are personally annoying to Nate. (Which on its own isn't great of him, actually, if that's the way he handles it.) But there's probably a slight element that maybe he wouldn't have been as annoyed by a white person doing those things. I just. I don't know if I'm explaining this clearly, but it feels wrong to me to completely erase Hardison's blackness as being an in-universe explanation. Feels a little icky somehow, like saying 'they don't see color!' or whatever, you know?

And like... sometimes they are clearly aware of differences in how they will be treated. Nate sends Hardison in to be the thug robbing the store in I think the 15 Minutes Job. Even though based on character and background, Eliot would do a much better job playing a thug. Because they know that the stereotype of a black man holding up a store is something they can use to make the white guy stopping Hardison seem even more of a 'hero' in the media (whether people consciously notice that or not). However, none of the other team members immediately key in to Hardison's panic at being a black man caught breaking into a secure military base in um... I don't remember what episode, but I think it was S1/S2. So they're aware of prejudices and even utilize them sometimes, but at other times certainly don't have that kind of awareness of how Hardison's race affects the way he will be treated. Or at least of how serious it can be.

So basically - I don't think it's ALL about race when they treat him that way, in-universe. But I don't think it's entirely NOT, either. It's not exactly a comfortable thing to think, that these beloved characters have those flaws, but I think unless your setting is one where racism just doesn't exist then it's more realistic characterization to address that this happens.

And it's similar to the writers, I think. The writers I'm sure were not intending to be racist. They might not have noticed what they were doing at all, probably had some mental blocks there like you said. However, the fact that he is the only black main character and the only one who has these sorts of issues in his writing certainly doesn't seem unrelated. Subtle biases probably played a huge role... and again, a lot of this stuff is in small bits that kind of just add up when you look at the series as a whole. If you're a writer working on just one episode at a time, and you aren't black yourself or actively thinking about how to counteract your inherent privilege, then you may not notice what you're doing at all. But it's still there in the end result.

#leverage #leverage meta #racism #alec hardison #jesterthepink #anonymous #replies #hopefully this made sense. didn't feel like i was being the most clear at points so hopefully it got across #my meta

[porcelain-blue]

Stray Dogs Seem to Follow

What if Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze did not die? What if they, along with Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, start their dream sect where no bloodlines matter, only skill and hard work?

The all-star trained-by-an-immortal cast is honestly reason enough for random rogue cultivators to start to flock to them, but the truth is the reputations that draw people are not one of battle prowess, but of human decency, humility, and a penchant for treating people equally between farmers and gentry. 

YilingWei is a small but growing power in the cultivation world, and through Wei Changze has an alliance with the Jiang Clan, and through Cangze Sanren, has an alliance with GusuLan. Many of the other sects dislike this very much, because nobody likes to see the idea that noble blood actually doesn’t really matter be proven so soundly.  Wei Wuxian has an uncanny ability for picking up strays. 

Stray #1: Wei Wuxian is ambling around Yueyang, let loose with uncle Song Lan at a good pace watching him, when he sees a kid get beaten up for asking for a reward of a snack. He darts forward, catching a fist and stepping to the side so the man is twisted under his knee in one smooth motion. Training had been going well, and he thinks mama would be proud.  The man sputters, face red, and makes all sorts of demands, puffing and going on and on about the YueyangChang. 

Wei Wuxian, professional brat and heir to YilingWei, lets the man go with a light shove that sends him kneeling into the dirt, and speaks, heaping on extra insolence just for fun.

“Ah, well. Sorry, gongzi, I’m not from here, so I don’t know who is who around these parts,” he sing-songs, moving to help the very battered kid up from the ground. He looks like he’s about his age. He beams at him, although the kid is looking at him warily. “But my mama tells me you can’t make promises you can’t keep, and a rich gongzi like you surely can buy some candy to pay for your errands, can’t you?” 

“Who the fuck are you, brat? You think you can speak to me like this?” The man seems to be reaching forward, ready to strike, and Wei Wuxian is ready to throw down, but his uncle Song Lan steps smoothly between them, bows with grace to the man and asks softly what the matter is. 

“Has our young master Wei gotten himself into trouble again?” Song Lan asks, all civil and gentlemanly and terrifying. The Distant Snow and Cold Frost is recognisable to most, and Wei Wuxian watches as the man puts two and two together. That said, YilingWei isn’t that prestigious a clan to warrant that much respect, but the man clearly knows he is outclassed. He turns in a bad temper, stomping away.  Song Lan turns to him, raises an eyebrow, and then bends down to speak to the kid who is fidgeting behind Wei Wuxian.  “Haizi, don’t worry, we mean no harm. Will you tell gege your name?” The kid looks at the two of them warily, eyeing their simple clothing, their lack of ornament. “Xue Yang,” he mutters.  “Alright, A-Yang, A-Ying, will you tell gege what happened?” Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at his uncle. “That guy was being an ass! Yang-di did something for him for a snack and he got all mad!” He huffs, annoyed. “We should have beat him up.”  Song Lan waits to see if Xue Yang will dispute the story, and when the kid just looks at his feet, angry tears in his eyes, he sighs. Grabs Wei Wuxian by the scruff of his robes and puts a gentle hand on Xue Yang’s head.  “Come on, gege was getting hungry anyways. I was going to get some food. I’m sure A-Ying will want too many snacks, but if there’s two of you, you can share, hm?” He starts walking away.  Wei Wuxian grins. “Uncle is really a pushover, c’mon, I want some tanghulu. Do you have any family? Our sect is great, we don’t care who or where you’re from. You wanna come see?”  Xue Yang blinks at him, lets his wrist get grabbed and towed away, buoyed by the promise of tanghulu and snacks. Maybe this time it won’t end in suffering.  ----------

Stray #2:  It’s the third day of the discussion conference in Lanling, and while Wei Wuxian had been dragged by his parents to attend and bow and get his everything commented, he had finally bargained the day off, cheeks sore from getting pinched by random and well-meaning older aunties. He grabs Xue Yang and uncle Xingchen, badgering them into going to town with him. He wants to try Lanling street food! He’s heard the baozi are really good! It’s about lunchtime when they wander into a food stall that smells amazing, but before they can order there’s a commotion.  “Stay away from us, you son of a whore!” A scuffle, and there, a kid is being pushed down, his baozi thrown onto the floor.  “Yeah, I bet you’re full of disease, just like your mother!” another kid, bigger and meaner, spits on the ground. Gross. The kid on the floor looks incensed at this, eyes flashing, but before he can do anything his hair is being yanked and he’s gasping in pain.  Wei Wuxian has really got to stop meeting peers like this. He slants a look at Xue Yang, who has gone still and tense. Xue Yang hates these kinds of people the most. They step into the stall together, and while he’s tempted to really mess around with these guys, he probably shouldn’t make a fuss during a discussion conference, or mama will make them do drills for hours.  So he nudges Xue Yang forward, and his shidi grips the hand holding the boy’s hair hard enough that the bones creak, until the bully is gasping in pain and wrenching back, letting go of the younger boy. Wei Wuxian helps the kid up, makes sure he’s alright.  “Who the fuck are you guys?” the kids say, and Wei Wuxian notices that they’re in Jin gold. Gross. It occurs to him then that they probably also cannot make a fuss during LanlingJin’s discussion conference, so Wei Wuxian just grins his most diplomatic smile, throws an exaggerated bow and says, “Wei Wuxian, heir to YilingWei, at your service! This is my shidi Xue Chengmei! We compliment LanlingJin for hosting our sect. LanlingJin must be very rich, if minor disciples can afford to waste food like this!” He waves an airy hand at the remains of the boy’s baozi scattered across the floor. One of the Jin boys sneer, “We don’t have to care about commoners and trash like that,” he spits, but is clearly not willing to challenge a sect heir outright. Xue Yang is still pissed, so he puts a hand on the sword at his hip, and narrows his eyes at them.  “YilingWei strongly discourages actions and words like that,” he says. And the threat is very, very much implied.  Eventally, Uncle Xingchen appears, smoothes things over, and sends the Jins on their way. Wei Wuxian turns round to the kid who is looking at them with wide doe eyes, half afraid, half in awe.  “This Meng Yao thanks the two honored cultivators for their assistance,” he murmurs, polite and formal, but the hands folded in front of his bow are trembling.  Wei Wuxian scrunches his nose as Xue Yang ambles off to buy three baozi from the lady at the front of the stall. It’s kind of nice, Wei Wuxian thinks absently, that Xue Yang gets to feed other kids, now. 

“Aw, none of that,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling the kid’s hands apart and lifting him back upright. “We’re all common folk here, aren’t we, Yang-di!”  “Aren’t you the heir of the Wei Sect, gongzi?” Meng Yao asks.  “Well, yeah, but my dad was born a servant. Anyways our sect doesn’t care about that sort of stuff. You want a baozi? I’m sorry yours got thrown.”  Meng Yao accepts a baozi and eats it with more elegance than Wei Wuxian has ever seen. He doesn’t finish, though, even though he’s obviously still hungry.  “Saving it for later?” Xue Yang asks, eyeing him.

Meng Yao shakes his head gently. “My mother, ah. She works at a brothel, as I’m sure you heard earlier. They don’t... they don’t feed her much if she doesn’t work enough.”  They sit there for a moment, three kids digesting the weight of the world. The moment passes, though, and Wei Wuxian darts back to the front of the store to get another baozi, and some other snacks wrapped up in paper to go. He gestures at them to come out, and the trail after him.  “C’mon, I got some extra food for your mom. Can you take us to her?”  Meng Yao blanches for a moment, obviously torn. He nods, after a moment, and they walk a ways to the establishment where Meng Shi works. Meng Yao fidgets for a moment, but gestures them in through a side door. They meet Meng Yao’s mother, who looks a lot like him, She thanks them graciously for the food, and asks them questions about their sword, and the cultivation world in general. They’re not there for long before Wei Wuxian’s yaopei glows softly, and he winces.  At the two pairs of delicately raised eyebrows, he answers, “Mama’s using her tracking talisman.”  Meng Shi laughs, then, a clear, high sound. She slaps a delicate hand on the table in mirth. “Oh, I wish I had one of those for my boy here! Your mother would make a killing if she sold those!”  Before he can reply, he hears a scuffle, a few shouts of “Excuse me, You can’t be here!” before his mother thows the doors open and stomps in, stopping before them to stare her son and disciple down. “Well boys, aren’t you two a little young to be in a place like this?” she says archly.  Meng Shi rises gracefully, bowing low. “Ah, we beg your forgiveness, your boys were helping my son with some trouble, and were kind enough to bring me some food. Please let me repay you for their troubles.”  Meng Yao looks alarmed at that, but he doesn’t say anything. Cangse Sanren looks at the whole scene, narrows her eyes at her son before waving her hands at the other woman. She pushes her son and Xue Yang’s heads down roughly, making them bow.  “No, no, thank you for keeping my boys out of trouble!” she says, and the two women stare at each other for a beat, before they both smile and sit down at the table in unison.  “Psst. Mama, can we bring them back? “ Wei Wuxian asks, tugging on her sleeve. She sighs at him, and then directs her question to Meng Shi. “Well, Meng-guniang. It looks like my boys have made friends with your son here, and to be honest, we’d like some more young disciples. Would you want to come with us?” 

Meng Shi looks taken aback. She thinks of Jin Guangshan and his many empty promises. She thinks of her son, and wonders if he will make a good cultivator in Yiling black and white instead of Jin gold. She knows, that of the two sects, only one has been kind to her son so far. But still. “I’m a prostitute. What use could YilingWei have for a woman like me?”  Cangse Sanren looks straight at her. “You can read?”  She nods. It is her one pride. “I can sing, and play erhu. I can sew” The othe woman nods. “You can teach my boys manners, too, it seems. We will take you, if you come with us. You would have to work your debt off, but, we wouldn’t ask you to do it like this. There are other girls, who come from your line of work. They help us with accounts and sewing and whatever else they are deft at.”  Meng Shi looks at her son, notes the way his eyes are wide and guileless. He has yet to learn how to lie and scheme and seduce his way into power. He looks at the two other boys, who look away at the scantily dressed women who walk by and smile at them, who are young and strong and seem to not care about her sons birth.  She stands, and bows deeply. “We humbly request a place in YilingWei.”  Cangse Sanren smiles, and leads the way, three boys trotting along at her heels as she goes off in search of her husband. It’s time to go home. 

#mdzs #yiling wei #xue yang #meng yao #wei wuxian

[amelia]

related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

#i literally do apologize for how long this got but you have to understand i was holding myself back . #she is…. everything. to me. i could keep going for so long #amy pond #ask #jonismitchell

[scorpionwins]

An AU where Archie's a ruthless villain who hates the Southside and FP, because FP left him, Fred, and Jug behind (let's say Fredsythe was married in this AU, but Gladys somehow convinced FP to leave his family in Riverdale for Toledo or smthg) and not only is his baby brother in love with a tall, beast of a boy southie fucker, but Moose, one of his closest friends, is also in a secret relationship with the tall fucker's best friend.

LIKE. ARCHIE IS A BOY, RIGHT? A bully, sure. It seems harmless (it's not. Reggie being forced into exile, having to give up his jacket and spot on the team, and shunned away to eat by the dumpsters, is not harmless.

Archie breaking into biology class with his posey in tow after the serpents transfer, that too wide, too friendly smile plastered on his cruelly handsome face staring at the three kids sitting tight in their chairs as dead snakes, stabbed, gutted, skinned, get thrown at their dissection trays , isn't harmless. It's a war declaration. One that no one takes seriously enough.)

Archie gains control over the school young; He's bigger than the other kids. Bigger, badder, meaner. Has a sharp mind, too cutting for someone so small, with enough knowledge to disguise it as innocence when he needs to.

"Fear and respect sleep together, you know, " he whispers to Cheryl. Bitchy, icy, insecurity filled Cheryl, on their first day of junior year, no Jason at her side. He must be hand in hand with Polly Cooper somewhere, and he's willing to bet his guitar it bothers the girl to the bone. "Stick with me. We're gonna run this nothing town."

Archie fits just right with the bulldogs; He wants to lead, not follow, thought. And Cheryl grows fangs of her own.

And they do; Unknown to Jughead, the only person besides his father Archie has love for, they do, and their rule is a glorious and brutal one.

Then Cheryl meets the tiny serpent girl with too much nerve to be considered smart. And things... Change.

"What do you mean I didn't make the team?! I was the best one there! "

She was. She was, and that's what makes Cheryl's skin crawl. "Evidently, we possess anonymous viewpoints of what 'best' means."

"... You're afraid of him, aren't you? Cheryl fucking Blossom, scared of one man."

Cheryl tenses, crimson lips tight. "Everyone is scared of Archie. But not me. This is not about fear,- I cried, and begged, and bled for this team. It happens to be the one thing in my life I have a pinch of control over. I won't endanger that just because of pretty Southside trailer trash not realizing she's aiming too her for such a laughable stature."

" ... You think I'm pretty?"

Cheryl doesn't dignify that with a response.

Unsurprisingly, Sweet Pea has a lot to say. "Northsiders are trouble. Falling for them is stupid, and we don't do stupid," the scowl on his face vanishes within minutes, as soon as he smiles and waves back to the dark haired boy following Cooper to the B&G. "What?"

Sweet Pea, who's torch of hatred he carries for Andrews burns so bright it could blind the sky, fell in love with his enemies' younger brother.

SP HAS NO IDEA WHAT TO DO, he envisioned a mini Archie; A spoiled, rotten little north side brat who acts like he owns the room. So he rehearsed, prepared himself to hear Andrews' voice from a different mouth when they first got paired up for a project.

