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angxlofvenus · 10 months

Note

Hiii so I wanted to ask if you could write some headcanons about how the brothers would react if MC suddenly turned into a toddler (due to some forbidden book or Solomons cooking or whatever you want) like ,how would they react ,how would they take care of my ?

I hope this request makes sense ! I really like your writing

When You Become A Toddler

Thank you so much for the request! This was so cute to write about, Have a great rest of your day/night! Genre: Fluff Ship: Platonic brothers x reader TW: mentions of hurting Solomon, killing Solomon, Pretty much just threats on Solo's life, minimal cursing, eating Solomon's cooking, Turning into a child, Child reader

You should've known better by now... When Solomon brought you a Tupperware claiming it was Simeon's cooking, You knew it was risky but the food looked good! You only realized how badly you messed up after only one bite...

Lucifer

No. Not another one- He refuses

This man has pretty much raised 6 kids already, and while he may kill Solomon for this, He is the most experienced in helping you

He’s got this whole mom thing down to a T

Will probably just care for you like a normal Toddler

It does get a teeny strenuous when he eventually needs to get back to work

No mc, you can not help him sign papers with your red Crayola crayon.

Once you’re back to normal, he’s mostly relieved, Though it was nice to reminisce on the good ol’ days when his brothers were still just young Cherubs

Mammon

First thought is, “Oh shit!”

Second thought is, “Lucifer’s gonna kill me!”

He may strangle Solomon right then and there

He is the second oldest so he’s got some experience under his belt

Immediately is picking you up and coddling you

Will totally become the best babysitter ever (aka letting you do pretty much whatever you want)

Wanna go spend Lucifer’s money? Hell yeah! Wanna go to the park? Let’s go!

Once you’re back to normal, He’s gonna deny Caring for you as closely as he did but he secretly enjoyed having someone younger around who actually likes him for a while (Luke…)

Levi

Nope, He can’t do this!!

Yes, He technically has 4 younger brothers, yes he knows how to take care of kids but still-

His room isn’t for kids, All of his precious collectibles!!

Is cursing the sorcerer's name

Y’all will end up watching some kid-friendly anime and playing some of his easier games

Will let you win too

After you’re back to normal, He will let out a sigh of relief, You weren’t a bad kid but, He likes you better grown up and not so destructive

Satan

As he is technically the youngest in age, He won’t be the most experienced

But- This man has read a couple things about kids so he isn’t totally helpless

Will be one of the better caretakers, He will keep you happy and calm throughout the day

He’ll find some more age-appropriate books to read to you

Afterwards, He is happy you’re back to normal safely but it was nice to act so domestic for a bit, He will being having a ‘talk’ With Solomon :)

Asmo

Well, aren’t you cute!

Would also be a great babysitter in my opinion

Y’all will be having a fashion show, sorry I don’t make the rules

His phone is now full of pictures of just you and him being fashionistas

Will 100% let you play with all his makeup and nail polish, Yes he’ll let you give him a makeover

No matter how bad the finished product looks, he will shower you in compliments on your skills

After you're back to normal, He’ll laugh about the situation with you and gush about how cute you were!

Beel

Now this guy is a family man so he’s immediately in protective mode

Will protect you with his life

Is maybe the best babysitter out of everyone

Will get everything you need, Blankets, coloring books, toys, You name it- He’s gonna get it for you

Will absolutely cook for you/ share his food if you ask nicely, He could never say no to that face!

Once you turn back, He is a little sad but overall just happy you’re healthy

He won’t let you anywhere near Solomon or his cooking for a while…

Belphie

Get somebody else to do it-

In all seriousness, he isn’t really good with kids

Will probably take you to the park or something so you can get all your energy out while he naps on a bench

Once y’all get back, He’ll give you his phone and just let you go wild while he sleeps

Will be nice enough to let you cuddle with him/ steal his cow pillow

He’ll be so happy when you’re back to normal, Not that you weren’t cute and all but he likes you better when you can care for yourself

He will definitely be out for blood though, Solomon isn’t going to get off that easily

Best babysitter to worst:

Beel Satan Lucifer Mammon Asmo Levi belphie

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howtofightwrite · 2 years

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I'm trying to understand something that seems a bit contradictive. On one hand, you say old experienced fighters can easily beat young fighters solely through their experiences. However, you also say the more someone is in combat, the more wear and tear they have. So, why couldn't a young healthy fighter take advantage of all that body strain and easier injuries that could cripple an old figher despite their experience?

Congratulations. You’ve hit on the crux of most traditional martial arts narratives—the dangerous old timer versus the young up and comer.

The young have youth and virility at their physical peak. The old have experience and wisdom.

The Aliens vs Predator 1997 card game had a great reference about old fighters. It’s a line I really like, “a bit slower, a lot smarter.”

I’ll be completely honest, it’s difficult to really grasp the vast gap experience creates until you’ve had your ass handed to you by a guy pushing seventy. Or watched him shatter a wooden baseball bat with his shin. Or watched him float through the air nimbly like a butterfly with more agility and grace than you will likely ever manage.

The funny thing is that the old, wise martial arts master on the mountain isn’t just a trope or a joke. A person who has been training for forty to fifty years can be equal parts breathtaking, terrifying, and unforgettable.

It’s true, there’s more wear, tear, and strain on a thirty year old that’s been fighting for a decade than an eighteen year old. The problem is you’re just thinking about the physical body and not the experience they’ve gained fighting and surviving for those ten years beyond what their initial training offered. What they’ve learned is the difference, because the dumb ones and the unlucky ones are all dead.

A lot of writers have this problem with writing more experienced warriors and, ironically, a lot of young fighters have this problem with experienced warriors. They both have the problem of thinking the fight starts when the violence starts, and that all violence is force on force. If you think about your fight scene (and violence in general) like you’re clashing two action figures together, obviously the younger, less damaged toy is going to hold up better. The older toy is more likely to break first. Unfortunately, life isn’t that simple. Also, if you’re just clashing action figures, your fight scenes are going to be really boring.

The name of the game is brains. One of the most decisive aspects of combat is control. Controlling when the fight happens, controlling how the fight happens, controlling the speed of the fight, and ensuring the fight happens in the place of your choosing are all part of an experienced warrior’s repertoire. Depriving your opponent of their advantages while boosting your own is strategy.

This is why the experienced fighters often end up as antagonists because they’re best able to pressure the protagonist to learn and grow. Only by learning new techniques, to fight smarter, not harder can the protagonist defeat their antagonist.

The more experienced your fighter is, the more likely they are to be fighting smart. You’re right, they can no longer rely solely on their physical advantages but they’ve been gaining in time while they’ve been losing to time.

-Michi

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#Michi answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #martial arts

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lolita-lollipop · 11 months

Note

could you do a platonic bakudeku taking care of/pampering depressed reader?

SOFT YANDERE AIZAWA X FEM READER

I apologize I read this ask at 4 am with no sleep and saw Aizawa, so I wrote Aizawa. If you want, put in another request and I’ll write the original

———————————————————————

Your health overall had become a stressor in Aizawas life, ever since he had gotten to know you better as a human being, it wasn't that you tried to hurt yourself, but it just seemed to happen. That worried him more often than he would like to admit.

You had come to U.A. as a teacher's aid, or a teacher in training, and were assigned to his classroom. At first, you generally kept your head down, your eyes glued to the floor, not intentionally, but you were a little uncomfortable working with somebody as world-renowned as he was. being somebody who had just graduated high school a year ago, it was strange to be in the same loop as somebody like him.

Aizawa had known that you struggled with your health constantly, both mental and physical. Even upon the first meeting, he saw glimmers of anxiety in your eyes, the picking at your skin, the biting of your nails. All things he'd seen in teens before.

He even experienced it before in his younger years, when he was in high school at UA he went through a lot and had to deal with it all by himself, too fearful of being judged to reach out for help, even from his teachers. It made him feel so connected with you, except he wouldnt give you the option of independence. Even if you hadn't openly stated that you were struggling, he always tried to make your life easier for you, just the little things that always counted.

but, while you were shy, he immediately knew the two of you would be close, you were just so young, so much younger than he was, and he felt such a pull to care for you like he would his students. You were so selfless, so optimistic. Showing up to work with little treats or a coffee for him almost every day (even with your less-than-low teachers-aid salary), being so soft-spoken when giving criticism. He would always see you with a smile on your face, and you were so willing to help anybody at any time. That worried him even more.

It hadn't taken long for you to wriggle yourself into his heart, you worked too well with his student and always were trying to improve. When the two of you became close, he started looking into your background more. Your medical records, your records with the hero association, it was for your good, partially for his curiosity. He didn't want to invade your privacy, but the way you acted was strange to him, you were social and closed off at the same time, and it confused him.

Even so, Aizawa looked forward to your daily interactions throughout the year. The way you made him lunch every day, the way you always looked to him when you had a problem, the way you hovered close to him at teacher's events and meetings. He became used to your presence, even had come to like it.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the countless therapist appointments, medications, and rehabilitation visits written across your medical records. It shocked him honestly, but as he thought about it more it made more sense, tis is why you were the way you were, and he still loved it. That's why he thought you were so likable, it just made him want to protect you more.

Your relationship with him was a little strange, at least to most others. What kind of pro hero just becomes best friends with a quirkless teacher aide like you? He did everything with you, lunch, teaching, and sometimes even on weekends the two of you would hang out. You and Aizawa became very very close very very fast, of course, neither of you minded.

He ended up playing somewhat of a fatherly role to you, helping you when you were hurt, paying for meals when the two of you went out, and caring for you. Eventually, you trusted him enough to reveal the issues you dealt with on the daily.

Your vulnerability with him was cute honestly, the way you were so willing to share your deepest emotions and fears with him.

You told him everything that’s happened, everything that’s caused you to be like this. And he listened, he listened well and hard, and made you feel accepted and loved. Your relationship escalated from there. He was the first person you would call when you needed help, the first person to cry to, to laugh with. eventually, you realized that you loved him. NOT LIKE THAT. But you loved him.

As a child your parents paid no attention to you, from the day you were born they wrote you off as a nuisance, leaving you to fend for yourself from the moment you were able to speak. It made you grow up too fast, having somebody like him was nice for a change.

So when your teacher's aid year ended, and you had to go back to school, you were devastated. That was the first time you had ever cried to Aizawa, and it showed you just how kind he could be. From then on you knew that you would last with him, teacher's aid or not. And so you moved back to your old apartment near your little teaching school, it had taken every ounce of self-control for him to not move with you.

As months passed by he visited often, but slowly, he started to see you change. It was slight at first, just having less energy when you spoke with him, but slowly it ascended into so much more. Your life was all of a sudden so filled with stress, school overloaded your life, and it taxed your health, mental and physical. He watched as your nails slowly became more gnawed down, your skin getting more and more picked at, your eye bags becoming darker and darker. His worry grew with every day that you failed to call him.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that he would force you to accept his help, whether it be money or food or clothing, or even just a place to stay, he would make you accept it, even if you didn't want to. Aizawa just couldn't fathom why you wanted to be so independent, he suggested you move in with him so he could watch over you, but you had denied it quickly, explaining how you "needed to do this on your own".

He found himself feeling responsible for you. You didn't know how to take care of yourself, not in his eyes, it was only natural, you hadn’t grown up with much guidance towards self-care (as you had told him in a moment of vulnerability). So he would help you. It became somewhat of a routine for him to check on your well-being, sending a text at noon every single day just to make sure you're okay. It comforted both of you.

But, as time passed, school and work filled both of your schedules to the brim, and you never had time to travel across town to each other. So you slowly drifted; it started as days without talking to each other, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. At some point, he realized that he hadn't even checked in on you for 5 months.

After coming to that realization his worry washed over him once again, cold flowed from his head to his feet. You weren't ready to be alone, oh god what had he done?

He hadn't seen you in months, however, it felt like years, knowing that, he couldn't even imagine how you were feeling. The last time he had seen you, you had been doing well, eating and sleeping healthily, you seemed alright, so he felt okay in leaving you for a long period of time.

He should've kept a closer watch on you when he was away, he should've monitored the bank account he had set up for you, and he should've checked the cameras outside your apartment more. It used to be comforting for him to take a break from his life and check in on you, when did he start forgetting? Was he that bad of a best friend? He needed to see you. now.

