#to simultaneously struggling not to cry but also not being able to

[silverislander]

i know logically in my brain that i have a disorder that makes it hard for me to focus and do work, the symptoms of which are not gonna go away bc other people need/want me to do stuff, and still like. i'm behind on a bunch of shit for school rn and i'm kind of spiralling over it bc WHY IS IT HARD. this is stuff i like doing and that i want to do. and i can't for the life of me fucking do it and the deadlines are coming up and i NEED TO FUCKING GRADUATE so it has to get done

#i have two assignments due for indigenous lit and i havent even read/watched the materials which is fucking shameful ngl #im so disconnected and behind in that class its not even funny. ive been skating by reading part of the books and doing shit last minute #and i feel awful abt that in particular bc i WANT to give it my full attention. i want to learn. this is important and interesting to me #im also a week behind on my essay which terrifies me ngl #im a week OUT from the next deadline and thats not getting met. which begs the question of when im going to be able to submit it #when i asked my prof for extra time he said he trusts me to 'work conscientiously' which. god. thats so kind but i dont do that #theres an assignment next week for book history that i dont have even started and dont understand #and i cant make myself do fucking anything at all i want to fucking cry #why cant my brain work normally please this one time #why cant literally anyone in a position of authority take me seriously that its a problem i am literally begging rn #im tired of being told that im smart so i can do it bc i literally cant anymore! its been getting worse for years! #i Am smart enough to do this but something else is wrong!! please!! im trying so hard and i know its not this difficult for everyone #im only taking 4 courses! i know people taking 5 who arent struggling as much as me w workloads!! #its gonna take me failing for anyone to care and i cannot fail at this point. im almost done #levi.txt #vent tw #and then i also feel bad bc i blame everything on my adhd #but also. it does fucking affect all aspects of my life #and i feel like i complain too much but that simultaneously nobody is getting how hard shit is for me/how im not ok #delete later #im not asking for attention rn im just yelling into the void dw abt it. ill probably feel better in an hour or two

[homeslices]

Ride

A/N: Sorry this I took so long to upload school is kicking my ass and I’m sick 😭 also a sentence in here made me think of a sequel, guess which part lol. Also I’m actually sort of happy how this turned out but let me know what you guys think!

Summary: Just some more Chishiya smut. Do y’all sense a pattern of what I post? He might be a little ooc but I tried.

Pairings: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

That’s the only thing going through your mind at the moment. That’s the only thing that can go through your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are so tired, but that coil in your stomach that has been building up is so close to snapping.

Chishiya is lying beneath you, casually holding onto your hips while watching you bounce on his cock while your cunt is tightly squeezing around it.

You’ve been at this for a while. It started with just some lighthearted teasing while you both were in Chishiya’s room at The Beach. But that lighthearted teasing led to you saying you can get off without Chishiya’s help, and now you're regretting your choice of words- and humor.

You let out a choked sob when Chishiya’s cock brushes against that spongy spot inside of you.

“I thought you said you could get off by yourself, didn't you?” Chishiya’s voice cuts through the room.

“ ‘m sorry,” you whine.

The frustration of not being able to cum made tears well up behind your eyes, which are so close to sliding down your face.

Chishiya doesn’t move, of course not. Even if you beg enough you’re not sure he’ll take mercy on you. He’s just watching you amusingly. His lips twitch led up in a small, condescending smile.

“ ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, please!” You cry out, those tears finally spilling down your flushed cheeks.

Your pace was stuttering, legs too tired to keep the rhythm, and that blissful feeling that was building up soon disappears as you ruin your own orgasm once again.

Your cunt squeezes in desperation and your upper body soon slumps down onto Chishiya’s, both of your naked chests flush together.

You’re still grinding against him, your clit brushing against his pelvis. You can hear how sticky it is down there every time you move.

A desperate whimper leaves your lips when Chishiya lifts his hips slightly, giving more pressure to your sensitive bud while simultaneously pushing his cock deeper in your soaked hole.

“Please,” you whimper out.

The ache between your legs is getting too much to handle. The only things you can think of at this point is Chishiya and having him make you cum.

“Please what?”

The shift of his lower body makes you whine once again. He’s messing with you, you know that, but at this point you don’t care.

“Please make me cum,” you sob, tears still streaming down your face.

Your face was in the crook of his neck so you couldn’t see him, but you could feel the amused snicker vibrate his body.

“Backing out of a challenge so soon?”

All you can do is nod frantically hoping he’ll grant you some mercy. You feel him hum thoughtfully only to feel him tap your sides.

“Up, I’ll help you, but you have to stay in the position you were before.”

Knowing that that’s as far as Chishiya was willing to compromise, you use all your strength to sit back up.

Breathing heavily, you brace your hands on Chishiya’s chest. His eyes remain focused on your face, almost as if he’s entertained by your struggle. Knowing him, he probably is.

Gripping your hips Chishiya steadies you, only to thrust up into your cunt, his cock brushing against your g-spot precisely.

Letting out a broken moan, you lean most of your weight on your hands, only to have Chishiya thrust up again and again and having him hit your g-spot over and over.

Your eyes are unfocused, but you can make you the smug grin covering Chishiya’s face with every thrust. He doesn’t break his pace once, and the only thing coming out of your mouth now is whimpers.

That pool of arousal soon starts building up once again, and god you can’t take it any longer. You can feel every thrust of Chishiya’s cock dragging against your sopping wet walls.

Chishiya could see a white ring forming around the base of his cock, and knowing you're close again, starts to slow down, making you wait for your release even longer.

You let out another sob of frustration, only to hear Chishiya quiet chuckling.

“You didn’t think It’d be that easy did you?”

You knew he wouldn’t just give into you. You knew, yet you still thought that he might’ve given you a little leniency. Apparently not though. He’s stopped his movements and settled for controlling your hips in a slow grind, making sure your clit rubs against his pelvis every time.

“I said I would help, not do all the work.” There was a slight pause before Chishiya continued. “Unless you don’t want to cum?”

That last sentence cut through your foggy mind. You knew he wasn’t playing around. If he wanted to, he could deny you cumming at all. He has before, and he sure as hell would do it again.

So, you slowly begin to bounce on Chishiya’s cock once again. Of course, he follows through with his promise to you, gripping your hips and helping you go up and down like you were previously.

That coil in your stomach was beginning to tighten fastly, the four previous ruined orgasms making you so much more sensitive.

You’re right at the edge, so close you could practically see the bliss that was sure to take over you.

Chishiya’s hand slides up your soaked thigh covered in both of your juices, to your cunt, that is continuously riding his cock. His thumb brushes over your clit once, twice, only the third time he starts rubbing tight circles against it.

Your head falls back, jaw open, as you let out a silently moan. And when Chishiya’s cock hits your g-spot once again, that coil finally snaps.

A shutter racks your body as goosebumps cover your skin. You see white as you cum all over Chishiya’s cock, creaming around it. A euphoric sense passes through you and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this good.

Your body slumps safely onto Chishiya, who was currently helping you ride out your orgasm by continually rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Coming down finally from you high, you start to whine at the overstimulation, only to be flipped around on your back with Chishiya hovering above you, thrusting shallowly into your sensitive heat.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?”

The feeling of his lips kissing and sucking their way up your neck had you leaning your head back, giving him more access.

Only then does he brush them against your ear and whisper.

“I didn’t even cum yet.”

#chishiya smut #aib chishiya #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #alice in borderland smut #chishiya x reader smut #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya x you #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya fanfic #chishiya fic #aib x reader #aib smut #aib imagines #aib x you #aib

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

---------------------------------------------------

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

#miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #top gun: maverick #rooster top gun #top gun #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst

[milburnandnyman]

SEX EDUCATION S4 *SPOILERS AHEAD*

Because I just binged the whole thing and I indeed cannot get past not commenting on it.

Spoilers begin from here on…

Let me just say that… I am disappointed with this season. And kinda in general (the entire Cavendish part felt so forced, I really missed seeing more of the old characters and the old setting and I wish other endings were happier, too), but obviously as a Jeankob shipper, that Jean storyline left me with a knot in my stomach.

I know things definitely didn’t seem promising from whatever glimpse we could get beforehand, but this was just so loose and forced and empty I could cry.

I immediately assumed they maybe could not get Mikael Persbrandt to do S4, because this storyline just makes absolutely no sense to me otherwise. If this was intended all along as is, then it is complete bullshit.

They literally built up this couple from S1 onward and made them struggle so much, while simultaneously letting us know how much they love one another, I was 100% convinced that in the very end they would get their happy ending no matter what. Love just had to win for once. And what actually happened seemed as if they just picked up all there ever was and dismissed it completely, tearing it apart.