But Jug is nothing like his big brother, from the dark of that fluffy, bouncy bed hair to his lithe stature, the elegant bed of his neck when he wanted to look Sweet Pea in the eye. He didn't have hazel eyes hiding hell in them, or a shark grin that raised hair from everywhere on the body.

No, - the boy is all small but scrappy, soft, dainty, if he dared used that word. He's got bright Bambi eyes, layered with a faint blue that steals the air from SP's lungs, and if given the opportunity, he won't ever shut up about those precious bunny teeth.

The fact that he has to keep the boy in the dark about Archie's cruelties cracks his heart. He doesn't know why. It just does. Maybe its because he understands hero worship. Maybe he's not ready for the other option.

Fangs and Moose, thought. Fangs and Moose break my heart.

They're young, and they're revounous for eachother, more than food or air. Fangs is hungry for the gentle eyed bulldog who towers over Archie but still bends down to get his hair ruffled, the only one there besides Sweet Pea's boy who doesn't sneer or looks with hatred.

Moose represses; Is what he knows. But the drumming in his chest when Fangs brushes hands with him in the crammed hallways refuses to be silenced, and the dryness in his mouth at every stolen glance and secret late night kisses won't be parched.

Its not enough. This is not the kind of love you can walk away from. So Moose doesn't.

The bulldogs have an exile ritual; Public. Ruthless. Stripping you of power, of humanity, of everything that makes you whole. It's a brutal spectacle, one that everyone must attend.

Cheryl makes sure Jughead doesn't. Sweet Pea makes sure FP does.

Moose, actual sunshine baby, with tears of heartache washing over his face, pushing his letterman jacket into Archie's chest. The redhead is stoned face, but his eyes are large, incredulous. Pleading, almost.

"You're either going to kill someone, or kill yourself, Arch. I don't want to be there to see it."

Archie's hand travels from its desperate grip on his friend's, - one of his BEST friend's,- wrist to fist Moose's hair. The strength is vulnerable. There's despair behind it.

"This is about the Southside. You're picking them over us," he whispers, pained. "You're picking that southie over me."

The taller between them gulps, teardrops slipping down his raised chin, proud, defiant. "... Yeah."

Archie framing Moose's face between his hands, steeling himself against the gentle pain in Moose's eyes, exploding at the violent tenderness in his captain's hold. "Your name will dissappear. Your worth will dissappear. And I want you to remember that I gave you a chance to walk away. You're dead at 10 pm."

Moose knows; He knows pain, and fear, and Fangs is worth all of them. That's the mantra echoing, when he arrows through the sea of students, all of them gazing downward.

GOD- ARCHIE. ARCHIE SLOWLY STAUNTERING IN MOOSE'S DIRECTION. LIKE IN THAT BULLDOGS VS SERPENTS FIGHT. "Come back," he's whispering. Hes begging, a quiet plea, a silent curse. "I'll forget about this. Come back to us. Please."

Moose's eyes find Fang's. Even drowned in sorrow, even cracked with raw pain, they're beautiful. His lips mouth 'I love you.'

"Do what you came here to do. It won't change my heart. Or my mind."

holy shit when Archie looks over at a SHATTERED Fangs, held back by Sweet Pea and Toni, his stomach coil in such a dark hatred, such a poisonous anger- he pours it all in the punch to Moose's jaw.

"You're gonna cry, hmm?" Archie growls, animalistic, more hell then boy, dishing thundering slaps to Moose in between his hisses."You gonna cry Moose, huh? Cry a bit. Cry for your fucking snake friend and his southie family."

FP BEING THERE- WATCHING HIS SON, HIS OLDSEST, THE SON HE LOVES SO MUCH, DO... THAT. AS a father, he's destroyed.

As a leader, he just. Watches Fangs, pure, good, strong, RIGHT Fangs, cling to Sweet Pea, fingers hooked so tightly into his best friends' jacket they pale. He yells ' they're killing him, sweet pea let me GO they're killing him, stop, STOP-' and FP realizes. On some degree, a bitter one, Tall Boy's words rang true.

At some point, they will have to hit back.

At the end of the ritual, Archie grips Moose's hair, fingers digging into his loose jaw. His friend is limp in his hands, probably unconscious, probably passed out.

He holds this maimed version of Moose, more corpse than boy, towards Fangs. He's so hateful. He knows, because Sweet Pea's disdain stares right back. " LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! YOU DID THIS," he laughs, a sad, hollow sound, bordering on manic. Half madness, half sob. "YOU DID THIS. NOT ME! NOT ANY OF US. YOU."

"THIS," He whips around, Moose swining in sort, making majority of them cringe in disgust, in unsettlment. They're terrified. Good. " IS WHAT THEY DO! THIS IS WHAT YOU'LL BECOME, IF YOU MIX WITH THEM!"

At the very end, Moose drops, but he's strong. He's so strong. He stays on his knees for it, not down. His face is drenched in blood and brushes and cuts, and he won't stand down.

Someone hesitantly hands the redhead a baseball bat, which he grabs, eager to end this, eager to leave. Archie hates the whole world.

"You can live up here with us," he can't tell if the wetness sliding down his cheek is rain or tears. Can't distinguish the wail of pain from Fangr or Reggie, as the bat leaves a punishing kiss on Moose's right cheek, putting him down for good. "Or die down there, like them."

In conclusion, I'm crying.

#tw bullying #tw violence #tw animal violence #dark archie #archie andrews #fred andrews #fp jones #fredsythe #jugpea #moose x fangs #choni #cheryl x toni #swughead #jughead x sweet pea #southside serpents #fic idea #betty cooper #jughead jones #heavy angst #writing #my writing #text #text post #moose mason #reggie mantle #archiereggie #archie x reggie

[houseof-harry]

I’m so h word but like gray being your neighbor and y’all just fuck when both your families are out of the house 🥴

okay listen, as a college student who still lives with her parents, this is a major topic of interest. we have what we call our home hoes, and gray is definitely yours.

You weren’t that close in high school, but you ran in similar friend groups. Every so often you’d be at a hang out together, nothing crazy. But it all begins one NYE, when all your friends have been at college for a semester and have gone a bit crazier than the occasional svedka shot you were all once familiar with.

Ever since that first night you slept together, you were each other’s home hoes. Now, this is technically not how home hoes work because there is supposed to be a selection to work with, but you and Gray honestly didn’t have any interest in fucking anyone. Not when you lived across the street from one another.

And it was getting easier now that your parents had started to trust you more. They were taking more weekend vacations to the mountains, or the beach, or wherever the fuck they’d go. They knew you wouldn’t be throwing any crazy parties and your siblings all had their own lives, too.

That’s why you and Gray started seeing each other more and more whenever you were home. It was easy logistically, and he met all of your criteria: he respected you, he was hot as fuck, and he could make you cum. Hard.

Which is what got you fucking antsy right now. He said he’d be over in five fifteen minutes ago. You were literally pacing your kitchen, watching his house from the window. You could see lights on, but no Grayson walking over here.

A whole twenty minutes later is when you finally see his shadow crossing his driveway, running across the street and up to your door. He’s about to knock when you swing the door open, your brow raised.

“Sorry, Mom asked what you needed so late. And then she got distracted and was telling me about how I need to do a bunch of shit tomorrow.” He steps right past you, taking his shoes off as you watch.

“You told your mom you were coming here?”

“Yeah, I mean she saw me trying to walk out the door at 11:30 at night.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Thought we weren’t telling our parents about anything.” You cross your arms, watching him slide his jacket off.

“She thinks I’m here because your fucking sink is flooding, I don’t think she’ll ask any questions other than about your plumbing.”

You roll your eyes but feel your shoulders relax, knowing he gave her an excuse that could take some time.

“Now are you gonna let me inspect your plumbing? Or...” He’s got a shit eating grin on his face as he approaches you and finally takes in your attire for the first time. A tight tank top with (obviously) no bra, and booty shorts that he can also almost positively say are directly against your skin with nothing in between.

You scoff, your hands resting on his shoulders as he starts to guide you back towards your bedroom. “My plumbing? You really are starting to sound like a fucking 40 year old dad.”

“Wow, someones got a fucking attitude tonight. Guess I’m gonna have to fix that along with the sink.” He does his best to keep a straight face, but fails. He never fails to crack himself up, even if no one else is laughing.

You do your best to keep your own neutral look, your lips barely curling up for a second before you sit on your bed, looking up at him.

“What, guys at school not doing it for you know? Have I ruined it?” You can tell he’s trying to tease you, but he also wants a bit of an ego boost. Unfortunately, he knows he’s the best you’ve had before because you let it slip one time after he’d fucked you at the lake nearby. He never let you live it down.

And it’s kind of true, he has ruined it. You’ve slept with a handful of guys since you started fucking Grayson, and none of them have lived up to the way he can do it. Hell, none of them could even make you finish.

“Are you gonna fuck me or are you going to fix the fucking sink?”

You couldn’t see his reaction to your words because he was slipping his shirt over his head, but you knew he probably rolled his eyes.

“You really are a brat sometimes, anyone ever told you that?”

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond, however, because he's got a hand on your throat as he kisses you, pushing you back against the bed while doing so.

You moan into his mouth as soon as you feel his tongue against your, relishing in the way he tasted, the way he felt. Sometimes it felt like he could knock the wind out of you when he kissed you if he really wanted to.

All to soon his lips were leaving yours to drag along your jawline and down to your neck. There, he was able to begin sucking on the skin, his teeth grazing over you every so often. His hips were pressed hard against yours, your legs still hanging off the edge of the bed as he stood between them. His knees rested on the mattress right below your center, and he used the leverage he had on you push your body harder into the bed by your throat when you let out a moan.

“Who’s home?”

“No one, they’re all out with friends,” you assure him in reference to your siblings. Although it was never ideal to fuck him while they were there, sometimes you really couldn’t resist. Was better than with your parents home.

He lets out a grunt of approval, licking over what you assumed was a blossoming red spot on your neck before lifting his head to look at you.

“Gonna fuck the attitude outa you, then.”

The conviction in his voice made you realize how serious he was, and it went straight to your core.

“Bet you’re dying for it, too,” he chuckles, and before you know what's happening he’s letting go of your throat to take your shirt off.

You decide not to respond, wanting him to find out for himself when he gets your completely naked. You were never one to spoil a surprise.

He takes a moment to look over your chest, appreciating the swell of your breasts and the way they moved as you took in every breath. He’s sworn you have the best tits in the world, and although you don’t agree, you appreciate the sentiment. In moments like these, you really felt like he believed it.

He didn’t actually do anything with them, though, because he couldn’t wait to get in your pants. Hell, you’d both been teasing each other for an hour before he agreed to come over and fuck you, and you were both getting desperate at this point. So he made quick work of your bottoms and found his earlier assumption to be true, and thank god. He didn’t know what he would have done if there was going to be another barrier between him and your pussy.

He groans as he stands fully in front of you, grabbing your knees to lift them, your feet resting on the edge of your bed and your legs spread wide.

“Knew you were dying for my cock.” His lip is between his teeth as he eyes your dripping cunt that’s on full display for him.

“You caused the problem, now you have to fix it,” you whine, your patience wearing thin. After all, he was the one who fucking texted you when he saw your parents leave earlier in the day. And now he wanted to play games?

“Oh, babe, this is not a problem.” He drops his pants to the ground, running his hands down your thighs once he’s completely naked between your legs again.

“Come on Gray.” You know you sound desperate, and you hate it, but you can’t stand the ache between your legs. He’d been working you up too long, then making you wait almost a half hour for it. You question if his mom had ever even stopped him, or if he was just trying to get to you.

“You’re lucky I like when you beg, or else I’d be much fucking meaner.” He leans over you again and you can feel the skin of his thighs on your ass. You use the leverage of his legs there to lift your hips up, a pout on your lips.

He merely rolls his eyes, one hand resting by your head while the other came around your throat again. “Fucking brat.” You just smile at him because now you can finally feel his dick against you and it made your whole body tingle with excitement. “Well put my dick in if you’re so needy for it.”

You happily oblige, bringing a hand down to grab the base before pumping him a few times. His eyes fall closed at the feeling and you know if you keep doing this he’ll get more annoyed and tease you, so you decide to do as he says and guide his red, throbbing tip to your entrance. He was just as ready for this as you were.

Without warning, he slides completely into you until you could feel the hair above his cock against your clit. Your eyes roll back at the overwhelming pleasure of finally feeling full from him as his hand tightens on the side of your neck.

“Missed this pussy, fuck,” he admits.

“Missed your dick,” you huff.

“Can feel that,” he whimpers as you clench around him purposefully, willing him to move.

It works because he’s moving in and out fo you quickly and suddenly, shaking your whole bed with the force of his thrusts. You moan out loudly, pleasure shooting through your body from your center as he grunts above you.

Your breathing was harsh as your brain fogged up, every intake of air slightly restricted due to his hand. The blood that was trying to rush to your head from how good you felt was slowed by his grip and it was making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Grayson,” you moan, unable to hold back the filthy noises bubbling up from your throat. All you could hear was your own breathing, Grayson’s grunts, and the sound of your wetness from every thrust in and out of you.

“Can’t believe you give me attitude when I fuck you this good.”

You want to retaliate, but can’t find it within you as he changes the angle of his hips to grind into your better. He quickly is rubbing your walls in a way that makes your toes curl, your chest flushing red from how powerful the feeling is.

“That it? That the spot, babe?” His tone is cocky, and as much as you’d like to me annoyed by it, it’s so hot when he’s confident like that.

You nod the best you can with his fingers just under your chin, your eyes opening when he gives you a tight squeeze. He raising his brow, waiting to hear a verbal response.

“Yes oh my god, right there.” Your voice is hoarse as your mouth falls open, your hands going to his middle back to try and ground yourself a bit.

“Gonna let me see you cum?” He already knows the answer to his questions, but he likes to hear you say it. He brings his free hand to your clit, rubbing quick circles there.

“Yes holy shit,” you whine, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts as he continues to thrust, his hips stuttering at your new movement. He was close, too, you could tell.

He brings his face closer to yours, his fingers moving from under your jaw to hold your cheeks, keeping your mouth wide open. You watch him pucker his lips, his brow raising as if he’s daring you to stop him.

You stick your tongue out instead, and he groans. Soon enough he’s gathering his spit at the front of his mouth, letting it fall into you waiting one. As soon as you feel it touch your tongue you moan and you think it’s borderline pornographic.

You bring your tongue back into your mouth and he moves his hand back to your throat so you can close your mouth and swallow. He feels your throat constrict under his touch and can’t help the profanities that fall from his lips.

“Gonna cum Gray, please let me cum,” you beg, your orgasm fast approaching from all the ways he’s managed to make you feel good tonight.

“Yes baby, give it to me.”

That’s all you needed to hear, your orgasm ripping through you as you arch your back into him. Your thighs cramp from how tense your body is, but you can barely pay attention to it because this is one of the best orgasms he’s ever given you. You clench around his cock as you slowly start to come down, your breathing heavy as your thoughts are flooded with pleasure and bliss.

You hear him curse above you and much to your dissatisfaction, he pulls out of you, pumping his dick until his hot cum shoots across your abdomen. He stands as he finishes cumming, one hand resting on your knee as the other still holds the base of his cock.

“Glad I could help with the leaky faucet.”