And so, after 6 months shouts Aizawa was standing at the entrance to your apartment complex. Staring at the dirt growing thick on the exterior, the windows that had grown foggy and unclear with age.

Walking up the front steps, he observed just how quiet it was, the atmosphere was almost unsettling with how abnormally silent it was., you had refused to let him buy you a nice apartment near the urban areas of the city, so you lived near the rural edge in the older areas. The entire district was old and only growing older, crime rates were spiking, and buildings were slowly breaking down. This particular building was aging with every day. Paint chipping, door handles rusting, the elevator no longer was even in service.

He stared up the long flights of stairs, each step sad and grey and growing rust at the edges, even though they weren't metal. Imagining you have to make the climb to the seventh floor every day, Aizawa sighed. He honestly doesn’t know why you would choose to do this to yourself.

As he began to ascend the steps, he realized just how dingy the place was, the steps were concrete yet they were still able to squeak with every time he put a foot forward. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the air, combined with body odor and the smell of mildew, this place was just sad and lonely. Even the lights were going out, flickering and glowing a dirty yellow. The last time he was here the building wasn't in this bad of a condition.

By the time he was able to make it up to your apartment, his pity had grown severely. Why were you living like this? Why would he let you live like this? He felt at fault, one of the top heroes and he couldn't even manage to put his best friend in a nice apartment, even if they didn't want to be there. He wouldnt let you live here anymore, not when it was this bad. With that, he left three firm knocks on the door, the paint was chipping down, revealing old rotting wood.

The sound rang out through the hallway, cutting through the heavy air. When you didn't answer he knocked again, this time louder, and the sound reverberated across the large piece of wood again. He knew your doorbell didn't work, last time the two of you talked you told him allllllllllll about how you'd been trying to get maintenance to fix it, they were refusing. How long ago was that? It should've been fixed by now, he knew it probably wasn't though.

After the second knock, he pulled the spare key from above the doorframe, such an obvious place to hide a key, it was a wonder your home hadn't been broken into yet, even though he told you to move it elsewhere you hadn't. You were stubborn like that sometimes, he couldn't help that he loved it. The door unlocked fairly quickly, after a few harsh shoves to un-jam it, something you also had mentioned last time he talked to you. Something that was still not fixed.

he pushed the door open slowly, and a loud creak rang out. the rough feeling of the doorknob against his fingers was sandy and divoted. The silence in the room was louder than anything else. looking back at the door he saw almost four new locks that weren't there last time he was there.

“Y/n? I figured I should stop by, I was in town.” He yelled through the apartment door, loud enough to inform you of his presence but not loud enough to startle you, he was met with nothing more than the clanking of your air conditioning.

The stench hit him before anything else did, smelling like somebody died and then was resurrected only to die again in here, the scent was strong enough to make him have a double take. Usually, you were very clean, obsessing over the cleanliness of your apartment, even if it was old and rotting. It was strange enough that you hadn't answered the door when he knocked, but now not answering his call? Something was wrong.

“Y/n? Are you here?” he continued, stepping further into the small room with a grimace, it was a mess, not dirty, but cluttered everywhere, like you had stopped caring where things go. This was already a bad sign, last time your apartment looked like you weren't doing very well. Aizawa knew that he should've checked in on you sooner, he was trying to let you have a little space to feel independent, but he shouldn't have.

Hurriedly he rushed to your bedroom to check if you were even here, and what he saw horrified him. Upon opening your door he was hit again with the same smell, this time just a thousand times more concentrated. The sight of your room was just awful, he'd seen some bad things, but it's different when it's you. Clothing was strewn everywhere in large piles, packets of ramen and other instant foods lay discarded beside the bed, and some of the picture frames that were hung on the walls had fallen to the floor. Your room wasn't very large in the first place, so the trash and clothing crowded the space, making the air even denser.

It took him a few moments to realize that you were here, just buried under months of trash. You were hidden under a crevice in your bed, sleeping so heavily it worried him. Immediately he moved to get you out, shoving all the stuff off of you and looping his arm under your waist to hoist you up, you were lighter, frailer. Your breathing was shallow, almost like you were struggling to inhale and exhale a sufficient amount. He cupped your head on his shoulder and hurried out of your bedroom.

He frowned at your state, you hadn't been eating well, even though he made sure you set reminders for yourself every day. Your clothing looked baggy and dirty, your eyes sunken in and glued shut, and your hair. Oh god your hair, he could tell it hadn't been brushed in quite some time, you had it tied back but he could still see the knots starting at your scalp. How had it gotten this bad? More importantly, why hadn't you called him? He was supposed to be there for you, but clearly, he wasn't.

“Y/n, Y/n cmon I need you to wake up sweetheart, please. Open those eyes for me, I know you can do it.” he practically begged, cupping your head with his hand and holding you up to get a better look at you. He shook you gently and watched as you stirred. Groaning in your sleep, your eyes groggily fluttered open, you brought your hand up to rub the sleep haze out of your vision, only to realize you were in the grasp of somebody else. You let out a startled squeak and sent your hands flying out in front of you to push the person off, then you were reminded how exhausted your body was, as even that small motion brought pain bursting through your fingertips.

“Whoah- whoah it's okay- y/n it's me, it's me- I’m not going to hurt you- you're okay-” he stammered out soothing words, and one of his hands immediately went out to grasp your own, holding them still. He wasn't worried about you hurting him, you probably couldn't even if you wanted to, he was worried about you hurting yourself. Upon realizing that it was your best friend, and not an intruder aiming to do horrible things, you relaxed in his arms, finding comfort in physical touch for the first time in months. God you missed this, more than anything.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming around? I would've cleaned up,” you spoke, your voice hoarse and raspy, almost like you hadn't been using it that often. You met his gaze, and he stared back with this sympathetic look you had grown to know so well, immediately your eyes found the floor, embarrassed. You knew that it meant he was going to lecture you about something, and you could predict the words that would come out of his mouth before he even spoke.

“I figured it would be alright if I came in like I usually did… Y/n we need to talk- are you okay? This-this is bad, worse than last time- I told you to call me if you were feeling like this anymore, I know how you get.” he lectured with that mother hen tone he always had with you, aizawa was always so caring, so soft. Not to anybody other than you, but that's how you knew him. With his words, you found your lip wobbling, and little tears pooling in your eyes. You didn't know how to tell him anything when he was making that face at you, the pity stare, so you buried your head further into his shoulder and spoke.

“I just- I thought you would get mad at me- I was doing so good last time and I just went back and made it all I jus-” You stammered out, tears now streaming down your cheeks and onto his shirt, around halfway through your voice broke into a sob. You knew that he would have to come some time or another but you hadn't expected your emotions to just flow out entirely like this. Little sobs left your mouth to the point that you couldn't keep speaking, he rubbed circles into your lower back, bouncing up and down a little to calm you, or at least try.

“I would never- NEVER. Baby you can't live like this, I can't let you live like this.” He pulled your head from the nook in his shoulder, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I know. I just- I just didn't know how to fix it- and I didn't want to make you upset so I just let it- Don't be mad- please” You couldn't even control what you were saying anymore, your words just flew out o your mouth faster than you could think of them.

“It's okay- I’m here now. You won't have to worry anymore okay? I'll make it better, I'll help you get through this. You're alright.” He confirmed, all he wanted to do right now was make you feel okay, as you didn't. He wouldnt leave you alone again, he wouldnt dare. You've never scared him like this, it's never been this bad. Hell take of you, he has to now.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, you crying into his shoulder, and him rubbing your back and holding you close. After a minute or two he set you on the ground, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. You followed blindly, too caught up in your crying to care about where your feet were taking you. You leaned into him naturally, clutching him close.

The trek down the hallway was slow and painstakingly quiet, by the time you reached the stairs he had you in his arms again. You were barefoot, and the last thing he wanted was for you to nick your foot on anything in the carpet, especially when you were so fragile, so frail. He wouldnt let anything hurt you now, not even the carpet.

You were his responsibility now, fully his responsibility. Seeing how you are right now, how unstable, how fragile, he HAS to protect you, he just can't let you hurt like this. Such a sweet girl in such a large amount of pain, it almost makes him angry. Not at you, at the world for doing this to you.

He will protect you now

He has to

"so- um. Ya like jazz?" you let out a sad giggle through your tears, and he smirked. you weren't used to being so serious with him.

---

It took you a very long time to stop your crying, long enough that you had gotten into his car with him, and he began to drive. Where? You had no clue, but you knew he would only mean the best for you. The entire time he was comforting you in the car, when he wasn't sending worried glances he was giving you words of encouragement.

You didn't know what to say anymore, you and Aizawa have been close for quite some time, and naturally as a teacher he cared for you like one of his students, you were close in age, a little bit older than the kids he cared for. He has seen you at your lowest lows… clearly… but you don't think he's ever seen you this bad before, you honestly don't think you've seen yourself this bad before.

All you wanted to do was prove to yourself that you could handle this like an adult, that's why you never called or reached out, you just wanted to feel mature enough to handle your own issues. Without somebody forcing you to handle them.

“I am sorry- I didn't mean to scare you I know it's worse than last time- I can take care of myself I swear, you don't have to do anything” You muttered, bringing your knees up to your chest in the leather seat, usually Aizawa would lecture you if you did this because he always said it was “unsafe”, he didn't say anything this time. Right now you just felt embarrassed, you had just collapsed on him entirely.

“Don't apologize, it isn't your fault. You're gonna be okay, ill make sure.” his words were blunt (as usual, but more comforting than anything else he has ever said to you before, he made it sound more like a promise than a statement. He reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before returning to his normal driving. The atmosphere remained comfortably quiet for a few more moments before you decided to speak again.

“so.. . where are we going?” You asked, hoping it was someplace nice, away from all your responsibilities. you weren't opposed to going to his house, but you knew that if you did, you would cave in even more. Meaning your independence would revert to how it was.

“Home. “

—————————————

I’m back lol. It’s been a while so I hope this was good, I have felt with some mental instability in the past so o tried to use my knowledge from my own personal expierience here, don’t come for me if it doesn’t fit your own.

Tysm for requesting! I’m so excited to start writing again. Love you all! And have a great day!

Bye!

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vettelinyourarea · 11 months

Text

oceans and engines - charles leclerc

genre: angst

warning: english is not my first language

word count: 1,090

inspired by oceans and engines by niki

notes: hehe feeling kinda angsty today, i’ve been wanting to write a fict based on oceans and engines for a while so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy writing it! also, requests are open 🩵

feel free to give me any feedback

Saturday sunset

We're lying on my bed with five hours to go

Fingers entwined and so were our minds

Cryin', "I don't want you to go"

You wiped away your tears

But not fears under the still and clear indigo

You said, "Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine”

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow

“Do you really have to go?” you asked, trying your best to not cry. It was a Saturday afternoon, only a few hours before Charles have to fly to the first race of the season. You have been with him since he started his Formula 2 career until now when he’s racing in Formula 1 for the team he has been dreaming about since he was just a child.

“I’m sorry my love, I wish you can go with me too,” he said as he wiped away your tears. You have experienced this before, but still, it doesn’t get easier for you being away from him. But that day feels different, something feels different.

A lot of people said you and Charles are soulmates, and you two believe that, firmly. But these past couple of months haven’t been easy for you two, especially for Charles, and it’s ultimately affecting your relationship. But neither of you wants to address that, the two of you always pretend everything is fine, always pretending that your relationship is perfect.

But the two of you knew since that day, that it’s far from perfect.

My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy

Well, nothing then, much has changed

'Cause while you're wolfin' down liquor

My soul, it gets sicker

But I'm stickin' to the screenplay

Gotta say I'm okay, but answer this, babe

“How are you?” he asked from the phone, loud music could be heard and you knew immediately that he was partying, probably with his driver friends. The race weekend just ended, and it was routine for the drivers to end it with partying at a nearby club.

“I’m okay, just doing my assignments,” you said, trying to hide your cry. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, it’s too much for you. The relationship you have with Charles is not the same as before, you knew that deep down, but have only accepted the truth just now.

Being away from Charles is difficult, but you knew that was one of the risks for dating a Formula 1 driver, still, it doesn’t make it any easier. You are happy for him, truly. You are proud of Charles for doing what he loves, but are you doing what you love? Is dating Charles only holding you back?

“You sure, love?” he asked after a few moments, sensing your emotions.

“Yes, you go have fun. I’m okay.”

