#it was supposed to be black and white and kinda spiralled to this

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

If youre ok w sharing then i would love to hear your thoughts on lotor........ Hes such a weird guy. Dissecting him like a frog

If i get hate for this, i am blaming you/j but in all honesty i apologize if this kinda messy, as i have said it has beem awhile since i saw any of the episodes about him. Most of it is my personal interpretation and opinions of his character-

First of all i personally hate both "L0tor is evil rapist imperialist who did not have a single redeemable quality" and "L0tor is uwu poor baby who did nothing wrong", because yeah he had good intentions and he seemed to genuinely love Alura and care for Alteans but also he very much did do a lot of things Wrong. I am pretty sure a lot of his actions fall into category of Very Wrong

Lot0r to me is an absolute control freak, he has to be 10 steps ahead of everyone, he needs to be control of the situation no matter what. Whether it be through a silver tongue or by his blade (see N@rti's death, him vs White Lion). This is as much as a ruthless strategy as it is a trauma response. Being raised under Z@rkon, a father who only saw him as inferior half-bred, he had to learn survivor tactics. He will do anything to survive whether it be beg, lie, manipulate, and kill. He is a survivor of some genuinely godawful abuse he suffered for 10,000 years, combined with racism he suffered for being half altean

However this need to be in control extends to his allies and people he cares about. I am sure Lotor may have loved Alura, it doesnt change the fact that he very much abused her trust. Their entire relationship was based on a lie. He knew Alteans were still alive and not only did he not tell Alura about it he leaned into the "last survivors of Altea" for their relationship, which is why it was doomed since the beginning. And if it had not been this, then it would have been something else. Cause lying and manipulation are very much core of his character, that is how we are introduced to him

Like i see people going "Oh Lot0r could have been good if he had therapy and a hug", and i am not really not sure about it, cause like would he? Would he choose to be vulnerable and actually let his feelings out and be truthful in a an unbiased reliable way that will neither serve him in any way nor make him look better nor is a part of some machivilian scheme he cooked up because he doesnt trust the therapist he is paying? No

And thing is he does desire connection. He looks for connection in people who are similar to him. Half galran, altean survivors, Alura these are the people who he chose to get close to. He looks for similarities, people he can relate to, people who he sees as like him, people who he thinks can give him a sense of belonging. He is deeply lonely. However his desperation for control, absolute mistrust in anyone and everyone, and his inability to be actually honest dooms any relationship he'll ever have

Also this is probably just me, but for someone who is this morally complex character he has tendency to see things in black and white? Like it is His dad and empire= bad, alteans=good. He idolizes Altea to the point of seeing it as an Utopia, and this ideal was more important to him than any Alteans who are alive and with him. I also cant remember him ever caring about someone outside of the Dichotomy. Like at most i remember is after he became the emperor Lance pointing out how other planets need to be freed and he just brushed it off

Overall he gives me the "smart people dont always make good decisions, but they are good at justifying their bad ones" vibes. We dont know exactly why he decided to use alteans as batteries but i am choosing to go with my interpretation- "Lottor saw something fucked up in that future showing space whale thingy, decided the only way to solve was altean batteries except in true self fulfilling prophecy greek tragedy way it only made things worse and started a series of event that will cause the thing he saw causing real trouble a few years after his death.

Another thing! I think it should have been him being the focus of Evil Altean episode instead of A//ura. I hate that episode and everything it stands for but like if there Had to be an evil alteans episode then it should be around someone who is you know? Obsessed with Altean culture? Is big on control and manipulation? Is more geared towards big picture and "greater good" over individual? Is worried about turning into just like his galran father and so desperately wants to connect to his idealized version of his altean mother? Yeah

#empty answers #This is the type of shit that used to get you sniped from both sides of the shitty discourse back in ye old days #I probably have more thoughts but i also need to rewatch vld to have a clearer picture #Also i dont get when people say it was bad writing that he turned out traitor #Like it was handled in abhorent way but also- we are literally introduced to him manipulating an entire audience #The fuck yall mean yall thought he was genuine?? #I used to like him but come on man #That was the most obvious disney twist villain if i have ever seen one #and vld writers are not smart enough to do something actually subversive #Also gonna be real with you while i do have a lot of thoughts of him i kinda also dont enjoy his character?? #It is-how do i put it? A bit lame #Like the eps were going on about how he is this Most Complex Character and instead we have is- #a disney twist villain and sad anime backstory that is supposed to absolve him or something #I can think of so many villains/character that had similar aspects to him but were just Way Better #A convincingly manipulative man with black and white morality who thinks he is in the right even though his actions beg to differ? #B3los is right there #Villain who uses manipulation as a defense mechanism which only drive all their friends away? Grace monr0e and Sash Waybrigt #A tragedy who just wanted peace for his people only for things to spiral so horribly they destroyed the very people they sought to protect? #M0rdred pendrag0n hnoc my beloved <33 #A hot villain who is morally reprehensible but is really hot? M3dusa G0rgon <3 #And just. I think the problem is the writers wanted him to be all of those things and he ends up being none of them #Not to mention the plot armour. You mean to tell me he is being this obvious and yet no one suspected anything?? #Yeah right. Detective!Hunk for the win! #Anyway sorry this is late and so rambly #Thanks for the ask!!!! #Anyone else reading this. This is just a personal opinion ok? No fights ok??

[smashboxgirl26]

i crumble completely when you cry

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! reader summary: this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, but sometimes mistakes yield the best results contains: proposal!! (for @/pityslash <33), kinda ooc soft bakugou but im blaming it on him getting a concussion, mentions of injury, lots of fluff hehe word count: 1.8k words masterlist

Katsuki awoke to a darkened room with white, tiled speckled ceiling cut into rectangles and an IV in his arm; you were sleeping in the plastic chair at his bedside, head leaning against the wall and your mouth slightly open. It was probably about two or three in the morning, judging by the dimmed light coming from the hospital hallway.

Fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He shifted around slightly under the thin sheets, grunting as he tried to move his (apparently broken) right arm to fit in the pocket of his hero costume. A sigh of relief pushed past his lips when he felt the little velvet box still stashed away, thankfully left untouched.

And god– fuck did his head hurt… but this wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.

You were still dressed up — makeup and all, heels sitting next to you on the floor, the pretty black satin dress he watched you show off before you both left for dinner: now bunched up in your lap between your palms as you slept. 

You were definitely going to complain about the crook in your neck when you woke up from the way your head was angled against the wall. You should’ve just gone home and slept properly in bed: but he knew arguing with you would’ve been fruitless — you’d refuse to leave his side like you always did. 

Katsuki let out a small huff as he stared back up at the darkened ceiling.

This was supposed to be your anniversary. He had it all planned out: flowers, dinner, taking a walk through the park near the apartment to get ice cream, proposing in the little ramada he’d gotten Hanta and Eijirou to decorate with fairy lights and flowers. His mother’s old engagement ring was what he’d nervously tucked away into his suit pocket earlier that evening; she’d given it to him the first time you met her — as if she just knew the outcome of your relationship. 

And yet, not even halfway through dinner he’d gotten a call about a villain spiraling out of control. 

He knew his apology was lacking when he pushed himself up from the table, telling you he’d be back as fast as he possibly could; and he could tell how disappointed you were at the fact he was leaving despite how you playfully urged him to hurry before you ate all the dessert without him.

He’d slipped the ring in his costume pocket thinking he would make it back in time for your walk in the park — but that went out the window the second he was caught off guard and blasted through an apartment building.

You shifted slightly, against your spot on the wall. Katsuki almost thought it was because he was thinking too loud.

Your eyes opened after a moment or two, and blinked once or twice at him before realizing his eyes were also open.

“You’re awake?” you asked groggily, scrubbing your eyes before pulling yourself up from the chair. “Let me go get the nurse–”

“S’fine,” he stopped you before you could get out the door, lifting his head off the pillow because he knew you would come over and scold him for it.

Shit he felt dizzy.

“Don’t move right now,” you chastised him — immediately abandoning your mission to rush back to his side and help him lay his head back down on the pillow. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yea,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’ get the nurse yet… I don’ really want more fuckin’ needles in my arm right now.”

“...fine.” You pressed your lips together, concealing the lecture he knew you wanted to spew: him never being careful when he promised he would be being main point among those you wanted to address — yet you pulled the hard, plastic chair you were sitting in up to the bed and leaned against the mattress.

“...do you feel dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“You got a concussion from your fall,” you turned your head to look towards the side, and he couldn’t see your expression anymore in the dimmed light from the lamp next to his bedside. “You also broke your arm from landing on it.”

“You saw?”

“It was on the news.”

You sounded on the verge of tears. He needed to apologize. He’d ruined your night.

“M’sorry,” he let his left hand drift over to where yours was laying on the bed next to him, his fingers catching between your own — grabbing you out of your dazed attention — “M’sorry I ruined our night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything Katsuki,” you shook your head, but he could hear the little edge of pain in your voice. “It’s not your fault… I was just worried.”