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dolan twins concept #dolan twins blurb

[yan-twst]

hiiiii! how about the yandere!dorm leaders x social butterfly darling? thank you!

warnings: general yandere warnings, manipulation, kidnapping

(to make my life easier, i'm putting the darling in each leader's dorm)

riddle rosehearts

he dislikes to see his darling always out and about, talking to whoever crosses their path. sure, it's good to be sociable, but- can't they just calm down? perhaps stop being so... nice to everyone? it ticks him off

he'll start to be very strict on his darling- far stricter than ever before. it's forbidden to wear white socks on tuesday mornings while eating breakfast! eating toast while standing breaks the rules! doing alchemy homework using a green pen is not allowed! he'll bring down punishments left and right, trying to force his darling to stay in their room as much as he can

if that doesn't work, he'll become even meaner with his darling- without even noticing, he'll start to become like his own mother. his punishments become harsher, he constantly tells his darling he "expects better". he's sure to break his darling's social spirit

parties, outings with friends, study groups- riddle puts a quick halt to all of these. this is just the first step, of course: ideally, he'd preffer it if his darling just stopped talking to outsiders altogether... but as dorm leader, he cannot be seen giving "preferential treatment" (aka, a personal room for his darling to be trapped in) to anyone- so he'll settle for at least cutting off that sprawling social life his darling was so happy with before

leona kingscholar

he just does not understand why his darling likes going out so much. parties? going shopping with friends? why are they hanging out with people they just met? it possitively makes him sizzle with jealousy. his darling's time should be spent with him, not a bunch of others.

he'll try being threatening at first. so his darling thinks they can just throw him on the back burner while they go have fun all weekend, huh? they truly think he'll just accept that? no, he doesn't want to be invited to the activities- he wants his darling to stay where he wants to be. and that is napping in his room. so they better call their friends and say they can't go out today, or he'll make it so their friends won't be able to hang out in a long time.

he can quite easily trap his darling beneath him as he sleeps. his grip is very strong even while napping- and any struggling disturbing his nap will earn his darling a nip to the neck, or even a bite if it's a repeated offense. slowly, his darling's will to try and go out diminishes- besides, it's not like people want to hang out with them now that everyone thinks they're flaking on pre-decided meetings... and it's not like they can say "sorry, my boyfriend was asleep and wouldn't let me go" everytime

azul ashengrotto

he acts like it's all fine and dandy at first, but inside he's a mess. why is his darling so eager to go out? to meet new people? he turns down most invitations he receives from them, since he knows that he'll be surrounded by a big group of strangers.

as always, he manages to relate all this to his own insecurities. is he not enough? what if his darling meets someone they like better? it's bound to happen- they're always out meeting new people... the paranoia gets under his skin so badly he has trouble sleeping.

at first he'll try using contracts with people who hang out with his darling often so they cannot contact his beloved- but this proves to be a fruitless endeavour, since his darling is just so willing to make new friends wherever. so he has to cut off the very source of the problem: he'll try to fool his own darling into a contract that will put an end to their behaviour. if his darling is smart enough to refuse the contract, though, he'll simply hold them back by force- lock them in his room and make jade and floyd keep an eye on them every single moment.

kalim al-asim

his darling likes meeting new people too? that's good! do they like parties? he loves parties! he'll certainly enable his darling to meet more and more people, inviting and hosting parties in their name. he doesn't mind if others see his darling; after all, a beautiful treasure should be displayed!

however, he's still afraid. he isn't so stupid as to think nobody would aim for the al-asim's heir's lover: he's quite scared for his darling's life. after all, he has jamil, but who does his darling have...? he'll certainly bring up these concerns to convince his darling to stick close to him at all times. perhaps he'll even exagerare the level of danger, but, he's just being careful, right?

he won't stop the parties or letting his darling attend them. however, he does place some limits: his darling can only attend partie hosted by him, and during the parties, they have to stick to him at all times. no dancing with strangers or striking up conversation- kalim has to be right there for everything! eventually, these parties stop being a chance for his darling to socialize, and more a venue for kalim to show off his beloved. it becomes a staple of scarabia parties to see kamil seated with his darling in expensive clothes and jewelry quietly by his side, merely observing the guests and dancing with kalim only.

vil schoenheit

it's both a bother and an advantage. he knows that it's important to have many contacts in industries such as the beautifu industry or modelling- however, he preffers if it's him making all the contact, and not his darling. he's not worried about his darling finding someone better; he just doesn't like to think of his darling hanging around "unsavory" people and adopting their mannerisms

he'll say it exactly as he feels it, directly to his darling. they must stop fluttering all over and talking to whoever lets them- it's so crass to just go to whatever party they hear of, to just always go hang out wherever! he'll reprimand them, telling them their actions reflect badly on him- he's definitely aiming to make his darling feel ashamed enough to change their behaviour. he'll continue applying pressure, disapproving of most of his darling's requests to go out

he drills it into his darling's head: the only times to go out are when he says so. forget about going out with friends after classes, partying fridays or hanging out on weekends- he'll have his darling in his room as soon as possible, fussing over skincare and whatnot. the only social events his darling's going to be seeing anytime soon will be events vil himself is invited. they go from being the light in a room, a social magnet, to being reduced to always being vil's plus one, forced to stay quiet by his side as he does all the talking

idia shroud

he just. CANNOT understand how people like his darling exist. he can barely talk to people he already knows face-to-face: the idea of just going out, meeting new people, befriending them... constantly hanging out with friends... it sounds both terrifying and draining to him

he just wants his darling to be with him- wouldnt it be easier for them to not have to always keep up with all these people? he'll hack into his darling's social media, blocking and removing friends. this inevitably cause drama for them, and he's too quick to welcome them into his arms to comfort them... only to repeat his actions later. his darling has no clue it's his doing, of course: he's good at covering his tracks

he's surprised by how easily messing with his darling's online presence, he can affect their real life relationships. sure, he knows some social media stuff can cause real life arguements- but he definitely didn't mean to accidentally cause a big fight withinh his darling's friend group that made them end up completely ostracised! ...ok, he did partly want this. he'll continue acting like the comforting boyfriend, stroking his darling's back while they cry and explain how they have no idea how this happened.

malleus draconia

he's quite intrigued by his darling's behaviour. why are they always out and about...? he's jealous- but not only of the others who spend so much time with them, but his darling, too. to he, who is never invited... it's almost painful to see his darling be constantly invited out, asked to hang out

his darling will probably ask him to tag along with them a couple of times, but he feels.. off. he's no good at reading people, but even he knows that everyone who sees him, even alongside his darling, immediately tries to back away. he'll try to put up excuses so his darling can't leave him to go hang out: he'll definitely take advantage of how lonely he is to make them feel bad about going out

still, whenever he cannot guilt them into cutting off all their friends- because no amount of moping and talking would make his darling do such a thing, he'll just go the easy route and lock up his darling and take away their means of comunication. it makes him a bit sad to think of how he's metaphorically clipping his darling's wings, but... the jealousy was eating him alive. isn't he, the lord of dark fae, allowed to indulge himself sometimes?

#twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

[ghostnebula]

Okay please do a part 3 of the waterpolo au where Richie does walk Eddie to his dorm after practice one time OR maybe they have a swim meet out of town and have to stay the night and they end up rooming together and Eddie maybe did something to piss Richie off and he ends up getting the dick appointment of HIS LIFE (featuring lots of lovely aftercare, that part made me so happy when you included that)

God omg omg okay (I love this sm)

[part 1]  [part 2]

Okay so here’s how this goes: The swim team and the water polo team both have events out of town on the same weekend, in the same place. As such, they’re going to travel together, and both coaches are like “Yeah they practice in the same room all the time and a lot of members of both teams seem to be friends and isn’t it great that our teams get along so well? Isn’t that wonderful?” (Eddie would beg to differ but he also doesn’t want to tell his coach he let that tall hot dickweed from the water polo team fuck him even though he definitely doesn’t get along with him and overall the current relations aren’t so great, because he has, like, some dignity, so he just keeps his mouth shut). 

So these two coaches, so proud of their teams for getting along so well, bring them all together during practice one day and give them the great news! They’ll be taking the bus to whatever town together, and staying in the same hotel, right beside the facility where their events will be held on Saturday and Sunday. Their rooms will be randomly assigned -- two to a room, names drawn from a hat, unless anyone has any specific requests. 

And Eddie does. Eddie sure as hell does have a specific request not to be stuck in a room with Richard Fucking Tozier, because he’s not about to subject himself to an entire weekend of whatever the fuck is going on between the two of them, especially not when he’s all but naked during swim meets and anyone with two working eyes will see whatever marks Richie decides to leave on him. 

Richie beats him to it, though, and he’s already chatting with their coaches the second the meeting ends. Eddie storms up to give Richie a piece of his mind, and to tell the coaches to disregard everything that comes out of this fibbing conniving asshole’s mouth, but Richie is... being so nice? And charming? And he drops an arm across Eddie’s shoulders to pull him into a little side hug, smiling so sincerely at the coaches as he explains how Eddie’s just so sweet to him, and he’d love to be friends, and what a perfect opportunity it would be for them to spend a whole weekend rooming together, so they can get to know each other better. Eddie’s trapped because his only option right now is to make himself the asshole and tell Richie to fuck right off in front of both their coaches, while he’s putting on this disturbingly convincing act of being, like... genuinely nice. He just watches with his jaw on the floor as Richie shakes both their hands and thanks them for all the incredible opportunities, and tells them just how grateful he is, and how he’s made some of the best friends in his life while part of the water polo team.

And then the conversation is over and there’s something almost menacing in Richie’s eyes as he plants a wet kiss to his cheek and tells him he’s looking forward to a whole weekend to play with him, and Eddie’s knees nearly give out. He is so beyond screwed at this point.

They get to their hotel late on Friday night, and Eddie can’t even bring himself to care about the room arrangements, because he’s too busy thinking about sleep, and how nice it will be to just put his head on a pillow. He purposely sat as far from Richie as possible on the bus, and Richie didn’t push his luck -- just stayed where he was, probably because he knew Eddie was already going to have to put up with enough of his shit over the course of the weekend. Still, Eddie caught him staring a few times. 

He should’ve known sleep was not in the plans for the night.

He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and comes out of the bathroom to get his pyjamas out of his bag. Richie’s got all his crap tossed in a corner, clothes spilling out of his unzipped duffel bag, a Walkman on the bed, his dirty socks on the floor. In complete contrast to Eddie, who stacked his belongings neatly against the wall beside his bed and made sure everything was in it’s place after he got his toiletry bag out. He’s already rolling his eyes before the bathroom door has swung shut behind him, and it doesn’t occur to him that in all that mess, there’s a vital element missing: Richie. 

He sweeps up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat, and Eddie yelps in surprise so Richie presses a hand over his mouth. “Quiet, now, we’ve got neighbours, you know.”

“Fuck off,” says Eddie, muffled, and he tries to mean it but he, perhaps, has not stopped thinking about the fucking fantastic lay that Richie was, and he hasn’t hooked up with anyone else since, which is kind of a new record for him. Frankly, he’s a little pissed and a little scared Richie may have ruined him for anyone else, and he is not willing to admit that, not at fucking all, so he settles for some healthy insults in the hopes Richie will make the decision to end this before it begins, so that Eddie doesn’t have to.

Except Richie just licks up the side of his throat, hot and wet, and croons, “Oh, baby, you can be meaner than that. Get my dick hard, c’mon.”

“Eat shit, fuckface,” Eddie snaps, trying to pry Richie’s hand off of his face, and he swears Richie actually shudders behind him before latching onto the skin under his jaw and starting to suck a hickey there. He stomps on Richie’s foot so hard he finally lets go, looking more than a little miffed. “Don’t you fucking dare leave marks on me, I swear to god. I have an event first thing in the morning and you are not--”

Richie kisses him, because Richie is an asshole and he just does whatever the fuck he wants, apparently, but when Eddie shoves him off he says, “Okay, deal,” with a shit-eating grin, and Eddie isn’t sure if he wants to be pissed Richie still thinks Eddie wants to fuck him at all tonight (doesn’t he?) or relieved he’s actually getting his way.

(The cognitive dissonance is real with this one)

He lets Richie fuck him on his bed, and he’s so big his legs shake and his eyes water, and Richie puts him right back into that distant and floaty headspace again. He knows he shouldn’t let Richie come in him, because it was so hard to get it all out last time, but he just doesn’t have it in him to tell him not to, and he especially doesn’t want to tell him to use a condom, so when Richie asks if he can come inside, and Eddie’s pretty sure his body and his mind have diverged into separate entities, he nods and whines a little, “Please?”

But the next morning? He’s right back to fuck that guy and fuck his seductive talents and definitely fuck his huge dick and especially fuck his ability to make the best possible use of the gifts God gave him. Something like that. Seriously, how dare he? How dare he take advantage of Eddie like that? How dare he be just hot enough and just charismatic enough and just a good enough lay that Eddie isn’t even capable of resisting it at this point. Is he a fucking incubus? This is bullshit.

And he’s sore. Which is really what’s pissing him off so much. He’s so sore and it felt so fucking good last night but now, while he’s trying to win a damn race, it doesn’t feel nearly as good (or so he tries to tell himself).

So when he hauls himself out of the water to find Richie and a couple other members of the water polo team hanging out in the front row of the stands, he’s still thinking fuck you fuck you fuck you. He towels off, gets his congratulatory pats on the back or whatever the fuck from his teammates, and he’s glaring at Richie the whole time. Richie’s grinning right back. He’s got an empty seat save beside him, one foot kicked up on it casually, and Eddie knows what he thinks that’s for, but like hell he’s going to give him the satisfaction. 

In fact, he outright refuses to give him the satisfaction. He knows there’s a good hour until the water polo game starts for Richie’s team, which means several hours until his own second and final event for the weekend, and he thinks some good old-fashioned revenge is in store.

He bypasses Richie completely to approach Bill, another member of the water polo team who Eddie’s hooked up with a couple times in the past. It was alright -- he’s had worse, but he’s definitely (and quite recently) had better. Way fucking better. Still, Bill’s always been a sweetheart to him, and Richie’s a run-of-the-mill d-bag, so there’s no competition there (yes, actually, there is).

“Hi, Bill,” he says sweetly, leaning over the railing, giving his best smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to take advantage of your free time before your game starts?”

Bill agrees easily enough, so Eddie takes him by the hand to lead him away, find somewhere they can have some privacy, and he sneaks a look at Richie to find him appropriately livid, which just leaves Eddie feeling smug. Because fuck him, right? He doesn’t deserve Eddie. He’s barely even nice to Eddie.

Well, except that... last night, after he was done fucking the soul out of him, he kind of was nice. Like before. Holding him until he felt like himself again and telling him how good he did, helping him clean up and letting him share the unsoiled bed with him.

Still, though, he can’t just fucking... barge into Eddie’s life and take whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and expect Eddie to just bend to his will. 

So he gets a condom and lube out of his bag on their way through the locker room and he lets Bill fuck him in some empty room, and it’s not entirely unsatisfying but he also can’t stop thinking about Richie, and how fucking good he felt last night, and how he’s still sore from it, and how sweet revenge tastes -- how pissed Richie is probably going to be. And Eddie can’t wait to rub it in his face, that Richie doesn’t get to keep him to himself, and that Eddie isn’t going to play along with his stupid little games, no matter how much he likes them.

He doesn’t stick around to watch the water polo games, just goes back to his and Richie’s shared room to shower and freshen up before his next event, and when he gets back to the pool Richie is back in the stands, still looking pissed as all hell, and Eddie’s still smug as fuck about it.

He finishes up his swim meet, purposefully avoids eye contact with Richie the whole time, just to get his point across (not because he’s worried he’ll start something if he looks at him too long), and hauls ass back to his room as soon as he’s dressed, ready to spend the afternoon hiding from him. But Richie’s not a fucking idiot, apparently, because he’s throwing the door open not five minutes later, expression deadly calm, and he waltzes straight over to Eddie’s bed (now with fresh sheets, thanks to the cleaning service). “You’re cute,” Richie says, which is not what Eddie was expecting, and he makes an inquisitive noise and tilts his head, setting aside the assignment he was working on for one of his classes. “Yeah, real fuckin’ cute,” Richie continues, now lifting one knee onto the bed and crowding into his space, “thinking you can fuck around like that without consequences.”