This only makes sense to me if they had to “fix it” last minute and write Jakob out, because Mikael would not be there to do it. Because explain to me three seasons of chemistry and growth, explain to me all the S3 moments (especially the S3!), everyone indicating that Jean and Jakob love one another, the therapist, Maureen’s “Jakob adores you”, Ruby’s “you’re a good loking couple”, then the treehouse (I cannot believe they had the nerve to shit on that this season, calling it “creepy”), I thought the “you didn’t finish the treehouse” bit was there almost as a guarantee that he will indeed finish it in the future along with his promise to Otis “I’m not going anywhere”. The way Ola named the baby Joy, the Jean Jakob Joy - are you kidding me? The way Jean was so sure about Jakob being the father from the VERY beginning - “but he’s had a vasectomy”, “it seemed fated”, agreeing to the dna test without a single question, being surprised when reading the actual result, probably being able to CALCULATE as a smart woman and also, I think she literally kept the baby, because it was meant to be her and Jakob’s, because she loved the man, I’m sure she wouldn’t keep it if she doubted it was his, oh and also… I assume she definitely used protection with all her one night stands as a sex therapist, but I always assumed she stopped using it with Jakob, because they were an exclusive couple and she trusted the vasectomy. It seems literally impossible to me that she would not doubt it even once.

So, I was certain there would be some games around this paternity plot, maybe make us believe Jakob is not the father, but then something would happen and it would be revealed as a mistake or something. Then Jean and Jakob would both have “done wrong” in some way, she cheated in the past and then he left her over the dna test - they’d finally be kinda “equal” in hurting one another. And maybe realize that despite it all, they still love one another deeply and they have to leave the past behind and make it work.

And I cannot believe that instead of that we just got a very loose storyline about the baby daddy, no real explanation, just some brief crap “95% sure” and that ending of “a part of me always knew it wasn’t his, but” - I am sorry, but the Jean I knew from previous seasons would never even go to Jakob if she had even a glimpse of a doubt. She struggled telling him in the first place. So, making Dan the baby daddy in the end just felt so forced and disappointing, while mentioning Jakob only briefly + the way Jean was already unhappy for the majority of her screen time, it was sad to watch. I enjoyed some parts with Jean and her sister and getting to know more about their past etc., but all in all, her story this season was just depressing and this to me is anything but a happy ending. It’s not “finishing strong and hard”. It’s “I’m gonna pretend there’s no S4”.

I will however forever be grateful to the creator for giving us this couple, I have rooted for them from the very beginning and it is crushing to know that this is it, I am deeply sad about this ending and I think I’m going to need some happy fanfics to make it better or some past season rewatches. Because I cannot accept this. It feels like we’ve been left with absolutely nothing, robbed of it all.

So, to conclude: in my head, SexEd ends with S3 and Jeankob’s story wraps up with Jakob attending the therapy and deciding to trust again, being there for Jean at birth, Jean surviving the birth, there’s no fucking DNA test, just both of them reuniting afterwards, talking it through and forgiving one another and they make. it. work. Because they deserve it. And they live out their love, while raising their daughter.

So, with all due respect… today is a very bittersweet day. And I wish it were different.

#jean milburn #jakob nyman #gillian anderson #mikael persbrandt #sex education #jean x jakob #jeankob #sex education season 4

[onyourowndaisymae]

Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works. 

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been. 

where is time when you need it? 

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories. 

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel. 

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response.��

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death. 

your price? you had to carry the memories. 

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden. 

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe. 

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died. 

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell? 

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact. 

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied. 

this fear was going to be the death of you. 

#i cannot tell if this is good or not i've looked at it for hours #ask answer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me brothers #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me chapter 16 spoilers #otome

[candle-wax-and-polariods]

analyzing each back cover

i love you its ruining my life

shes saying out right that the person shes in love with is simultaneously ruining her life. we can infer that this is most likely YB wanting a quiet life and her not being able to give that, and him wanting her to be little and small. this came at the grammy’s where she got to be big and bejewel

you don’t get to tell me about sad

shes saying that the person shes presumably arguing with cant tell her about her feelings and mental health. this may be referencing the feelings of sadness that depression (something we know that taylor has struggled with at least at one point while writing midnights, see anti hero) brings. this was announced in Melbourne after singing red (a song about the different sides of love, the good happy side and the angry aftermath) but before singing your losing me (a song most likely about joe alwyn and her having a slow decay in their relationship)

am i aloud to cry?

the first and only punctuated back cover. shes asking someone most likely her partner or herself if she can cry. she is obviously upset, most likely very angry or very sad about something and wants to cry and let it pass. this was anounced affter singing HYGTG (asumably because killatrav was in attendance) and before signing a mash up of white horse (about relizing someone isnt what you thought they were) and coney island (a song where the narator is wondering where their partner went) with sabrina carpenter.

old habits die screaming

this is talking about how the habit (maybe the habit is a person) begins trying to come back but it is already dead. the habit may be the relationship or the habit may be symbolic for YB. the habit died screaming trying to get the person making the statement (presumably taylor) to come back to it. this was announced affter playing a mashup of long story short (a song about how journey may seem long but youll survive) and the story of us (a story about a relationship that went bad) and before playing a mashup of clean (a song about a relationship that your finally done and over with that you wont go back to) and evermore (a song about hope and taking things day by day at your worst just to get through something, also has references to 2016).

Cover art

you can see that as the varients go on the color gets darker and the covers get less of that closed off sexiness. you see she goes from the closed off sexiness in the first cover with her hand on her head (seprate note please get taylor advil, she looks like she needs it) to slowly losing that closed of sexiness and while still having time to on the front of the first on the back shes just in a bra and sweat pants, most likely exhausted(physically and mentally) and just trying to get by.

TLDR

the covers get increasingly sad and show the decay of a relationship, and the words get more gut wrenching

#swifties #taylors version #taylornation #taylorstans #taylor swift #i love you taylor #taylurking #the tortured poets department #ttpd #yogurt boy #analysis #ts ttpd #ts11 #tsttpd

[lloydfrontera]

llojavi: totally normal dudes who cherish each other for being in their lives, and can't imagine a life without each other, two homies who consider each other's survival as top priority, and do everything in their power to help in any way they can, normal bro behavior✌️

also Llojavi: Javier "I can't believe you gave ANOTHER sword master your secret lullaby service????- eyes canonly being red and bloodshot unexplained if it's from either crying or not being able to sleep for the 2 months Lloyd was helping Alicia, promising to himself to ensure Lloyd will never cry alone ever again, "i know you think of me as your most trusted person, and yet, why didn't you tell me of what's troubling you, even up until the end?" And "even if you so much want to go back to seoul, I won't let you go, ever, I don't want you to disappear from our(me) lives" Asrahan

And Lloyd "i would rather die than see you sacrifice yourself for all of us" "the reason why i don't share my burdens with anyone is bc I don't deserve help since the reason why everyone's simultaneously suffering as bc of my existence itself" and "i want to keep you by my side like this forever" Frontera

Bc also like what the hell is this

I never expected a webtoon/webtnovel about an isekaid civil engineer to get me go

But here we are

they are so normal about each other and i am so normal about them we're all normal here :)

BUT LITERALLY WHAT IS ALL THIS

MEN WILL DEVOTE THEMSELVES TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE OTHER AND GIVE THEIR LIFES IN A HEARTBEAT JUST FOR THE OTHER TO LIVE AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY ABOUT IT

THEY ARE SO RIDICULOUS

their relationship is at the center of the entire novel, they are the slowburn, javier was the reason lloyd was isekai'd in the first place and it is javier that brings him back at the end

javier struggles so much to let go of his reticence to like lloyd but he can't help but be drawn to him, he can't help but to trust him over and over again, he can't help but start to think the world of him. if lloyd says so, then it must be so. and when he finally admits to himself that yes, that is his friend, and he likes him and he wants to protect him not because he's the master's son but because he's, well, him? he goes all in, he doesn't doubt even for one second to face heaven and hell to protect him, he wants to help him in any way he can and he's angry and frustrated and sad that lloyd doesn't let him

and lloyd. who is always working towards having an easy life. who's so tired and scared and who's been hurt over and over again and who's been given the chance to get the life he wants and has been working his ass off for years to have. and he rejects it because the cost would be javier's life and that is not even an option for him. he never even thinks about it, all his attempts, all his desperation, all of his efforts were always to save his own life. because to him javier's life was never in danger because lloyd wouldn't even consider the option of sacrificing him in the first place. he doesn't even tell javier about it because he knows that javier would try to die for him (and don't even get me started on lloyd thinking javier would only do it for the sake of the estate and his parents and not for him because he doesn't realize how much javier has come to care about him and oh my god-) and he can't allow that.

FUCK

i think people think i'm exaggerating when i say both of their life plans were to be at each other's sides for the rest of their lives and grow old together but i'm not. i swear this is explicitly said in the text.

they never even considered the possibility of being separated

they were going to be together forever just like they always were. casually. as naturally as breathing air.

#hey i got an ask #lunacurse #jesus christ im so normal about them i swear #the greatest estate developer #the greatest estate developer spoilers #lloyd frontera #llojavi #i promise i tried to be a gen fan i tried so hard #i was like 'oh this is gonna be a nice manhwa about a civil engineer who gets adopted and has a new little brother and a shiny best friend' #and then bk moon said 'actually these two are gonna dedicate their entire lives to keep the other safe and in the end one of them will have #to sacrifice himself to keep the other alive and will go against fate and the universe itself to be together' #so we're here now i guess #FUCK #this is not a complaint #but dear god what the fuck sir #i talk a lot <3 #javier asrahan #tged

[livuvur]

Favorite Edwin moment? Either 03 or BH?