“I did, though,” he continued. “Tonight was s’posed to be just us walkin’ through the park n’ getting ice cream.”

“You had it all planned out huh?” You finally faced him again, tired eyes and a small, sad smile on your lips. 

“F’course I did, would y’expect anythin’ less from me?” 

“Of course not,” you humored him, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before planting a kiss over a small scab and pressing your cheek against it — staring faraway, somewhere his mind could never find yours.

“Why didn’t you go home?” he rubbed his thumb against yours. “Could’ve changed and been comfortable.”

You let out a small huff — “I couldn’t just leave you here. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“You didn’t have to worry about me, baby. Y’should’ve slept comfortably at home, come and seen me in the morning.”

You didn’t answer; instead, pressed another kiss against his knuckles before letting his hand come back down to the bed.

“If you saw what I did, you wouldn’t be saying that.” — was all you left it at — you tried to get up to get the nurse, but he didn’t let your hand go. “Katsuki–”

“Just let me be a lil’ longer,” he slurred, drowsily. “Come lay down with me.”

“Kats–”

“Please.”

“How could I–”

“Please.” He repeated, and you gave up to the pleading look in his eyes. “Can’t sleep properly without you there.”

He shifted himself over slightly, watching you hold your tongue once again with a little snort, before patting at the spot next to him. You climbed up slowly, carefully, trying to be as light as possible to not let the little hospital bed creak under both your weights — letting yourself melt next to him, your hand resting over his chest. You didn’t say anything, just nestled yourself into his shoulder with a yawn.

Something about the way you were positioned made it feel like you were hesitant to touch him — as he was as fragile as glass. Even with your fingers resting over his abdomen, he barely felt them there.

“What’s got your mind all worked up?” he asked after what felt like hours of silence.

“...nothing.”

“I know when yer overthinkin’ baby.”

You looked up to him, sad eyes and all. “I was really worried.” You sniffed, burrowing yourself back next to him. “I was just sitting in the restaurant finishing my food until I got a notification on my phone about the news — and I clicked it and saw the video of you being blasted through the building. There was so much debris, I almost thought–I don’t know what I thought… It felt like I couldn’t breathe or–or think… I just ran out of there as fast as I could so I could get to the hospital. And then, when you wake up, your first concern is that you ruined the night?” You huff, angrily and under your breath but you didn’t let him see it. “I can’t believe you sometimes…” 

“M’sorry,” he repeated, this time drowsily— despite the disapproving click you let out in response, he wrapped his arm around you: rubbing small circles in your arm to soothe the tension you continued to let off. These situations were the only times you both switched roles; the only time he was the one who had to calm you down when usually it was the opposite.

“Stop saying that.”

“I am though,” he continued anyway. “For making you worry and cry when I should’ve been careful. I got a little reckless tryin’ to get back to you quickly. I just… didn’t wanna leave you stranded there.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” you almost scolded him. “I’m used to it, I understand what your job is like.”

“Told you though, I had it all planned out n’ shit — stupid bastard ruined it all…”

“It’s okay,” you pacified him. “It was just dinner, we can always go out another time.”

“It wasn’t just dinner though…” He stopped himself from continuing, but looking down at your furrowed brow knew that he’d have to give an explanation. 

“We’ve talked about marriage before—” he started again after a moment of silence. A moment to catch his breath, to let his racing thoughts and heart subside slightly. “—about us staying together like this because we couldn’t really ever see ourselves with anyone else.”

You nodded.

“And I thought–I knew that we were both ready… So I was gonna propose.”

You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t dare look down at your face — not when he could feel the heat rushing up to his face like he was about to pass out.

“I uh, had this whole speech planned out n’ everything,” he stared at the ceiling once more. “Even had Ei n’ Hanta set up flowers and candles in the park near that cherry blossom tree we always picnic near.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“M’sorry for just bringing it up now, and spoiling the surprise ‘cause I could’ve just done it later…”

“...are you really apologizing for telling me that you were going to propose?” you spoke after a moment. 

He could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he looked down to see that his suspicions were correct — you were crying.

“Don’ cry,” he tried to wipe them with fail because he could only use one arm. “You know I get sad when you cry.”

“I can’t help it.” 

 “I know that this isn’t where you probably expected to get proposed to, but everything I said is true — I wanna spend the rest of my life with you n’ get those little moments with you. N’ honestly, as long as we have that, I don’t think it matters where this shit happens.” He shifted around slightly, before you could stop him: sitting up to properly face you and pulling a little velvet box out from his pocket. “Marry me?”

“Of course I will,” you tried to wipe away your tears before falling into his embrace — pausing after he let out a hissing sound. “I’m calling the nurse for real now.”

#keke.writes #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fic #boku no hero x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugou imagine #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugou x female reader

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?” 

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom. 

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off. 

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead. 

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant.. 

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

#santa steve!!! #i feel like all the entries today are going to have something to do with a mall santa type situation #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddiemas #steveddie #eddeve #robin buckley #jonathan byers #argyle #joyce byers #wayne munson #st #stranger things #st ficlet #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #noelle writes

[embracetranquilityson]

Playing Hogwarts Legacy as an adult, a different POV. (Possible SPOILERS ahead, please beware)

Okay, hear me out:

When the game was announced I was super excited about the Dark Arts path, so of course as soon as I was able to play I immediately headed for that route.

But then that scene where you have to duel Sebastian happened and I thought "damn, OC is an insane duelist!" soooo... I guess my mind kind of spiraled from there because I somehow got this headcanon that OC was actually undercover at Hogwarts.

Oddly got their letter at a later age, mad skillz™️, really polite and mature... Makes sense, right?

But I don't want to be an Auror. I want to be EVIL!

So, how about an Ashwinder? Victor Rookwood is a pretty cool villain: charismatic af, kinda good looking; I can see us chilling while watching dragons fight- no wait, I hate poachers with a passion. I love magical beasts. No way my OC would ever harm one or stand by and watch as one gets hurt.

And theeeeennnnn... I met professor Aesop Sharp. 10/10 "your daughter/son/adultchild calls me daddy too". I'd like to say it was love at first sight but it was the whole "acknowledging responsibility" speech that got me.

And before you call me weird... I'm in my twenties and as much as I love the "companions" that the game lets you have, I can't physically bring myself to ship my OC with a teenager. Big no no. Weirds me the f out.

So behold, the ultimate headcanon that has been living rent free in my head since the release:

OC is a rogue ashwinder who betrayed the - organisation? Cult? Club? Ah whatever you get it - and somehow found a way to disguise themselves as a student to avoid repercussions. After all, hogwarts is a pretty safe place. They could easily stay under the radar until things had calmed down a bit.

Unless... Unless some students decided they were tired of poachers and ashwinders and decided to take the matter into their own hands. So what was oc supposed to do? Just look the other way and hide while kids got slaughtered?

Nope. Their conscience was screaming enough as it was, they couldn't let it get any louder. So they help Poppy and Nat and try their best to keep Sebastian safe while he dabbles in the dark arts (after all, they know first hand how futile it is to try and smother that fire. You need to get burnt to learn.).

Until they go too far, they become a problem. Rookwood is pissed. Avada Kedavra pissed. Life or death. Their young and foolish friends or them.

It's an easy choice, really.

They drop the spell/potion/ancient magic/whatever that made them seem younger, so the focus is on them. Rookwood's rage is on them.

The shock, the drama.

Your trusted hogwarts companion was an Ashwinder all along. Former ashwinder, but does it really matter to a teenager who only sees the world as black and white?

Would it matter to the professor OC fell for? To the other professor, the one who guided them through the keepers' trials? Or to sweet professors Weasley and Garlick, who went above and beyond to teach them everything they knew?

Would it matter to the aurors who would eventually capture them?

Ladies, gentlemen and fine people, this is my headcanon. This would be my OC (if I was a skilled modder).

Thank you for coming to my -delirious- TED talk.