“Um,” says Eddie, and then he’s being slammed down onto the mattress with a hand around his throat.

“You were trying to piss me off, right? You wanted it rough, or something? I though I was already giving it to you plenty rough, kitten, but all you had to do was ask.” The grip on Eddie’s throat tightens and he goes dizzy for a second, both hands curling over Richie’s wrist and squeezing. He loosens up a little, just enough to let Eddie breathe. 

“I want you... to leave me alone,” he lies, rasping, not making any further move to get Richie off of him. “I’m not your... fucking... plaything.”

Richie laughs viciously at that, free hand already creeping under Eddie’s shirt, and it tears a rough gasp out of him when he pinches hard at his nipple. “No, you don’t. Nice try, though.”

Eddie doesn’t argue the point, because he’s dug himself in this deep, anyway. So he stays when Richie tells him to stay, flat on his back on the hotel bed while Richie rummages through his bags, and he takes his shirt off when he tells him to. And he doesn’t complain when Richie wraps a belt around his wrists to tie them together over his bare chest. In fact, he fights down the colour rising in his cheeks, because no one’s ever done that before and he really, really likes it, enough that it’s, uh, physically pretty obvious. Richie’s smirking because he already knows the answer when he asks, “Is that okay? Is it too much?”

“No,” Eddie relents. “It’s fine.”

“Seems more than fine to--”

Eddie kicks him in the thigh to shut him up and earns himself a slap across the face for it, and he doesn’t think it should turn him on so much when Richie grabs at his throat again and growls, “You’re already in enough fucking trouble, you ungrateful bitch.”

“What-fucking-ever.” Eddie rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, dick stirring in his pants at the calm anger clear in Richie’s eyes, and Richie bites him. Harder than he ever did the first time they fucked, just below his collarbone, and Eddie can’t scream because he isn’t getting enough air for that, but he still makes a high noise somewhere in the back of his throat even as Richie presses harder at his windpipe. He doesn’t have to see to know he’s bleeding.

He tries to get his anger across with a glare, but Richie isn’t paying attention, he’s too busy uncapping the lube and pouring some on his fingers, and before Eddie can do anything to prepare himself he’s shoving two fingers in him at once. Eddie half-screams again, kicking out against him, and Richie finally lets go of his throat so he can breathe properly again. “Fuck you, that hurts,” he croaks, whacking Richie’s shoulder with his bound hands. 

“Really? I’d expect you to be pretty fucking loose, considering.” As if to emphasize his point, he forces a third finger in beside the first two, and the stretch is too much, too fast; it has Eddie tearing up. “Or is Billy’s cock really that small? Must not be very satisfying.”

“Richie, slow down, take it easy, please,” Eddie whimpers, but still, he can’t bring himself to outright ask him to stop, and he hates that. 

“Richie, slow down,” Richie mocks in a high voice. “Don’t piss me off and maybe it wouldn’t be a fucking problem.”

He pulls his fingers out of him too fast, and it fucking hurts, but he’s already lining his cock up to push in and Eddie knows there’s no point asking him to go easy, even though he’s still hurting from last night, and his little rendezvous with Bill only made things worse. He rocks right into him, sinking too deep all at once, and the dam bursts, tears spilling down Eddie’s cheeks. Richie bites him again, just as hard, this time right at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Eddie fucking wails, back arching, legs tensing on either side of Richie’s hips. 

“Are you gonna let Bill fuck you again?” Richie demands as he sets a brutal pace, aggravating every ache Eddie’s been dealing with since last night. He shakes his head as Richie batters his prostate, not even entirely cognizant of what it is he’s agreeing to. “You gonna let anyone who isn’t me fuck you again?” He shakes his head again. Richie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull, forcing his head to the side so he can suck hickeys all up the side of his throat, licking over the bruises when he’s done. One hand comes down to wrap around Eddie’s cock and he squeezes his eyes shut, whining, because he’s already close. It hurts and it’s a lot but he’s so fucking close already, and Richie’s so big inside him he doesn’t thing anything else will ever compare. He clenches down around Richie and comes all over his hand, body going lax beneath him while Richie continues to fuck into him. 

He’s so damn oversensitive that he starts whimpering and pushing at Richie’s chest and shoulders, as if he’d ever be able to push him off, but Richie just grabs the belt and forces his hands up over his head, and Eddie starts sobbing. “’s too much,” he tries to tell him, feeling himself go all floaty again as Richie peppers kisses all over his cheeks and his throat, hips slamming into him so hard he’s sure his insides are going to be bruised, and his breath is stuttering in his chest as he tries to stop crying.

“No it isn’t, baby doll, because if it was too much you wouldn’t go around fucking other people, as if I weren’t enough for you.” Richie yanks on his hair, harder this time, and Eddie’s fucking astonished to realize his dick is trying to get hard again. 

Richie’s face is pinched in something like concentration while he’s fucking him, and part of him wishes he’d just come already and get it over with, but he’s pretty sure Richie’s actively resisting it, which is just as well, because another part of him entirely wants Richie to make him come on his cock a second time.

He grabs Eddie’s dick and strokes him back to hardness, colour sitting high on his cheeks, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead, and then his fingers are on Eddie’s throat again and he’s squeezing, cutting off his air, and Eddie’s just gone. His mind has severed ties with his body and it’s so good and he’s floating, and he’s simultaneously too aware of his second orgasm tearing through him and too far removed from it. 

But then Richie’s voice is drawing him back. “I could come in you, kitten, but I don’t think you deserve it after that stunt you pulled. Do you?”

“No,” Eddie says in a faraway voice. He tries to get his eyes to focus on Richie’s face above him but he’s not sure he’s successful. “No, I-- I want you to.”

“Ask nicely.” Richie’s hand is still on his throat.

“...Please?”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Please? Please come inside me.”

Richie hums, contemplative, like it isn’t fucking killing him to force himself not to come then and there. “Call me Daddy.”

And Eddie doesn’t care, Eddie doesn’t fucking care anymore, he’d do literally anything to get Richie to come in him at this point, even though everything fucking hurts and he’s positive the bus ride home tomorrow is going to be an absolute nightmare as it is. “Please, Daddy? Come inside me, Daddy?” he begs through tears, and Richie practically collapses on top of him as he pumps a load of come into him, a low moan tearing out of his chest.

They just lie there for a while, breathing, and when Richie finally pulls out of him, Eddie hisses an, “Oh, fuck.”

“I got you,” Richie says, sounding -- just like that -- like a completely different person. He’s untying the belt from Eddie’s wrists and rubbing at the marks it left on his skin, and Eddie can feel himself slowly drifting back down into his own body, which feels like it got run over by a truck. “You did good,” Richie’s telling him, kissing his forehead, and it makes him inexplicably delighted to hear that -- all warm in his chest, so much so that he can’t contain the smile it brings to his lips. 

“You think so?”

Richie lies on his side and pulls Eddie in close to put an arm around him. “Yeah, of course. You take it like a champ, haven’t I told you that?”

“Think you might’ve mentioned something like that last night,” Eddie slurs, pressing his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and sighing heavily.

“Are you alright?” Richie asks, already checking him over anyway, preparing to treat whatever injuries he’s inflicted once Eddie’s come down from it. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

Eddie huffs something that might be a laugh. “Everywhere,” he jokes, and an awful expression crosses Richie’s face, like he’s appalled with himself. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, eyes shining with tears, and Eddie’s taken aback because that’s the last thing he’d expect from fucking Tozier. He brushes his hair off his forehead and cups his cheek, drawing him in for a kiss, wiping Eddie’s tears from his cheeks as he does so. “I’m sorry, baby, I should’ve been more gentle. I won’t do that again, I swear. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, because is Richie seriously apologizing to him? How does his whole attitude keep doing a complete one-eighty like this? So what he ends up saying is: “Uh, no, I liked it.” At which Richie sort-of laughs, just enough to let Eddie know he isn’t going to drown in his guilt. “I’d appreciate a shower, though.”

“Why yes, of course, Your Highness. Anything for you, Your Grace,” Richie says, in possibly the worst British accent Eddie’s ever heard, even as he’s helping him to (very slowly) sit up and crawl off the bed. “Shall I ask your royal servants to prepare a wee snack for you to enjoy after your royal bath, as well?”

“Why, that would just be delightful,” Eddie responds in an equally bad accent, and Richie laughs so hard he snorts, and Eddie’s thinking it isn’t so bad that Richie refuses to leave him the fuck alone.

#Anonymous #reddie #d/s #cw dubcon #once again KIND OF #its mostly eddie being a fucking brat on purpose lbr #very very long #i hope you enjoy your ENTIRE GODDAMN FANFIC I GUESS #lol #inappropriate #minors dni #water polo au #my writing #ask

[theschizoidblog]

Schizoids at work – tips for schizoids and their employers

Blog 5: 22/09/2020

When it comes to Schizoid Personality Disorder, I find there’s so little info online on how to deal with it. While not all schizoids are comfortable holding jobs, many love to work for the income it provides, which in turn gives them the opportunity to have their own little haven without starving. (Ah, the joys of capitalism!) Some even really enjoy the challenge their job provides. Others suffer through jobs that aren’t a good match for them.

In this blog I want to give tips to employers about how to deal with schizoid employees, and to the schizoid employees themselves - don’t worry, you’re an asset!

(Also a quick note: covert schizoids are the ones you’re most likely to encounter on the workfloor, overt schizoids usually have it a little harder with fitting in.) (I can’t speak from experience there since I fall in the covert category.)

Now, the chance that an employee will tell you they’re schizoid, is minimal. First off, many don’t seek out therapy and thus don’t even know they are schizoid. (I didn’t know until I was 36.) Second, those that know they’re schizoid, will often feel like they can’t trust you with something as personal. Third, in some cultures it’s a big taboo to talk about mental health, especially if you have something that is labeled a ‘disorder’, and thus they will not tell you because they fear you would just fire them.

But in the rare occasion that your employee opens up to you about schizoid personality disorder, at least now you have this bit of advice from a schizoid who’s been employed in two countries (Belgium and the Netherlands), in a few different sectors and who has been in situations where the employer did not know, and is currently in one where the employer does know.

To the employer

First off, don’t be terrified or apprehensive if an employee tells you they are schizoid. Schizoids are better rooted in reality than most people and don’t suffer from delusions or paranoia like certain other personality disorders. They’re often quiet observers, analytical, witty… if they dare to open up in your company!

While it’s called a disorder, it doesn’t necessarily require medication or a great deal of therapy – it’s a state of being. If someone tells you they’re a schizoid, what they are saying is that company can drain them, that they are immune to most forms of peer pressure, that they don’t mind not talking to people.

Keep in mind that Schizoid Personality Disorder can be accompanied by depression, PTSD, anxiety and other comorbidities. While a schizoid seems emotionless most of the time, when your schizoid is suddenly crying at work, it’s possible you triggered some PTSD and that’s why they’re unable to perform well. But a schizoid without any comorbidities should, in theory, give you less trouble than any other employee.

You might think “humans are social beings”, but the same can’t be said for schizoids. We operate in a world where most people around us are just different from us, and accommodating to their social needs can exhaust us. (And in my experience that part gets worse with age.) We’re not very social beings. We get energy from being alone.

Consider us the ultimate introvert, while most managers and CEO’s I’ve met are on the other side of the spectrum, massive extraverts. To explain that bit: Did you find the lockdown horrible? Did you find it draining to talk to your employees online instead of at the coffee machine? Well, for a schizoid it’s often the other way around. Talking to colleagues through chat online is easier, more fun and less draining than talking to them at the coffee machine, and while you get energy from those conversations in the lunch room, they drain the schizoid person. We’re wired a little differently, so keep that in mind.

As an employer, you want to get the most out of your working relationship with anyone in your company. For schizoids, like other employees, you can just ask them what they feel or think, but in some cases schizoids will try to avoid conflict, and thus just say what you want to hear or not appear analytical at all. If they don’t trust you, I wish you the best of luck in getting them to open up. (You’ll need it.)

Especially young schizoids have not yet learned from experience to open up and might not indicate when things aren’t working out for them when they see it’s working out for their other colleagues. While immune to peer pressure (they might not eat the birthday cake everyone is having when they dislike it, or conform to the same clothing standard of the rest of the company when it’s not a strict rule), they will avoid conflict and thus they might not be fully upfront if the new work islands are ruining their concentration or when you place them among the loudest colleagues in the group and they just suffer quietly between them.

So in general, ask them whatever you like and be open and honest, and with any luck the schizoid will be self-critical, open and honest in return to you.

Ideal jobs for schizoids would be jobs they can do alone, like being a night guard, administrative jobs they can do from home, or jobs with animals or in nature. But that doesn’t mean that that’s all they’re good for. Plenty of schizoids work in retail, customer support, elderly homes, healthcare, IT, or are teachers, lawyers, even psychologists themselves! Having Schizoid Personality Disorder should never be an excuse to fire someone from a job, because it’s not a reason as long as the schizoid is doing their job well.

Practically

Feedback moments

Schizoids have their walls up very high, nearlly all the time. During feedback moments, that’s true as well. Give your feedback, but don’t expect to see shock, anger, sadness, relief or happiness on the face of the schizoid. They might not respond differently to your praise or criticism than if you were to recite the alphabet to them. Ask them what they will do about the issue and they’ll probably come up with a solution themselves or give you the acknowledgement that you wanted to hear that they understand the problem now.

Whatever you do, don’t get harder and meaner in your feedback because you see no response. Someone once did that to me and it triggered PTSD that I’ve been coping with for 15 years now. I did not realize why my employer was so mean to me, but now I realize that I must have sat there like a zombie, hardly acknowledging his feedback with any visual cues, and he felt a need to “drive it home” to the point where my body is now convinced I’m being sent to a war zone when my employer says it’s time for my yearly evaluation.

Control/manage

Schizoids don’t enjoy other people controlling everything they do. I’ve worked in helpdesk situations and do great in situations where I’m not given specific scripts to stick to. It makes for a better customer experience too and I get the job done and I get it done well. By forcing scripts on schizoids (but probably on plenty of regular folks too), you’re destroying motivation and only making the job harder. Let the schizoid do their job and use their magnificent brain, they’ll figure it out. Be there as a person they can come to for help. Tell them they can always ask for help or advice, and they’ll ask it if they need it, but don’t try to be too authoritarian, it usually doesn’t stick well with the schizoid and they’ll just learn to dodge you instead.

Flexibility in shifts

One of the biggest advantages of having a schizoid employee is that they might be willing to work Sundays or Saturdays or evenings or nights while others prefer to spend that time with family or going to the bar. I volunteered to work on Sundays and evenings because if I work on Sundays, I don’t have to go to carnival get-togethers with the family (huzzah!), and evenings because then I don’t have to work with all my colleagues together at once, but I just have one other colleague around and it’s quiet and I can listen to music.

I’m also the go-to-person for my colleagues when they have an evening shift they need to switch in case of emergency. I don’t mind switching from morning to evening. (I’m also an evening person so my efficiency will be better if I work late shifts compared to when I work early shifts.)

So while a schizoid person might not enjoy being in large groups, don’t say they’re not team players! They will gladly help out the company when they can, as long as they’re not being taken advantage of.