Oh god that's a hard one... Considering I love every moment the two of them are on screen together but I will try, (also note I'm not including the most well-known, iconic moments aka gun scene/proposal, etc.) Just to keep the variety a little, I'm gonna focus more on moments that I believe have very high significance to their relationship but simply don't get talked about nearly enough. (Not in particular order)

1. This moment, especially in the manga makes me very very soft, in the page before this one we see ed being all miserable by himself, he goes to call winry (who is also being all miserable by herself) and I really do love the approach of this moment as it is not Ed trying to comfort Winry after Hughes' death nor bringing up the topic at all, since he himself doesn't know what else he could say about it, on top of the fact that he feels responsible for what happened to him, instead, he just tries to make sure winry doesn't go without eating because it would do her no good, and attempts to leave, but then she just takes his hand and leads him into her room and his face as she does so is just so utterly adorable... I love how soft that panel is, and how despite Ed not being one to comfort her she is still non-verbally asking him to stay, because she needs him by her side in those moments, and his presence alone is enough, and then, despite how he had just eaten he still accepts the apple pie Winry made because she put so much of her heart and her effort into it. And once he sees the tears gathering in her eyes he is simply physically incapable of saying no to her.

2. I think I've talked about these panels before on here, something very interesting to me is how the first panel shows ed admitting he always saw Winry as someone so upbeat and cheerful, to the point it is easy for him to forget how much pain she's actually been internalizing the whole time, and then scolding himself for not understanding her feelings at all. And then you have Winry seeing right through Ed, saying she knows he is just trying hard to be tough (and that he is an idiot, *cough*). The thing is, Winry has seen Ed at his worst, she was there taking care of both him and Al when they had lost everything and Ed was struggling under the weight of his guilt and pain, she saw him crying and sobbing everyday, she even mentions that at nights he just couldn't stop moaning from the pain and fever automail caused him. And on the other hand, Ed had been thinking quite the opposite about Winry, because she was always there being a rock for both him and Al even after having lost her family herself, she was there, always smiling for them and supporting his every step with such strenght he couldn't even imagine she was simultaneously grieving as well. Ed always saw Winry's strenght, but she always knew his weakness all too well.

3. Self-explanatory, I'm a sucker for edwin parallels: she thinks of him while she's dying, he thinks of her while he is fighting to stay alive. They are obsessed with each other, next one.

4. THIS MOMENT, GOD. “seeing it made me realize I couldn't go home”, “I want to be able to help you, so your road's not so hard” this whole scene is just so overlooked it hurts, cause it just goes to show Winry's love and dedication to Ed, and how his determination and resolve inspire her own, she is always looking to improve in any ways she can to help him, Ed literally is able to walk and to continue his journey because of her, (and he reminds it to her in one of her darkest moments) and I just think it's amazing how they're both always challenging each other under different circumstances, this is just one of them, with Winry declaring she is gonna push herself to be the fucking best she can so she can be there for him. (Also his sudden self-awareness and blush when he realizes he is staring at her smile... *blows them up with dynamite*)

5. Again, self-explanatory. Absolutely fucking love some good male rage when his boo is threatened, Bradley didn't even have to lay a finger on her and this guy was ready to strangle him right there. (Also Olivier's entire speech in BH saying Ed's eyes were “desperate” and of “a boy who would do anything to protect the things he loves” when he refused to tell her anything about the homunculi because Winry was a hostage, even tho he knew Olivier could have chopped him in little pieces just because of that. <3

6.

Damn apparently I can't add more images lmao but basically this whole thing they unspokenly have going on where they give each other an item that belongs to the other so they keep it as a reassurance/promise they will see each other again: Ed giving winry his red coat after the gun scene, Winry giving Ed her earrings and asking him to keep them safe for her, and even in their very last scene, Winry keeping Ed's white hoodie, the one he wore when he came back home to her. Just. They are so. Yeah.

Believe me I have many more I could go on for hours, I wanted to include some 03 moments too, but it's 1 am and I need sleep so yeah (also forgive any grammar/spelling mistakes on this I really do need to 💤)

thank you for the ask !

#fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #winry rockbell #edwin #ed x winry #fma #fmab #answered

[knifechased]

hc + dysmorphia

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @snowdrcp

     Potentially triggering content below the read more. Tw for child abuse, human trafficking, dysmorphia, and self injury.

          There were numerous simultaneously occurring factors that contributed towards Killer eventually coming to develop facial dysmorphia. It was the combination of all these circumstances, rather than there being one single sole cause, or a single event which triggered his first instance of experiencing it.

     Killer has spent his entire life attempting to conceal his identity as a three-eye-tribe member for his own safety.      After his mother was first discovered by slave traders, she began sailing the ocean in an attempt of escape — this was how she came to become shipwrecked on Killer's home island in the first place. When he was three-years-old, her identity was discovered and they were separated; she was captured and sold at the Human Auction House at Sabaody Archipelago, and he has not seen her since. Killer was then handed to his self-acclaimed "foster father", who intended to raise him to also be an obedient slave and seal him to a fate similar as his mother once he was older, and able to sold for a higher price.

Killer was severely punished for disobedience, and was beaten for any behavior deemed unacceptable by his callous caregiver. This included displaying too much emotion, as it would be unsightly for a slave to be caught smiling, laughing, or crying. Killer would be physically abused if he was caught performing any of these actions, as well as being verbally mocked for them. He was degraded for the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh even when it wasn't currently present, just to further discourage him from doing either in the future.

When he was thirteen, Killer killed his caregiver. It was around this time that he could recall the earliest instances of struggling to perceive his own face.      From then on, he was subjected into working for the single most powerful gang leader on the island — a ruthless man who ordered Killer to be his pawn, and to commit crimes he was not proud to be involved in. However, he had little choice in the matter. His freedom and escape were dependent on earning that man's trust, and doing as he was instructed was the only way he would have any hope of leaving that hellscape island.

The fear of being discovered for his third eye lead him to want to hide his face. The dread of having his emotions perceived lead him to want to hide his face. The mental turmoil of having taken a life when he was still only child lead him to want to hide his face. The shame of having to work under heartless man and act as if he were loyal to him without once grimacing at the things he said made him want to hide his face.

          The sensation only grew worse with time. Even after leaving his home island and putting that life behind him, the anxiety he felt did not cease.

Killer's facial dysmorphia is not due to a concern of being perceived as unattractive. He is not worried about being seen as ugly, nor does he particularly care about wanting to be handsome.      For Killer, his facial dysmorphia manifests in his inability to recognize that his face is actually his own. There is a disconnect between what he sees in the mirror, and what his brain is able to perceive as being his body. He cannot look at himself and register that he is looking at his own face. It is as if he has skinned someone else's face and now wears it; it feels incorrect, and somehow very distressing to look at. He feels inhuman, like he is only wearing the disguise of a person.

Having his face seen by other people is equally uncomfortable for Killer. Because he cannot perceive his own face, he also cannot imagine what other people are seeing when they look at him. This causes him to feel extremely out of control, as he has no concept of what he is or what he looks like to others.

When Killer is unable to wear his mask for extended periods of time, he cannot stop fixating on how his face feels. His skin is too tight, like it does not fit. This will incite him to keep repeatedly touching his face, and he will sometimes begin obsessively itching and scratching it to try and self sooth.

Very few members of his crew have seen him without his mask. Naturally, this includes Kid, Heat, and Wire. Many of the more recently recruited members have never seen him without it.

Killer's dysmorphia is limited only to his face, and the feeling does not extend to the rest of his body.

#tw dysmorphia #tw facial dysmorphia #tw child abuse #tw human trafficking #tw slavery #tw implied self harm #tw self harm #tw sh #ask to tag #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #snowdrcp #carrd posts

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Precursor apology for the rambling, I just have Thoughts and I’d love to hear your own about them cause I love the way you think and interpret and handle characters. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t actually spark any particular thought/discussion (even disagreement) 😅

I’ve had the thought— do you think Merlin ever gets tired of everyone’s well intentions? Someone pushing him to trust people, to reveal or not reveal magic, to focus on his magic to focus on Arthur, to sleep more or eat better, to confide in people, to learn to defend himself? Not just a weary tiredness of “they mean well, but no” but pushed to the point where he starts to feel like everyone acts like they know him, know everything better (and sometimes, yeah, they do, it’s just a matter of perspective/being nagged one too many times), that turns to serious irritation if not resentment of his friends acting like he’s not “perfectly capable and been dealing with this by himself for years damnit.” In reality we know all of this is from genuine concerns but I can’t imagine that being constantly questioned about his capacity to take care of himself wouldn’t cause some sort of conflict (cause in his head being able to deal with the threats and mess and prophecy and moral quandaries is the same thing, though no Merlin, it really isn’t)

I love you!!!

And yes, I'm in total agreement with you.