(and if you have similar or opposite headcanon, please drop them below. I would love to read them!)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy headcanon #ashwinder #victor rookwood #hogwarts legacy oc #professor sharp #professor fig #professor garlick #professor weasley #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #sebastian sallow #the drama #aesop sharp

[annab-nana]

🐚 - “when you meet your soulmate, they’re in color, but the rest of the world is still in black and white. Only when you fall in love with your soulmate does the rest of the world gain color” with peter parker pls? love your writing btw :)

ofc and thank youuu ☺️

warnings: kinda angsty with a happy ending, mentions of periods and being sick (a cold), out-of-the-picture parent and the other works constantly, proofread once

❀ masterlist ❀

love was something that was hard for you. it always had been. you had to look out for yourself from the beginning. your dad wasn't in the picture and your mom worked two jobs. whenever she was home, she was sleeping, so you were on your own for the most part.

you knew your mom loved you or else she wouldn't work as hard as she did. but, you'd never really been shown love physically. you didn't know what that looked like. if someone did or said anything that resembled love, you interpreted it as kindness or as a joke. it was too hard to believe for you.

when you met peter parker, his frame flooded with color. his sweater was a beautiful blue. the red of the plaid on his flannel that sat underneath it was vibrant. his curls always looked soft, but they appeared more inviting and gentle when you saw their true tint. his eyes similarly became more endearing when they showed themselves as a warm honey brown.

you knew then he was your soulmate. you knew he was the boy you were supposed to love. but you hadn't fallen in love with him yet. maybe you were scared to put your heart on the line like that. maybe you didn't know how to fall in love. you just couldn't do it and you feared you never would be able to.

it wasn't that big of an issue to you until peter asked, "wait, you still only see me in color? everything else is still black and white?"

the way he asked it broke your heart and you hated the pieces because they were too cowardly to love the boy before you. "no," you spoke insecurely, "how long have you been seeing fully in color?"

it was his turn to talk small. "a couple months." that was a lie. you didn't know, but it was. peter had known you for five months and had been in love with you for four.

you didn't let it show how much that affected you while he was over at yours studying, but you really beat yourself up about it once he left. you didn't know why your heart wouldn't fall for him or why it wouldn't open up. you wondered if the day would ever come when your heart would finally fall for the boy.

it did.

looking from the outside in, you wouldn't pick this type of day to be the day you finally fell in love with peter parker. for you, it wasn't a very good day. you were sick, sad, and on your period. you were exhausted, congested, cramping, and having a breakdown over this whole love thing.

it had been two weeks since you found out peter had been in love with you for two months and your brain chose today to be really upset about it. that spiraled into never truly feeling loved ever, but a knock at your window pulled you from your thoughts.

you turned over to face it and saw the eyes of peter's spider-man mask widen. he opened the window and in a flash, his mask was off and he was at your side. he knew you weren't feeling too hot because he texted you when you didn't show up at school, but he wasn't expecting this.

"hey, hey, hey," he started in a soft voice as he laid down beside you and pulled you into his chest, "i don't know what's wrong but i'm sure it will be okay."

"everything," you mumbled a little too low with a sniffle and moved your face into the crook of his neck.

"hmm?" his hand rubbing up and down your arm felt immensely comforting.

"everything is wrong," you further explained. "everything hurts, nothing feels good, and i feel bad inside."

"you feel bad inside?" peter asked. he knew you were sick and on your period so the first two complaints checked out. the third one, however, threw him for a loop.

"y-yeah, i- i feel bad. my heart does," you sobbed into his skin as you got more worked up, him holding you close for comfort. his heart hurt for you, but he didn't know what to do to help.

so he asked, "what do you need me to do?"

"huh?"

"what can i do to make you feel better? you've taken medicine for your cold and period, right? we can watch your favorite movie or are you hungry? i can swing out and get you whatever you want."

you pulled away from the safety of his neck and froze, but peter thought you weren't understanding him.

he continued. "do you like tea? i can make you some tea. that always makes me feel better when i'm sick. or if you want to be alone, that's cool too. i can go. it's just, i love you, y/n. you know that and i hate seeing you like this."

he noticed your stillness then and furrowed his brows. "are you okay?"

"my pillows are blue." it was an odd response, but it took only a second for it to click in peter's mind. he'd known that for months, but you were just now seeing it which meant you were in love with him. "my pillows are blue, peter."

the tears were back but this time, they were happy tears. peter'd be lying if he said his eyes didn't sting a little too.

"they are blue, sweet girl," he agreed while pressing his forehead to yours, taking in the moment he had been waiting for. "they are so blue."

"i love you," you whispered, "i really really love you, peter."

both of you couldn't contain your smiles so when peter moved his mouth to yours, it was really more two grins pressed together rather than a true first kiss, but neither of you would have it any other way. he didn't care if he got sick either because you loved him and more importantly, he loved you and could show you for the first time what it meant to be loved.

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new!

#anna's 5k beach bash #blurbs #tearsarericocheting #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurbs

[septic-skele]

US - Odds and Evens

Summary: Blue has a downward spiral after getting a diagnosis.

A/N: Warning for internalized ableism and some ableist language stemming from it, though it does get firmly shut down and refuted

It turned out the humans had a term for him, for people like him. Blue hadn’t even imagined there could be others like him. Despite the never-ending tension needling at his back, reminding him of all the ways the world around him could go wrong, he had tried to twist it into a positive thing. He wasn’t anxious; he was staying alert and aware of any and all possible problems—qualities a royal guard should certainly have.

The phrasing of these papers explained it differently. The wordage may be neutral and clinical but he understood what it was really saying about him, how it branded him.

Obsessive—domineering, all-consuming.

Compulsive—ungovernable, out of control.

Disorder—confusion, chaos.

All this time he thought this was a strength, that he saw things more clearly than everyone else, that he could work hard and course-correct a messy, complicated reality, when he was just too blinded by his anxieties to realize he was the problem.

Disorder. Disarray. Wrongness.

“There’s something wrong with me.” His voice sounded as distant, weak and shaky as he felt.

“Hey, that’s not what this means,” Papyrus protested, despite all evidence to the contrary spelled out in black and white. “You look at things differently, think about them differently, and when they seem off somehow it can stress you out. This isn’t about judging you for that, it’s about making a plan to help you destress.”

“My stress? My stress is the last thing that matters! What kind of stress have I been causing everyone else without ever realizing?! I’m supposed to be helping! I’m supposed to do good, make things better for everyone, for you, but according to this I-I’m simply some overbearing control freak!” Letting the papers slide out of his hands, Blue pressed them to his stinging eye sockets. “H-How many times have I barged into your space because I thought it needed cleaning? Fixing? Because I thought I could do it better. Am I really so blind and egotistical that I thought I was better than you? How many times have I nagged at you for how you eat, how you dress, your posture, your—everything? And you just stood there and took it, as if I had any right to—I never—I thought I was—but I was just making it worse, I make everything worse—!”

“Sans, stop it!”

The ferocity of Papyrus’ tone and the use of his actual name startled Blue out of his wild storm of realizations, though he continued to stammer in a panic until Papyrus pulled him into a tight embrace. The smell of smoke on his jacket made him balk and hold his breath by instinct. The firm, near painful grip Papyrus had on him didn’t ease, however, even after he fell silent.

“That’s enough, Sans, okay? I’m not just going to stand here and take this, like you apparently think I take everything else, so listen up. Listen carefully. You’re not a freak. You’re not making things worse for me. If anything, it’s my fault I’m one of the messes that’s always stressing you out.”

Blue tensed. “N-No, brother, it’s not—”

“Listen. There’s a lot I ought to be working on and I just never seem to know how to get it together. Never have.” Papyrus’ voice softened briefly to more of a mutter. “Actually, I’ve…kinda been thinking about asking the doc if there’s something different rattling around in my skull too. But that’s beside the point. You think I’d be half as well off as I am now if it weren’t for you? You butt into my space to keep it clean because I know how but a lot of times I just can’t. Even when I try really hard, it takes me twice as long as it takes you. I dunno how you do it.”

I do it because I have to.

“And you see things, tiny details that I forget or just completely miss. You think of things I never would, you have a full picture. You know what needs to happen, you get it planned down to a tee, and all that detail, that structure helps keep me on track. You also know all the ways it could go wrong; you’ve got backup plans for your backup plans and those keep me safe. You think my 1 HP and I can’t appreciate that?”

Blue swallowed hard, turning his head to better detect the faint thump of that fragile soul behind his brother’s ribs. Ten beats. Count them.

“And sure, there have been times it was annoying ’cause I felt like you were pestering me over nothing; I didn’t get why it was such a big deal. But I don’t resent you for it and I don’t think it’s 100% full-stop a bad thing. Juggling all these moving parts like you do, it’s actually impressive. The bad part is that your head drives you to do it all out of fear. When you’re scared and worried, it scares and worries me.”

Four, five—oh, stars. Blue’s nonexistent stomach turned as he lost count. “I-I don’t mean to do that to you.”

One of Papyrus’ hands finally loosened from his shoulder to gently flick his skull. “I’m worried about you, bonehead, because I want to help. Now that we’ve got an idea of how your mind works, you don’t have to do it all on your own, you know?”

He’d lost count again but that surge of shame was unfortunately second fiddle at the moment. “You shouldn’t have to, starshine. If it’s really that hard for you to look after yourself…”

“We take care of each other. That’s what family does. And who knows, if there ends up being a word for what’s up with me too, maybe we’ll hash out some ways to help that’re easier on both of us. We can figure it out together.”

Together. Eye sockets slipping closed, Blue let that idea sink in between each soft soul beat as he counted. …Eight, nine, ten. Success, finally. Relief.

Ten was a pleasant number, two odds made even when united.

#undertale #underswap #fanfiction #sans #papyrus #swap sans #swap papyrus #blue has ocd #angst #stretch has adhd #hurt comfort #brotherly love #they'll figure it out #they're stronger together

[guestgirl-soulcollector]

Okay maybe not all the healthcare here is bad...

Sorry It been a while, I was in the hotel's first-aid room.