Dinners/parties/celebrations/team buildings

Every company has reason to celebrate at times and sometimes you want to thank your employees for their hard work with a nice party or event. A schizoid might not like every type of party or teambuilding though. I’ve been to a few I really enjoyed, but others where I was like “can I just work instead?” We did a very intimate speeddating teambuilding with our closest colleagues which I really enjoyed (wait, what, a schizoid enjoying a speeddating sort of thing? – I liked it because it wasn’t small talk but really witty questions that you could discuss with colleagues.), but there are sometimes also parties where the entire company is there and that are just too many people whose name I don’t know and whom I don’t fully trust, with music I don’t like and lots of drunk people, so I’ll rather bail out of those. Basically, my tip would be: definitely extend the invitation for the event, but if they say “no”, that’s that and don’t take it personal. (Also, they once didn’t ask me to go to a party because they know I never go anyways, and then I was a little sad they hadn’t asked me. I’d still like to say no and feel included. ;-))

Privacy

Most employees like to know a lot about the private life of their employers. Schizoids might not share a great deal. They like to keep work and private life separate, but let’s be real here: there’s often not a great deal going on either. Asking “What did you do in the weekend?” might result in a slightly annoyed schizoid. They probably didn’t do anything you’re interested in hearing. They probably had food. Watched shows or played games. Slept. A lot. And that’s what they might do for the next 51 weekends of the year as well. Don’t invite yourself over uninvited either, I never open the door unless I know someone’s coming. It’s not even something personal, it’s just that home is sacred and I wouldn’t even open the door to my elderly grandmother.

Someone else said that intrusion upon privacy is even something they consider offensive, so best not to do it!

But, if you’re patient, you will get to know your schizoid employee better. We just open up slower than most, so don’t pressure it, we’ll tell you what we want to tell you when the time is right.

Carpooling

I think carpooling is great for nature but from a personal point of view I hate it. Some companies are big on carpooling, sometimes to events. One schizoid told me she drove 6 hours to go to a company event because she didn’t want to take a flight and sit next to a talkative colleague. That’s how much we prefer to be alone when travelling sometimes. For some schizoids it’s the only time they have alone. At home they might not live alone, at work they’re never alone, and thus that time in the car is sacred to them, the only moment they can recharge a bit and be alone with their mind. (I have the same with lunch break, I usually take my lunch alone, just to recharge a bit. It’s nothing personal, I just need the me-time.)

Ambition

When asking a schizoid where he or she sees themselves in a few years, they might offer a blank answer. Schizoids don’t have a great deal of ambition. They will rarely say they see themselves as a manager or anything of the sort, instead they’ll express they’ll be good employees with a good knowledge of all systems and such. Don’t expect your schizoid to be ambitious – they might be perfectly happy with an entrance-level job.

Please do not mistake this as a sign they have no interest in the company or in their own career with the company. They just can’t imagine a lot of things changing very fast in their career path.

Mediators and Listeners

Schizoids are great mediators and listeners. If you have a problem, tell them the problem and wait for their pearls of wisdom. They’ve been observing society for their entire lives, even if they’re not very social people, they understand society better than most. They’re also very good listeners and will earn a lot of trust from their fellow colleagues that way if they open themselves up to them. Just be mindful at the same time that you’re not expecting them to do a specific job AND sit them down next to people that love to talk, because those people will love to take advantage of the fact they’re great listeners and get their own egg out of their system. Not a lot of work will get done then.

Bonding with colleagues

If you want a schizoid to bond with colleagues, it’s not really going to happen if they work 9 to 5 with 10 other colleagues in the same room. They’ll become part of the wallpaper. If you want them to bond, then let them work with other colleagues in 1-1 situations where it’s just the schizoid and the other colleague. For me, that’s during my late shifts and weekend shifts that I’m usually alone with one other colleague, and that way they get to know you in a non-intrusive way. For me it always works better that way then if I spent a regular 9 to 5 job among a large group of people.

  Open Office

One of the hypes that I really dislike on the work floor are all the “islands” and “open workspaces” they have now. Everyone is stuck in the same room, often very close to one another, and it’s often loud (even when everyone is trying to be quiet) and distracting. A manager is like “but I want people to play off of one another!”, but to a schizoid it just means they can’t think properly and they lose track of what they’re doing and they need to listen to conversations from other colleagues about their kids that are going through college or the soccer match of their youngest. I once worked somewhere where not only half my colleagues were constantly on the phone, but the others were not allowed ear plugs to listen to music because the team lead wanted folks to listen and talk to one another. Needless to say, in a room of IT’ers that decision was not appreciated. IT’ers in generals are very introverted, at least allow them ear plugs to listen to music if they’re in a loud environment, you can’t afford to have them fuck up because they can’t focus. (Not to mention that now with covid a lot of open offices are like ‘oh, maybe we should not have had everyone in one big area, maybe we should have at least kept a few smaller offices with walls in between them….’)

Meetings

 If you are having weekly meetings with your team, let me just tell you now, so your schizoid doesn’t need to tell you: your meetings are boring as hell and repetitive. It’s more efficient to have brief meetings when new things are happening or problems need fixing. Weekly meetings where you go over the same agenda each week aren’t really necessary, the neurotypicals are just abusing the fact they don’t have to work for an hour. :-P I felt like someone needed to say it, even if it’s not even a schizoid thing to remark. Sorry, managers. Monthly meetings are more than enough in most workplaces. 

To the schizoid

Whether or not it’s wise to tell an employer that you have SPD depends on many things. I notice that culturally there are big differences. In Belgium and the Netherlands I feel like there’s a very open attitude among millennials regarding mental health. When I told my employer I was going to a therapist because I wanted to explain my anger outbursts and PTSD and I wanted to learn how to control them better, I got nothing but praise about how brave I was to take the first step and to talk about it so openly and to trust them with the news.

It took quite some time before I had the schizoid diagnosis, and after processing it myself, I also told the same team lead about what they’d found and what it meant. She’s a big extravert so it was rather funny comparing and explaining it to her, but she was intrigued and also confirmed that even if I am a schizoid, I’m still a teamplayer and my strengths are the weaknesses of others (and the other way around.)

When working in a team, there’s room for everyone and schizoids aren’t toxic people or anything of the sort. We can be barometers to sense the mood in a room and whether something is wrong in a team. 

With all of us working from home with covid, my lead has also seen proof in my numbers that I perform better when alone at home than when I’m at the office in an open space. She’s also thinking of, when covid ends, letting me work from home several days a week and no longer having me come into the office four days a week. (On Sunday I always worked from home anyways.) Maybe when covid is over I’ll just be asked to come over one or two days a week.

Personally I think there are more advantages than disadvantages for companies that hire us.

However, it really depends on the company. Ten years ago, I’ve worked in a company where I saw people go if they had diagnosis of ADHD or other much milder things, where they were laid off and told to pack their stuff. Not necessarily the moment they opened up, but they never remained for longer than a year after that. Some companies do not welcome diversity or folks that decide to have such an open dialogue with their employers. 

In my opinion, if you’re a schizoid and babyboomers are in charge, I don’t think it wise to open up. They do not like diversity or just folks that ask attention for their own mental health in the same way millennials do. They don’t see it as an advantage but as a disability to their own company. They don’t want folks to ask any work from them, they like it as a one-way street. They don’t want folks with labels. And some labels are more harmful than others. Personally I don’t think schizoid is a harmful label, as long as your employer does not confuse it with schizophrenic. And some employers will think a label, for the sake of having one, is already a bad thing.

How people look at personality disorders also depends on the country you are from. Belgium and the Netherlands are rather open (- especially the Netherlands). In the Netherlands they often say: “Alles is bespreekbaar”, which means that you can talk about anything, without judgement. If you admit something weird or extravert, you’re sooner called ‘brave’ than ‘weird’. Or you’re called both, affectionately.

Political climate at your job/in your country is also a means to predict how well it will be received when you admit to having a disorder. The more to the left, the less folks will make a fuss, the more to the right, the more they’ll think it better to exclude those that are different.

If you decide to never tell your employer, that’s perfectly fine. If you are happy in your job, why would you? If you are not in therapy or anything of the sort, there’s very little reason to tell them.

I’m very open about my current treatment as well, and now that I’m in EMDR treatment it’s possible I’ll have days of emotional turmoil and thus lessened productivity. I warned them in advance so that if it happened, they’d know about it. With my PTSD attacks increasing, we also agreed that I could just tell them “having an attack” or something of the sort, and then they’d know what I was doing to self-care and that I’d be back asap. (But it helps not having to explain everything from the start in that very moment, since that’s counterproductive.)

Or as we say in Dutch “goede afspraken maken goede vrienden” – meaning that good agreements make good friends. We got agreements on what to do in certain unexpected situations so that if a PTSD attack happens, they know exactly what to expect from me with just a word.

I realize such a good relationship with superiors at work is rare - I’ve had a lot of jobs before I landed this one and some were straight-out toxic. I would not recommend opening up in an environment where folks will use it as a means to pick on you. Luckily not all workplaces are like that, and I hope you find such a place! 

Conclusion

Schizoids are hard workers that just want to make some money so they can support themselves. They might not be very social at work but they can make up for it by being a team player who doesn’t mind taking over unwanted shifts. They thrive when working at home, alone and don’t need constant supervision. They can be insightful and are good observers, and they are peacekeepers within the group. You won’t catch them having fights with colleagues. Since they read the mood in a room very well, if your schizoid is closing off completely or looking ill at ease, that’s probably a sign that the mood on your work floor isn’t great. There could be some toxic people out there that are preventing the schizoid from opening up at all and those same people could be ruining the mood for others as well. (Or worse: a toxic leadership style is also possible.)

If you have further tips or questions, my inbox is always open! I’m certain there are many more tips to give, and not every tip will be effective for every schizoid. (I suppose this is more for the covert schizoid, like myself, as opposed to tips for helping the overt schizoids.) None the less I hope it’s helpful and that if you have a schizoid employee, you now know there’s no reason to panic!

#spd #schizoid #schizoid personality disorder #ptsd #work #blog

[scattered-irises]

LONG AWAITED CONCLUSION TO THAT ZEXAL PHILOSOPHICAL CHAT I POSTED A YEAR (or two) AGO

Part i

Basically, the theory is: Tron is a figment of the Arclights’ imagination and it’s actually just Byron going around messing everything up. Tron is a symbol of the corruption of the Arclights. 

****

And so, I pose you this question, Phosphorous. What if Tron never existed and was just a metaphorical representation for Byron's hatred and anger? What if the Barian World hadn't done anything to him and instead, just made him an angrier old man? So instead of this creepy, laughing child, we have this creepy man who goes around ruining people's lives for the sake of his revenge. 

The child is just something the Arclight brothers made up because they couldn't stand the fact that their father had become like that. But that was why they still followed him. Because he was still their father.

I see your point there. It has plausibility, muses Phosphorous. 

The reason why Tron erased their old names was because it was a way for all of them to disassociate their current selves with their past selves. They have changed too much to be considered Byron, Christopher, Thomas and Michael anymore. Christopher has turned extremely cold and calculating compared to his happier, gentle brother attitude when he was younger.

And Thomas...the poor child. He used to be a happy boy that teased his younger sibling but as IV, he masks himself as a happy celebrity loved by all in the world and underneath that mask is a sadistic monster and underneath that mask is a son that just desperately wants his father back and will do anything to get it and underneath that mask is a lonely young man who wishes to be understood.

Arguably, Michael is the one who remains closest to his original self. He's still the beloved younger brother and like when they were younger, still has a close relationship with Thomas. But he's cracked beneath his placid smile and gentle nature. When angered, he lashes out terribly and like Thomas, will do anything, even murder, to achieve his family's goals.

And so, one could argue that Tron is basically just an overall representation that their family has changed for the worse.

“How much autonomy do the brothers have? and how do they relate to others as they attempt to fulfill their families goals?” poses Phosphorous.

  Ah, ah. An insightful query, my friend. They are pretty much never seen doing things of their own free will. Even when it seems like they are enjoying themselves (I.E III sneaking into Yuma's house to eat lunch and meet him. It actually was just a scouting mission on his family's next target), their actions are meant to serve ulterior motives. In the end, all of the things they do is in the name of serving the family. 

A somewhat random note, Christopher looks at Thomas with contempt. They're basically polar opposites (But not really. Once Christopher gets emotional, he's just as broken and destructive as Thomas). 

Thomas has a grudging respect for Christopher because a part of him still recognizes him as his older brother. 

Christopher seems to care a bit more for Michael, but when Michael was being tortured, he watched the scene at the insistence of Tron. At the end of it though, he turns away, hinting at a bit of a conscience. 

It's Thomas and Michael that are more of a sibling relationship. This is most likely because they have spent all of their lives together while Christopher had been absent for 5 years from their lives. He was gone when Thomas was 12 all the way to when he turned 17 and Michael was 10 and is now 15

Thomas genuinely cares for Michael, going as far as to shout at Tron for treating his brother like that. Christopher immediately silences him. 

Michael also returns that gesture, although less because he ended up falling into a coma before we could see more. 

“Yet all three are, at least at times, willing participants in Tron's schemes?”

Yes, my fellow thinker. Christopher is the most loyal one. He never questions Tron’s orders. Michael will go with his father in hopes that he will get his family back. He is Tron's favorite because he is a "gentle and obedient child." I find it quite sad how, although Christopher is the most loyal one to the cause, he isn’t the favorite. I suppose it is also because I am the eldest of three, yet am not as favored as the youngest. 

“The youngest seems to be favored most of the time,” muses Phosphorous as they look out at the tumultuous Barian sea. 

It's Thomas that sometimes goes out of line. He's the strongest of the brothers, but Tron is always saying that he is the weakest. It is most likely the fear of Thomas realizing that he's actually powerful and could turn on Tron. Hence, that is why Tron says he trusts no one.

Phosphorous stands, overlooking the gloomy landscape of crystals. 

“So each and every one is then beholden to this idea of what? A happy family? Or just something different than their current state of affairs? Do all the brothers truly share this idea of a return to a happy family? Or do they don't even know that that looks like and just want something to change?”

In short:

Tron: Kill my murderers and I'll become your happy ol' dad again and we can go back to England and do happy British people stuff

Sons: Uh sure okay

Personally, I think they all know to an extent that they're deluding themselves

They're just ambling down this path of lies because the brothers are desperate to have a place to belong to after being separated for so long

But you might have a point that they might not even know what a truly happy family is anymore.

“So it's like they're chasing something that doesn't exist then?”

Exactly. Much like the couple that was running to the end of the rainbow. They are chasing a boat that has already long passed by. After all of the things Tron did to them, I'm sure they all know that they will never be "normal" and "happy" again.

“So under your theory, Tron doesn't truly exist, or at least is highly metaphorical, which makes all of their struggles self-inflicted and their delusions even more deep.”

Quite perceptive of you. Tron does exist, but he's basically Byron but meaner. They merely use the child with the ruined face to cover up the fact that their father has turned into a monster.

"Hey so dad's gone nuts but let's pretend it's a weird little boy who's nuts so it takes a bit of the pain away."

“Ah, so then they could say "Tron" instead of ‘Father.’”

Yes, exactly. They almost never address Tron as father. They only talk of their father in the past tense.

“But then,” proposes Phosphorous, dramatically turning back to me. “Why would they care so much for the new names they received? Or do they not care for them?”

Those names have become a part of their identities. They use it to cope with the fact that they've all gone south personality-wise. Thomas even uses IV as his celebrity name, perhaps as a sign that he does not recognize his celebrity persona as his true self.

Phosphorous takes in a deep breath, the acidic breeze rustling their toga. Their eyes meet mine own with a sharpness that I had always so admired.

  “So these new names, they're basically masks, but do they disassociate themselves from their new identities the same way they do with Tron and their Father, or do they still think of themselves as fundamentally themselves, just forced to do things they wouldn't normally do? Though I would assume each brother is affected differently by their mask,” says my friend as they begin to pace.