First, WITH his magic:

He's got Gaius being condescending and spineless in one ear, demanding he use his magic to help Arthur and Uther and Camelot as a whole, telling him not to trust Kilgharrah or Morgana or Mordred or the Druids, whilst simultaneously telling him that Arthur can never know about his magic. The prophecy specifically says they're equals, two sides of the same coin; I understand not telling him at first, but I honestly think a lot of Merlin's fear comes from Gaius. That's got to be annoying, to constantly be underestimated and demanded of by a man who refused to face his King, and withered under his Genocidal insanity. Then he's got the likes of Lancelot and the Druids in his other ear, telling him that everything will work out ok, whilst... not really giving all that much support. I love Lance, I really do, but he really has no concept of the struggles Merlin faces, and is sort of too wrapped up in his infatuation with Gwen and his loyalty to Arthur to worry about anything else. He might be a good shoulder to cry on, but I also think he probably babies Merlin a LOT, which is understandably frustrating. He tries to force him to take time for himself to sleep or eat or just hang out/relax/rest, when Merlin KNOWS that he can't!! He's essentially got three jobs!! And no, Arthur won't lay off if I just ask him nicely (and no, I DON'T need you asking for me), and no, Gaius won't give me no chores for a week, and no, I can't just leave the Druids to deal with big beasty on their own and have a nap, and no, I can't just warn the guards about the assassin and leave them to it. That's not how any of this works. Yes, Lance means well, but his babying and nagging is, though sweet and loving at first, misinformed and condescending and insufferable after a few months/years of it.

And Kilgharrah is a whole other can of worms, what a dick. Demanding Merlin do this and that, not giving him straight answers, pretending to sympathise with Merlin and be his "kin" whilst also betraying him at basically every opportunity. Between him and Gaius, they make sure Merlin is almost completely and utterly alone.

Gaius' "good intentions" definitely come directly from fear, Lancelot's good intentions come from a lack of understanding, and Kilgharrah's "good intentions" come from a need to control Merlin at every turn. And whether Merlin sees any of this clearly or not, it definitely frustrates him. To the point that he stops going to any of them for help, and decides everything is just easier to deal with and manage if he does it solo.

Secondly, regardless of his magic:

Arthur is almost certainly the worst, when it comes to this sort of thing. He displays, every once in a while, an understanding that Merlin is braver and smarter than he gives him credit for, but he never actually treats him like it. It's like he genuinely thinks Merlin is an idiot, and interacts with him as such. He asks Merlin his opinion, and then ignores it most of the time, he never apologises to Merlin when he's hurt or trouble comes BECAUSE he ignored him, and just generally treats him like more of a nuisance. Merlin can deal with that, in fact it's actually kind of helpful for the whole persona, but when Arthur starts actually paying attention and tries to look after Merlin, he finds it both endearing, and incredibly annoying. Firstly, in the way that "you've never done this before, why are you acting like you care now?" and secondly in the way that "you're in the way, it's better when you're oblivious to me because I can get on with things." . Mostly, with Arthur, he just grits his teeth and gets through it, because he doesn't have much of a choice, but I can definitely imagine him snapping, in a small way, eventually "Arthur, I'm not a child, fuck off." or "I'm perfectly capable." or "I've been doing this for ten years, Arthur, I do not need your supervision." whilst normally things like that would be laughed off, he says it with such a tone that everyone in the vicinity is like... immediately taken aback.

With the others, it's mainly the protection. He's a servant, they're knights, it's kind of expected, but it does sort of annoy Merlin when they act like if he gets a papercut he'll die. He gets smacked around a bit by their captors once and they all FREAK out, demanding they take the punishment instead, and he just has to roll his eyes and sneakily free them with magic. He gets picked on by a Noble and they all get bristly and annoyed and it's just... frustrating, because they don't have the first clue how court works, and if they try to protect him, it'll get worse. They try to teach him how to throw a punch, or they start escorting him around town, or they put themselves in danger to rescue him, and he just can't... understand, that it's not JUST because they're underestimating him (which is annoying, but not the main reason), but also because... they love him?? They want him to be ok?? He has complicated thoughts about that because, first off, these people have no right to love him when they don't know him, and second off, everything was so much easier when people didn't notice him.

and AFTER the magic reveal?

Depending on the nature of the reveal, it arguably gets worse once they find out about his magic. They all automatically think he's weak and not that great at magic, and are always trying to get him to save his energy or train more or whatever. When someone against the repeal starts with him, they all jump in with weak, emotional arguments, which are all mostly factually incorrect, and just kind of condescending and infantilising. Then it's all "I don't need you to fight for me, not when I've been dealing with this my whole life." and "Actually, Sir Leon, you'd be wrong about that..." with a scowl and a stiff back. Even when he tells them he's powerful it's all "I'm sure you are, Merlin. Not like you've not used it for ten years." with rolled eyes and a smirk, until he goes fuck it, and shows off in a BIG way. Only then would they back off a bit, and even then... Merlin still has to glare at them or interrupt them or grit his teeth through it when they needlessly jump to his defence sometimes.

I guess it doesn’t help that he’s one of the babies of the group. I always see Mordred as the youngest, then Merlin, Elyan, and Arthur, then Gwen (I see Gwen as like... maybe two or three years older than Merlin?), then a fairly sizable gap (maybe 5-10 years?) followed by Percival and Lancelot, then Leon and Gwaine (who are, I’d say, up to five years older than Percy and Lance). But also this is all up to interpretation.

ANON I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I HOPE THIS ANSWERS YOUR ASK SUFFICIENTLY!! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #bbc merlin headcanons #send requests #send asks #asks #requests #leon #sir leon #sir gwaine #gwaine #sir elyan #elyan #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir percival #percival #gaius #anti giaus #kilgharrah #anti kilgharrah #mordred #good mordred #sir mordred #morgana #good morgana #lady morgana

[stackslip]

i have many criticisms of nier automata but i'll always be SO fucking grateful for the auto-chip system and i can't believe that more games use a similar system for accessibility purposes. like i was physically unable to simultaneously play melee AND use the pod combat, the two at the same time make my brain hurt. also started the game struggling immensely with evading. so like, being able to start with the auto-chips for evading and pod gameplay was such a relief and it meant i was able to gradually adapt to the melee system and learn to enjoy it, before being brave enough to turn off the evade auto-chip and do so myself, and occasionally managed to use the pod by myself too! and as i'm fucking awful at the hacking minigame i just used the autochip and boy was it a lifesaver. never would have finished automata without these systems. and i know automata has an in-universe explanation for it but i really wish more games whose gameplay wouldn't suffer from these accessibility tools would use it. like i get that it wouldn't be possible for say, the devil may cry series. but there are so many games out there where nothing would be lost and there's everything to be gained about integrating these kind of accessibility features.(and also basic stuff such as accurate subtitles including for audio cues in gameplay, being able to change the font, pausing + saving at any time, control remapping, clearer/customizable HUDs, being able to lower the speed of gameplay..... etc etc etc all things that would cost nothing to players who want a Hardcore TM experience and would give so much to people who for some reason or another struggle with any of these aspects.

#eli talks

[schrijverr]

The Cracks

A look into Walter and his relations with emotions, especially regarding Megan and her death. Because I felt like Walter was very valid in his breakdown in 2x12 ‘Dam Breakthrough’ and deserved to cry more.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: grief, isolating oneself and crying (don’t worry, it’s h/c)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter has emotions. Of course he has, just because he has always struggled with understanding them in himself and others, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Thinking otherwise is foolish.

However, Walter could follow the reason that lead people to the assumption that he does not have any emotions, seeing as he actively encourages that notion in an attempt to keep people away from trying to pry into his business, while simultaneously creating an excuse for his social slip ups and misunderstandings.

So, yeah, he has emotions. Sadly.

It’s not that he would like to not have emotions, since it is a natural process and it is a central part of a functioning brain. And he must admit the positives are nice. It is just that the negatives happen more frequently in his life.

Looking back at his childhood, his parents tried, but never connected. His classmates and teachers hated him and didn’t understand, bullying him where possible. Only Megan liked him and got what was happening in his brain, but she couldn’t always be there for him and got sick.

There was also Cabe, of course, but the positives he brought were helped into the ground by Baghdad, a negative that often makes him wish he doesn’t have emotions.

All in all, emotions are confusing and complicated. It’s a hypothesis that has been proven over and over in Walter’s life. They only bring conflict, which in turn gives more negative emotions and that makes every ineffective. Logic dictates that no emotions is more productive.

Thus, Walter swears off emotions, in a sense. He knows he has them, he just chooses not to engage in them. It makes life easier for everyone. Well, except him maybe, but not often enough to cause problems that need rectifying.

He deliberately stunts his own emotional growth, until he can believe in the robot-like personality he presents. He grows into himself, into the person he needs to be if he wants to cope with all the negative that comes his way. All the taunts. All the looks. All the times he is ignored.

So, Walter moves to the US, goes to college and tries to built a career wherein his social skills aren’t an issue.

At first, he tries a few normal careers like forensic analyst, but that doesn’t work out exactly. It does, however, lead him to the people that will someday form his family. He finds Happy, Sylvester and Toby. They’re like him. He gets them and they get him.

It doesn’t matter that he is terrible socially, because the people that matter are also terrible socially and together they figure it out.

And for a long time, life is good like that.

He tries for his friends and it works. He is able to see to it that they are happy, content, in a place that is effective to their health and well being. His sister is in decline, but they can still hike together and laugh. She still gets him and that is enough.

They build Scorpion, their cyclone. It might not be the most successful business out there, but they make it work.

Enter Paige.

Paige is everything Scorpion is not. Everything Walter is not. Everything to Ralph that they didn’t get from their parents. And Paige is also a giant mirror reflecting all the skills they lack.

While Walter knows he is the one that brought her on for that exact reason, the continuous confrontation with his own inabilities is concerning and uncomfortable. Walter doesn’t like feeling like he’s incapable, which is ironic, because the whole thing is about him not feeling.