And just like that, you end the call, leaving Charles confused.

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr?

You were mine just yеsterday

I pray the block in my airway dissipates

And instead deters your airplane's way

But heaven denied

Destiny decried

Something beautiful died

Too soon

“I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore,” you said to him, not daring to look straight into his eyes. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done, the other thing was accepting the fact that you can’t be with Charles anymore. Not like this.

“But, why? Did I do something that hurt you?” he asked, trying to hold your hand but you pulled away, hurt is evident in his tone.

It was a sunny day, a rare day off for Charles. It hurts you to tell him this, to end things with him. But it has to be said, it has to be done. For your sake, and for Charles’s. You knew he sensed things are different now since he come back on the last season’s winter break, and you knew he refused to acknowledge it, to accept it.

Being in a relationship from a young age is not easy, but ending it was certainly harder.

“I love you Charles, but things are different now and you know it. We can’t be together anymore,” you said, finally giving up and deciding to look up to him. It was the worst mistake you’ve made. Seeing him like this, red-eyed, tears in his eyes fighting to come out. But you know this is for the best, for you and for him.

You knew the moment he nods his head, something beautiful had died, something in you had shifted.

But I'm letting go

I'm givin' up the ghost

But don't get me wrong

I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

Turns out, trying to move on from him was harder than the breaking up part. You tried and you tried to let him go, but you just can’t. Everything in you is screaming to just forget him, but it is easier said than done. Still being in contact with him certainly doesn’t help, and you knew that. You knew that in order to completely move on from him, you have to cut him out, at least for a while.

“Why can’t you just block him?” your friend asked you. You tried blocking him, you really did, but it was hard. Having spent most of your life with him and now you have to cut him out from your life for a while is not easy.

But one night, your mind is set. You have to let him go and he has to let you go. You have to move on with your life and forget him completely. So, you did it. You block him, but not before leaving him a message. A message that little do you know, makes Charles cry his eyes out.

Thank you for everything Charles, but I’m letting you go, and this is my last message for you. I loved you.

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright

Someday I'll be fine

But just not tonight

It’s not easy for you. It was never easy to forget someone you grew up with. And it’s okay, you know you don’t have to be alright. You knew this is the best decision you can make. But that doesn’t mean you regret your relationship with him, no, you are thankful for the past 6 years you have with him. You will always cherish the memories you made with him.

You know that you will be fine eventually, but just not tonight.

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 angst #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 angst #vettelinyourarea

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niphredil-14 · 2 months

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Your work is inspiring in a way. I don’t know who else you write for, but I know for sure that Leo is definitely one of them. And since this is the case, I will also choose it. I would like to know what will happen if he has a partner who is very affectionate and caring. Like Hey, he probably has a lot of nightmares after the Kraang incident. And just imagine how the reader cuddles Leo after another nightmare and either hums a lullaby or just listens to what he says. The dude will really feel bad, and then his man who was sleeping next to him woke up and gives him hugs and calms him down while Leo is in this vulnerable state.

sorry this took so long. Life's been crazy, word count: 1k warnings: nightmares reader is referred to as leo's partner, but if you squint this could be seen as platonic, if you think of them as roommates

THE WEIGHT WE CARRY

The only lighting in the room was a harsh blue light creeping in from underneath the crack below the door. It was small. But more than enough to cast haunting shadows throughout the room. The bed was just large enough for the two of them, and the only other things in the room were a dirty, cracked mirror, a small desk, and a trunk filled with clothes, gear, and weapons. A single pair of shoes were placed by the door. They laid awake for some time, listening to their partner’s breathing. It had been more even than it usually was during his slumber, an oddity only matched by the fact that while the leader beside them slept soundly, they were left awake. It was normally the other way around, with Leonardo never getting quite enough rest, while they would retire early and rise late, usually sleeping soundly unless awoken by their partner. Leonardo despised waking them, and never would while he was in his right mind, but “right mind” are hardly words fitting for his post-nightmare states. Ripped from his terrors, unable to shake the memories replayed, he would gently shake them awake, just so that he could confirm that they were not yet dead, that he hadn’t failed them too.

But tonight was different, and they wanted little more than to shake Leon awake, and beg for some attention. They refused to cave to their desires, however, knowing that their love never got the sleep that he deserved, and after acknowledging how selfish of an act it would be to wake him, they contented themselves with turning onto their side to gaze upon him. Time had been cruel to him, and the years showed on the wrinkled skin over his browbone, and the crow’s feet jutting out from his eyes, but it never made him any less handsome than when the two of them were younger. They were sure that they were no easier on the eyes after the atrocities that the apocalypse had brought. They both carried weights of their own, and it showed, though there was a beauty and a romance to the ability to acknowledge having experienced hardship.

It must have been hours that they laid there, unmoving out of fear of waking the light-sleeper beside them. His breathing was consistent, until it wasn’t. All of a sudden, the pattern of steady ins-and-outs broke, and he inhaled sharply, letting it out quickly, and all at once, pushing a large gust out. And they watched the skin over his browbones wrinkle and pucker as his breathing became more and more unsteady. It was hard for them to believe as they thought about it, but they had never actually seen him have a nightmare. They always slept through it, only being awoken after he was. It was a heartbreaking sight, such a strong, resilient man, crying in his sleep over things that they could not fight off. He was always the protector, and the most that they had ever been able to do was pick up the shattered and scattered pieces of him, and try to tape them back together. In watching, they debated what to do, and after some inner conflict, came to a conclusion. This time, they would do more than comfort him after he had fought through his terrors, this time, they would rescue him, and pull him from the depths of his torment. He would not need to pull himself out of hell alone this time. They swore to themselves as the placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and began to shake. They were leaning up, resting on one of their forearms, as they continued to shake, softly calling out to him.

“Leon? Leon?” They voice, though gentle, was slightly raspy from lack of sleep. “Leo, wake up!” Their calls became a chant, until, moments later, Leon shot up, eyes wild and shoulders raising up and falling down, rushed and frantically, with his breath. They sat, ready, beside him, a hand on his shoulder as he realized where he was, safe in their room. Upon realizing, his head whipped to them, his body not falling far behind. He grabbed them, pulling them close, and checking them all over. In the midst of being lovingly manhandled, they managed to get their hands beside his neck. They gently cupped the nape with one hand, and his jaw with the other, pulling his attention away from checking them for nonexistent injuries.

Their name rushed from his lips in one large exhale, the aftermath of a hard punch to the gut. The pain was absent, but the fear and adrenaline stood, their heavy, cruel claws keeping a grasp on him from the shadows, the only place their dastardly grip couldn’t reach were the places covered by his partner’s hands.

“Leo,” They spoke, voice just barely above a whisper. He nodded slowly at them, signaling that they had his attention. “We are in our room, at the base, we are okay.” His eyes never left theirs, and they could see his irises shaking. They waited a moment to let their words sink in before speaking again. “We are safe.” Their voice was still soft, but there was a force there, that said that every word that left their mouth was fact, that nothing they said could be disputed. They grabbed his hand, and moved it to their chest, right over their heart. “We are alive.” He applied slight force, pushing on their chest, as if trying to hold their heart, as his eyes left theirs to rake all along their form, trying to confirm the validity of their statements.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “Yeah, we’re okay. Okay.” He visibly calmed, though was still a bit jittery. Sensing that he was a little better, they began to slowly move, much like one would move around a frightened animal, so as not to make him think that they were leaving. With microscopic movements, they reclined, laying down, and softly pulling him with them. The caring part of them wanted nothing more then to pull him to their chest and hold him there, to be his shield, but they knew him better than that. It was always in moments of panic that he put others first. And so, they let him curl around them, shielding them, and resigned themselves to rubbing large circles on his shell, and peppering kisses anywhere on him that they could reach. Quite some time passed, without either of them falling back to sleep, simply laying there, confirming one another’s presence.

“Leon?” They called out, their voice, though hushed, ringing throughout the room.

“Hmm?” He responded, lazily.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

#tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt leonardo #rottmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #rottmnt leo #tmnt f!leonardo #rottmnt f!leonardo #tmnt f!leo #rottmnt f!leo #tmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt f!leonardo x reader #tmnt f!leo x reader #rottmnt f!leonardo x reader #rottmnt f!leo x reader

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keruwu-san · 1 year

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Tart wine. Chapter two

Chapter one Chapter three

Aemond Targaryen x Auntie! Reader

My first publication on this site. ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE. I worked with a translator; I hope that the text is still clear! Let me know if there are any bugs! Thank you in advance!

Summary: The younger sister of King Viserys and Prince Daemon finds solace in Rhaenyra and Alicent children, because she cannot have her own. Prince Aemond Targaryen is experiencing a childhood crush, which he plans to carry through the years and ask for his aunt's hand in the future.

Word count: 3338

Warning: Allusion to incestuous relationship

IMPORTANT! I didn't write before how much Leineris is older than other characters, including Aemond. Brief biography: Lenerys Targaryen is the only daughter and the last child of Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen, after the death of Aegon (in the original, Alyssa also dies), the couple almost did not attempt to have another child, but Alyssa becomes pregnant, childbirth is difficult and eventually she dies. In the pilot episode, Daemon is about 20 years old, Rhaenyra is 14, Lenerys is 16. In episode 7, after 10 years, Aemond is 10, Lenerys is 26. In episode 8, Aemond is 19, Lenerys is 35.

King's Landing.

A lot has changed after the incident in the halls of Driftmark, a lot of things Alicent realized for herself. Previously, she believed that she had no allies in the Targaryen family, her own husband was busy with anything but her or their children, his mind was focused on grief for his dead wife and on the well–being of Rhaenyra, but after she received support from the king's sister, Lenerys Targaryen, now Arryn, she it became a little easier, more emotionally.

Lenerys did not take sides in that evening's conflict, she refused to pay the debt "eye for an eye", but it seemed unfair to her to let the boys down like that, «It’s not even a scratch, it's not even a scar, and it’s a whole eye! Rhaenyra, Viserys!» The woman wanted justice, but it was clear that she could not personally harm her niece's children. However, when everyone began to disperse, spoke to the queen, comforting her, while Aemond wrapped himself in his mother's dress and hair, hiding his face. This already said a lot, then, when everyone turned away from Alicent, considered her insane, Lenerys did not turn away from her. And Alicent will not forget that.

The current situation seemed strange to her. Aemond, who had once loved his aunt of unconsciousness, had always been glad of her company, now asked that Lady Arryn no longer come to him. The boy avoided everyone, but if he did not refuse dinner with his mother, grandfather or Helena, then he tried to escape from lunch with Lenerys.

- Well, I will have to go back to the Eyrie soon, - Lenerys sipped her wine, - I have not been there for a long time, and I think my husband was waiting for me.

- Yes, of course, I understand, - Alicent poured a drink into her glass, - Your husband, I am sure, misses you.

Targaryen smiled at such a remark, for all the time that she spent in King's Landing, her husband never wrote to her. Not that it bothered her much.

- Before I leave, I would like to spend time with my nephews, - Alicent was not surprised by the woman's statement and continued to drink wine, - Including Aemond.

Now the One-Eyed Prince tried to be secretive when he got out of his room. When moving around the castle, he always listened for footsteps, if there were none, and then he went on. He was often absent from family dinners, but if he was there, he behaved extremely quietly, ate quickly and just as quickly left. He understood that his aunt, whom he avoided in every way, was worried about him, but he continued to do it anyway. He did not want her to see his disfigured face, his empty eye socket and the ugly scar cutting through his left side. Aemond knew what the lords and ladies were whispering about, those who once wanted to marry their daughters to Prince Aemond Targaryen are now quickly withdrawing their proposals, and noble ladies secretly, behind his back, call him a "freak" and a "cripple". Moreover, he would be lying if he said that he does not care about it, it seems he will never be able to close his eyes to it. The prince was already not a particularly popular choice, even despite his young age, but now the tenth road will bypass him, saying nasty things. Combined with all this, he could not think about what his dear aunt thought about it all.

Yes, children's logic is really a strange thing. He deliberately avoided her, but longed for her to come, find and comfort him, pronouncing comforting speeches and stroking his head. However, he now thought that she would be disgusted. Aemond was terrified by the thought that he was disgusting to her, that Lenerys, would push him away and no longer want to talk to the eyeless monster. From the flow of thoughts, the heart was squeezed, and hot tears stood out on the now single eye. Now it was different. There was no one to calm him down, there was no one to shelter he in warm embraces and funny stories in which he plunged headlong and forgot about his problems.