Ah, they still view Tron as their father (A leader) but deep down they probably don't want to put two and two together. So it's a superficial belief of "We fight for Tron (our father but let’s not think about that.)"

Either that or,

They are fighting for their Father,

 who is basically just an idea of a happy family now whilst Tron

represents a bad family.

Onto your second point, the brothers fit into their masks to different extents.

Michael doesn't seem to mind III for they appear to have the same personality, save for III's destructive tendencies.

When Christopher is reunited with his student that he abandoned and is called Christopher, he sadly smiles and says. 

"It's been a long time since someone has called me that"

And Thomas probably has an extremely difficult time taking off his mask after wearing it for so long in front of so many people

“So then do their numbered names also represent a bad family? also why do they start at three, like why not 1,2,3 instead of 3,4,5?”

I still don’t understand why it’s 3 4 5 (Nor does anyone else, for that matter.), however, their numbers are probably how Tron sees them. From his scientific background, he probably just sees his son as pieces of useful data he can use to his advantage.

“Hm, the only thing I could think of for the numbers was that Tron was somehow including him and the boys' mother in his count, like their the first two so that's why it starts at three, which is something you probably already thought about,” theorizes Phosphorous futilely.

Perhaps the numbers are used as place holders. They are not Christopher, Thomas and Michael. They are merely placeholders for when Christopher, Thomas and Michael return. When their family is whole again...

“But if the numbers are place-holders then so is the name ‘Tron,’” concludes Phosphorous.

Indeed.

“But I wonder if the brothers associate the numbers with Tron, like the numbers aren't really them, just a means to an end that will be removed when they get their father back, or if they're deluding themselves,” muses my friend.

Yes, the numbers are most likely temporary to them. Christopher is deluding himself.

He knows that he’s Christopher under V’s cold exterior. Same for Thomas and Michael. They are a family of delusions, united under the promise of a better tomorrow that will never arrive. 

  And so I thank you, for bearing with me. 

  Without ceremony, Phosphorus walks away from the crystal cliff, leaving me. I stare into the depths of the sea of ill intent and allow the sounds of the waves crashing against the crystal to overtake me. Closing my eyes, I begin to meditate. 

  Thus we conclude our bout of philosophy and ardent beard stroking. 

#zexal #analysis #zexal analysis #long post #Christopher Arclight #Michael Arclight #Thomas Arclight #Byron Arclight #Tron Zexal #Iris thinks hard

[ilguna]

Whist - Chapter Three

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

Word Count; 6.2k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: not a finnick odair x reader. it’s a ‘what if’ series

–

“Today is your first day with the other tributes.” you fix Alyssum’s hair, and readjust Rigg’s clothing, “Make an impression.”

“The two of you may show off one important skill each.” Finnick says, “One thing that’ll stand you out to the gamemakers and make the other tributes want to be allies.”

“We’ll talk about how we’ll wow the gamemakers during the private session, later. I promise that if you use your good skill today, it won’t be a loss. The private session is typically for anything you want to keep a surprise from the other tributes.” you back up.

“Try out stations you don’t know anything about. This is your time to learn anything that you don’t have a clue about, or you’re shaky on. It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

The two of them nod, and after a few more pointers that Rigg probably won’t use, he’s the first to leave the apartment. Alyssum is a different story, she waits for you to tell her to go.

“Don’t psych yourself out today, okay? What you did yesterday is exactly what we’re looking for. Confident, smart. If you sound older and show them that you can fight, they’re going to want you.” you cup her face, “But do not stay with them the entire time. Go around and meet the other tributes too. Don’t stick with Rigg, let him do his own thing.”

“Right.” she nods, you let go of her face, standing up again.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, (Y/n).” she smiles, “I can go now?”

“Yeah. Make your skill count.”

“I will.” she goes down the steps, and Elysia trails after her loosely to show her the floor. She’ll only take the elevator down, and then she’ll go see the stylists.

Now it’s just you and Finnick.

“What’re you thinking?” Finnick asks, you look at him.

“I think we need to pay Haymitch a visit.”

The two of you spend the afternoon getting ready to leave. You take a bet that Haymitch is probably somewhere in the betting room, along with the other mentors. But just in case, you’ll take an elevator to the apartment and hope that he’s there first.

When Finnick’s gathered his bearings, both of you get to the apartment. Finnick knocks on the door, and you flip through the notepad, staring at the plans for today.

Talk to Haymitch, go see the betting room, then down to the stylists to help them on a few things. To tweak and make them to the tributes likings. After that, the entire day is up to you and Finnick to figure out a way to get Alyssum and Rigg’s scores to stand out.

“Could teach Alyssum a trick.”

“Alright, then what would we do for Rigg?” you ask, knocking on the door again.

“Have him make a hook or something. He said he was pretty good at that.”

You squint at Finnick, “We want them to stand out.”

“(Y/n), he doesn’t have the same training that Alyssum does. The kid barely knows how to hold a plastic sword correctly. He’s--”

Before Finnick can say the word ‘hopeless’ the door swings open to reveal Haymitch. He’s dressed fairly nice, a little hunched over. When he sees that it’s you two, he straightens up considerably.

“Odairs.”

You roll your eyes, “Abernathy.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised to see that he doesn’t have his flask in hand. Normally it’s always right there, even the cap is unscrewed. You bet that it’s on the inside of his blazer, always within an arm's reach.

“Just curious about your tributes.” you give him a nice smile, slipping your foot inside of the apartment. Just in case he does try to shut the door, it won’t be that easy, “Quite the show yesterday.”

“The stylists' idea. Wanted something eye-catching, different.” Haymitch notices your foot, and after a long look at it, he looks back at you, “Here to steal my sponsors?”

“No, I’d like to negotiate something, though.” 

Haymitch squints.

Finnick picks it up now, “We’re allowing Alyssum to make allies on her own, but if she does settle on Katniss, are you willing to work with us?”

“Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

You slide your foot out of the way, crossing your ankles, “Just wanted you to hear our pitch, is all.”

“Katniss is a hard one to work with. Aly would have a better chance if she talked to Peeta.” 

“We’re not after Peeta.” Finnick says, “We want Katniss for a reason.”

“Her sister, right? You think she’ll show the same emotion for your sister?” Haymitch makes a face, “Fine, whatever. I can’t guarantee anything.”

“We just wanted something to fall back on, is all.” you stand up straighter, “See you later, Haymitch.”

You and Finnick go down to the betting area next. It’s a simple task, talking to the sponsors that are loyal every year. And since it’s only a couple of people, the whole task is over before you know it. Then, you’re heading to see the stylists, prep teams and Elysia.

There, you spend the rest of the evening messing with everyone. Laurel has decided that she’s going to play off of the princess idea, and give Alyssum a dress that stands out, very puffy. It might just consume her when she sits down for her interview.

Rigg will be given a simple blue suit that vaguely resembles the one he wore for the tribute parade. There’s not really much that the stylists can do for the male tributes. A suit is expected, and so that’s what’s given. Plus, what else would you give?

Right when you’re done with helping Beth with this crown, you have to go and get the kids. You thank them all for their company, and just like that you’ve left with Finnick. On the way to the room, Finnick holds your hand tightly. 

“While you were in the shower, Reed called.” Finnick says.

You look at him, “Why?”

“Mox can’t bring himself to get out of bed. The peacekeepers have visited the house two times already, wanting him to watch with everyone else. Reed keeps telling them that Mox is sick but neither of them can provide proof.” Finnick shakes his head.

Poor Mox. And Poor Reed, too. Mox wasn’t nearly this hopeless when you left, but then again, you were fifteen. You had eight years rather than just a measly five years beneath your belt. You also didn’t have a couple of mean-looking career tributes to worry about. 

They really don’t make the tributes like they used to. Back when you and Finnick won, they were fairly manipulable. They were easy to shape and form, and they weren’t nearly as solidified as they are now. Hell, Finnick was able to get you in, and then you were able to get Thyme in.

It was definitely more people than they had wanted, and yet they didn’t care at the time. As long as it made themselves look better, stronger, more desirable.

Now, they just want the glory of the win. And to get to that point, they have to be ruthless. They have to show the Capitol citizens a show they’ll never forget.

So, every year it’s just a continuation of it. All of them are trying to beat each other. One up each other, and when they do it, the next round is screwed. 

It makes it hard to mentor.

Anyway, Mox has lost hope. And you feel bad for Reed because he has to put up with it. He has to act strong for Mox, but you know he’s tired of it. Although, you can imagine that the both of them are pretty guilty, especially since you’re the one that’s getting her ready to send her off.

“Better keep that to ourselves.” you give Finnick a smile, “Not tell Alyssum, so we can keep her mind on track.”

He nods, he understands.

You and Finnick make it to the door right on time to see Alyssum skipping out of the training center, a huge smile on her face. Rigg is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Rigg?”

“Left early, said he didn’t feel good.” she says, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Just me the entire time, wasn’t too bad.”

You hold the elevator for Alyssum, making sure Finnick doesn’t head inside. For a second, Alyssum is confused, until Glimmer and Marvel are sliding past to get inside. You give Alyssum a wink, because this was your plan all along.

Cato and Clove come around too, you give the five of them a smile, “I’ll see you later, Alyssum. I’ve got to talk to your sponsors.”

You let go of the door, watching as the steel doors closed. And as soon as they do, you brush off your hands, turning to look at Finnick. He’s got a grin on his face, shaking his head at you, “Dirty, dirty.”

“Gotta cheat to get ahead. Wanna take the stairs?”

“Do we have much of a choice?” he asks, and the two of you slip into the fire escape staircase.

When you finally do get back to the apartment, Alyssum has a giant smile on her face, “They offered an alliance!” she heads towards you, arms out for a hug. You pick her up, spinning her around, “I told them I’d think about it and tell them in a couple of days!”

You press a kiss to Alyssum’s forehead, squeezing her tighter.

The next two days followed as the first training day did. You got up, gave your tributes a few pointers on how they should do things, and then they were off. You didn’t visit Haymitch again, but instead saw him in the betting area. You broke the news that he wouldn’t have to worry about an alliance, and he didn’t really seem to care.

After the betting area, came the time with the stylists. The dress has really come along, and today will be the finishing touches. Adding the accessories that they think would go with it, tweaking the size and whether or not it’ll fit.

You stopped picking the kids up from the training center after the first day, especially since Alyssum said yes to the alliance. She needs to get to know the careers on her own. But you’ve given her a few pointers on how she might back a cozy place in their mind, so they might even feel bad if they kill her.

She’s getting along well with Glimmer and Marvel so far, and from what you heard yesterday, Clove is beginning to come around faster than Cato is. It’s a little worrying, especially since it seems that history is repeating itself. But Alyssum said what you told yourself when you first saw the District Two tributes; they’re a lot meaner than they’ve been the previous years. 

It’s only natural.

Now, today is the private session. And you just spent the last hour trying to teach Alyssum a trick that would catch the gamemaker’s attention. Unfortunately, she’s still shaky at it, and not entirely sure if she’s going to use it. But Rigg on the other hand--has decided that he’s going to try out something with a sword.

You run your fingers through your hair, motioning to the space in front of you, “Show Finnick.”

Alyssum gives you a reluctant look, “(Y/n)--”

“Come on.” Finnick urges.

Rigg isn’t even here, he hasn’t been spending much time inside of the apartment. It seems like he likes to run off, and you’re hoping that’s going to come in handy inside of the arena. If he’s not going to make allies, he’s going to need to be able to run.

That and he doesn’t seem to trust you and Finnick very much. Finnick’s gotten as close as Rigg will allow, but it’s not that much. He won’t tell you what he thinks about the other tributes, who he wants to make allies with, what his special skill is or what he’s going to do for the private training session. It’s all radio silence on his side of things.

And you understand that he’s afraid that you’ll pass all of that information off to Alyssum or something, but it’s really not like that. All he’s going is putting himself in a position where you see him as unpredictable, and therefore unreliable when it comes to certain things inside of the arena.

If you can’t confirm or deny his plans to sponsors, and you have to admit that you have no clue what his motive is--besides making it out alive--then he’s not worthy of sponsorship. And since he’s literally twelve like Alyssum, it puts him at an even bigger disadvantage.

Alyssum picks up some knives, twirling it between her fingers. She nails this, it doesn’t cut her skin at all. Then, she draws her arm back wickedly, throwing the first knife from her finger. Quickly, she passes off a second to her right hand, to throw again. It takes her only half a second to get a new knife to throw.

By the time that she’s done, there’s three new holes in the wall, and she’s nailed two out of three of the tricks. You go down the two steps, onto her level of the floor, continuing all the way up to where the knives are. You pluck them out, weighing them in your hands.

“Are these too heavy?”

“No, they weigh just fine.” she says, looking at you.

You stare at the human diagram on the wall. It’s the exact shape of Elysia. She wasn’t too thrilled to have her body shape be the example of a target, but it was what you two need.

Stopping right where Alyssum had been throwing, you take your shot at it. The first knife she always throws is for the thighs, left or right, it doesn’t matter. You aim for the right one. The next she throws aims for the heart, and hers all varies around the same area. This would be a good, direct kill. You get that one without a problem.

The one that Alyssum can’t get right is the forehead. You give Alyssum a look, and she shrugs her shoulders. All the holes reside around the head, not even one has come close to hitting the bullseye. You throw the final knife, getting the head without a single problem.

“Take your time inside of the session. I get that we want it to be quick, but it’s okay to be slow.” you fix some of her hair, “Go at your own pace. The gamemakers won’t be bored by the time you go in.”

“Make sure to be confident when you walk in. Wait until they say you can start, and they’ll also dismiss you.”

“Be nice to not get on their bad side, but show a little bit of arrogance.” you say, “And if you’re sure that you can’t get the forehead in there, aim for the throat.”

Finnick nods.

“Alright.” she nods, standing up straighter, “I guess I should go.”

You kiss her forehead, brushing her hair back, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” she hugs you, and then Finnick on her way out. As soon as the door shuts, you’re leaving the area and heading for the cellphone. 

Finnick cleans up the wall as best as he can. But there’s a ton of holes in the wall, and the berry juice has left a faint stain on the white walls. Either way, Finnick dumps the materials, thanks the avox, and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.

You tap your feet slightly, leaning your head against the wall. It’s a long moment of ringing before the phone is finally picked up.

“(Y/n)?” a voice asks.

You raise your head, “Yes, who is this?”

“Caspian’s brother--Lucas.”

Lucas. Shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and tan skin. He mostly roams around his house without a shirt, which always drives his mom nuts, but he never changes. Sweet kid, he’s turning fifteen this fall.

“What happened to Mox?”

“At the hospital, so is Reed, Caspian, my mom and Mags. He’s unwell, and last night he wasn’t too hot. Reed went to see my mom because he didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to worry you or Aly.” Lucas pauses for a moment, “My mom said that they should bring him to the clinic, and that’s what they’ve done. He’s… strapped down. Don’t want him to harm himself or anything.”

You close your eyes, trying to fight back the tears that are gathering. You pull the phone away from your face for a moment as you take a deep breath in, and then you place it right back up against your ear.

“You’re not supposed to be telling me this.” you say.

“Yeah, but Annie said it would be a good idea anyway. Want to talk to her?” 

“Please.” you look at Finnick when he comes out of the hallway.

He has his eyebrows raised, and you’re shaking your head, trying to tell him that it’s not alright back home. In fact, it’s what you feared. It’s in shambles.

“(Y/n), how’s everything in the Capitol?” Annie asks, “Is Alyssum doing okay?”

“Got herself an alliance with the careers, looks promising. If she does well on tonight’s score, then she’s got an official spot.”