He just hadn’t taken into account the emotional distress that would come with encountering years of burying anything that came close to being a feeling.

It’s upsetting. It’s upsetting and his defense mechanism to feelings is ignoring said feeling, which is unproductive to Paige’s purpose; making them more comfortable with emotions and human interactions.

So, yeah, it has been a struggle.

It is a struggle.

Walter is struggling.

He isn’t used to struggling and that is also not helping. Because he can see how everyone around him is improving and how he is lagging behind. Lagging behind is also not something he is used to, but every attempt to catch up, blows up in his face.

The fact that he has trained himself into being a robot is proving difficult to unlearn. He is pretty sure Toby would have a field day with that. Also pretty sure the Doc already figured it out and is letting him be out of nicety (it doesn’t escape his attention that a few years ago, Toby wouldn’t have had that foresight, nor the fact that none of the team would have considered his feelings back then, since they only got to know him after he had built up his defenses successfully).

It is odd, but not unpleasant to be considered like that, though it is also terrifying. When he tells Megan about it, she laughs at him, before saying: “This is good, Walter. Being considered it good, it’s what friends do.”

“No, it is not good,” he says. “It means my systems are failing and I cannot keep the distance I desire.”

“You don’t want distance, you idiot,” she smiles, pulling him into a hug that he subconsciously melts into, unable to stop it. “This Paige girl is good for all of you, trust me.”

“How can you know?” he asks, still doubting his own decision despite the visual improvements in Scorpion since she has been hired.

“Want the facts?”

“Always.”

“You telling everyone you don’t feel makes you vulnerable to being a doormat, since they walk all over you without regard for your emotions, since they think you don’t have them, which makes work more difficult and less effective,” she answers bluntly. “The fact that they are all becoming aware that you do have them, is positive. It’s a strength, not a weakness. And you feeling in return makes them feel more safe, trust breeds productivity.”

Walter regards her for a second, then says: “I hate it when you use logic against me,” making her laugh again. He likes that she is happy.

Despite the fact that he meant that comment, her words do push him to try harder. He tells himself that it is because logic dictates that she is right and he follows logic. However, a small part of him knows that he just wants to make her proud.

He doesn’t claim it is a 100% successful, but he is finally making progress and that counts for something. Doing something right socially feels more like a victory than all the awards he has won ever had.

They save the world – well, not the world-world, but enough people that the hyperbole is warranted – and grow closer. They have always been a cyclone, but now they’re a family.

Walter has Cabe back, the father figure he never had. They have Paige, who guides, who is patient, who doesn’t mock, but holds their hand instead. They have Ralph, someone like them, who will never have to go through what they did.

It’s good. Almost too good. On a logical level Walter knows that statistically the level of goodness life is, doesn’t effect things that happen to them. But with their life, he can’t help but think that maybe it will all come crashing down, like it has to at some point. Nothing keeps rising, some things get stuck, but most things fall.

Maybe that’s why he introduces Megan to the team. Lets her close to the family he built separately from her, because he was afraid the open child he used to be would slip through with her around to prod and push him in that direction.

Though he has become quite good in keeping up his front and combining that with the progress the team made, he feels more at ease with showing his more caring side.

He even makes another friend, Ray. He might be a bit odd, but Walter is used to odd. Odd is safer than normal, odd usually understands, odd is less likely to judge.

Scorpion is expanding, becoming home. A place of safety where emotions have a bigger place than before. It takes him a while to warm up to it, but Sylvester and Megan make a good couple and it does Walter good to see both so happy.

Naturally it has to fall apart. The ‘naturally’ might not be a logical assumption, but it still feels like it to Walter, because nothing good has ever lasted for him.

Megan is declining. Fast.

He has always known that at some point her health would take a turn for the worse, but he had always hoped that he would be able to stop it, or at least slow it down. Instead, he has to stand there helplessly as she fades, throwing himself into research that is only failing.

Maybe that’s the best description for him, a runner who fails. He has been making progress with Paige and he knows how proud Megan is, but when faced with the emotional monster that is the impending loss of his sister, he shuts down and revers to old habits, none of which are working like he wants them to.

Sylvester is spending more time with Megan than he is. And while he can’t stand to be cooped up not doing anything, a small part hates himself for leaving her behind like that.

He tries to tell himself that he just needs to focus on his research, because then this avoidance won’t matter, because he’ll still have time. Yet, he knows that he just isn’t at a point where he is emotionally equipped to handle this sort of thing. That he hasn’t learned enough. That he isn’t good enough. That he’ll regret what he’s doing now, even if he can’t make himself stop.

What’s worse, is that everyone at Scorpion notices, they all know. He gets looks and talks and he can’t ignore it all, though he is trying.

Walter hates it.

He just hates it.

He hates how Sylvester can accept the empathy and he can’t, how the others dance around him, how the science isn’t good enough, how he can’t hide now that the feelings have been shaken loose, how his parents will react when they get here. How they all look at him.

And it only goes downhill from there. His parents are coming, because they all know Megan is nearing the end.

His research is nowhere near finished and there is nothing he can do to speed it up. To help her. He tries, by all that is logical in this world, he tries. It’s his way of dealing with the waiting, even if he knows it should be him by her side, not just Sylvester.

Their parents serve as yet another reminder that he isn’t there yet, that he doesn’t know how to interact with people, who don’t get it. They rightfully call him out on the fact that he is not there, but all his brain can do is lead his feet away from that hospital, as if working until he drops will change the outcome.

As if he isn’t trying hard enough and if he just did, then it would all be okay, even though it is never going to be okay.

Scorpion might get why he is running, but they don’t understand and he can’t explain. He can only listen as they try to reason him out of an emotional response, thinking that it is his logical brain that is keeping him away from the room where his sister is slowly dying. Where her life, her beautiful lively life, that she has always lived to the fullest, is draining out of her.

Walter will deny this under threat of death, however, he is too emotional to listen to their arguments and sound logic.

And he knows it is going to haunt him for the rest of his life that he wasn’t there for her until the very end. That she didn’t get to finish that sentence, because he was too late. That she knew he wouldn’t be there for her in that moment and had recorded it.

That she still gets him, even from beyond the grave.

That he is alone now.

He watches his parents leave with Sylvester and for a second Megan’s words are strong enough that he reaches out.

The memory is still fresh and his emotions are a tangled mess that he is still unraveling. It leaves him vulnerable enough to override his fear of showing emotion. And he is pretty sure Megan knew that when she left him that video.

So, he has comfort. From his parents and the team.

His family.

Even if it is just for that night.

That first night in a world without Megan.

That first night alone.

It’s the worst night of his life. The comfort is nice, but people leave and soon Walter is alone again and it hits him all again. He is glad everyone is gone and he is alone, however. He doesn’t want anyone to see him cry, doesn’t want others to hear as he sobs to himself on the bed, doesn’t want them to know that he is hugging one of her pillows that he had stolen a bit earlier. One that still smells like her.

And in that night he lets out what he can, before he starts to work through it. Though he has never learned how to do that, meaning he reverts to the toolbox he does have. The one that is full of things he has yet to unlearn.

Walter digs up his oldest safe space. His favorite mask. The face that has served him well through all the years. The one thing he has perfected.

That first night, alone on his bed, cheeks wet from tears he will deny having shed, he sits there and painstakingly puts all his grief, all his hurt, all his sadness and all his guilt, into a little box in his brain, next to the switch he flips as the emotions that bog him down leave.

There is nothing safer to Walter (except Megan) than his metal shield of robotics behind which he has hidden for most of his life. He knows it isn’t healthy, yet it is all he has known, the thing he is certain that works.

It hasn’t failed him before.

Walter is aware that the team is worried by that decision, though they don’t realize he has less control over it than he would have liked. He finds himself mumbling, cradling Ferret Bueller, like the little guy can give him the comfort of a sister.

He just can’t stop it, his brain has subconsciously replaced protecting and saving Megan with keeping Ferret Bueller safe. As if he can make up for failing Megan if he can make sure Ferret Bueller is alright.

But the robot mask that was supposed to be his friend isn’t working like it used to. He starts to mutter to himself. He keeps Megan’s ashes in his car, because he couldn’t stand that dark, cold urn that kept staring at him, though not seeing it constantly also makes him upset.

The whole thing is a confusing mess that throws him off his game – not literally of course, though he isn’t above admitting he is not functioning at a 100% – he wouldn’t put his team in danger over his own emotional turmoil.

Though, he might be more reckless. But why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like anyone depends on him, he has nothing left. Scorpion got better, they can handle themselves. They evolved, while he is getting sucked into a black hole.

Still, it’s concerning how close to the edge he has been walking without noticing, until he falls in face first with nothing to hold the tide.

They have just returned from the dam and he listens to the voice mail. He has won the money. The money that should have saved Megan’s life and is too late instead. He never has enough money for his research and this is life changing as Cabe is saying. But he can’t bring himself to be happy about it, not when she isn’t there with him.

And at that moment he sees the open cage with Ferret Bueller missing. It is just a ferret. For a long time it had just been a ferret to Walter, but not anymore. Not now.

So, he panics and breaks down.

He tears the garage apart looking for the little guy as the team helps with apprehension and concern obvious in their faces. Which he ignores.