Night. Library.

Aemond knew about his aunt's love of reading, so now his daytime outings for a portion of knowledge fell on the night when no one could see him. The Prince missed their Valyrian lessons, when they could sit for hours over books and practice the language, or when a woman read to him about Ancient Valyria and the history of their Great House. Nevertheless, everything changed in one evening, alas.

Another night. The candle in the prince's hand served as the only source of illumination and it was she who helped him to see the title of the next book, but so far, none of them has interested him yet. The prince fell into a light trance, he read the title of the book and instantly forgot it, switching to another one. Probably, insomnia caused by phantom pains is to blame for this. It seemed to Aemond that his missing eye itched and hurt, as if he was about to start bursting into bitter tears. But this did not happen. Yes, even if he managed to escape into the sleepy realm, it was not for long. From the long-awaited dream, he was driven away by terrible nightmares with the same plot. He. Bastards. Hatch. Knife. Eye. Pain. After an unpleasant awakening, the prince grabbed at the night bandage, again and again making sure that the nightmare had come true.

- If I were you, I would take care of the remaining eye and not spoil your vision.

Aemond nervously turned his head towards the source of the sound. The prince's single eye widened and goose bumps ran down his spine. What he was afraid had happened.

- Aunt. – He spoke on an exhale, it betrayed excitement in him, and realizing this and the prince straightened his back and pushed his chest a little forward, trying to seem more confident.

- I was passing by, - the woman began, - and I was curious who was wandering around the library at such a late hour.

Aemond did not know what to say. No matter how often he thought about their meeting, which would have happened eventually, he didn't know how to behave, he didn't know what to say. He wanted tenderness and affection from her, but his uncertainty whispered to him that he was not worthy of them.

The closer she got, the more Aemond's uncertainty grew. He wanted to shrink and run away, but out of pride, he continued to stand and look at her. - How is your condition, my prince? – "My Prince" such treatment from her side seemed to the boy cold and insensitive, to some extent. He loved when she called him by his name, he liked how it sounded exactly from her, gently and pleasantly.

- Everything's fine, don't worry, - Aemond tried to seem indifferent, even bored-the maesters and mother took good care of me.

The woman smiled, and only now did he notice that she was wearing a nightgown. He was a little embarrassed by this, but tried not to show it, - I'll be honest with you, Aemond,- she sighed, and he shuddered, - I'm not your enemy, I'm your family. I do not wish you any harm and I never have. I want to help you deal with your grief. You cannot carry him alone, - Lenerys has already come close to him, raising her hand, she touched the oval of his face with her hand, - You are so young Aemond, you have so much pain to endure in the future, but you always have a family that loves you the way you are, with or without an eye.

Aemond did not seem to be breathing, he was listening to her so attentively. The prince stared intently at her face, trying to see signs of disgust or lies, but saw nothing. Sincere sympathy was in her amethyst eyes, and the light from the candle gave her face even more comfort and warmth. The situation seemed to him extremely intimate, they were like secret lovers who sneaked into a secluded place at night in order to spend time in each other's company.

- Stop playing hide-and-seek, Aemond, - the woman moved away from him, the prince felt a chill, and at the same time even more alarm, - We will cope with this. Together.

Aemond wanted to cry. Does she really not hate him? His sweet aunt doesn't see him as a monster? Gods, emotions overwhelmed him and he stared at her in confusion. He didn't know what he wanted: to run away from her, hide or jump into her arms and never let go again. His shoulders began to shake, he felt like he was about to explode from the overwhelming emotions. Seeing this, Lenerys cautiously approached him with her hand on his shoulder.

- My prince, let's go into the room, we'll discuss everything there, and you'll go to bed,- Lenerys smiled encouragingly again, - Sleep is important for a growing organism.

Aemond just nodded. Lady Arryn took a candle from his hand and, clasping his other hand with her own, led him to the residential floor of the Red Castle.

In silence, they reached his chambers. In silence, they entered them, Lenerys immediately went to the table with a decanter and poured herself some water, huh, Aemond is still small for wine, we are content with what we have. The prince shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding his aunt's gaze.

Lenerys studied her nephew. She chose her words so as not to frighten the prince and cause even more damage to his psychological health. However, gods, it was hard. She saw Aemond grow up, even though he was only ten, but also how his love for her grew. She remembers how, as a little boy, he always greeted her and her dragon with puppy delight, and when he got a little older, he made her various offerings: he would pick flowers from the garden, and then steal cakes from the maid and other cute children's actions. Now, the fate of this boy and his attitude to this world may depend on what she says. For Lenerys, Aemond was a bright child, as was his sister Helena. Knowing how rotten and cruel this world is, she wanted to prolong their carefree childhood and make him happy.

- Aemond, my boy, may I take a look? – Lenerys approached him carefully and slowly, her steps were soundless, - I will not hurt you, I promise.

- How can you help me? - he finally blurted out, - I'm a freak now, the whole castle is whispering behind my back, the lords withdraw their proposals ... - on the verge of tears, he continued, - now I'm a demon for them, not a person!

- You can be anything to them, - she took his hand, and when she felt that he wanted to pull it away, she held him back, - but for me you will always be my favorite nephew, with or without an eye, you are still Aemond Targaryen. – hot tears began to flow from his eye, noticing this, Lenerys reached out and wiped the wet trail with the back of her hand, after wrapping her arms around the oval of his face and began to stroke soothingly, - You can be sure of me, my attitude towards you has not changed.

The prince took a step to meet her and finally clung to her chest, sobbing bitterly. He was hugging her with thirst, his hands wandering down her back and clinging to the fabric of her nightgown like a lifeline. Lenerys was whispering something to him, but he did not even hear her, but he could feel her stroking his head. Carefully, she knelt down and pulled Aemond along with her, now they were sitting.

- I'm sorry, - he said in a trembling voice, - I didn't know how you feel about me now, - sobbed, - I was afraid that you also think I'm a freak and monster, - he didn't know how long he cried in her arms, but as soon as he cried out, clear consciousness returned to him again and he realized her words.

- I have nothing to blame you for, it's all right. - Aemond pulled away from her and Lenerys gently cupped his face in her hands, - Now, can I take a look?" I will understand if not, it is fine.

Aemond thought for a minute. With trembling hands, he reached for the bandage and began to unbutton the strap. Lenerys watched him, the fact that he opened up to her proved how much he trusted.

Oh, she would not lie, it looked awful. Now, of course, his face was not swollen and blood was not flowing from the wound, but the cut had already closed, it only remained to give time to allow the wound to finally heal. The empty eye socket caused goosebumps on her back, but she did not show it. He doesn't need to know her opinion on this right now – Can I help with bandaging and ointments?

"Aren't you... scared?" – Aemond looked like a cornered fawn, in his one eye there was fear mixed with hatred, with hope and naive childish love. The princess's words warmed his little heart, gave him hope.

- No, of course not, - she pressed him to her again, as if to prove the truth of her words, and continued stroking his head.

King's Landing/

So, the prince's bad mood was overshadowed by the news of his Lenerys departure. As the lady explained, she had to go to the Eyrie and fulfill her duties as a wife, simultaneously telling him what awaits him in his future marriage, his role and the role of his wife already. Aemond listened to her, but rage and resentment only grew in his heart, and they were directed at Lord Arryn, the scoundrel who steals her from him.

After the night conversation, Lenerys bandaged his eye every evening, applied ointments, sometimes she did it together with Alicent. The boy liked that there was no tension between Lenerys and his mother, they talked sweetly about everyday topics, sometimes mentioning the "red seas", or rather their absence, but he did not really understand what it was about, and he didn't want to, the prince just enjoyed a moment of peace.

The nightmares did not go away, the anxiety became stronger after the news of the aunt's imminent departure. He was suffering from an overabundance of feelings, he wanted to open up to her, tell her everything he thinks, what he dreams about ... about how he would like to marry her in a couple of years according to the old Valyrian Tradition. He had never seen her in person, but he had read a lot. The magic of an ancient civilization flowed from the lines he read, and it intrigued him so much! The young prince often fell into fantasies about how their palms and lips would be cut by dragon glass, after which their blood, their flesh, souls and nature would become one and they would seal them with a kiss… But he was not stupid, he knew that now it was worth taking all his feelings under control, since he had taken control of Vhagar. Aemond knew that now, when he was barely eleven, Lenerys would refuse him. He will keep these emotions and feelings and will be able to open up to her later, he will wait for her.

King's Landing. Evening.

Princess Lenerys had been absent for a week, it was quite sad without her in the Red Castle. The Prince was just getting used to the new reality. If earlier everyone was discussing dwarfs and bastards, now everyone was discussing the "Poor One-Eyed Prince". Only a week had passed, but Aymond was already looking forward to their new meeting, he even thought of flying to his aunt on Vhagar, but he understood that this would be an extremely childish and infantile act, he decided to wait for her obediently.

The clang of dishes and appliances did not distract the young prince much from the flow of thoughts, but unlike his relatives, he did not eat, there was no appetite. After the incident on the Driftmark, there was no appetite at all, but he ate with effort. That is what his mother asked him, that's what Helena asked, that's what Lenerys asked. "In order for the wound to heal faster, you need to eat well. And if you want to become a strong young man, including" every time before eating, he scrolled this quote in his head.

- Please pay attention, - his father's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, - there are joyful news from the Eyrie! - the whole family put down the cutlery and was already listening attentively to the king, - my sister, our Princess Lenerys Targaryen writes that after so many moons and years of marriage, she and Lord Arryn will finally have their first child! – Alecent clapped joyfully, Otto nodded and drank from a glass of wine, Aegon did not care, Helena muttered something, and Aemond…

"What?" was the first thought that popped into his head. He looked anxiously at his relatives, watching their reaction, and when he realized that he had heard everything correctly, he fell into a slight stupor. He didn't want to believe his ears, but that was the reality. The baby had not even been born yet, but Aemond had already hate him.

- A child is the fruit of love between a man and a woman, – Aemond looked at his mother, she looked joyful, - I'm glad that at last everything worked out for them! - His father the king smiled approvingly and raised the goblet above his head.

- To my future nephew!

At this moment, it seems the whole world has become deaf, or vice versa, Aemond has become deaf to the world. He did not hear voices, he did not hear the cups meet with a characteristic clang ... the only thing he heard was the beating of his broken heart, it was reflected in his ears, and it seemed that it was because of him that he became deaf. His breath was knocked out, he greedily sniffed the air and exhaled convulsively. He is on the verge of tears again,…He hates it.

Everyone seemed to be busy with the good news, and no one was paying attention to the one-eye prince, but his older brother, Aegon, was watching him, grinning at his suffering.

After his mother and the maesters changed his bandages and applied ointments, the queen came up and gently kissed him on the forehead, he did not resist. This evening he was not talkative, the prince wanted everyone to leave his chambers as soon as possible.

Finally, when his mother left, wishing him a quiet night, he gave free rein to his emotions. Quiet sobs, he bit his lips so as not to scream, and his absent eye, as if he was also trying to squeeze tears out of himself, itched inexorably. The wound also began to itch, but he restrained these impulses as best he could, instead he tore the pillow and fabrics, feathers were scattered on his bed.

No matter how hurt he was, he could not and didn't want to blame her. He did not reveal his feelings to his aunt, and she owed him nothing, but such logical conclusions did not act as a miracle cure for his bleeding heart. He understood that hating an innocent child was stupid, infantile, but his mother's words "A child is the fruit of love between a man and a woman" pressed him even harder and more painfully. His emotions were like a typhoon. Hatred, resentment were like huge waves, sweeping away everything in its path, in this case all reasonable arguments.