“Good.” she says, and then moves on, “Reed doesn’t want to tell you anything, so calling back later won’t do anything. He won’t admit it, even if you tell him everything you know. I’m keeping an eye on the both of them. I didn’t know much about what happened until two days ago.

“Mom’s been keeping me inside a lot, afraid that I’d get everyone around me sick. Only a stomach bug, I’m better now.” she pauses for a long moment, “Sounds like Caspian is back with Mags. I’d give them the phone, but they’ll assume the worst. Instead I’ll just say you called to check up on Mox.”

“Yeah, it’s not the best idea.” you hold your finger up to Finnick, “Which means that you shouldn’t tell them about the career alliance either.”

“I won’t, promise. Call again after the interviews, we’ll all be here. Good luck, (Y/n). Give my best wishes to Alyssum, please.”

“I will,” you say, “Thank you, Annie.”

“No problem.” and then there’s a click.

You place the phone on the hook, taking in a deep breath as you look at Finnick, “Mox is in the clinic because they’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself. Reed and a couple of others are there to visit him.”

“Oh, (Y/n).” Finnick says, face drooping as he reaches out. You let him take you in a hug, squeezing him tightly as you cry into your shoulder.

--

“Sit, please.” Elysia begs, pushing Laurel and the prep team to the big couch that’s entirely dedicated to them. Pleurisy and the others are already sitting on that same couch, ready to go.

You’ve got Finnick to your right, and Alyssum in your arms on the left. Elysia gets her own private arm chair, and so does Rigg, all the way on the right side of the living room. He’s got his legs pulled up to his knees, and he refuses to talk.

“I’m nervous.” Alyssum mutters.

“It’s okay, Aly.” you rub her shoulder, “As long either of you got anything over an eight, we’ll be fine.”

Caesar then shows up on screen, and suddenly everyone is readjusting in their seats to sit up taller, lean forward or get comfortable. You don’t move. Just tighten your arm around Alyssum’s shoulders.

Starting with District One’s Marvel, he kicks it off with a nine. And this is when you know you can relax. If a boy like him is getting something so low, then it’s easy. Alyssum will be just fine. And since Glimmer gets the same score, you can let out a breath of air.

With Clove and Cato, they get ten’s, which was expected. For District Three, get averagely low scores, and for your tributes, you sit up a little more.

“District Four, Rigg Estridge with a score of six.”

You resist the urge to physically wince. Instead, you turn to Rigg with a warm smile, “That’s good, Rigg.”

He gives a timid smile, and your attention is turned right back to Caesar.

He has a smile on his face, looking up to the camera for a moment, “District Four, Alyssum Gallows with a score of--” he pauses on purpose, and the smile only widens, “--eight.”

You shake Alyssum’s shoulder excitedly, patting her upper arm a bit. She looks as happy as you do about all of this. The praise comes from everyone, directed to both Rigg and Alyssum. 

The next few tributes aren’t all that important, they all get around the same score, which only means that they hadn’t done anything outstanding inside of the training center when they had the chances. Not even their private sessions were good, it seems.

Then, it hits Haymitch’s tributes. First is Peeta, who gets an eight. It’s not that bad, it’s actually pretty good. Considering that the careers are always the ones to have a score between eight and ten, he basically qualifies. As for Katniss--she gets an eleven.

You hum, eyes a little wide. You can’t remember the last time Haymitch has got a pair of good tributes. You can only imagine that if his tributes win, it’s going to dig him out of his twenty-four year long streak of only losers.

“Regretting anything yet?” Finnick whispers, you turn to look at him.

“She’s only one person--two if Peeta sticks with her. Alyssum will be surrounded by four people, and she fits right in. I’m not worried about Katniss.”

You look back at the screen, only to see that Caesar is analyzing the scores briefly, until he hits Alyssum again. Then, he picks apart everything that he thinks might have happened, “Do any of you folks remember what had happened during the Gallows’ family interview?”

He then pulls up a clip from the interview. Alyssum was only three then, so little. But that’s not his focus. No, he plays a particular clip where they’re discussing your score;

“That’s a reasonable thought,” Caesar says, a few people in the audience agree, but it’s basically none, “What about her training score? A ten is a very big score, especially for someone who’s fifteen! I would never have guessed it.”

“Me neither.” Reed admits, “I thought she’d get something a little lower, but she always has a trick up her sleeve. She likely thought up some trick last minute that she knew would blow the gamemaker’s minds. And it worked just like she had hoped.”

“I bet she did that trick with the two knives.” Mox says, “Do you remember her doing that?”

Reed shakes his head, “Not really.”

“It’s a difficult trick to pull off, it takes a lot of practice. But if she did the one I’m thinking about, it’s likely the reason why she got one so high. It would be impressive to see her kill two tributes at once.”

After the clip, Caesar’s back, “It makes me wonder if Alyssum had pulled off that same trick that we were never able to see--or something similar! I hope we get to see it inside of the arena.” he winks.

It moves on after that, and Elysia shuts the tv off, turning to all of you, “How do you feel about a celebratory dessert?”

--

This week has been one huge blur. You still can’t believe that the interviews are tonight, and your sister goes into the arena tomorrow. The fact that she’s a tribute in the hunger games doesn’t seem real to you at all.

This has to be one big nightmare that you can’t escape. Your little sister, Alyssum Gallows, who is twelve years old and has only five years of experience and her name was only in the freaking glass bowl once is going inside of the arena. Nine years ago she was three, and you were in the arena, yourself.

It seems like there’s some unfortunate pattern when it comes to the women in the Gallow’s family. First it was your great-grandmother, caught and killed for her participation in the rebellion. Then it was your grandmother for not obeying the laws and standing up for herself when a peacekeeper was out of line.

Then it was your mother, not surviving childbirth. You came close to death a number of times, thanks to the arena. And right when you had thought your family has gotten off lucky--that you had finally managed to break the streak--it falls onto Alyssum. If the universe couldn’t have you, then it would definitely have her.

You know that after this, when you get home, you’re going to see the remnants of Reed and Mox. Mox will probably have to be medicated for the rest of his life, like Annie. Only time will make the wounds better, but they will never fully heal. Alyssum is the final product of your mother, and sometimes, is her.

Reed will throw himself into work. Maybe something dangerous, something that will get him away from you all for a good amount of time. Take week-long fishing trips, and only come home for a day, before leaving again. You can’t imagine he’ll be able to take the pity that everyone will be giving you, well.

And you can assume that the nightmares will resume. They haven’t just yet, but they will when you get back home. You’ll have to avoid the television for months in order not to see the recaps. As for the victory tour--you don’t think you’ll be able to hand it. To have to stand on a platform with your two brothers, barely sane and being held together with tape and glue.

Finnick will finally be able to see what it’s like to be a part of the family. Misfortune follows you all like the grim reaper. It was only a matter of time before the next big thing would happen. 

“Please get that look off your face.” Finnick’s voice is gentle, he reaches up to bring your chin a little higher, wanting you to look at him, “You’ve done a very good job this week. She’s got sponsors, she’s got an alliance, and a high score. You and your brothers prepared her well, just like you said you would.”

“I don’t want her to go inside.” you tell him, throat feeling thick. You look back to the door where she’s supposed to come out in a few moments, “I want her to stay.”

“I know.” Finnick says, pulling you into him. He wraps his arms around you, and you lean your head against his chest, reaching up to grab one of his arms.

You two of you stand like this, staring at the door. The second she comes out, you’re going to have to force a smile and give her more pointers about what she should do on the stage. For now, you get a long moment with your thoughts.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go home.” the words leave your mouth without a second thought to them, “Not because I can’t face my brothers, but I don’t think I want to see what they’ll become.”

“I’m here with you.” Finnick says, “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I know, I get that. But I can’t see them so broken and torn apart. Mox hadn’t even been like this for mom or dad. And Reed literally raised Alyssum and I…” you trail off, eyebrows drawing in, “I can face all the looks from everyone, and the funeral, and the apologies. But my brothers are a whole new thing.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, but his arms do tighten around you a little at the thought of all that. He probably forgot entirely about the funeral. But it’s really not only that. As soon as they retrieve her body, they’re going to do their best to restore what she looked like before she died, and you and Finnick are going to have to approve it.

Then you get to travel back home with her in a casket that the Capitol provides. Since she was a tribute, and she ‘served’ them, she’ll be in a white one, with a Capitol seal as well as a district one.

You frown now, “No, I don’t think I’ll go home.”

Finnick opens his mouth, but the door opens, and it reveals Alyssum in the biggest blue dress you’ve ever seen her in. She gives a bright smile, and you give one back. She twirls a little for you, holding onto her necklace to keep it in its perfect place. Then, she does a curtsy.

“I love it!” she laughs, coming out of the doorway to allow Elysia and Laurel to slip out of the room, “I’m like royalty.”

“Because you are.” you want to give her a hug, but it’ll have to wait until after the interview.

She looks like she did when she was a child. Playing pretend with the fairy wands and the pretend paper and plastic crowns. You never understood her obsession, but now seeing it in front of you, it’s because she was able to have a childhood. Thanks to you winning the hunger games, you brought your family out of poverty, and it was right in time for Alyssum to start playing with toys.

You almost feel guilty for taking it away from her so soon. She really only got four years before you all were on her back simultaneously. Then again, your early training is what’s going to save her. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“Alright, make sure that one of the first things out of your mouth is a compliment to the Ca[pitol. Like their people, outfits, the apartments that they provide, whatever.” you tell her, “I want you to act like yourself today, okay? Make them melt.”

“Right.” she smiles, “I guess I don’t have to lay it on too thick, then. Especially with this dress.”

You laugh, “You’re already halfway there.”

“Answer the questions honestly, but if you think that it’ll get you in trouble, don’t. It’s okay to lie, they’re not going to know the difference. Not if we’re all going to lie with you.” Finnick says, “If you don’t like a question, answer shortly, and then move on before he can ask you a second question about it. He won’t go back.”

“Three minutes on stage.” you hold up your fingers, “He’ll likely split it into three things. Family, the Capitol, and then either a message you can say, or something about yourself. If you ever get nervous, we’re in the crowd. Find us if you need someone to look at for comfort. But I’d really like it if you looked around the room.”

“I can do this.” she says, “I think I’m ready.”

“Follow Caesar’s lead, he’s going to make you comfortable.” Finnick says lastly, “He’s got you.”

You all go to the line in the hallway to see the other tributes. You wish Alyssum good luck, before heading off towards to retrieve Rigg next. He’s not excited, more nervous and scared. You tell him that he’ll do just fine, and drop him off next to Alyssum.

You and Finnick find your places in the crowd, taking a very special spot next to Haymitch. He doesn’t care that you’ve sat next to him, and he even offers his flask without a word. 

You take it from him, take a nice gulp, and then pass it off to Finnick while your throat burns. This has to be the Capitol stuff, the districts don’t even nearly have something this strong. Finnick sputters out a cough, and the three of you share a laugh because of it.

“Thanks.” you say.

“You probably need it more than me.”

Caesar introduces the show like he always does, for the audience back home. He starts off with Glimmer, who comes on stage in a short pink dress, her blonde hair curled and a wide smile on her face, waving to the audience. Next is Marvel, who easily tours over Caesar because of his height. 

Clove comes in with a red dress, looking mean and smart. She spends her time being sarcastic, but clearly winning the hearts of the people around you. In this time, Haymitch passes the flask over for another drink, and you take it without complaint. You’d rather be drunk than sober when Rigg finally rolls around.

Cato is dressed in a blue suit, and talks about himself the entire time. When the interview is finally over, you’re all relieved and happy to be watching someone who isn’t as full of themselves. Before you know it, the District Four tributes are up.

Alyssum comes up the stage, holding the bottom of her dress just barely up enough so that she doesn’t trip on it. She stops next to Caesar, and the crowd is absolutely in love. You can hear a few people behind you muttering about the dress, and then the crown.

“Wow!” Caesar gasps, “That is--” he backs up, trying to get a whole view of it. Alyssum poses for him, and even turns side to side to allow him to see all of it, “Amazing! Let me guess, you’re supposed to be a princess?”

“Yes!” Alyssum gives a big smile to the crowd, catching you and Finnick instantly. And just as you instructed, she looks out to other people, “Being here in the Capitol makes me feel so…” she stops for a moment, thinking of the word.

“Famous?” Caesar encourages.

“Famous! That’s the word.” she laughs--or more, giggles--at herself, “It makes me feel like I have some fans.”

Caesar gasps, “How could we not? I know I have been a big fan, ever since I saw you for the first time! And you were just a little toddler.”

Behind her, a screen changes to her on Reed’s lap during the family interview.

Alyssum covers her mouth with one hand, “Oh, that’s embarrassing.”

The crowd loves this, and soon, Caesar is encouraging her to sit down too. Following in the footsteps of the six people before her. When she sits, the dress almost consumes her entirely, but she’s able to readjust enough so that it’s fixed.

“Now tell me, Alyssum, what was going through your mind at the reaping?”

Alyssum presses her lips together, a clear sign that she doesn’t like the question. She fakes thinking for a moment, and then gives a shy smile, “I was upset that it was my first year of the reaping and I’d have to go inside of the arena. I thought I’d have a few more years until I would have to start to worry. But, it’s not like that anymore.”

Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Why’s that?”

“I have my older sister here with me.” she places her laced fingers on one of her knees, “Even if this is my last few days, I get to spend it with the person I look up to the most. Or, should I say people. Finnick is pretty cool too.”

She looks right at you and Finnick, giving a cheeky smile.

“Speaking of which, what is it like being in the shadow of her? Being constantly compared to her?” Caesar asks, this question is especially ironic because he’s the one doing it.

“Hard, knowing that I won’t ever compare. But kinda fun too, knowing that people were already familiar with me.” She says, “It’s like going somewhere, thinking it’ll be full of strangers, but instead it’s just family friends.”

“What a thoughtful way to put it.” Caesar says, and then smiles, looking out to the crowd, “what do you think folks? Are you a family friend?”

You wince at how loud the auditorium gets, but give Alyssum a reassuring smile. This is a good sign, a whole audience full of ‘family friends’. This seems to boost Aly’s confidence a little too, and she sits a little taller in her chair.

“You scored very high on your training.” Caesar says, and Alyssum nods.

“I did.”

He smiles at this, “Is there any hidden skills we should know of?”

Alyssum laughs, “If I told you--it wouldn’t be hidden!”

“Fine, do you think you’ll surprise us inside of the arena?”

Alyssum tilts her head with a sweet smile, “I think I might, but you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The crowd is cheering now, and the buzzer is going off. It’s perfect timing, in your mind. Caesar and Alyssum stand together, he takes her hand in his, and encourages her to step forward. She gives a curtsy, one that’s much more graceful than the one she gave you and Finnick in the hallway.

The crowd is standing now, clapping louder. She gives one final wave, thanking them for their time, and then she’s leaving to go back to the hallway.

As everyone takes their seats again, you and Finnick are slipping out of the crowd, not too focused on Rigg. He’s made his intentions clear, you won’t bother trying to salvage something that doesn’t want to be salvaged.

In the back, Alyssum is twirling around in her dress, and the second her eyes land on you, she’s running over. You hug her tightly, with only praise rolling off Finnick’s tongue.

Now you only have to worry about tomorrow.