When he finds the ferret, he is relieved. He holds the little guy close to him, gently bringing him to the cage until his relief turns to anger. With Ferret Bueller safe, he realizes how he could have failed again. Lost again.

So, he snaps at his teammates. His family. He accuses them, unable to hear it might have been him, who failed to lock the cage. He can’t bear to hear Paige’s placating: “Okay. It’s okay, now, Walt, because the ferret is safe.”

In that moment he hates her. He hates her for telling him that, like it’s that easy after she has dismantled his last hiding place. His comforting unfeelingness. How she doesn’t get it, doesn’t get him. Not like Megan used to.

“Well, I could have lost her,” he hears himself saying, finally piecing together what he had projected onto Ferret Bueller. “Don’t any of you comprehend that? I don’t want that!”

It’s silent after his outburst, everyone just looking at him again with that pity. He can feel his hackles rising, the unease at the emotional display that he had tried so hard to hide from.

“I don’t want to loose her,” he repeats, the tears welling up, despite himself. The tidal wave is too strong to stop now and all he can do is ride it out.

He can only stand there. In his mind all he can hear is Megan’s voice, her message to him. And in that moment he wants to reach out to that comfort he had felt on that first night. He just doesn’t know how.

The tears are in his eyes and throat, choking him, his finger twitch uncertainly and all he can bring himself to do, is stand there, trying not to break completely.

His team obviously doesn’t know what to do either. They just stare back, though he can only see them from far away, like he’s not fully there. He knows that this was stupid, weakness is not good in a leadership position.

However, Scorpion is not just a business, but a family and Walter is proven right in taking Paige on to help them.

Where the others stand helplessly, she takes action. She strides towards him and while he doesn’t dare to reach out, she does as he hoped and embraces him.

“I don’t want to loose her,” he repeats. He buries his head in her shoulder and says: “I didn’t want to loose my sister.”

Paige doesn’t hug like Megan does, but she holds him and that’s enough. Still, he tries to justify his need for the hug, what Megan means to him. “She was…” he begins, trailing of without finding the words. “I miss her so much.”

The he realizes the other are still looking without reacting. He untangles himself from Paige’s embrace, missing the contact the moment it is gone.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “This is unprofessional,” but he can’t keep it all at bay. Like the dam, there is now a crack and the pressure can’t keep building up without release, so it is zeroing in on the weak spot.

Before he can try and figure out how to stem the flow, Sylvester hugs him. For a second, he tenses, then the physical effect of the hug hits him and his body reacts instead of his brain. He slumps down in his arms and the tears truly start to fall.

Loud and ugly sobs rake through his body as his cyclone, his little home, hugs him tight. He clutches to the arms that surround him, feeling love in the exception to physical contact his friends make, because he needs it.

Walter cries for the first time in years.

He cries for Megan, for the only person who has ever fully gotten him. For the haven he has lost with her. For all the guilt that has been pushing down on him. For the little bit of childhood, the good bit, he still had and now lost. He cries for himself, for all the times he let emotions pass him by and bottled them up.

In the end, he isn’t sure how long he cries for, but it must be a long while. When he finds himself again, he’s on the floor, leaning against Sylvester’s side, Toby’s arm slung around him, sandwiching him. His eyes are sore and his throat hoarse.

However, for the first time since Megan’s death, he feels mildly okay. The darkness is a shade lighter and he doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

Happy is at his back, while Cabe a hand on his knee and Paige is squatted in front of him, hand in his as she studies his face and therefore the first to notice him coming back. She gives him a gentle smile and asks: “How are you doing, Walter?”

He takes a moment to think about it, before answering honestly: “Better.”

“That’s good,” Paige’s smile widens. “Anything we can do? Glass of water?”

“Glass of water would be nice,” Walter replies, his voice hoarse. “But-” he hesitates for a moment, before deciding it is what will bring him closure, what Megan would have wanted, “but there is another thing.”

Scorpion listens closely as he tells them what he wants to do. He is still a bit uncertain about his idea, however, the whole team is aboard once he has explained.

They work together smoothly as they set up the rocket, everyone staying close to Walter, ensuring he isn’t alone for a moment. He remembers Megan telling him it was good they considered his feelings and again realizes how right she had been in that observation.

Paige may be their translator for the world, but before her there was Megan and Walter knows that it won’t be the same. That isn’t a bad thing, it will just take time to get used to.

So, they stand on Megan’s favourite beach and watch the rocket launch. His insides swirl with emotion, but for once they aren’t all negative. Reaching out has been good for him and the scientific part of his brain notes down the positive experience and a reminder to do a repeat experiment. Still, for the moment he just lets it be.

Walter has emotions and that might not be as bad of a thing as he thought.

~~

A/N:

I have written the words ‘Ferret Bueller’ too many times for the emotional piece that this is, but I feel justified bc I cry so hard every time that scene comes. Like that episode is my jam.

Me *shaking Walter*: come on little man, show me your inner workings. Cry!

#RR writing #tw: grief #tw: isolation #tw: crying #walter o'brien #scorpion #cbs scorpion #</scorpion> #megan o'brien #ferret bueller #paige dineen #the rest of the gang is also there #but im not gonna tag them #bc i hate it when a tag is cluttered with shit that shouldnt be there #2x12 Dam Breakthrough #2x10 Arrivals and Departures #scorpion season 2 #scorpion season 2 spoilers

[littlethyme]

Rhaenyra sometimes suspects that her pride will be the end of her.

Now she is clutching to Leonor’s arm like it's a lifeline while simultaneously trying to secure the grip on her little boy, as they struggle to take the stairs.

Seven hells, that hurts. 

When she sees Criston outside the Queen’s chambers it's like a winter’s kiss on her bare shoulders. His stare is cold and aloof as he greets them, but Rhaenyra knows better. She is a dragon and she knows a deep burning flame when she sees it - even if it's buried inside someone’s heart.

She always hoped that a flame would connect them, just not of this kind.

When Rhaenyra sees Alicent standing next to the window, just before she looks her way, she thinks that her former friend has really grown more beautiful over the years. Regal, as a Queen should be.

It's a shame that she had also grown into a completely different person.

Finally Alicent - Queen Alicent - looks her way and what she thinks, Rhaenyra truly does not know. Did she really think that she would let someone take her child away so Alicent may conduct her investigation? Or is she truly exasperated with her as she asks one of the servant’s for a cushion? A million years ago she would know without a doubt. Now, it was like watching a completely strange creature performing a ritual, leaving people to guess the rules and reasons by themselves.

It’s not exactly true, Rhaenyra thinks to herself as a wave of panic goes over her when Alicent takes her child into her arms. She knows this game well, but it is still surprising that they play against each other. Or at all.

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

Alicent thought that there is absolutely nothing that Rhaenyra could do which would be surprising to her.

This was what she believed, until she saw her barging into the room herself, with her newborn and a husband in tow. 

She would be lying if she said that she wasn't curious what her once friend would do when she gave that order. But now, looking at her slanted figure and face bearing the signs of exhaustion, she feels something stirring in her, making her hands sweat. She never managed to thaw this part of her that still urged her to look out for her friend.

“Fetch the cushion for the Princess” she gives the order.

She is not surprised in the least when Rhaenyra refuses, but derives a small portion of satisfaction when she finally gives in. A million years ago, in another world, it would not be possible for her to convince Rhaenyra to take a medicine that would save her life if she did not want to do it. Her stubbornness made Alicent so frustrated then, but now it brings a small smile to her lips. It is perhaps for the better that not all changed during the years that have passed.

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

Rhaenyra sits on the small council meeting bored out of her mind.

She does not know how many of such meetings she attended, but she remembers only a few that brought on any change, any real advancement. Besides, she knows that she is here only for the sake of appearances - despite her being the heir to the iron throne, no one really expected her to contribute anything. She had to wait for her time.

She sees Alicent trying so hard to fight her way through those things. Sometimes she considers telling her that whatever both of them say is of no true importance to anyone here, but maybe the recent rumor mill put her in a foul disposition. She knows that she has to calm down, she knows - but she goes against Alicent anyway, not being able to help herself.

Alicent has clearly had enough and wants to end the meeting, but Rhaenyra cannot allow that, not yet.

She stands and the King asks everyone to sit down - everyone listens but the Queen, who gives her a leveling look and Rhaenyra does not know if she wants to laugh or cry at the sight. She feels pity filling her- is that really what both of them were now?

She collects herself and makes her proposal.

She knows she is in a bad position, at least from the perspective of other people, but what else truly matters in this castle? This is a lesson she should have learned a long time ago. She speaks of her friendship with Alicent trying to keep a cool head, but not being able to remove the pleading from her tone.

Please, her me. Please understand me.

Considering Leonor’s preferences, what other choice did she have? It would be equally disastrous for her to not have children at all, people would gossip all the same, speculations would circulate about her weakness. She was guilty of having children with a man whom she learned to love and respect. He agreed to help her despite all the risks and for some time, she thought that it would all be well. 

It turns out she vastly miscalculated.

She tried to convey all of that to Alicent. For one second, she sees that her words reach her, her heart starts to beat faster and faster and for the first time in a long while, she starts to hope.

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

Alicent listens to Rhaenyra, thinking about her audacity.

She contradicts her for the entire meeting and then, at the very end, she proposes they join their houses? That they are really just one house?