Tag: @sheetalkalkhandey @elraeeee @minaxcarter @infirebaby @khonshu-help-me

#aemond imagine #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #lady alicent #aemond targaryen #house targaryen #you #y/n

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peach-and-bugs · 11 months

Text

❤️Natalie Scatorccio NSFW Alphabet❤️ (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked)

❤️Read the SFW Alphabet here!❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: Minor spoiler for Season 2 episode 8! It's all dirty [AFAB Reader/anatomy used if any] (18+, Minors DNI, you will be blocked)

Word Count: 1,359

A/N: Hello lovelies! I know a lot of you wanted it, so here you go! Natalie's nsfw alphabet! She actually was a lot easier to write about than expected, probably because she's so straightforward anyways. Not much more for me to say, so enjoy, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!❤️

Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Nat is the type to need a cigarette after sex. I mean, maybe not a cigarette specifically bc I don't remember if she smokes in the show, but in my headcanon it's an every-now-and-then thing for her. But, for whatever reason she never got hooked on it like she did other things. But when it comes to caring for you specifically afterward she’d get you a warm towel to wash up at the very least. Everyone deserves that. But in a committed relationship she’d go as far as running a bath for you if you like and helping you in if it was a rather intense evening

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves your hips, I just know it. No matter what shape or size, she just loves having something to hang onto, ya know? It’s just the perfect spot for her hands and she loves running her thumbs over your stomach

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I know for a fact that she makes you clean her fingers with your tongue when she’d done with you. She wants you to know exactly what she’s tasting.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a dirty secret but she loves when her partner and this is only in a “serious” relationship (as serious as Natalie will get at least) takes complete control because she gets to be in a state where she’s not in control, but she knows she’s completely safe

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, we all know that Ms. Scatorccio knows exactly what she’s doing. When it comes to sex, she’s been around the block and back and she’s always willing to do another lap if she feels the need.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Imma say she enjoys receiving while face-sitting because it's the best of both worlds. She enjoys being on top, but she also likes receiving, and she loves the feeling of your arms and hands tight around her thighs

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

She’s more serious in my opinion. She doesn’t find sex silly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think she shaves everything (arms, legs, etc) but not regularly. She's cool with having stubble wherever so long as it's not bothering her.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Eh, again it depends on what kind of relationship you’ve got. I think over time she could learn to be romantic, but at the start, sex is a give and take for her. “You get what you need as long as I get what I need,” kind of thing. She’ll never make a big deal out of it though. She might have when she was younger, but she’d far more seasoned now, shall we say. She knows what she wants and that’s her priority

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She’s gotten good at using her hands because I doubt they let you bring any kind of toy with you to rehab, but she prefers a vibrator some nights

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think she’d enjoy mirror sex. She’d like watching herself but also forcing you to watch how she makes you feel. She's also into teeth. Like, not necessarily biting, but she likes someone with a nice set of teeth

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

She’s down for semi-public sex but still wants some privacy so anywhere with a locked door is fair game

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There isn’t a lot that doesn't turn her on really. Genuine interest in her sexually sometimes is all it takes. But she likes being teased and having her partner play coy with her. It makes her feel like a lady

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I think after watching S2 Ep 8 this is a given, but knife play…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She’s into both but has a fondness for receiving, ngl. This girl firmly insists that she’s a switch but she loves to bottom. Might sound like an oxymoron, but she loves the power she holds while receiving. Digging her hands in your hair and holding you where she wants you, squeezing your head or hand between her legs. Honestly, she’d gladly suffocate you if you let her

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She’s fast and rough when she’s on top, no questions asked. She likes getting to the point

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She’s quite fond of them. If it's guaranteed you’re not getting a night in together she’d gladly take a quickie in a bathroom stall if she needs it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Once there is some established relationship I think she’s down to try new things, but she’s not experimenting during a one-night stand, she might have done that before, but by now that’s behind her and she’s only experimenting with established trust from now on

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I don’t think she has a lot of stamina when it’s her cumming. She can have two, maybe three before she calls it quits. She could probably go for longer but once she’s had one or two she’s satisfied

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She doesn’t have a wide collection, just a few vibratos that she orders online while drunk and horny on random nights. But she’ll use them now and then with herself and whenever you want if that's something you’re into. I think she’d be really into using one on you while you eat her out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s a big tease. She enjoys being a mean girl sometimes!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I think she’s pretty quiet, but not for any lack of enjoyment. She’s got those breathy moans that swoon from the back of her throat and she tends to suck on her teeth

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She’s got nice hands. She keeps her nails short, partly because I think she’s a nail-biter, but she has the decency to file them before anything intimate happens so they’re nice and smooth. But she’s got long, thin fingers that really accentuate her knuckles and she’s always got a plethora of rings on so she makes a show of taking them off for you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She’s quite thin and lanky. I mean, we pretty much saw everything when she was walking around her motel in her bra and her fishnets.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s definitely high, but she knows she can get what she wants whenever or handle anything she needs on her own, so it's not often a “driver” for her or anything. Unless she’s drunk. If she's with someone she’s deemed as her person and she’s drunk, she wants in your pants as soon as possible

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She’s not the type to fall asleep after sex. She prefers having some kind of nightcap first (a drink or a cigarette or maybe even both to mix things up. Who knows!) you’re more likely than not to fall asleep before her which is when she makes her graceful exit if she’s not in her bed. However, in a committed relationship she’ll get back in bed with you after whatever “treat” she’s finished and hold you from behind till she knows you’re asleep. She likes kissing your shoulders when you’re naked. But she won't fall asleep that way, eventually turning over to her other side

#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio headcanons #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets #yellowjackets headcanons #charcater headcanons #character alphabet

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baronessblixen · 2 years

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Hello....could you write a Fictober story set in Plus One where Scully doesn't nudge Mulder to leave just yet? Instead, he gets lost reminiscing while watching Scully getting ready for bed. At the same time Scully is still talking about Judy Poundstone and kinda forgets too?

Does this make sense? Thank you.

Maybe not quite exactly what you asked, but Mulder's thoughts were too loud in my head! Set in "Plus One".

Fictober Day 27 | Tagging @today-in-fic@xffictober2022 | Wc: 1,259

I Remember When We Were Young

“Well,” she says, getting up from the bed while Mulder takes a sip from his beer, watching her. “I do feel old. Or older, anyway. Even if there’s still some scoot in my boot. Don’t you ever feel old, Mulder?”

She has her back turned to him and if he squints, he could believe it’s 20 years ago. Her hair is longer now than it was back then, he thinks, smiling. His own hair is no longer as full as it used to be, but far easier to tame. There’s a metaphor in there, probably.

“You’re still not listening, are you?” The smile she gives him is soft, but there’s more to it. He listens to her. Has always listened to her, even if he ignored what she said. That never changed. He realizes how much there is still between them; not just the familiarity, but scabs over the pain they’ve caused each other, too. Sometimes it itches, like now.

“I am listening,” he replies truthfully. “I needed a moment to think about it.” He watches her, just like he used to back in the day. She takes off her skirt and his eyes fly over her legs.

He’s always loved her legs – and he’s told her so hundreds of times. The first time he did it, not long after they started sleeping with each other, she gave him one of her patented skeptical looks. He laughed seeing it up close while being naked in bed with her. He kissed the expression right off her face before she asked him, “my legs? You think my legs are hot? They’re short, Mulder.”

He will never forget that. 20 years from now, when they’re older still, he will still think about it, will still look at her legs and adore them. Adore all of her.

“You still haven’t answered,” she sing-songs, taking off her pantyhose. Mulder sighs, taking another sip from his beer. He’s got a nice buzz going on, or maybe it’s just a Scully-high he’s experiencing. That’s his favorite anyway.

How can he explain to her that he feels old running after suspects but never when he is with her? That as soon as he sees her by his side, speaks to her, touches her, he is 25 years younger. He’s a spring chicken, staring at her with wide eyes and a head full of mischief. That, he thinks, hasn’t changed at all. It most likely never will. He grins at her standing there with her hands on her hips, giving him a look.

“I’m waiting,” she says. So am I, he thinks, knowing they’re not waiting for the same thing. He’s waiting for her to make up her mind, let him back in. Come home with him, to him. She grabs her pajama pants and puts them on. One of her favorites. One of his, too. How often has he taken it off of her? Countless times.

“I’m not letting you off the hook, you know,” she says, opening her blouse button by button. “Judy said I’m all dried up. What does that even mean? Do you feel like that, Mulder? Do people say things like that to you?”

He doesn’t know how she expects him to focus on her questions when her fingers fly over the buttons, revealing slivers of skin as they go. He glimpses flashes of a black bra and hastily brings his beer bottle to his mouth to conceal his gasp.

This really is like 20 years ago before they became more than just partners.

Except he knows all of this. He’s watched her undress so often that at one point, it was part of his everyday life. It was always special. He never got used to being allowed to watch her, see her in every possible state of dress and undress.

He knows how she puts on her pajamas, how she washes her face, and how long it takes. He’s attuned to the rhythm of the way she brushes her teeth. Knows what she smells like fresh from a shower, or when it’s just her after a long day at work. He knows it all.

But what if things are different, now?

“Mulder, you’re making me wonder if you still got some scoot in your boot. You’re very quiet. Have I been talking too much about Judy and getting older?”

“No, not at all,” he says, his eyes taking her in. She’s in her bra, standing there looking perfect to him. “How can she say you’re dried up?” He asks, the thought slipping through unfiltered. “You’re anything but, Scully. You have to know that.”

“I’m a woman in my 50s, Mulder,” she says with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It always matters what you think. To me it does. More than that, you’re still just as beautiful as you were back when we met.” Scully snorts, unclasping her bra. He expects her to turn away from him, but she doesn’t, allowing him full view of her breasts.

“You didn’t think I was beautiful when we met,” she says, putting on her pajama top.

“I did too,” he protests.

“You really did?” When she looks up at him, he sees her younger self with apple-round, rosy cheeks and her endless curiosity and skepticism that kept him on his toes.

How did the little note-taking spy with her too big briefcase from back then turn into the love of his life? The only woman he’s thought about in at least 20 years? The universe really does work in mysterious ways. And he couldn’t be more grateful that it’s her his heart and mind settled on.

“I did,” he says, drinking the last of his beer. Any moment now Scully will throw him out and he will toss and turn on that couch, his mind reeling, his body wanting. He misses her. He misses holding her and kissing her goodnight. He misses talking to her right before they fall asleep. He misses everything.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Mulder.”

“I do feel older,” he says. “But not in a bad way. I feel… I feel like a more mature version of myself. One who can’t run as fast anymore, but who at least has most of his hair.”

“You have great hair, Mulder,” she says and to prove her point, she runs her fingers through it. “I’m going to go wash up,” she adds but doesn’t move. If things were different, he’d draw her close to him and hold her. Sneak a kiss or two. That’s not who they are at the moment. The awkwardness of having to share space returns swiftly, catching him off guard.

“I should get ready for bed, too,” he says, getting up, his knees protesting. “But Scully… you’re not old. Not to me. Look at yourself. You’re still the hottest, most capable FBI agent and medical doctor I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, Mulder.” She gets on her tiptoes, grabs his arm for support, and kisses his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he replies, his skin tingling from her lips. “You know where to find me in case you, um, feel old again and need someone to remind me you’re not.”

She merely gives him a raised eyebrow before she disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click. Mulder returns to his own space, closing the door behind him, too, missing Scully’s presence already. That’s one thing he’ll never get used to. But he has time. He’ll wait for her. Forever, if he has to.

#fictober2022 #this may just be my favorite this month #hope you guys like it too #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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flipping-the-coin · 8 months

Text

[Audio file: #001 - Alpha Trion]

[Audio file of Optimus Prime: Security level = PRIME]

[Authorization detected… Confirmed]

[Audio playback commencing… Recording begins]

═════════════════

I recently read one of Orion Pax’s personal journal entries and felt inspired to record my own thoughts on the subject matter in the hope that I might better understand my own… situation in a sense.

I would have been inclined to write these musings down if only to ensure that they could be kept in a more controlled documentation format. However writing has never been a particularly successful endeavor for me. When me and my host shared a frame, it was near impossible for me to write without pain since he could predict my thoughts and read the words I wrote down. Often he was displeased with my attempts to record my ideas, emotions, or considerations. Writing was merely a way to ask for suffering, so I kept from it as much as possible.

He could not hurt me for speaking, at least not as much since he was unable to predict exactly what I would say at any given moment. It certainly helped me to learn the ways of political and emotional manipulation, not that I am proud of that fact. I learned that if I warped my mannerisms and glyph usage to a degree, becoming more vague and leaving plenty of room for unsaid meaning, additional pain could be avoided. As much as my host seemed fond of causing me pain, he often did not bother hurting me while I spoke so long as I kept within certain parameters.