It started when, even after sleeping and drowning myself in herbs, I started getting hazy vision and a massive migraine. I could hardly walk without feeling sick. I was getting chased by Haniwa when I collapsed to the floor, struggling for breath. It felt like someone was strangling me from behind. My vision was fucking awful, everything was blurry. My head throbbed and stung like a son of a bitch. I felt like I wanted to throw up, but I didn't have anything to throw up. Haniwa was strangely worried, dropping the mask and carrying me over to Catherine. I managed to make out some of what he was saying.

Haniwa: Forget the souls for one moment, We need to get her to him now.

Catherine: Ste-

Haniwa: I said NOW!

I was rushed over to a room labelled "First-aid". The first-aid room was surprisingly clean to the hotel's credit, three other people were there. I was sat down on the chair next to them.

The first one was a brown dog with green eyes, he had a axe wedged into his skull. He was wearing a pair of overalls with a cherry red t-shirt. His tail wagged excitedly.

The second one was a sheep with thick white fur. His eyes were an unnatural red. He wore a set of sky blue and white striped pajamas. He was cuddling a pillow, around the size of him, tiredly.

The third one was a girl that looked almost identical to me. Her hair was hickory brown. She had a gasmask, which kinda looked like a certain rat, covering half of her face, her hands over her nose, which was bleeding like crazy. Only her clothes consisted of a royal yellow shirt with a Russian green jacket and warm black leggings and brown boots with a teddy bear like fur on them.

Axe Dog: Hey, lady! What's wrong? Are you sick too?

Me: Ye-yeah...

Mummy Dog: Me too! I'm Mummy Dog, and you?

Me: Kaycee...Ni-Niles...

Sleepy Sheep: I'm Sleepy Sheep, it's nice to meet you Kaycee

Gasmask Girl: Kaycee...Name sounds familiar.

Mummy Dog: Ooh Ooh! Is it true your friends with Mr. JB!

Yeah so much for keeping our relationship under wraps, ey Judge?

Me: Uuuh...Yeah. So, wh-what...Are you all here for, I got this killer migraine out of nowhere and my vision started getting hazy.

Mummy Dog: Me too! Other than the vision part. I must have got a cold or something

Gasmask Girl: The girl who shoves leaves down her throat gets sick with an unknown illness? Now I've heard it all. Anyways, my nose keeps bleedin' and I have zero clue why.

Sleepy Sheep: I can't sleep, I think it's insomnia but I'm checking with the doctor just in case.

Everyone had a different reason to be there. It was nice to have company. One by one, the others were called through and they left with their problems fixed then it was time for me to go through. I shambled to the bed that the doctor wanted me to sit on.

He was an odd fellow. His skin blue and stitched up. He had two silver bolts that stuck out from the sides of his head and pushed his navy blue hair out the way. His glasses were round with his eyes spirals in the lenses. He wore a long white cloak with old blood stains on it. He was also wearing a off-white button up shirt with a cobalt blue tie, black trousers and polished black shoes.

Cadaver Doctor: Kaycee Niles, is it?

Me: Yeah, who's...Asking?

Dr. Fritz: I'm Dr. Fritz. I heard you were suffering a splitting headache along with vision problems, breathing difficulties and nausea, corecct?

Me: Ye-yeah...

Dr. Fritz: Here, take this and you'll feel better.

It was a blue and red pill. I trusted him, so I took the pill and choked it down.

Me: Thanks Dr. Fritz. Is it okay if I ask you a question?

Dr. Fritz: Go ahead

He was searching through the cabinets for something. I tried to choose my words carefully

Me: Did...Did Judgement Boy visit you? I-I'm worried about him.

Dr. Fritz: Actually, he did. Normally, we're not supposed to deal with Judgement Boys but he seemed like he didn't want to deal with the mechanics, almost like he was hiding something. He got a new soul, he says it makes him feel better knowing that it belonged to one of his clients. I could tell you, but you might not like it

Me: Who did it belong to?

Dr. Fritz: ...You.

Wha- What?....No, WHAT!? He...he has it...And he just HOLDING ONTO IT like it's some sorta souvenir!? no, no there must be something else...R-right?

Me: Is...Is this a joke?

Dr. Fritz: I'm afraid not...But in the meantime, take this.

He handed me a soul. The medicine had worked...

Yet...I still felt sick...

#gregory horror show #ghs #guest girl #((Chapter 2: The end of the line. Part 4: Why always me?)) #((Meanwhile in the writer's room: ♪PAIN! GLORIOUS PAIN~!♪ #The Trial of Kaycee Niles #TTOKN

[calzonekestis]

Having a Black character be put in peril so that they can be rescued by a white savior is not a Good thing to do in a story.

Eddie Munson is actually a non violent person who tends to avoid physical conflict.

Both those statements are true.

However, if he had been there when Jason’s baseball cap wearing bro tackled an 11 year old Black girl to the ground, pinned her, held her arms behind her back and threatened to break them?

Vecna wouldn’t be the only person taking eyes.

That bitch would have gotten a nail-shield to the face. Repeatedly.

I know the intent of that was to be upsetting and uncomfy, but I’m just.

Sick of them doing the Sinclairs like that. First with Billy, now that bitch.

And tbh after the Lucas/Jason confrontation, I’m looking back on all their interactions with hindsight and.

“I never should have let you in.”

“I never should have knocked.”

Lucas already proved himself on the basketball court, but they had to go all frat boy and like. He had to earn his acceptance.

On Jason’s wiki page (editing is still locked rn) it’s mentioned how one of his redeeming qualities was that he checked on Lucas when he had a hangover.

Which. I kinda get the feeling that Lucas was probably most certainly pressured into drinking? Or at least as much as he did? That it was a hazing thing?

Jason and his friends are just. Douchebags.

Maybe there’s a reason they were douchebags, like a reason Billy was a douchebag… but like with Billy, that reason isn’t an excuse.

And I don’t think that they had any abusive background or anything. I think it was their environment, sure, but it was one that was very catered to serve them. Straight white clean cut Christian patriarchy.

Sure, Jason didn’t seem so bad - until Chrissy died. Until his perfect world started to crumble, people were daring to upset the status quo of it all. That’s when he started to spiral. When he and Eddie had their stare down in the cafeteria?

Chrissy wasn’t even a factor in that. Eddie insulted him and his place in the hierarchy. Eddie insulted a lot of people. None of them had egos so fragile (or penises so tiny) that they wanted to throw hands.

He couldn’t accept that he didn’t know Chrissy as well as he thought, even though there must have been a reason she felt she couldn’t go to him. Be it he’d belittle her trauma/ED if she confided about it, or if he treated her like a she was a burden/distraction before the game, or whatever.

She put on a brave face and smile, while she was literally hurting herself… and he was completely ignorant. Head in the sand. Or up his own ass. This is her boyfriend. Meanwhile, Eddie someone who she hasn’t talked to in years, is able to tell in seconds that something is off and that she isn’t ok.

He doesn’t pry or overstep as to why she wants the drugs - he knows better than to ask, and it’s better for business if he doesn’t. Though he cares enough to try and make her feel at ease and safe with him. He doesn’t judge her for not being ok, he just wants her to feel better.

Meanwhile Jason just refuses to entertain the idea that she may not have been ok. That he may have played a part in it, that she may have gone to Eddie rather than him because he was part of the problem. That’s just not fathomable to him, because he’s perfect and walks on water.

When Nancy offers her condolences, he shows little to no reaction - instead asking where her Hellfire Club member brother is and getting all aggressive.

He didn’t actually love Chrissy, because he didn’t actually know Chrissy.

He loved the simplistic picture of her that he and her mother and society made her feel like she had to live up to.

Mans didn’t actually know the girl to love her. He wasn’t actually grieving her as person, he was grieving what she was supposed to be in relation to himself.

An embodiment of toxic masculinity. R Rated Gaston. Anthony Michael Hall in Edward Scissorhands. Youth Pastor Archie Andrews. Call it whatever you want, but he is not some misunderstood meow meow.

Again, said it before, I’ll say it a dozen times over. Mason Dye did a fantastic job portraying him. He tried to bring some depth there, he’s talked about Jason’s headspace at a con - but he could only do so much with what was on the page. He wasn’t given focus like Joe was, to where he could sort of improv and influence the perception of the character.

I’m not saying he’s not a good character, but he’s not a good person. And that’s ok. You can have problematic trash faves. I have a Darth Maul url, I mean, fuck. The woobification is something I cannot and will not sanction.

#anti jason carver #jason carver #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham

[sweetbee127]

Oh, Golly! Welcome To Bee's Dreamscape! #1

Date: Sunday Jan 14, 2024

TLDR: An old friend walks with me in the woods. The goddess of discord gives me a weird recipe that's supposed to cure my mom of poison. The cure is just corn and basil. No moms were hurt in the dreaming of this dream. kinda.

Note: I plan on writing my dreams here as a log and also as a form of entertainment for the lovely folks who follow me. this is the first of this series. This will contain story elements to enhance the experience. Enjoy!