She has half a mind to tell her to fuck off, but then Rhaenyra's face changes and Alicent is rooted to the spot.

It’s been a while since Rhaenyra looked at her so openly. She usually guarded herself well against Alicent, covering herself in snarky comments and attitude to which Alicent replied with her own reservoir of cruelty, but now she took her by surprise. This pleading look was enough to make her actually consider the proposal. Maybe it could work out? Maybe they could find a way to become allies again?

But then her father’s face flashes in her mind, the day when he said she chose Rhaenyra over her house and children. She promised herself to never put her above other important people in her life, especially that Rhaenyra did not choose her either, deciding to lie to her. 

She still remembers her father whispering to the king that the Princess was found in a compromising position in a brothel. With Daemon.

The fury of that day still lives in her, despite her efforts to get rid of it. She ends the meeting hastily, angry at herself that just one look from her former friend was enough to make her actually consider changing courses.

She must dispose of this weakness or this weakness will dispose of her.

She walks out of the meeting, giving Rhaenyra one last look. The sad smile on the Princesses face tells her that she expected this outcome.

Alicent stayed true to her children, her house and herself. She just wished it felt like a victory.

#i was planning to make a post about the episode 6 #but then I thought I may try to write a short fic #it didn't really go as I have planned #i was trying to understand both of their motivations for certain actions #rhaenicent

[escapadeist]

palm tree 🌴

nutmeg

ivy

and chia 🩵🩷🩵🩷🩷

get to answering lol

Ayee there's my fren...

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

Damn, ik they're morally gray characters n very popular or infamous choices for such questions, but Snape n Draco, i don't usually like characters that act out the way they do because of whatever negative experiences they've been through, because you always have a choice to not bleed on those who haven't hurt you, but anyhow, i think that their backstories and everything that they do based on them, doesn't make me love em exactly but appreciate them a lil more than others ig. Also, just a blanket answer will be all those side characters in movies or TV shows, that are not exactly villains but are villainized by others on the show or they and their struggles are hidden from the spotlight because they aren't as quirky or likeable as the main character's problems, just makes me love them even more! Also, might be a bias cause i identify as a side character..

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

My room, oh the tragedy, i wanted it to be a subtle dull-ish green, or teal kinda maybe, but it turned out this bonkers paint that i hate now, but anyway, i try to work with it. There's no theme, because i didn't have a room of my own until i was way older and then the prospect of me leaving my parents' home made me think, why even bother decorating.. but yes, as of now, it's just a place i occassionally occupy n has my pride n joy, my bookshelf n my canvases on it and i am a neat freak so i like to organize stuff but ever since my seemingly never ending exams have started n my life decided to go to shit simultaneously, i haven't gotten the chance to clean n organize, but soon i will n it will feel better. (It being me, n also, a bit, the room ig? haha)

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

Ukw, funnily enough, i don't have a lot of 'tells' especially when I'm sad because i self-isolate, (ik toxic trait, but i feel like i don't wanna burden people with my sadness) so yeah that... But i am quiet mostly when sad n when i feel joyous, i think i hum n sing quite a lot, n take interest in my hobbies again n dance somewhat, but hey that could also be because I'm depressed but I wanna distract myself or procrastinate dealing with it so I just do the happy stuff, fake it till u make it or die amirite? For anger tho, i recently found out, i can't express it healthily, *pause for gasp* n end up screaming, crying (which i hate!!!! Crying when you're angry is horrible!!!!) n actually have very bad symptoms like a racing heartbeat n shortness of breath n have thrown up too, God, I'm oversharing! But yeah, might as well drag the cat that's outta the bag now... (Sorry, no, i still love cats, LIKE A LOT!, Please apologise to your cats, i didn't mean any harm to them)

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

Ok so this is actually a very geographical joke (The Office reference, the kind of jokes u have to "be there for" hehe) so as i said i have my exams going on rn, n in this one subject we had to study about what makes an entrepreneur... And idk if it was a typo in the notes that we were provided with or what, although i wouldn't put my uni past that, but apparently one of the reasons one can be held back from being an entrepreneur is "not being able to have dreams", now ik they must've meant dreams as in a vision or high ambitions or something... But when me n my friend read it, we just imagined this one person going to sleep every night n waking up disappointed like "Dammit! I was so tired, i straight up went to sleep n i didn't even have a dream! This is why mom was right, i will never amount to anything because i don't see any dreams.." now they didn't even bother to specify what kinda dreams, so it can range from nightmares to fantasies or wet dreams for all we care, but ever since then, whenever there's a problem n we can't find a solution, me n my friend say to each other, "Oh well, this is because we never have dreams man! We can never think outside the box for creative solutions to anything, because we sleep too soundly n dreamlessly"

Ik it's a very, very stupidly silly joke but it gets us cracking each time so ig it works out for us atleast lol..

Wow, these were fun to answer!

Would love more asks people!

N if u reblog the OG post I'd love to fill up your ask box too...

Also, love ya n thank u sooo much for sending this love ❤️✨

#asks #fun asks #emotional forget me knox

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Fluff prompt #1 👀

“if you cry, i’ll cry ─ and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

Okay, I am going to go WAY off the rails for this one

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Out-Of-Character Babysitting Story (This Is What It's Come To...)

Rating: General Audiences (PG)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: None, maybe a spritz of Takeru/Aguni implied

Warnings: None

Summary: If Takeru is the "cool uncle," then why does new baby niece, Mika, hate him so much?

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Takeru loves being an uncle.

His nieces are perhaps the best people on the planet, and that's not just because he's biased—no, these kids are actually cool. The oldest one is four (and a half) years old and a budding conversationalist, whose willingness to discuss favorite colors and cartoon characters is not only welcome, but anticipated at every family function he attends. The two-year-old doesn't have as much to say, but every time he walks into the room, her little face lights up and she immediately toddles over to hug his leg.

But, the baby...

In the five months he has known Mika, Takeru has never been able to figure her out. While the other two were all smiles and giggles when he would sweep them into his arms, Mika simply stares at him in a vaguely dissatisfied manner. And then, after taking a peek into his soul and deciding she doesn't like what lurks in there, begins to fuss. And cry. And scream, if nobody else has lifted her out of his arms by then.

Takeru assumed it was simply because they hadn't properly bonded yet—he'd been terribly busy with the hat shop recently and, as such, hasn't spent as much time with his extended family as usual. Nothing a little one-on-one time wouldn't fix, which is why he was so eager to volunteer for a little overnight babysitting when his sister wanted to take the kids to Disneyland. It would be a great opportunity to assert himself as the coolest uncle ever in Mika's tiny brain while simultaneously making his sister and brother-in-law indebted to him, should he ever need to call in a favor.

Mika was supposed to be asleep by seven o'clock. In fact, when Natsume brought her around at six, the little thing had been already struggling to keep her eyes open. Takeru had been lulled into a false sense of security then—babies that age didn't do much more than eat, sleep, and look cute.

He had taken care of the other two just fine before.

Surely she couldn't be any different?

The second her mother walked out the door, Mika dropped her act of sweet, infant innocence. Those sleepy eyes steeled into a scrutinizing stare, as if she could shoot lazers from her pupils and kill him instantly. Even her tiny baby fists, which have been encased in itty bitty baby mittens, clench at the very sight of her temporary guardian.

And that is only the first stirrings of her distaste. Every time Takeru strays too close to the little lady's orbit, he is met with a growl—which is terrifying enough on its own, even if one chooses to ignore the impressive developmental implications for a child of that age to be producing such a range of vocalizations. He gets to hear even more of her voice when he picks her up, those baby growls turning to indignant shouts of "ah-bah!" and "eee-ah!" and other things that could only be the most vile of expletives in the infant vernacular.

So Takeru decides to troubleshoot. Feeding, changing, putting her in a less-restricting outfit—his attempts only fuel her ire. He tries engaging her in conversation, and she hates it. The only thing she hates more than his talking is his signing, as demonstrated by an honest-to-goodness roll of her eyes before he can reach the chorus.

Seven o'clock comes and goes. Then eight. He tries leaving her alone—not really alone, but removes himself from her line of sight—and interestingly enough, the lack of his presence also makes her fuss. At nine, she is briefly enchanted by his keys, but frowns when she realizes that he is the one dangling them in front of her face.

And still, she does not sleep. The minutes pass by, and with them, Takeru's sanity. She's a newborn; surely she can't be waging psychological warfare this early in life? There must be something he's missing, something he hasn't yet thought of that could not only win him her affection, but also allow them both to finally get a good night's rest.

He sends a distress message at eleven.

Mori, he texts, thumbs shaking as the baby continues to stare daggers at him, I don't know what to do. The baby won't sleep. I think she hates me.

And from there, he can't stop. He texts a veritable novella to the man, all detailing his crisis of a situation.

He doesn't get a response.

Panic begins to settle into Takeru's bones. Mika stares and stares and stares—no matter where he goes, her gaze follows him, like a cute, miniature version of a haunted portrait. What hate-filled thoughts must be floating through her newly-minted mind?

Just when Takeru thinks it can't get any worse, disaster strikes. Mika's chin begins to tremble. Her eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, no, no, no," Takeru gasps as the first fat tears begin rolling down her chubby cheeks, "If you cry, I'll cry—and that won't be fun for anyone."