It is safe to say that the habit of speaking my thoughts aloud in this form has lingered, and I see no need to eliminate it. It is comforting to speak into the void as if another could hear me… it is easier to cope with reality that way…

With that said, when it comes to Alpha Trion, my views regarding him are… complicated to say the least. My memories have always been questionable, a fact that has become more and more prominent in recent cycles. Things come to me in tattered pieces and some memories are locked away from me entirely, unable to be accessed despite the fact that I can feel gaps in my recollections as starkly as I do the hostility from my host. I believe the Matrix may be involved, but that is beside the point.

The gaps in my memory notwithstanding, Alpha Trion holds a unique place in my mind and spark. I have vague recollections of a time long gone by, a vision of things that have since passed. I remember him speaking to me in a place where only stars hung overhead, calling me ‘brother’ and saying something about me having ‘a grand purpose’. He seemed younger in that memory, but I do not know where or when it is from. I remember a distant feeling of affection directed toward him, but it was a strange form of love, one that I only recall experiencing during my youth after my initial forging in the frame of my host.

In those tattered memories from the time when stars shone brightly overhead, Alpha Trion was kin, family in an odd sense, and a guardian to me. He was security and wisdom given form, a view I now find to have been somewhat misplaced.

To offer some context for any listeners, when I first came into being, all I knew for a blinding moment was agony, then complete adoration toward my host, before finally everything settled on a rather cold and calculating apathy toward that which was unrelated to my duty. At the time all I knew was that Cybertron’s children needed my aid and protection, that was all I was required to be aware of. It was a simpler time for me. Alpha Trion was there during my forging, and I recall quite vividly how he scooped me up as if I weighed nothing, threw me over his shoulder, and ran down a dark path as if his life depended on it. Looking back, his life very well might have. I remember the screams of agony from the priests who were there for my forging, the mecha who lingered in the shadows and watched in awe as I awoke.

I have yet to confirm my suspicions as I have not yet taken the time to speak to Megatron, but I believe he was there that cycle, and I am near certain he tore every last one of those priests and observers to pieces in his rage. I must have fallen into recharge somewhere along the path, as my next recollection was of me awaking once more, this time within the Primal Citadel, before its destruction of course. I believe that was the only time I ever entered that place. Something in me was terrified of that structure after what I went through there.

I have already stated that my memories are not exactly the most reliable. That fact becomes quite prominent here as I cannot recall what Alpha Trion put me through in full. I believe it was an attempt on the Matrix’s part to protect my mind and spark from corruption. However some things are clear to me amidst the fog. I knew Alpha Trion was my brother from the moment I came into being, it is the nature of Primes to sense others like us due to our rarity and common origin. To those who know the chill of the void and the warmth of Primus’s embrace, it is not difficult to locate those who have also seen the beginning of times. Thus, with that knowledge, I remember reaching out to Alpha Trion, searching for guidance from him as I could not seem to access my host.

However, instead of treating me with any degree of kindness as I flailed in confusion at being given a mortal frame and being unable to speak to my host, he gave me to the Elite Guard. Do not mistake what I am going to say following this as hatred toward the guard. No, if anything I pity those mecha who took me upon themselves in those early cycles of my functioning. When I was passed to them, I was cold, unfeeling, and did not at all care for others as I do now. The mind of a Prime… It is something I struggle to describe. I have unknowingly buried my nature quite deeply beneath memory and pain, but I know what I was, what I was intended to be.

With Alpha Trion observing, my fourteen elite guardsmen put me through vigorous combat, strategy, speech, and political training. It is all a large blur for me, as at the time I was still adapting to my host’s memory and attempting to soothe him, not understanding why he was so frightened and angry. Despite that, the aches of hydraulics and cables from long cycles of being pushed to the limit are a lingering sensation even now. I recall the hymns sung without end during my training in the dark halls as if it were my own spark singing them. I… I remember the confusion and the turmoil that burned within me as I struggled to find something to cling to amidst the storm of change.

The Matrix was quiet in those cycles. Upon consideration, I believe it was still adjusting to my presence and Orion’s aggression. Whatever the case, it offered little comfort, and reaching out to my host in a desperate attempt to seek affection yielded nothing. I see now that the way I expressed my desires was… frightening to a mortal. Primes have unique methods of communication that I did not yet know were unacceptable and likely only frightened my host further. Still, I made attempts, and when I received nothing back amidst the chaos, I reached for Alpha Trion, trying desperately to understand and to seek familiarity if not a chance to be soothed.

The cycle I went to him was a rainy one. Acid fell from the skies outside and looking out a window in the long dark halls revealed mecha running for safety. At the time, I felt nothing more than the slightest hint of concern before I continued on my way, eager to reach my destination. When I arrived at Alpha Trion’s office, I entered quietly and tried to ask him to help me, to explain and give me comfort in the only way I knew how. But when he stood to face me, I felt fear for the first time. He took my audial in his servos and tore my finial off, causing me to cry out on instinct, still unused to mortal pain. Energon fell from the wound and I remember being so confused, wondering why a fellow Prime would hurt me as I gazed down at where energon coated my digits from my attempts to staunch the bleeding.

“You are a Prime. A Prime does not show weakness or hesitation. Your duty is clear. The enemy must be destroyed and peace returned to Cybertron. Put these foolish mortal emotions aside and focus on what you were forged for, brother.”

That is what he said to me that cycle as tears fell from my optics. I did not return to him after that. I did not know why at the time, but I see now that it was because I was afraid. I did not wish to be hurt, so I trained with the guard until it was time to be deployed to the front lines to meet my Autobots with the false tale Alpha Trion gave me of my ‘acceptance’ of the Matrix and the ‘reforging’ it put me through.

He frightened me, and whatever else he did to me during my time at the Primal Citadel scarred me so deeply that even now I cannot recall all that came to pass in that place. I only spent perhaps three stellar cycles there, but it changed me, it snuffed the mortal emotions that I began to develop and kept me from trying to reach out to others in any significant capacity until Bumblebee came into my life. I do not know what Alpha Trion did to me… I do not think I want to know. But I am prone to believing that ripping off my finial was not his only crime against me. As I left that place and observed my frame for the first time in the quiet of my battle front quarters, I found quite a few additional scars, some looking to have come from a wide assortment of weaponry and others looking as if they were from claws.

I never returned to the Primal Citadel, nor did I ever wish to. My spark flared in fear whenever I considered the location, even now I am not yet content with whatever horrible atrocities befell me there.

Alpha Trion is my brother. I know that much. But… he was no friend, nor was he kind. He was cruel, and now as I learn more about my host, I have found he hurt Orion just as much, if not more than he ever hurt me. I will never claim to understand his motives, but his influence is everywhere. I struggle to see it amidst the storm within my mind and the Matrix’s constant whispers now that it is active, but sometimes I see his work in the way my guardsmen act. Sometimes I can sense the corruption he instilled as I observe my beloved’s total devotion to what he believes. Sometimes… I can see it in myself when I see the face I stole in the mirror and the sickening white of my optics that comes whenever I don’t want to feel… when I want to forget…

There have been no sightings of Alpha Trion or any indicator of his death. He has vanished, but I do not believe he is gone. If Alpha Trion is anything like me, he will not rest until his duty is done. I suspect he lingers, watching and observing somewhere in the dark, waiting for a chance to act again and move things as he sees fit. I am no fool, I can feel the fragility of my mind only barely held together by the affection of my lover, the adoration of my sparklings, and the soothing whispers of the Matrix. If Alpha Trion were to return…

I do not believe I would survive the encounter.

═════════════════

[Recording ends.]

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #transformers prime au #two sides to a coin au #two sides supplemental writing #optimus prime #alpha trion #optimus prime audio files #orion pax #the matrix of leadership #cybertronian culture #tfp elite guard

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dungeonmastersconsortium · 1 year

Text

TW: Mental Health

I struggled a lot with deciding whether or not to make this post. At various times while writing it, I have thought that it was (either separately, some simultaneously, or all together) vain, self-deprecating, self-indulgent, selfish, attention seeking, or too depressing for anyone else to read. And if you continue past this point, heads up: it probably is these things at various times.

For those of you that don't know, I have Bipolar 1 and Borderline personality disorder. I have been actively putting in the work for a few years to get myself toward a better place mentally. Therapy, psych, meds, you name it, I've been doing it. I firmly believe it's important to do the work. (Honestly, you should go to therapy too.) I need to start off by saying this because it's an important foundation for the rest of this post.

My pair of SWEET mental illnesses manifest together in various ways. Individually, they're kind of what you might expect. Take the Bipolar 1. If you've known me for a long time and we interact in person, socially, I GUARANTEE you have experienced one of my manic episodes, and possibly benefitted from it in some way. I'm "lucky" in that the way my manic/hypomanic episodes manifest is mostly in ways that don't directly harm people, especially physically. I get VERY charismatic and outgoing. Very impulsive. WAY more social. I get very generous with my friends, moreso than normal. These also have some really bad downsides, but they aren't the things that would get me hospitalized. (Except for a couple instances of auditory hallucination back in my younger days. Hasn't happened in over a decade, though.) But my impulsivity has hurt people's feelings when I do something careless. I've developed coping mechanisms for this that allow me to more responsibly indulge in mania (which DOES feel great, unfortunately) without harming anyone usually.

Y'all also definitely know I can get pretty depressed. It happens. It happened a LOT in the past. A little less often now. Part of the bipolar thing too.

In short, I feel things much more strongly than neurotypical folks. This applies to all emotional states. While not everything I feel is extreme, the strength at which I feel things has a greater capacity for highs and lows. I guess the best way to explain it would be that most neurotypical folks have an emotional capacity from 1-10, and it's a pretty even scale, proportional to events that occur to trigger that emotional state. I would characterize myself as having a 1-20 scale. One problem is that my emotional scale isn't exactly EVEN. The higher the initial emotional reaction, the more likely it is to slide up the scale if left unchecked. If I'm not careful, something that solicits a reaction of, say, 7, will work its way up higher and higher.

You've heard of people being "overcome by emotion," and I can tell you that it's… SOMETHING. My previous therapist described it as not just a negative thing, he referred to it as a kind of superpower. While yes, I can feel sadness, despair, anger, hopelessness, and outrage at incredibly strong levels, I also experience joy, love, excitement, and passionate at similarly high levels. This can be VERY dangerous if left unchecked for me. A strong "active" emotion like excitement, joy, or anger can trigger a full manic episode.

Every day is work for me, mentally. One of the things 3 separate therapists and 2 psychologists have told me is that I'm very good at metacognition. Metacognition is, in short, thinking about thinking. I'm pretty good at tracking my own thought patterns and examining root causes of present emotions. I'm pretty dang good at this point especially at pointing out to my partners when I can feel the mania or depression coming on. (Which I think they're pretty grateful for lmao) It helps me regulate my emotions, as I can usually backtrack something and figure out when/why it is that way. My last therapist told me it makes his job both easier and harder, because most people have trouble identifying their own thought patterns and processes in therapy, which is why they're in therapy.

I have, both inadvertently and on purpose, developed a lot of tools to help manage my behaviors. In general terms, the best metaphor I can think of is a sheepdog trying to herd a particularly unruly herd of sheep, with no fence. Part of me is just trying to get out, even though it'll objectively be bad for me. The other part of me is constantly running circles around the herd, doing its best to keep everything within safe boundaries. There's a problem with this, though, that the metaphor is also handy for.

A dog can't run forever. At some point, it's going to get tired. It's going to need a break, to rest. Even when the sheep aren't actively trying to get away, just remaining vigilant in place can be tiring. Because it KNOWS they're gonna try to get away again.

My biggest problem over the last couple years is… Hard to talk about. I've trained myself to be able to regulate, but it's a LOT of work. It can be VERY frustrating even when great things are happening, because I can't just let go and enjoy something, as if I let it go too far, it might be bad news. I keep myself in check because I don't want to hurt other people. In my deepest, most authentic self, I don't want to hurt anyone. But it's TIRING.

I think it's why one of my love languages is acts of service and gift giving. (Both giving and receiving.) Someone taking something off my plate without me having to ask is VERY meaningful to me, especially since I have a hard time asking for help. (Part of the whole 'not wanting to make my mental health other people's problem thing.) Gifts also show me concrete proof that other people think about me and care about me during the times I can't remember that any other way. If you've ever been in my office/game room, I'm surrounded by tokens of my friends'/partners'/former students' affection.