There was lots of chaos. They had taken my mom off the bus we were on and laid her out on the side of the road as I looked around in shock. It was just supposed to be a hike and we were already halfway up the mountain just minutes away from a trail when my mom collapsed in her seat. I immediately knew what it was. Poison. No one knew who did it. Everyone on the bus was calling for help, asking questions, trying to rouse my still mother while I stood in shock. I turned to my friend who had come along with us for guidance. In reality, I hadn't seen her at all since we parted ways in middle school. There wasn't a clash or a disagreement, we just said "bye" one day and never said "hi" again. But now, it was like she never left.

"Let's get help," She insisted pointing to the woods nearby. "I know a place, but we need to hurry, the police are arriving and if we leave with them here it would look suspicious."

"Alright," I agreed. "Lead the way."

We made our way through the woods in silence for a while. The trees were dense above our heads, but the forest floor was so clear there wasn't a dead leaf in sight. My friend spoke up after a while of walking and I noticed then how calm we were despite it all.

"Would you ever lie to me?" she asked, looking up at the trees. It wasn't accusatory but spoken as if it was just a curiosity.

I didn't look at her, but I felt my face scrunch in confusion. "What? No, why?"

"I mean a white lie. Something to make me feel better about something."

I didn't have time to answer. I blinked and suddenly we had made it to a large mansion in the middle of the woods. We were met with an elegant, iron gate with an equally as elegant golden 'M' embedded in the middle of the arch. My friend rang the buzzer, I blinked again, and we were inside the mansion the gate protected.

The room was smaller than one would expect, white and sterile looking, and well-lit with a massive window taking over much of the wall facing us. Also facing us was an ornate throne which seated the Goddess of Discord, Eris. I couldn't see her eyes, but she looked down on us with an unamused look. She wore a white dress that clasped at one shoulder with a large gold pin and slit down one thigh. With one leg crossed over the other, her black heels added modernity to her look.

I heard her speak in a surprisingly soft yet authoritative tone. She taught us the recipe to a cure for my mother as we knelt at her feet.

"For this," She began. "You will need red corn and basil. Steam this. present the bowl to your mother. She will be well again."

In an instant we were at my house, miles away from any thick woods or mountain trail. It still all made perfect sense as I rummaged through my fridge and found regular yellow corn cobs and some frozen basil. I figured this would have to do as I also figured my mother didn't have much time. With the food in hand, not even bothering to cook any of it, we sprinted for the door.

Touching the knob brought me right back to the road just before the trail. I noticed people had already started walking away from the busses and it made me spiral into a panic. I started to run again, jumping over some cones that separated the mountain edge from the pavement, and shoving some people out of my way.

"MAMA?" I screamed. "MAMA!"

I kept calling for her in the crowed, pushing my way towards the bus. At some point, I decided to ditch the corn and basil and right as I dropped it, I saw her. She was standing and walking with a few others completely fine and smiling. I was overjoyed to see her ok, ran to her and hugged her close.

I woke up feeling exhausted and relived.

#Bee's Dreamscape #Dreams #greek mythology #poison but not really #divine intervention #someone tell me what this means #I love my mom #Come on down and try some corn

[thatfreshi]

Nova (Markiplier x reader)

A little bit shorter than my previous fics. It’s your birthday, and Mark finally gets you the gift you’ve wanted for years: a cat.

You’ve been begging Mark for a cat for years. It’s obvious that he’s always been a dog person, which is odd considering his behavior is more in line with the feline nature. Every couple of months you’ll make a comment about the cat food at the store or a friend’s pet, and this year you had given up. Perhaps you and Mark were just not supposed to be cat people.

That is, until your birthday rolled around. The two of you had gotten out of work for the day, despite both being extremely busy. Mark awoke before you, which was normal. Although he was slow to wake, he was always up early. The smell of egg and bacon wafted through the air into the bedroom, and you woke up slowly, stretching and trying to get comfortable again after coming back to reality. 

“Mark? Are you in the kitchen?”

Your voice squeaked through layers of sleep in your throat. Steps started toward the bedroom. When he arrived, there was a cupcake in his hand, with a singular candle lit on top.

“Happy birthday my love.”

He smiles warmly, offering up the small plate for you to blow out the candle. You breathe in and soon after the flame is gone. Mark sets the plate down on the nightstand and goes to give you a kiss.

“What did you wish for?”

“A cat.”

He chuckles.

“I thought you were giving up on the whole cat thing?”

“Yeah, but aren’t wishes supposedly to be a little outlandish?”

He shrugs.

“I suppose so.”

He gets back into bed with you, passing you your morning treat.

“When you’re done with that, I made breakfast and coffee.”

A whimsical grin takes hold of you before you dive into the cupcake in front of you. While you enjoy cake and frosting, the two of you catch up. It’s not often that one of you isn’t working, and if you’re not both busy, you’re usually tired. Both of you take your time, enjoying the remaining warmth in the sheets, until eventually the morning conversation has ceased and the two of you are hungry for something that isn’t pure sugar.

Breakfast is a delight that Mark clearly put a lot of effort into. He’s always a romantic on your birthday. A couple of years ago he paid to name a star after you, claiming that he loved you even as much as he loved space. You were wondering how he’d stun you this year as you ate your meal and checked social media. Your scrolling, however, was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“It’s probably some salesperson. I’ll handle it.”

Mark gets up from the table before you can respond, and soon enough, you hear whispers at the entrance. It sounds like a familiar voice, but you can’t quite place it. After a couple moments pass, Mark comes back to the kitchen with Ethan in tow.

“Hey y/n, happy birthday!”

You’re excited to see a good friend, but perplexed.

“Hey Ethan… did you just, decide to stop by?”

“Well, kinda. I have your gift from Mark.”

You furrow your brow.

“Why would you have Mark’s gift? You’re not Mark, you’re Ethan.”

The two men laugh.

“Just come outside.”

Mark gestures for you, and the three of you walk out to Ethan’s car, which is still running and has a window cracked.

“Y/n, I introduce you to your new best friend, courtesy of your boyfriend.”

He opens his car door and brings out… a cat carrier.

“Oh my god.”

You’re shocked, and the two of them look concerned.

“Oh geez, was this a bad gift? Mark, did you fuck up?”

“NO. IT’S GREAT.”

You almost shriek, which is a little embarrassing, but oh well. You finally have the cat you’ve been begging for all the time! And on your birthday nonetheless! Mark thanks Ethan for the drop-off and he heads out, leaving you with your new furry friend. 

“Does it have a name?”

“She, and no. I thought I’d leave that honor to you.”

The little kitten was pure black with green eyes, with the tiniest white tip on her tail. As you take her inside, your brain spirals with names for the little one. Eventually, you decide on Nova to give homage to Mark’s love of space. However, you and your lover shortly realize that while he got the kitten, he didn’t get anything FOR the kitten, meaning Ethan had to come back quickly to babysit while you two went shopping. Despite the rush to buy cat litter, food, and plenty of toys, it was a wonderful birthday, and now Nova could share the rest of the holidays with you and Mark.

#markiplier x reader #markiplier #fluff

[crowley-in-arkham]

My home.

The ride to my house was quiet and tense. My clothes were stained, unsurprisingly. I'll have to get rid of them. Crane's truck, for its behemoth, felt tight, despite the space between us being nearly a foot in length.

It smelled like coffee and cigarettes; a sweet hint of burlap and straw lingered faintly in the air. The dash was coated in a layer of dust, and the truck itself seemed to hobble down the Gotham streets.

I watched the city lights dance on the water as we crossed the bridge from Arkham Island. In the water emerged the beast, Carrion. I turned to look at Crane instead.

"Do you even know where I live?" I asked softly; Crane nodded, his eyes straight ahead.

"Your address is on file."

I have an sound of acknowledgment then looked back to the water where Carrion had vanished back into the inky black pool.

"Jon," I started, "Can you tell me more about Scarecrow?"

I heard Jonathan snicker, "As my therapist or my friend?"

My fsce fell red at the prospect of "friend".

"As your friend, I suppose," I said in a small voice.

"He's me; like Carrion is you. Though it's a little different. Scarecrow is suggestive; it's more like someone's cooin' in my ear tellin' me to do shit. He'on need control. Most a' it, I chose to do; sometimes 'a keep him quiet, sometimes 'cause I wanna. He takes over, but it ain't always against my will. He'on usually suppress me anymore. Stops bein' one a' us starts bein' both a' us."

"It isn't always like that?"

"Scarecrow's a little rudimentary."

"In what way?"

"Kinda like a child, I s'pose," Jon motioned his hand, "Impulsive, angry. Ion got much control over his tantrums."

"Now-"

"'Fore you go Dr. Crowley on me, I've oughta ask:" Jon stated, "couldja pass me a cigarette?"

I tilted my head at Crane, "uh, where do you put them?"

"Check the glovebox," Jon said, "Usually gotta spare in there."