#ilguna #whist #whist chapter three #lacuna au

[princessrosamund]

(ellie bamber, twenty, cis female) Is that (ROSAMUND VIDAR) walking through the castle halls? (SHE) hails from (OSCANA) and is known as the (YOUNGEST PRINCESS). Word around the castle is that (SHE) is (CHARMING & PLAYFUL) but can be (SPOILED & SHALLOW) if crossed. (ooc: vic, twenty-two, est, she/her, no triggers)

Princess Rosamund Vidar has lived a charmed life since birth.  Raised in a castle, surrounded by an entire staff of people who must do as she says, her early life was every little girl’s dream.  Of course, while she continued to view her life through rose-tinted glasses, she could not miss the way everyone around her kept secrets and manipulations hidden behind tight smiles and faux courtesy.  Oscana’s reputation for morality, as it turned out, extended only so far as appearances, so Rosamund learned to value appearance above all else.

As the youngest of all of her sisters, she was always able to get away with just a little bit more than anyone else.  With a giggle or a sweet smile, everyone believed she was nothing but a sweet, innocent little princess.  Besides that, she had her parents behind her to make any of her mistakes go away when she could not -- or would not -- fix them herself.  Why, then, should she have to grow up?

Rosamund does not have a mean bone in her body, but she is so spoiled, so shallow, so careless, that she can be somewhat meaner than she intends at times.  She likes things to go her way, and she does not understand why anyone should refuse her.

Her chances of ever becoming queen were slim, but frankly, she did not mind.  The crown came with much more responsibility than she had any interest in taking.  As far as she was concerned, it was much more fun just to be a princess.  One day, of course, she would have to grow up enough to become wife to some other country’s royalty, but as long as no one was asking that of her now, it did not really matter what would come later.

Despite her unwillingness to mature, Rosamund did indeed grow up, and there were many around her who noticed when she did -- and she noticed them noticing too.  The innocent little princess gradually became a bold young woman, and she was not even sixteen when she began her first flirtation with a nobleman’s son almost three years her senior.  She thought she was in love, but of course, it did not last long.  Her parents caught them sneaking around the castle and put a stop to it.  She must have restraint, they said.  Remember your reputation.

The next time, she was much more discreet, but alas, he was not so -- she was one of several girls he was pursuing.  That time, Rosamund ended it.  Over the years, there have been quite a few of these relationships, boys and girls, but it always ends the same.  Everyone wants something, and Rosamund is happy to have her own fun while they’re at it, but she is always more disappointed in the end than she is willing to admit.

The one exception to this occurred a little over a year ago.  A kitchen girl Rosamund’s age caught her eye, and their affair, while brief, was different.  She did not expect love from her affairs anymore -- only a fun rapport in their flirting, and a good snog -- but with this girl, she thought she might be able to fall in love with her.  Real love.  Storybook love.  But alas, Rosamund might never take the throne, but she was still a princess, and a kitchen wench was much too far below her.  The girl was sent away, and Rosamund has not seen or heard anything of her since.

(TW: DEATH) After her parents’ accident, Rosamund was devastated.  She refused to leave her room for a week.  By the time two weeks had passed, though, she was more or less back to her usual self.  She had much too much to offer the world to let herself wilt like this, she decided.  She knows that there are some who believe she exaggerated her grief for attention, especially considering how quickly she bounced back to normal, but the truth is that she simply did not know how to handle it, and still does not.  Indulging it did not work, so instead, she will simply do what she does best: have her fun, and push away everything that is too difficult.

Wanted Connections:

Flings:  Former or current.  There have been quite a few of these over the years.  Perhaps they genuinely liked her, or perhaps they were only interested in her status.  Either way, it was probably not very serious, or very long.  They would not have slept together, but they would have spent a fair amount of time sneaking around the castle, flirting and otherwise having some fun.

Friends:  Rosamund is rather self-centered, but she likes to have fun, and besides, more friends means more attention.  She does care about the people she considers friends, though.

Annoyances:  Let’s face it, Rosamund can be kind of annoying.  There are definitely some people who do not care for her dramatics, her self-centeredness, and her inability to take most things seriously.

Parental Figure:  Someone who looks out for her.  Rosamund may not accept it, but she does need someone to take care of her like a parent would, especially right now, as she is a bit more fragile than usual.

Anything else you can think of!

#da.intro

[shield-sheafson]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Raven/Tara Markov, past Tara Markov/Slade Wilson, Background Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Characters: Tara Markov, Raven (DCU), Donna Troy, Koriand'r (DCU), Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Romance, Past Underage, Past Abuse, Flirting, Weddings, sexually charged lipstick application, Slade doesn't show up in the present timeline he's just in the flashbacks, Flashbacks Summary:

Even normal things feel like they've been ruined: it's been years, but sometimes Tara feels like she's still with Slade. As everybody prepares for Dick and Kory's wedding, all kinds of miserable feelings begin bubbling up inside of her even as she tries to have fun. To add to the stress, Raven has been acting awfully cute lately...

~~

“Stay still,” Kory says. Tara feels the tug of the mascara wand on her lashes. She hesitantly opens one eye and is promptly poked.

“You're going to kill me,” she says.

“You'll leave a beautiful corpse,” Raven says, not looking up from her book. That's awfully insensitive for someone who'd assumed Tara was dead for six months. Even though it's been years by now, it still stings a little.

For the past couple of weeks, they've been indulging Kory. Tara thinks it's unnecessary; after all, she's not dying. She's just getting married. Despite this, they're doing everything the magazines say they should do. Kory is following them exactly, as though they're religious texts.

“If you're doing me, then I'm gonna get Raven,” Tara says. “She's not even playing.”

Raven sinks down and hides between her book. The cover is in some language Tara can't understand, and this annoys her a little.

“Don't bully her,” Donna says.

“Look, if I don't get to turn Morticia into a Barbie doll, Kory's not doing anything else to my face.”

Donna bonks Tara lightly on the head. “If you want to put makeup on someone, pick me,” she says. “Raven doesn't want to join in.”

Raven mutters something Tara can't make out. Tara shrugs, snatches the mascara brush out of Kory's hand a little too sharply, and turns to Donna. Raven makes the noise again. Donna closes her eyes politely.

Just as Tara prepares to make a cute little raccoon, Raven half-whispers, “Wait.”

“You're not saving her,” Tara says. “You won't recognize her when I'm done.”

Raven very hesitantly puts a hand on Tara's shoulder. “I want to try it,” she says. “Do-- do my face.”

“Oh-ho,” Tara says. “Now that I'm paying attention to someone else, you suddenly want me.”

Raven looks nervously to the side. “Don't be stupid,” she says. “Just draw on my face. For Kory.”

“Right,” Tara says, shifting and turning in an awkward circle to face her. She can suddenly feel Donna and Kory's gazes very heavily. “Do you want...?”

Raven still doesn't meet her eye. “Everything,” she says. Her ears are red. “Do the whole routine.”

“It's not really a routine if you're not used to it,” Tara says. “Here, turn and look at me.”

“This is your first time doing someone else's makeup?” Kory asks, leaning in curiously. “You do not usually wear any yourself.”

“That obviously zitty, huh?” Tara asks, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I used to wear more. With most cute girls, you can't even tell, right?”

“Oh, you can tell,” Donna says. “If you're looking for the right things. Here, you start with foundation. I'm not sure I've got any pale enough for Raven, though...”

“I read that you start with the eyes,” Kory says. “See, the magazine says--”

“Personal taste,” Donna interrupts.

They settle on the lightest shade. Tara pats it on gingerly, trying to avoid directly touching Raven's skin. Raven keeps her eyes closed, and her brows are furrowed in concentration.

“You don't have to look so constipated,” Tara says. Raven's ears get redder. “Eyebrows go next, right?”

“Right,” Donna says. “Raven's got really dark eyebrows though, so maybe we should just shape them instead of coloring them in.”

When Tara wore makeup, she didn't really put much effort into her brows. She went for the most dramatic things: bright blue eyeshadow, bright red lipstick, bright, bright, red, red cheeks. She usually got it done quite quickly and artlessly. She wasn't thinking that much about it. Somehow, this is a little painful.

“If we color your cheeks in maybe you'll look less dead,” Tara says. Raven's cheeks are already quite pink. Again, Tara makes an effort not to touch Raven's face, but she suspects that if she did it would be warm and smooth. Why is she thinking that?

“Don't be mean,” Donna says. Tara shakes the useless thoughts out of her head.

When they do the lipstick (it's a deep color that reminds Tara of old wine), her hands shake. She does her best to hide it, but it smudges at the corner of Raven's mouth. Inexplicably bold, Tara delicately wipes it with her thumb (it still streaks). At that moment, Raven's eyes, usually so calm, seem suddenly uncertain as they meet her own.

Tara feels a startling surge of panic and she stumbles backwards into Kory.

“What's wrong?” Donna asks, but Tara just shoves the open lipstick tube into her hand before half-running out of the room.

In the bathroom, Tara splashes cold water in her face and takes a few seconds just to breathe. She looks up into the mirror and sees her made-up face for the first time that night.

In the harsh fluorescent light of the overhead lamp, it's obvious where the cakey foundation fades into imperfect, shiny skin. The water has melted her mascara, and her lipstick doesn't look great either. Altogether, Tara doesn't really like the picture of herself all done up like that.

---

They were a present; like so many other things, they were a present. A set of mismatched, but clearly expensive, beauty items offered unceremoniously in a paper bag. Tara didn't really know how to use them. She hadn't exactly had many friendly ladies around during her formative years to teach her how. She taught herself, staring into the mirror in the gym-sized bathroom at the compound, leaning forward and sticking her tongue out as she clumsily lined her eyes.

Slade didn't mind that she was bad at it. He said it made her look more grown-up, and he didn't like it when she looked too much like a little girl. “Grown-up” felt a bit like a costume. Tara wasn't sure she really understood how to act but she did her best.

“When we get 'em,” she'd said, lipstick staining her slim cigarette. “I think we should take Raven out first. That witch scares me.”

“How would you do that?” Slade had said, not harshly, as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Probably when she's meditating,” Tara said. She paused thoughtfully. “She doesn't sleep much. She's smart, too.”

“Not as smart as you,” Slade said, and that made her smile. “She's not planning ahead.”

“I think she'll be harder to catch off-guard, though. I think she might have been hit as a kid.”

“Oh?”

“She's got that vibe, you know? Tense. She acts calm, but she's got that sad look.” Tara took a long drag of her cigarette.

“Do you feel sorry for her?” Slade asked. Was that... irritation? Suspicion?

“Of course not. 'Know your enemy' and all that shit, right?” Tara smiled. “It's gross that you'd even think that.”

He seemed to like that. Slade always liked when Tara was a little mean-- never much meaner than him, but sharp and acidic like vinegar. He liked it when she was so rotten that only he could handle her, and Tara didn't particularly mind that. She was just happy that someone was willing to put up with her mean self.

---

Tara washes her face thoroughly and is through with it.

#dc #tara markov #raven dc #slade wilson #teen titans #raeterra #me writing

[knifeshoeoreofight]

a series of connected Jarry/Blueger vignettes, first one is here, second is here, third is here

CW: closeted characters. BG Sidgeno.

“So.” Sid looks at the both of them in turn. “How long have you guys been together?”

Tristan glances at Teddy, who gives a minute shrug. The slight twitch of the corners of his mouth tell Tristan go ahead and tell it, this will be hilarious.

“Well, I kinda flirted a lot with him during our first training camp together for Wilkes-Barre,” Tristain explains. “We went out to eat a few times, just kinda casual, like bros.” 

Teddy makes an almost silent huff of laughter. 

“Then,” Tristan continues. “A bunch of guys were hashing out living situations, and I was like, seize the day, you know? So I asked him if he had a roommate already, and did he want one.” 

Sid’s eyes are wide, his eyebrows arched in incredulity. “Wait, wait. You asked him to move in with you before you were even together?” 

Tristan shrugs, unable to tamp down a pleased smirk. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, and all that.” 

“You’re a goalie,” Sid says, which is, Tristan thinks, missing the point. 

“Anyways it only took a week of me walking around in my underwear and cuddling too close during movie nights, and I had him,” Tristan finishes, miming a windwill save. Next to him, Teddy snorts and covertly tangles their fingers together under the table. 

You’re ridiculous and I love you. 

Tristan squeezes Teddy’s hand in return. Me too. 

“What about you guys?” Teddy asks. 

Sid looks at Geno, who just jerks his chin with a cheeky grin to indicate that Sid should tell the story. 

“2009, after the first Cup win,” Sid says. He’s looking at Geno with his eyes all soft, and Tristan spares a momentary thought for the denseness of hockey players, seeing as no one at this table realized the other pair was sickeningly in love before now. “I felt like I was on top of the world. I could do anything, including taking a risk on, uh. Making a move on Geno during the Cup party.” 

“I’m like you before,” Geno says. 

Sid looks shocked. “Wait, really? Why am I just hearing about this now?” 

“I’m come to America, NHL,” Geno continues. “For play with you. It’s my goal since World Juniors.” 

The patient devotion in his eyes and the stunned look on Sid’s face make Tristan feel like this is something he and Teddy shouldn’t be intruding upon, especially as Sid’s expression darkens with heat and he says, quietly and meaningfully, “Is that so?” 

Tristan looks over at Teddy and Teddy has turned red as a beet. It’s extremely cute and Tristan would like to kiss him all over his stupid cute face. 

“Wow!” Teddy says brightly, with the manic expression of a kid who would like to forget that mom and dad have ever done so much as kiss. “That’s such a long time!” 

“Hey,” Geno says. “You say we’re old?”

“No,” Teddy protests, while Sid laughs and reaches over to clap a hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s teasing, relax. Yep, we’re old marrieds, pretty much. But you guys are getting there too, huh? Since, what? 2015?” 

“Uh huh. We’ve got the dog and everything,” Tristan says, feeling pleased about his life choices. 

“The absolute biggest breed you could think of,” Teddy grumbles. As if Tristan hadn’t caught him cooing Latvian baby-talk to Diesel just this morning. 

“What is it with goalies and enormous dogs,” Sid says with a smile and the shake of a head. “You and Murr, man. Seriously.”

“They’re scary-similar,” Teddy tells him. “Well, Tris is a little meaner.” 

“Hey!” 

This calls for Tristan to poke Teddy in the ribs, which would have escalated into rough-housing if Sid hadn’t broken in with a fatherly “guys, we’re in public.” Teddy looks for a second like he wants to protest with a knee-jerk “he started it,” but doesn’t. 

“Anyway,” Sid says, when order is restored. “Just goes to show that people see that they expect to see, especially when it comes to stuff like this. 

“Hockey players always hugging,” Geno says, with a shrug. “Slap teammate on ass. Hold arms.” To demonstrate, he lays one of his long arms along the back of Sid’s chair. Tristan is willing to bet that even so, most hockey players wouldn’t also start making soothing little circles with their knuckles on their teammate’s shoulder, but it’s a fair point. 

“I wonder how many of us there are,” Teddy muses aloud, and Sid’s expression goes knowing. 

“More than anyone thinks.” He frowns. “But probably less than there should be.” 

“Sucks,” Tristan says softly. They’re all quiet for a second.

“Well,” Teddy says at last. “Here’s to the future though, right?”

“Absolutely,” Sid says, and they knock their glasses together for luck. 

Later, after they get in the car and buckle in, Tristan breathes a sigh and slouches back in the passenger side seat. 

“Dude that was like, meet the parents except it was both of our parents?” 

“Tris, oh my god,” Teddy groans, and throws the car into reverse. “You are so weird.” 

“You like weird.” 

“If I say yes will you please walk the dog? Even if he doesn’t want to?” 

Their mastiff is the laziest animal Tristan has ever met. “Hey, I’m a goalie, dude, I play—” 

“Sixty minutes a game, yes, yes, I know. Fine, how about we both walk the dog, would that be more fair?” 

Tristan grins, happy after getting what he wanted. “Sounds like a plan, babe. Sounds like a plan.”

#blurry #that's it that's the last one in the queue #hockey rpf #tristan jarry/teddy blueger #dana’s post