The big problem is that… This is kinda the rest of my life. It's a lot of work, with no end in sight if I want to be the person I want to be. Looking out over the horizon of years that I have remaining, however many that might be… The task seems daunting and despair inducing. A prior therapist suggested DBT, but I HAVE the tools to cope, which is what DBT offers. DBT involves twice weekly sessions, one individually and one group, where you learn the skills to deal with your strong emotions, your relationship with attachment, (whether you actively avoid, push away, or attach too strongly,) and develop the tools to handle it. And there's a lot of homework. A LOT. And diary work. And that's why it was never going to work for me. I ALREADY do the mental lists, the metacognition, the identification. The thought of duplicating that work only made the despair worse.

Sometimes I just want to let everything go and be truly reckless for a little while. (No, not like in a stupid "my jokerification moment" kind of way.) Not because I want to hurt other people, but because.. Well, selfishly, it's not fair to have to be this vigilant all the time. It's constant work that I have to do that others don't have to do. It's exhausting and tiring, and there's no therapy that can really address that part of my brain. The frustrating part of therapy and psychiatry is that there's a focus on bringing the patient/client to as close they can to functioning in society, and I put in a LOT of work. There's a lot that I can say about how much it sucks that the SOCIETY we're supposed to be a part of (USA + Capitalism) says, "get on board or fucking die," and does not do any work to accommodate us. But that's a whole other conversation, and this post is already REALLY long.

There's not much of a point here. There's no moral. I guess I just wanted to share my struggle. Maybe someone else will see this and relate. I know it's difficult to find. If you google, "why didn't DBT work for me," you'll get mostly articles talking about how it works for 70-77% of people with BPD, or forum posts telling those asking this question (usually asked in frustrated, despairing tones) that they just didn't work hard enough. Or buy in to the program enough.

I find that insulting. I do work hard, because I think the work is WORTH it. But a lifetime of work like this is daunting when you consider it as a whole, not just as the present. So I try to take it a moment at a time. A day at a time. A week, maybe.

I guess I'll close with a quote from The Good Place. Because I just binge watched it again last weekend.

“I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.”

-Chid Anagonye

#bipolar #bpd #borderline personality disorder #dbt

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joeyjoeylee · 1 year

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When writing both sides of the law whose POV was more challenging to write through? do you have a favorite POV? You captured Beth and Rios voice so perfectly!! do you have any tips on how to put Brio in a completely different universe but still make it feel like it's them?

Anon, I love you, thank you! Both for the kind words and for the little thrill it always gives me to see the dot on the Tumblr.com Ask Box!!

Putting under a cut b/c, as always, brevity is not ya girl’s strength.

I found both POVs equally challenging for different reasons, and while writing each one, I would longingly think about how much easier the last one was and how much I looked forward to finishing the current one to get back to the other one.

Beth’s was easiest b/c superficially, I’m like Beth. White woman from American suburbia, same general age range, oldest daughter with wacky, irresponsible, beloved younger sibling that I had to parent from the moment of their birth? Check, check, and check. So it wasn’t hard to try to channel that POV, because Beth’s experiences were something I could relate to or imagine her reactions.

By the opposite token, Rio was therefore exponentially more difficult. A man, Latino-American, crime-adjacent, etc. – what do I know about all that other than from pop culture/reading others’ perspectives?

The “man” part being the first hurdle, because yes, I’ve read George R.R. Martin talking about how he as a man writes such disparate women characters (“You know, I’ve always considered women to be people.”) and that’s all well and good (are men people tho? Jury still out. Just kidding. Mostly.), but I also LIVE for the Men Writing Women Badly memes (“Her large gelatinous boobs hung calmly, penitently boobing boobliciously under her boob-framing shirt.”), and I was constantly worried I was doing the same thing in reverse, i.e., “is this actually how a [supposedly] normal hetero cis man thinks/acts? Seems sus….”

And then writing from the perspective of someone a different race/cultural background than my own? I know it’s no surprise that race/culture issues can be so fraught in America and deservedly so (of course elsewhere in the world too, just noting “in America” as that is my personal experience and the experience of the overwhelmingly American media/pop culture I consume), and I was very sure I didn’t have the skill or ability to convey any of that with sensitivity or nuance so tried to avoid it/not get too into it too much for fear of botching it badly or offending or writing something that came off as a straight caricature (example: I cut so much of Rio’s “family” scenes other than the Gretchen ones, etc.).

But then again Beth’s POV was harder for me b/c personality and temperament-wise, she is not me. I am the OG Gen X Slacker Stereotype (the Hufflepuff to Rio’s and Beth’s Slytherins, if you will, which is a good fit as I think about it b/c Hufflepuffs love Slytherins) and sometimes writing all Beth’s lists and research and BETH-ness was so exhausting I wanted to take a stress nap (Insert Fat Amy gif: “ENOUGH [WITH THE DAMN BINDERS, BETH] ENOUGH!”).

And then Rio was much easier b/c his “humor” for me was fun to channel b/c I see it as more like my own, as is what I viewed his approach to school and studying (get by on talking and reading quickly and retaining only what you need to know? Check!), and how his POV could just be long monologues of observing Beth and making fun of her rigidity (this was often-times just straight “JoeyLee dunking on Beth” and not “Rio the Character dunking on Beth” if that makes sense).

As far as tips for writing an AU, I don’t think I have any really good ones – again, I’m not the creative writer others are as shown by the fact that my “creative” attempt at an alternate universe was literally a universe I had actually personally experienced, aka law school – but for me, I tried to think of what I believed to be the core characteristics of the canon characters (understanding that this was MY read of them, and others’ mileage may and should vary):

· She is: intensely private, a Certified Leslie Knope-Level Steamroller, willful, dogged, often entitled, knows how to weaponize her privilege, blind to the things she doesn’t want to face/acknowledge, desperate for approval from outside sources she values (Rio, teachers/authority figures, Polite Society at Large), pragmatic, goofy sense of humor, and above all, will always prioritize “survival” over personal happiness;

· He is: family and business-oriented, charming, charismatic, ruthless, full of joie de vivre and able to see the humor in life, quick-witted, sarcastic, flashy in dress/accessories/material things, and capable of effortlessly slipping into different faces and masks to fit any situation;

· They both are: stubborn, ambitious, very emotional (her more inwardly, him more outwardly), petty, aware of what they look like physically and their effect on others (but often not their effect on each other), absolutely convinced at all times they are right, quick to lash out and go total NUCLEAR/SCORCHED EARTH when wounded or hurt, competitive, and obsessed with each other at all times, even when they supposedly dislike/hate the other.

So I told myself that even though I was writing an AU, they always had to be in personality like how they are in canon, otherwise I would just be writing original characters with the Beth/Rio names slapped on them (this is fine too, of course, but the whole point of fanfic for me is to read about the characters I love).

Then I tried to always write them acting and reacting like those characteristics above, even as they weren’t reacting as I would have and it made the writing harder (me thinking “FOR GOD’S SAKE, can you just HAVE A CONVERSATION for once and stop with this madness!”)

So my advice would be: for any alternate universe setting you can imagine, just think about what the characters’ core characteristics are for you. Then you have to write them always remaining true to those, no matter what different timeline or life experiences you’ve dreamed up (and that could even be half the fun – what would Beth’s life be like in an AU where she doesn’t have Annie as a younger sibling? Or didn’t meet Trashcan Dean too young? What must have happened that formed/shaped her into the same Canon-Beth Personality without those Canon-Beth Life Experiences?).

And final thought, I gotta say, the AUs I’ve read where that is done well (like I have read so many times in this fandom), well, for me, it’s like seeing the Multiverse – all my fave characters in so many different times and places, but still themselves, still them. Don’t get me wrong, I love a canon or canon-compliant fic super hard, and I understand why some readers just can never relate to an AU. But it makes me happy to find a new AU and pretend I’m Dr. Strange seeing another one of the million different universes where my faves are still existing and interacting in different forms. Possibilities = endless.

What’s your dream AU/head canon, Anon? Write me back so I can daydream about it too and break up this ridic work day!!

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svartish · 1 year

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impartiality;

been a while since i've written anything, so please bear with it. warm up for other things i wanted to write. might delete later

warnings: angst? not proofread. not intended to be ship but you can take it that way if you want. pre-canon

Impartiality.

A word of privilege for those blessed with a lack of care and closeness, an existence defined without the balming bonds of friendship. Vyn once thought himself capable of living in such a way, careful practice built up with the intent to craft the highest walls around his heart, yet he found himself struggling and stranded for the first time. The ruthless judgment he cloaked himself with faltered in his bandaged heart, unable to extend unfeeling fingers toward grasping this unexpected situation with the same apathy and grace developed to guard him from pain. After experiencing a taste of one of his first real friendships, how could Vyn ever be expected to return to a harsh neutrality?

PAX CIVIL WAR gleamed mercilessly from a screen carelessly thrown aside amongst the paperwork littered about on his desk, though he hadn’t been bothered to spare the article a second glance for a while now. He knew it wasn’t true, and he knew he wanted to believe it, an easier out than the likely ugly reality at hand, but he couldn’t force himself to stomach another load of worthless drivel from news reporting fools who hadn’t even the slightest insight into anything important at all.

It hurt. He hurt, Vyn realized. He didn’t want it to, and never expected it would, but with a twang of long-forgone emotion, his heart hurt.

There were no photos of the NXX group together. It would be silly to take any, and dangerous to keep them. Even still, there was a photograph from the day Giannovyn first opened, the two owners proudly celebrating their latest accomplishment. It clouded his mind when he thought for too long about the open seats in the headquarters. Giann smiled wider than Vyn, his childish grin spreading from ear to ear, crowned with the most innocent looking dimples, but both men were equally overjoyed. Not only was it an advancement for science and mental health, but it marked a milestone in a friendship Vyn never expected himself to have in the first place.

If he looked hard enough, perhaps he could find a photo of Neil as well stored somewhere carelessly in his belongings, though he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to think about him to begin with. The idea of a betrayal burned too brazenly in his chest for him to stomach the idea, as much as it bereaved him to suffer from such a human feeling.

Now, it was just the two of them left in NXX. “Let’s bring in someone else, someone who can be impartial”, the other had said, aggravated by their disagreement. How could the two of them ever agree when they held such opposite experiences with their dearest missing members? Both, saddled so with emotion, grief, and conviction, refused to believe even for a moment that the other’s theories were anywhere near the truth.

He went alone, without contacting anyone, to meet someone he trusted.

We don’t know that! We can’t decipher the entire email yet. We don’t know what actually happened!

A new member was seeking to join the team, none other than Giann’s younger brother. Vyn didn’t have to wrack his brain to figure what side of the argument the young man would take, perhaps with even more passion than he had. For now, he considered it more prudent to withhold these thoughts, the heartbreak he felt, and present himself as unbothered and unfeeling as usual.

“Yes, let’s,” Vyn agreed, knowing he was no longer the impartial adjudicator he once believed himself to be.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #marius von hagen #artem wing #neil hume #giann von hagen #tears of themis fic

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devoteyrheart · 9 months

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13. what traits does your muse value in a romantic partner? / any and all!

(from) ― romance & relationship headcanons! // @60104 13. what traits does your muse value in a romantic partner? / any and all!

phew this would be easier to answer if it was the opposite: what things they avoid/hate. also, whatever i write doesn't mean that the characters would never fall in love or have feelings for someone who doesn't match the descriptions i gave. there's always so much at play when you fall in love / feel drawn to a person but anyway!