I ran my hand through the dust on the latch, and popped the glovebox door, which fell open with a thud. There were papers, receipts, a half-finished carton of nonfilter cigarettes, and--

A gorgeous bronze-colored revolver with a beautiful spruce grip engraved with crows.

"Jon you can't have this," I furrowed my brows, "You're a felon."

"It ain't mine."

"Like hell it isn't."

"Ain't she pretty though?"

I plucked a pack of cigarettes from the carton, tapped the bottom to my palm several times, then plucked a single sweet-scented cigarette from the pack.

I placed the butt of the cigarette against Jon's scarred lip, and whispered mockingly, "You want me to light it too, hun?"

Jon laughed a guttural laugh, "Di'n't answer my damn question. An' no, I can take care 'a it."

He flicked a lighter out of his coat pocket, and lit the cigarette. "Wan' one?" He flicked the lighter towards me.

"No, I don't smoke."

"Good girl, always had been."

"It's a nice gun."

"Ain't she? Damned slow to reload though."

"How'd you get it?"

"Was a gift from Oz."

"Wonderful wizard," I joked.

Jon shot me a look, then smirked. "S'pose that makes you Dorothy."

And I snapped back gleefully, "And that makes you brainless!"

He plumed smoke from his lips as he chuckled.

"Your place out by that diner, right?"

"Why, you hungry?"

"Starvin'. Whatcha want?"

"You don't want me to cook?"

"Ya can cook tomorrow."

"Halloween's tomorrow."

Jon looked somewhat surprised, then chuckled, "So it is. Well, yer stayin' home for it. Gonna have some trick-or-treaters?"

"I live on the second floor."

Jon shot me a look, "we're pickin' up fuckin' candy."

"Thought you didn't like kids."

He chuckled, "You think this is for the kids."

I raised a brow and tilted my head, "Then who--"

"C'mon, think about it."

I chuckled, picturing the faces of Gotham's parents falling white when the Scarecrow opens my apartment door with candy for their kids.

I began laughing a bit harder, "Christ, just imagine the look of their face!"

"Probably shit 'emselves."

Jon snickered as I spiraled into a wheeze, "We're picking up candy, you've convinced me."

I caught my breath, and Jon smiled dumbly as he stared ahead.

I swallowed and asked in a recuperating breath: "The hell you smiling about?"

"You," Jon said. I flushed.

"Ain't never seen you laugh like that, whole time knowing you." He turned into a street, "just different, I suppose."

The lights of the city flicked behind him.

"Ya usually got all these pretenses, this veil 'a control," he huffed amusedly, "Seen different sides 'a you today. That there though? Tha's a new one."

The truck hobbled around a corner and crawled into a parking space between two cars half it's size.

My apartment complex is a small building of four apartments. I was lucky to find myself an apartment so close to Arkham Island-- then again, most of the city's residents try to steer away from districts near the bridges that connect Arkham to Gotham as far as they can.

Even the white tattered building showed a fear of Gotham's criminals in the bars that line the downstairs windows.

Jon stepped out of his truck and made his way to my side, opening the door for me.

"Very gentlemanly, Dr. Crane," I teased.

"Shut up," he chuckled, "It's the polite thing to do."

"Truely the apex of your southern hospitality," I stepped- more accurately: hopped down from his truck's passenger seat.

"Lead the way, miss."

I made my way to the front door, Jon's truck's lights left us in the all encompassing dark of Gotham. Jon lingered behind me as I plopped a code in the lock and opened the iron gate, and then the same for the heavy green door beneath it.

"A lil paranoid?"

"It's Gotham, they have reason to be."

"Yet, here I am," snickered Jon, "Waltzin' in under their poor lil' noses."

"I'm sure you're not so cruel as to gas my entire apartment complex."

"I mean," Jon snickered, "Ain't ever stopped me before."

I closed the gate and door behind Jon as he stepped into the dim sage green hallway, dilapidated stairs to his left, a door to each of his sides.

He let out a chuckle, "Of I weren't, well, me, I'd say this place were eerie."

"Well, it's an apartment building in the middle of the night, they're all kind of eerie."

Jon smirked at me, "After you, miss."

I rolled my eyes and made my way upstairs, fumbling with the two keys on my lanyard before plugging the smaller of the two into my apartment door and pushing it open.

"Vic, I'm home!" I said as I flicked on the light to my apartment, I motioned Jon into the rust brown corridor. "Welcome to my humble abode."

He strode in, like a man on stilts, eyeing my autumn decor with a critical eye. I turned to lock the door behind us.

He chuckled, entering the main room. An open layout kitchen and living room, melted into one modestly sized commonroom.

"Looks like a little dollhouse in here," He teased looking down at my furniture.

"Not all of us are trees," I responded, with a look of amusement.

He chuckled, "Gotta dust the top 'a yer shit."

I rolled my eyes, hung up my coat, then took off my shoes, "Relax, stay a while."

Out from my bedroom padded a large grey cat, making his way to me excitedly-- when, suddenly he eyed Jonathan Crane, and promptly darted off to my room.

"That 'Vic'?" Asked Crane, with a raised brow.

"Yeah, Victor," I sighed, "He's just a bit skittish with new people."

"Smart cat," he snickered and took off his coat and shoes, placing his boots beside the bench and hanging up his coat next to mine.

"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow--" I paused, "Sure, you don't want the bed?"

Jon chuckled, "You offerin' ta share?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, you're just-- big."

He let out an amused huff, "Ain't the first time I heard that."

I flushed, "I'm getting you a pillow and blanket." I chuckled, "Dirty old man."

I opened the hallway cupboard and pulled out a knitted blanket and a couple of spare memory foam pillows.

"Whadja you wanna eat?" Jon called down the hallway.

"Just get delivery," I responded, closing the door to the cupboard and stepping out into the livingroom again, "What do you want?"

Jon had flopped himself down on my loveseat and leaned comfortably back as he spoke, "That's what I'm askin' you, walnut."

"Uh-" I pondered for a moment, "There's a Thai place down the road, you like Thai?"

Jon shrugged, "Ion care."

"Thai it is then."

I tossed the blanket and pillow at him and turned to walk away, stopping only to look back at him and say:

"Remotes and stuff are in the drawer on the coffee table, the shelf is classics only, aside from textbooks-- well, you can read. I'm gonna go take a bath and get changed. You need anything just give me a holler."

"'Fore you go--" Jon started, "Wouldja write down the codes to the doors outside for me?"

I tilted my head, then nodded, "I mean, alright. You picking something up?"

"'N case I need 'a go on a liquor run."

I rolled my eyes, "Gotham's dry by midnight, better go soon."

He chuckled, "Probably be back 'fore you get outta the tub."

I shrugged and smirked, "With your hobbling old ass? You might miss your window."

He rolled his eyes, "Keep talkin' and I'll have you hobblin'."

I snickered, "Yeah? From the jokes you've been making today it's a coin flip between whether that's a threat or an offer."

"Go get in the damn tub," he chuckled tossed a pillow at me, which I promptly threw back.

#arkham asylum #dc comics #batman rogues #batman villains #dc universe #working at arkham #dc #gotham rogues #crowley in arkham #jonathan crane

[poisonouswritings]

1, 10, 17, and 18 for the writer's ask game? :D

𝟙. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘?

Around seven? First thing I remember doing was some little Pokémon fic with my little trainersona lol. I don't remember much of it but she had a Minun because (at the time) that was my favorite Pokémon lol.

Look at this little shit. 1000/10 would cuddle.

𝟙𝟘. 𝕀𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖?

One of my stories is centered in a world where angels and demons exist but they just, kinda,, vibe together. And everyone has different powers depending on their subspecies. Such as;

One Reaper character (Mizuki) has the ability to sense people's phobias and then create illusions of them. Partially to feed off their fear (one of the ways Reapers sustain themselves) but also just cause she finds it funny lol

A Cherub character (Tobias) has the ability to control the growth/decay rate of plants. He carries seeds in his pockets to use for emergencies.

Their child (Octavia) is a Reaper/Cherub hybrid, so she can both manipulate and travel through shadows and has an inherent charm ability so she can get away with her pranks and stuff.

Anyways I think it would be pretty cool to exist in a world like that! Provided it wasn't during the whole 'Ancient Gods Randomly Possess People To Commit Warfare On The Mortal Plane' period of time.

𝟙𝟟. 𝕋𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕗𝕦𝕟 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕎𝕀ℙ

Hah I have so many WIPs it's not even funny. One of them (which I have not talked about on this blog) originally started as a crack fanfic I made about Tom Joad/Jim Casey from John Steinbeck's fucking Grapes of Wrath in English class because I was bored. That somehow branched into a fic about Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses, also thanks to English class, and then it kinda spiraled from there. Now I have two characters that were originally supposed to be modern versions of Tom and Casey but really aren't, another character that is basically Alejandra from AtPH but if she was slightly more unhinged, and two time travelers who kinda just ricochet around whenever I wanna make a joke. And that's not even mentioning the whole 'modern day M. Butterfly (by David Henry Hwang) where Song rants about how much he hates Panda Express and Rene simps for him while my OC is doing timetravel shit in the background' thing that I also wrote as a joke that somehow ended up just being thrown into the main story because I liked it. I was like,, 15 when I started this. I do a little bit every couple of months.