Mika's jaw nearly unhinges with how widely she opens her mouth, a truly terrible scream bubbling up in her throat. For the first time in his life, Takeru feels powerless. He braces himself against the kitchen counter and prays his hearing will survive the onslaught of cranky baby wails about to come raining down upon his ears.

Bzzzzzzzt!

Takeru jumps.

That's not the sounds a baby makes. Not usually, anyways. He looks at his niece, who seems to be equally taken-aback by the strange noise.

The door to Takeru's apartment swings open.

"Hey," sighs Aguni. He carelessly drops his duffel bag onto the floor and kicks off his shoes.

"Mori," Takeru gushes, a tidal wave of relief washing over his nerves as he witnesses his friend enter his home, "I just don't know what to do, I've tried everything—"

But Aguni doesn't seem to be paying attention to him at all. In fact, he walks right past Takeru without so much as a glance thrown in his direction.

Instead, he makes a beeline to Mika. The freshly-Earthside child seems to be confused by his presence, but the tantrum she had been threatening to throw a moment ago appears to have been forgotten. Takeru is thankful for that small victory, at least.

"Good evening, ma'am," Aguni greets the child. He tosses a thumb over his shoulder. "This guy bothering you?"

"I was not—"

"Ah," Mika responds solemnly.

Takeru is dumbfounded.

Surely, he must be hallucinating. There's no way this tiny infant could possibly have understood a word Aguni had said. And what's more, she seems calmed by his presence. Almosf as if she's...tolerating him.

"Thought so," Aguni says. He pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and sits down, crossing his arms across his chest as he studies her adorable little baby face. Her adorable little baby face studies him right back, gaze only broken by the occasional blink.

Takeru is halfway through typing 'is it possible to establish telepathic communications with a baby?' into the search feature on his phone when he hears a giggle.

Not only is Aguni cradling his young niece in his arms, but the young lady seems to be happy about it. Her face is lit up with a wide-mouthed smile, her tiny legs kicking and little fists waving in the air as her tummy is tickled by a man that, as far as Takeru knows, has never handled a baby before in his life.

And what's more—Aguni seems to be just as taken with the infant, a warm smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Takeru doesn't know how to feel. On one hand, he's excited to see his best friend and niece bonding in such a sweet and unexpected way. On the other hand, he's overcome by a firey jealousy which rivals, say, a luxury hotel set on fire after a string of unfortunate circumstances and impossible choices. He's the cool uncle. He's supposed to be the favorite.

With a tight-lipped frown, Takeru decides to channel his negative feelings into something more productive. He puts the kettle on, thinking a calming cup of chamomile tea might soothe him enough to feel more reasonable about his current situation. He also starts warming up another bottle for Mika. He's tried to feed her three times already tonight and been vehemently refused with each attempt—surely even Aguni, the apparent Baby-Whisperer, won't be able to get her to eat.

...Except he does. Aguni requires a bit of guidance at first, but it takes no time at all for Mika to start gulping down the formula at a ravenous pace.

"I just don't get it," Takeru sighs. He sips his tea and tries not to feel sad that his niece had been so hungry. "Why does she hate me so much?"

"She doesn't hate you," Aguni says. "The problem is that you're too alike."

"Mori, please," Takeru scoffs, "She's a newborn. I'm an adult. We couldn't be more different."

Aguni looks down at Mika. He then looks back to Takeru.

"Nah. You're basically the same person."

"Come on, man—"

"You're both stubborn as hell," Aguni interrupts. "And defiant. And dramatic."

"Literally every baby is like that."

"And so are you," Aguni says.

Takeru grimaces. Even if Aguni makes a fair argument, it's rude of him to point it out.

"I'm still not convinced," he answers curtly.

Aguni shifts in his chair a little, causing Mika to make a small hum of protest. He apologizes softly and adjusts his hold on her so that she's able to recline more comfortably.

"You said she got really mad when you started singing, right?" When Takeru nods, Aguni gives him a knowing smirk. "That's because, like you, she hates cover bands."

It's as if someone slapped Takeru across the face.

"She thinks," he says slowly, "I'm a cover band?"

Aguni shrugs.

"I mean, probably. Think about it," Aguni says, "A lot of the music she knows is whatever her parents decided to sing to her. As far as she knows, they're the original artists. If you start singing one of 'their' songs, you're basically doing a cover, in her mind. So, yeah. You both hate cover bands."

Takeru wants to tell Aguni that that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. He wants to...but, the more he thinks about it, the more possible it seems. It doesn't help that Mika has seen fit to start staring at him again, albeit with less ire than before.

If he didn't know better, he'd think she was beginning to tolerate him.

"So, like I said before—she doesn't hate you," Aguni says, "I think she recognizes herself in you and it freaks her out. It's like she's looking into a mirror, and instead of seeing the baby she knows herself to be, she's seeing some bearded guy who's pushing forty. That's a lot to handle."

Takeru sniffs.

"I don't look a day over twenty-six."

"Yoy're right," Aguni says, "You look many days over twenty-six."

Mika spits the bottle from her mouth to give a tiny giggle.

"She only likes you because you have the same haircut," Takeru snips, wrist rolling to gesture vaguely at the short-haired baby lounging happily in the arms of the equally short-haired man, "Probably thinks you're one of her kind..."

He gulps down another sip of tea before he can start a true argument—after all they're trying to get the baby to calm down and sleep, not excite her with a petty verbal tennis match. And Aguni seemed to take his jab with amusement, the smile on his face refusing to fade for the rest of the feeding. It's strange to see him so content, but Takeru can't deny his friend has taken to baby care almost unnaturally well.

Mika also seems to be a little less upset, even going so far as to allow Takeru to dress her in her pajamas without so much as a mild look of confused displeasure etched on her itty bitty features. Of course, Aguni still gets the smiles, but it's nice to know that her apparent hatred of him is beginning to lessen.

"How pissed would you be if I said I could get her to sleep in ten minutes?"

"Honestly," Takeru says, "I'm too tired to care."

It's true. Perhaps earlier he would have felt otherwise, but he was a different man back then. The last few hours have left him totally exhausted. The chamomile tea in his system is exacerbating his natural sleepiness.

So he allows himself the joy of sinking into the sofa. Even though he had just been sitting at the table moments ago, his tired bones still sing when he slips into a lazy slouch.

When Aguni sits next to him, an alert-looking Mika in his arms, Takeru's interest is piqued. What exactly does he plan on doing? Getting her to eat is one thing, but getting her to sleep is a completely different battle.

"Scoot over," Aguni says, and Takeru does—but not without a small groan of displeasure as he tucks himself against the far armrest.

To Takeru's surprise, Aguni sits down and turns his body to face him. One hand supports his new baby friend while the other helps him get into a semi-reclining position. He rolls his eyes when Aguni stretches his legs and lays them right on top of his lap; having a tall friend is fun and useful, until it's decidedly not.

But Mika seems pleased when he lays her down on him, letting out a satisfied sigh when her fat baby cheek squishes against his chest. Aguni snatches the television remote with his free hand and turns it on, flipping through the channels until he lands on a baseball game that looks like it's from the 90's.

"Ugh," Takeru scoffs, "Couldn't you at least pick something interesting? Stuff like this puts me right to sleep..."

It takes a second for the words to register, but the second they do, Takeru's jaw drops.

"Oh," he stage whispers, watching as his niece's wiggly baby movements begin to slow, "Oooooh! Mori, you're a genius!"

"Mhm," Aguni hums in response. He turns the volume on the TV down to a barely audible level so as not to disturb his infant companion, and within a matter of minutes, her breathing has evened out and she lays still.

"Is," Takeru asks quietly, "is she...?"

"Oh yeah," Aguni responds. Mika lets out a cute baby snore. "She's gonna be as loud as you are someday."

"I don't snore," Takeru retorts. Sure, he's been accused of it in the past, but he simply refuses to believe it. "I am the perfect sleeping companion."

"You also talk. And steal the covers. She doesn't have those problems yet, but if I had to guess..."

Takeru rolls his eyes. It's hard to pretend to be annoyed when he's so relieved the baby is finally asleep, all while being extremely adorable about it. Maybe she does take after him a little bit—although he doesn't have definitive proof on-hand, there's no doubt that he was also an extremely cute baby.

He turns his focus to the game. God, it's boring. Even when the bases are loaded, Takeru can't help but feel his eyelids beginning to grow heavy. It's difficult to move with Aguni's feet so rudely sitting in his lap, but he manages to scrunch his way deeper into the sofa to get more comfortable.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep," he mentions to Aguni, because he's definitely not. Another fifteen minutes and they'll be able to put Mika to bed properly, and then he can get some real sleep.

Yeah. He can definitely stick it out for a little longer. One of the baseball guys just hit a home run. That's interesting, right? The game is tied, 7-7, and it's the eighth inning. Exciting. He'll just close his eyes really quickly before the next batter takes the plate.

And that's all it takes for him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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don't ask me what the hell this was because I don't even know

not gonna lie, kinda regretting not going with my original idea of one of these guys finding a baby in the Borderlands and trying to take care of it (comedy ensues). might still write that one, so drop me a comment or whatever if you're interested.

#alice in borderland #writings and such #alice in borderland netflix #danma takeru #aguni morizono #aguni busts in. saves the day. the usual.