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: mike zackarias, ilse langnar, marlene, jean kirstein, eld jinn, gunther schultz, annie leonhart

━━━━━━━━━━━━━.⊹˚⁀➷｡.━━━━━━━━━━━━

ilse:

shared values. devotion. purpose. earnest. compassion. and willingness to grow . - if you're scared of / genuinely don't like being called out on your bullshit, she's not the woman for you. - she doesn't tolerate people canceling on her for shit like 'i don't feel like it' 'i fell asleep', she's surprisingly very ruthless about that kind of disrespect, but if, for example, her bf told her 'i really need to focus on studying for this big exam so we aren't going to hang out this week but i'll call you once every day' she would literally feel so attracted to him and just fall even more in love. she's not right in the head. ilse doesn't believe in soulmates, she believes in people CHOOSING each other and looking in the same direction and walking towards it side-by-side... so yeah... purpose and devotion ( to themselves / their goals, and to the relationship ) are v big to her. - she likes having fun, but play dumb games with her? make her pick between her family / friends and you? lmfao, she won't try to reason with you or meet you halfway: you're out. - you need to understand her family dynamic, or at least make an effort to. ilse's family dynamic is a il nuanced and, in part, she blames herself for it. surprisingly her family doesn't meddle much, but they're people who are "simpler" i guess, and they are very set in their ways and their family dynamic. they've experienced significant loss, and ilse is the first one in the family to leave their circle ( which was a very hard pill to swallow ). also ilse is the baby of the family by many years so you need to be someone who isn't a pushover but also won't engage with / start conflict no matter how provocative or protective they get. it's delicate and you need to know how to navigate it while still being yourself and not apologizing for it ( because if you do, they'll stop respecting you 💀).

eld:

compassion, loyalty, sense of humor, curiosity, and a sense of adventure.. but they can't be too hyper or disorganized. he loves and desires a calming/grounding presence. as much as eld feels drawn to people who are extremely spunky, that's not who he wants to build a life with. he's ok with someone who can keep in on his toes / roast him / call him out but only if it actually makes sense. also: you can't be someone who yells, especially during arguments. this guy is literally a child of a yelling marriage if you ever raise his voice at him or if he finds himself raising his voice at you: you're out. he won't even explain himself. you also can't be someone who believes (blood) family is everything - if you encourage eld to reconnect with his parents in a meaningful and lasting way: you're out.

mike:

compassion, neatness, and someone who values quality time and hanging out outdoors. also someone who doesn't try to change him? he spent enough years analyzing himself and getting to know himself and evolving to be the person he wants to be: he's not going to change. mike has grown to become calm person and he rarely engages in conflict not because he's averse to it but because he knows, damn well, that if he throws a punch the other person will get knocked out. younger mike very much still lives in inside older mike: don't bring him out. if you encourage mike to be aggressive in any way, you're out. also, if you're religious, you're out. i'm so sorry, he just can't go back to that.

gunther:

patience, organization, no pushiness, and loyalty... but with a bit of spunk. this man will swear he has no patience for nonsense but he loves a woman with a good sense of humour that can help him relax and bring out his laid-back side. someone who reminds him that he can be emotionally vulnerable. someone who is ok with the fact that he has a kid. he doesn't see his kid a lot ( i will touch on this at some point eventually ) but in the future he does want to spend more time with his child and if that's a problem for you: you're out.

marlene:

good sense of humor is essential to her. also someone who sees through her cool girl half-façade. she wants to be treated like a princess and spoiled, its the truth. she can absolutely spoil herself, but urgh she wants someone else to spoiler. she has a 'if i'm too much go find less' mentality and if you can't handle it that's your damn problem. you gotta b a lil intense, even if you're quiet, or else marlene won't feel drawn to you.

annie:

someone who understands the need for personal time and individual pursuits. she probably wants to sleep in separate bedrooms at times ( only at times, ofc she likes cuddling too ) and if you can't deal with it you're not the right person for her. annie appreciates a dry and sarcastic sense of humor so she values a partner who can match her wit. someone who is patient and soft but not an enabler or a pushover: annie sometimes wants things but doesn't pursue them, so someone who is encouraging without being overbearing is perfect. also, you can't be afraid of confrontation. for her, it's ok if your shy/quiet/introvert whatever the fuck, as long as you have a very strong spine. she will literally get the ick if you're too soft.

jean:

someone who is willing to grow, evolve, and talk things out ( don't go silent on him, please, don't shut him out - he copes very poorly with it ). someone who doesn't have their head in the cloud and who shows genuine empathy and understanding towards others.

#THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SORRY I WROTE A LOT #––– ❛ about 【 mike 】#––– ❛ about 【 ilse 】#––– ❛ about 【 eld 】#––– ❛ about 【 marlene 】#––– ❛ about 【 jean 】#––– ❛ about 【 annie 】#––– ❛ about 【 gunther 】

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thatwritingho · 2 years

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Kloktober Day 12

Use an OC/Self-insert

Finally, I'm posting the bios for Olive's siblings in the Momento Mori universe!

I don't have the energy to write anything new, but I was able to polish these up enough to post! Detial of the bios is completely reliant on where they appear chronologically in the story, and how far out I've outlined, so theres some variation in length. Eventually I hope to go back in and flesh them out more, but for now, enjoy!

As always, please let me know what you think🥺

Clove Axworthy

(birth name Soon-hee Choi)

Birthday: November 17th

Age: 30, twin sister of Olive

Height: 4’11

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Ethnicity: half Korean, quarter Japanese, quarter Mexican

Country of Birth: South Korea

Education/Career: Has a phd in bioengineering as well as biomedical sciences. Works at a branch of the Axworthy company based in Seoul which focuses on prosthetics engineering. She invented and patented the designs of Dick Knubbler's eye replacements and Dr. Twinkletits arms, as well as performed the installation surgeries on both.

Personality: Rule-abiding and driven, Clove decided early on that trying her best to fit in and appear as normal as possible was preferred to being ostracized for her ASD. This was only reinforced while in foster care as a desperate bid to improve the chances of finding a permanent home. Masking has became second nature, and though she can't seem to blend in as much as she wishes to, she succeeds enough to be satisfied. Like Olive, Clove is naturally inclined towards kindness, and truly desires to help others, which is a driving factor behind her career goals.

History: They were very close when they were younger, Clove being more adept at social situations and found masking her asd came much easier to her than it did Olive. She therefore had an easier time making friends, and would often be the one to drag Olive along for play dates and outings, as she felt safer with her sister by her side and didn't want to leave her behind.

The twins were separated while in foster care, but reunited once adopted, though a wedge had formed between them that they were too young to understand; Clove having not experienced the same violent trauma that Olive had. This made dealing with her sister's emotional issues a difficult task, especially considering Clove's own unresolved trauma surrounding losing her parents and being parted from her sister, going into foster care totally on her own.

Due to Clove's views on conforming for survival, she was very disapproving when Olive began to take on a more alternative style, not understanding her sister's fascination with the macabre and growing interest in dark themes, as this goes against the rules she has set in her own head. She also has a difficult time accepting Olive's lifestyle choices due to the danger involved, finding her sister's actions reckless and concerning. They frequently fight over this, sometimes not speaking for months, though they always make up eventually.

Clove is similar to Olive in many ways; they share an interest in all things math and science, and can feed off of each other to inspire new ideas and breakthroughs, Clove often calling Olive for advice when stuck on a project. She adores animals, and has 3 Great Danes she loves dearly- Apple, Blueberry, and Grape(yes, singular).

Clove doesn't like metal- its sad but true.

Violet Killian ne Axworthy

Birthday: August 29th

Age: 34

Height: 5’8

Gender: Trans woman

Sexuality: Lesbian

Ethnicity: Romani

Country of Birth: Bulgaria

Education/Career: studied marine biology and oceanography, works as a Marine Field Scientist

Personality: Very, very type A, highly organized and meticulous, keeps a bullet journal. Very fun and personable, everyone she meets is a friend. Naturally mischievous, and developed a rebellious streak as a teen that she never quite grew out of.

History: Gets along with Olive best out of all the siblings, also hates their adoptive father with a fiery burning passion. Forced into med school by him, but she quit and pursued her passion to get a marine biology degree, much to his disapproval. Has little contact with her family other than Olive and Mavuto.

Drinks a lot of wine, not uncommon for her to have a bottle hidden in her oversized purse "for emergencies." Is an alcoholic but hides it behind her fun personality and organized nature. Struggles with depression and OCD tendencies, and is trying to start replacing alcohol with therapy, though its slow going.

Met her wife Nova through Olive, fell in love quick and married within a year. They are very in love🥰

Dorian Axworthy

Birthday: April 16th

Age: 31

Height: 5’10

Gender: Cis man

Sexuality: Bisexual

Ethnicity: Quarter Japanese from his dad, the rest of his ancestry is old money British

Education/Career: Doctorate in finance, well respected in his field.

Personality: The only biological child of Alistair. Can be rather arrogant and self righteous, but has his moments where his kindness shines through. Feels like he has something to prove due to his father heavily criticising him his whole life.

History: Olive and Dorian were very close as children, and he greatly helped her to come out of her shell when she was first adopted, and was the first person she was able to open up to about the trauma she had suffered from her parent's death and through her time in foster care. Dorian was a very sweet child, and wanted to do all he could to help his best friend.

Unfortunately, this gave Alistair the perfect opportunity to manipulate his son into influencing Olive for his own benefit. He convinced Dorian, who was desperate for his father's approval, that the experiments and harsh training Olive was put through were in her best interest, and encouraged him to help lead her toward that path. This eventually caused quite a rift between the two as they got older and Olive began to realize she was only being used, while Dorian refused to see it.

Despite this clash of opinion, Dorian still cared for her deeply, and was devastated by her suicide attempt as a teen, the event shaking him and causing him to realize his feelings for her had grown from that of best friend into something more. He was very instrumental in her mental healing process, and the two ended up dating for a few years while in college. But as they started to get older, and Olive began to lean more and more toward her revenge plot, they grew apart, Dorian becoming frustrated with her dangerous goals, and they suffered a rather nasty breakup, Olive leaving for Tokyo soon after they split.

Dorian moved back in with his dad for a while after this, and Alastair used Dorian's frustrations with Olive, as well as his heavy admiration for Alistair's accomplishments and contributions to the scientific field, to win his son back over, very negatively skewing his view of Olive in the process.

Unfortunately, this has caused Dorian to begin to excuse the torment Alistair put his siblings through in the name of scientific advancement, and he attempts to downplay how bad Olive and Dewi's childhoods were, and chooses to ignore how his father manipulated him as well.

Despite it all, though, Dorian still loves Olive and wants her back. He can be rather manipulative himself, and knows how to play her emotions, which he has no qualms over doing. The two got back together briefly as adults, once Olive came back to the states after retiring from the yakuza, and it once again ended badly, Olive finally realizing he had no issue with manipulating her into whatever he wanted, and that despite how much she still loved him, their relationship had become toxic and needed to end.

Mavuto Axworthy

Birthday: March 7th

Age: 32

Sexuality: Gay

Height: 6’2

Gender: Cis man

Ethnicity: Chewa

Country of Birth: Malawi

Education/Career: Neurosurgeon, head of the West Coast branch of Axworthy Industries

Spouse: Abraxas

Kids: Vesper, Scarlett

Personality: The most stable one out of the family. Fun loving and easy going the majority of the time, though he tends to be a bit of a worrier, and wants everyone to get along and be a big happy family.

History: Quickly became best friends with Violet after adoption, and the two are still very close. Overall he is very agreeable, and does his best to see the good in everyone. Can deal with Dorian's manipulative nature the best out of everyone, tries to give him the benefit of the doubt, even when he doesn't entirely deserve it. Always trying to get them all together for "family bonding," which no one ever agrees to.

Met his husband Abraxas in med school, the pair dated for a few years before marrying and adopting two little girls, Vesper and Scarlett, ages six and ten. Their family is one of love, support, and happiness- everything he had hoped for he and his siblings to have.

Dewi Axworthy

Birthday: June 26th

Age: 26

Height: 5’3

Gender: Genderfluid, uses feminine pronouns

Sexuality: Bisexual, preference for men

Ethnicity: Indonesian

Country of Birth: Indonesia

Education/Career: Self taught malicious hacker for an undisclosed organization

Personality: Very chill, though a bit of a loner. Dewi tends to keep to herself, and self isolates as her main coping strategy. Between depression, CPTSD, and working late nights, she’s perpetually exhausted, and has a bad habit of drinking too many energy drinks just to stay awake when she needs to. She throws herself into her work to avoid thinking about her problems.

History: Born mute, underwent multiple failed experiments to the hands of Alistair to “correct” it, one of which left her with a large, horizontal scar going across her throat, which she hides with a plain black choker.

She has an interest in robotics, which she and Olive bond over and discuss new designs together, though she tends to get caught up in her own projects.

Said "fuck school" and taught herself information technology and network security, became an international malicious hacker for an unamed underground agency. As the only other one involved in illegal activities, she and Olive have an understanding, and she doctors all of Olive's official documents/edits data available on her to keep her difficult to track.

#kloktober 2022 #momento mori #oooh i can finally make tags for these guys!#clove axworthy #dorian axworthy #mavuto axworthy #dewi axworthy #violet killian #mtl oc #metalocalypse oc

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