𝟙𝟠. 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖

I'm bad at writing dialogue 😅 but I have this little excerpt from my LL OC route-rewrite that I kinda like. So you can have it;

Context - Kit (my OC) has gotten into a massive fight with Sage wherein they both said horrible things to each other. Her angst over this causes the Astrolabe to 'freeze' her heart (she specializes in ice magic), numbing her emotions entirely and gradually pushing her into an apathetic state.

-----

the longer she sits like this the more shades of gray seem to slip out of her fingers. they separate into black and white. no nuance. no emotion. nothing to be confused by. nothing to be hurt by. 

nothing… 

nothing… 

nothing. 

what's the point if all that exists is nothing. what's the point of anything at all. she seemed to know a few minutes ago. but now it's slipping away. away away away. 

damnit.

She slides back on the crate enough to pick her legs up off the floor and pull her knees against her chest. Still nothing. Still sinking. If she closes her eyes it's like she doesn't exist. No pressure. No feeling. just nothing.

she should feel sick and tired of it.

"We'll come check in on ya in a bit. A'right, lass?" 

She nods and waves a hand vaguely in Arkash's direction. For a second there's silence. Then soft footsteps. One set. Then another. Then another. Hesitant like they don't want to leave her alone. But they do. She tracks them out of the room. Hears the soft thump of the door closing behind them.

right then.

she's alone. loathe to admit it but her coworkers are right. there is a mess she has to clean up. objectively that's obvious. objectively. but subjectively there isn't. subjectively there's nothing. objectively she feels nothing subjective. 

'what's happening to me?'

"̷̛̪̦̺̲̣̾̒͒͗͌̚Ȋ̷̧̤͍̣̺̜̀̓͒͑ ̸͉̗̺͖̙̓͆̽a̵͔͕̝̤̟͔͒l̵̡̡̢̤̞͎͛̈ͅr̶̗̙̖̓̏͂̌e̵͎̓͒̐̽̽̈́a̷̦͖͚͖͔͗̃̔̏̚͜ḍ̴̲̟̱̫̉͒̍̚y̵̡̨̼̟̮̼̽͝ͅ ̸̞͉̙̯̤́͆̄͠t̴̘̏̀̿̀o̴̧̿̔̇̑͠l̷͍̓d̵̡̥̯̠̰̄ ̷̛͈͉̗̰̖̏͆͋̈́̿̚y̵̫̏͒͐̈̓̀̕ọ̶̩̣͈͗́͒̔̓͝ǔ̶̩̜͓͑̚,̷̞͔̮̿͒͜ͅ ̵̨̪̊͑̿͛̄L̷͍̟̜̊̊̏̒̈̆̽u̵̧͖͎͗͠ͅl̴̲̒͂͑̂u̴̡̧̞̣͓̗̞̒̐̿̾.̷͉͓̳̏̿͂͑͛̃̓ ̷̛̤͓̻͒̀͝I̶͙͆t̴̢̊̑̍̔̇̓̆ ̴͍̫͉͕͔͂͊͛͜ḏ̷̿͒͗̿ȍ̴͓͛̋͘e̸̡̥̫̬̼͒̐̈́̋ş̸͙̥͂̉̏͑̚̚ͅn̵̨͋̚'̶̡̜͚͓͉͆ͅt̶̮͈͖̺͍̞͔̅̌ ̷̧̖̻̓̐́̀͒m̵͔̠̙͕̒̓̊ͅa̸̤̖̳͎̭̪̗͠ẗ̷̡͖́̐t̷̨̩͍͊̔͜e̵̯̹̽̉̇̾̉r̷̪̪̜̟̔̄́̅̔ͅ.̴̹͎̗͌̽͛

oh. right. nothing hurts. so nothing matters. 

nothing hurts. 

Nothing hurts.

#fren asks #ozzy answers #ozzy speaks #hi fren <3 #ask game

[shiroi---kumo]

Canon Questionnaire || Accepting  

@litoredeem​ asked:

3 + 4 for the canon questionnaire thing!

3. whats the best thing about the series

Answered here 

4. What’s the worst thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

|| We got canceled folks. We were supposed to have 50 episodes and we only got 25. We got half the story animated and I will never not feel robbed about this. So I mean this is the obvious answer. While FF:U has multiple extensions of the series in After, After Spiral, and After 2  + FF:U Before and the side story novel - we might have got the story of what was supposed to be animated but knowing what was supposed to get animated only makes that suck even more. 

So I’m bringing up the obvious answer so I can get to it’s other issues and have them make more sense. 

While I adore FFU for what it is, it does have some issues. Most people who walk away from the series say it feels rushed or incomplete and well that’s cause as I’ve explained it is. The animated section of the series is meant to be the “first core”  of it. So as such, the writers did not change their pacing and suddenly decide to cram everything they weren’t going to be able to animate into the 25 episodes we got. 

That leaves us problems with the concept of what an Unlimited truly is never really being explained until what would have been the “Second core” of the series - of in this case After. The animated section of the series never once proceeds to explain to the viewers that Kumo and Kaze are immortal and then in the very last episode of the animated series proceeds to give them both a very dramatic scene after they destroy Chaos (seal it) that makes it look like they both very much died. 

See here: 

It is a very edgy scene of the both of them doing this after their dragon forms attack each other.  Kumo in a soft final breath kinda voice breaths out “Black Wind.... Kaze” as you see him fall backwards and close his eyes. Then Kaze is there with that look, looking down in a softer than Kaze’s normal voice saying “White Cloud.... Makenshi” as Kumo does so.  (Like it’s almost whispers)

That’s the VERY LAST scene you see of the boys in the animated series after they gave up their physical forms to fight Chaos. Kumo rendered himself down to mist and pure energy and Kaze sacrificed his physical form to become the final soil bullet needed to summon against Chaos. 

And then we get THAT but the animated series NEVER directly tells you they’re fucking immortal.  This only really comes up when they are BOTH present in sequels - After, After Spiral, and After 2.  It only has the first scene of the series between these two click now. 

The series tells you Unlimited means “He who has the power to rival that of God’s.”  like twice and then there’s creepy moments of Oscha looking at Kaze in the distance going “Unnnnnnlimited.”  But THAT’S IT. That’s what we get. They constantly elude to Kaze being Unlimited and they say that he might be but the concept of Kumo being Unlimited never even gets fucking approached.  All you know is he is The Earl’s strongest henchman. That’s it. You don’t start figuring this shit out until the “sequels” (second core) when Kumo is part of the party now and no longer “working” for Chaos. 

Because he only spends about 2 episode’s worth of footage helping the main party without concern for consequence. 

FF:U has it’s own fair share of issues. Quen and I have a game called “FF:U go home, you’re drunk.” when it does stupid shit like forget details on the Magun, randomly not draw in some of Kumo’s horns, flips the colors on Kumo’s choker,  or other misc details. It’s not perfect by any means but still I love it. 

#Ask || Mun Speaks #meme || Canon Questions #litoredeem #// look I love this series with all my heart #// but we got fucking robbed when they took the rest of what should have been animated from us #// the second half of the series gets fucking DARK #tw; long post #// I will have feelings about Kumo and Kaze until the day I die

[cassierobinsongf]

dean does not vote or pay taxes. source: the text(supernatural 2005-2020). this is supposed to be cool in a “i live outside the law in a daring and hot way because i am a conventionally attractive white man who is a ghost cop” kinda way. veryyyyy interesting to position him and john (and sam, after like the first couple episodes) this way, establishing them as dangerous but also desirable, tough men in charge working day and night to protect us helpless civilians so any and all violence and life or death decisions they make on behalf of like entire species of creatures and lots of dead peoples spirits and a whole range of monsters is allllll justified. because their morality is always one hundred percent right. dean’s morality IS the show’s morality, which is bananas….BECAUSE THEY ARE COPS. THEY “POSE” as FBI AGENTS BUT LIKE THEIR ENTIRE ROLE IS TO PROTECT WHITE SUBURBIA FROM THE ENCROACHING DARKNESS OF DEMONS AND THE UNKNOWN. DO NOT THINK I FUCKING FORGOT HOW THEY LITERALLY CALLED THE COPS ON GORDON, A BLACK MAN AND GOT HIM JAILED. THEY DROVE AWAY FROM THAT SCENE, UNREPENTANTLY GOD WHAT A RACIST PLOT LINE, i digress. But anyway later on as the world building and scale of the show spiral out of control onto the godly arena, this becomes even MORE pronounced and just grows in absurdity where they’re like THEE white saviors of all humanity, not just of like rockford illinois or whatever. like they’re literally the most important dudes on earth for some reason. anyway this train of thought is probably very incoherent and has definitely all been said before/ is not groundbreaking, i just saw my post about how popular this show was with the military in its first season and rn it really feels like we are RIGHT back in the post-9/11 era and i can’t sleep and my brain is whirring. the politics of supernatural are like insane to think about

#tous.txt

[elliebear666]

Started feeling kinda paranoid lately. I think it's due to stress. I feel like somehow my blog is being like... broadcasted to tons of people, including Dr. Fox, YouTube channel clinical psychologist.

I swear I feel like bro is making videos that mirror my shit and I get paranoid lol. But uh... pretty sure that's not happening and I'm just stressed out.

Tbh I guess... I've been dealing with paranoia for a while. In more like, "They're not being honest and they're being nice to get things from me," type ways. I have had auditory hallucinations w FEW times. But it's always when I'm stressed. I didn't feel I was manic or anything. And um... idk. I was hyper paranoid a while ago, thinking everyone in town was watching me and plotting against me, to kill me or send me away or whatever. I saw a black and a white car parked together and said to myself, "Oh boy. They know. I wonder if they're going to nab me and put me in one of the care." Just crazy shit I guess.

I haven't listed all the ways in which BPD symptoms have affected me since teen years and especially young adult and beyond. I wish Dr. Fox could be like, "Here's what's up. Sorry I can't treat you cuz like you live in a different state. But like you should do this to improve."

I suppose one of the most frustrating aspects is that I have been in therapy for like 10 years and I still have BPD issues.

I mean, I think my psychiatrist and therapist are right? I mean, I've pathologically expressed BPD traits since even before adulthood. And eventually was exhibiting all 9 traits.

I guess part of the thing too is... I do have unrealistic expectations of having my needs met. Because I guess? I have a lot of needs... I'm needy. And clingy. And when I inevitably fail? I spiral like a crazy person. I like... did awful shit to my ex. I split on her and said evil shit and I hate myself for what I did.

I wonder what the difference between moderate and severe BPD is tho. Like... my issues were so bad someone had to get the law involved because I was stalking them... which is absolutely valid. I'm working on being better and atoning. But um... I feel like I may have been moderate at one point, you know? But I feel like I progressed to severe. It was bad. Splitting, rage outbursts, risky behavior, constant freakouts, extreme emotional reactions to almost everything all the time, frantic efforts to avoid abandonment and spiraling to insanity and speeding and risky, dangerous behavior anytime I felt rejected or abandoned. Hurting myself all the time. Severe dissociation that has caused lapses in memory for years. Anger and rage that destroyed friendships and relationships and hurt family. Constant and overwhelming feelings of emptiness. Never knowing who I am and my identity shifting like the tides. Splitting and intense and obsessive relationships filled with fights and instability. Threatening suicide all the time. Being constantly suicidal. I got do in debt from impulsive spending that I... I had to take care if it but I was ruining my life. All this shit and more.

I feel like it was severe. I mean, it felt severe, right? It destroyed my life. Sometimes I wonder if I even have bipolar disorder at all and if it wasn't just BPD. But I'm pretty sure I do have bipolar disorder because the meds help to a degree.

But I still have had really bad BPD symptoms even on meds. But the amount that I've improved? It is astronomical. It is a massive change. I was doing therapy twice a week, and every other day at first I believe. I had no self and tried on every disorder in the book because I didn't want to have BPD tbh. I tried to convince myself I was evil because then I wouldn't feel bad and myself for what I'd done and my therapist and psychiatrist were like... "What's wrong with this diagnosis? Why is it so hard to accept?" And I was like... if I accept it, then I actually have to work on myself and problems. I can't keep lying to clinicians lmao. And... I was scared and ashamed and full of self hatred. Y'all should have seen me the first year or so with my new therapist. It was a fucking MADHOUSE. I got paranoid about her, thought she was involved in some great conspiracy against me, every crazy, paranoid, delusional thought? She became a favorite person and I'd split on her constantly. I threatened her and said I hated her and had to fight my mind's desire to lash out her or stalk her. I learned everything I could about her online... I was acting like a fucking psycho lmao. The level of unhinged shit I sent her in text? Constant all day every day.

So.... idk. I lied to my first therapist literally all the time. I don't even know why. I never told her about the severity of my real issues. I lied and lied and acted cool and fine, but eventually, as she peeled back the layers, she saw my emptiness and the void and my constant instability and rage and pain. I just... I was so guilty and ashamed and just... I didn't want anyone to know what was going on. I barely talked about abuse. I never mentioned being molested and all the horrific shit that happened.

So my BPD fucking... metastasized. I grew and spread and soon I was just a fucking disaster of a human being.

Idk.

I wish sometimes that I could have help from someone like Dr. Fox. But... again. Different state. My psychiatrist and therapist are helping immensely. But... idk.

Fuck

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 061222

5 June, 2022

Dear Dad--

You mean I gotta write another one of these shits this weekend too? Alright, then, have some WORDS *bleeehhhh*

I’m actually kind of enjoying the fact that it’s beautiful outside, sunny, very breezy, high 60s, it’s downright heavenly here! I keep thinking I should go do something outside, but I just spent five days going outside to earn money, and I’m okay observing the outside from within for a bit longer. Besides, Zach still has to take the car and get our weekly haul of groceries. I’ve already been out once today to get my medications (from the same grocery store) and some donuts on the way home, because donuts. It’s Sunday, which is my Saturday. 

[snip]

And now it’s Monday! (Those donuts kicked ass, btw.) I’ve spent the day, which is kinda my Sunday, doing chores and listening to a podcast. Also I had an appointment with my doctor. We’re going to start doing shit about my depression, since it seems to be getting noisier lately. What the heck. Let’s get me someone to talk to, and see if they help me figure out how to remove some of the stupid from my present existence, and my present existence is so very, very full of stupid right now. A few other bullet items:

Zach keeps getting 100s on his tests at HVAC school. I really think he’s going to be good at this shit, and have better job opportunities because of it.

It is Pride Month! Companies too big to fail from Christian boycotts apply rainbows to themselves for 30 days, and folks like you can feel 10% less shame about all the big, strong, black football players’ weenies you want to feel in your mouth. 

The doctor continued to be pleased with the Snickers content of my blood, and suggested that eating better and not smoking were definitely potentially not terribly detrimental to my health. 

He wears a Garmin smartwatch that I kind of want to steal, unless it’s one that specializes in helping you with your fucking jogging. You have to get the model number and check the specs to rule it out for certain.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the first day of our new auditor Tim, swooping down, like the eagles in Return of the King, to snatch my excess work away and make my life a bit less like dying in a volcano. But now it’s not. Delays in licensing or some such. 

Jogging fucking sucks, did I ever tell you that? It’s just worse than Hitler. 

[Sunday, June 12, 2022]

So! 

A thought occurs. I have trouble finishing my Dad letters lately, because it involves thinking and doing stuff, and the process isn’t aided by the fact that you’re purposefully lost in the Fox News universe, from which you’ve forbidden us to follow. But I don’t seem to have difficulty writing about half a Dad letter. So, perhaps I’ll just try for one Dad letter per week, but do one Dad letter every two weeks, if that ends up being to my benefit. That’ll make it easier to not fill it with verbal styrofoam peanuts anyway, and tell you about all the SERIOUSLY interesting things happening in my life. They are pretty few, though. To wit:

Many nearby patches of nature are now covered, as though with Texas bluebonnets, with these gorgeous purple lupines. It’s usually about 70% purple, and about 20% a pretty coral pink color, and 10% white, give or take. They’re like extra tall, mono-hued bluebonnets that appear in sprays of violet and pink and white. It’s just fucking gorgeous, and if the place where I see them most weren’t along the side of the interstate on my way to work, I’d certainly have picked some by now, to bring home and display in a vase and take pictures of. Lupines, man. Hand over all your lupines. 

Zach continues to slog his way through the propane and propane accessories portion of his HVAC class, and he assures me that this is, by far, the most tedious segment, crammed with multiple voluminous books (printed and cheaply spiral bound) given to the students, about fucking propane. He’s become convinced that this is no longer HVAC class, but instead is HVAC Class Brought To You By The National Propane Council ™ . And he wonders if he’ll have to insert himself forever into the pocket of Big Propane ™. 

Meanwhile, I’m still serving Gamblor, doing the seven audits every day. Except hang on, wait a second, help arrives! We have a new auditor on the team, to replace Justin, and his name is Tim. Tim has arrived. Tim has some interesting features, but since I do too, allow me to express only fondness and respect for Tim, and relief that he’s come to help do audits, so I don’t have to do all of them, every day. Tim is the new me! Full time auditor. It’s only going to get easier from here, as he learns to do more and more of the work. Hang in there, Tim! Oh, one feature of interest, he’s a black belt in tae kwon do, and is in the same outfit I was in back in the 80s, the American TaeKwonDo Association, or ATA. I figure it’s safe to tell you about this because he was on the local news last night in a story covering their black belt award ceremony. 

Perhaps more bullets are in order, then:

Everything here is covered with yellow powder, which I assume is tree jizz, and I personally don’t care for it. My car is bejizzed, our hummingbird feeders are bejizzed, it’s like yellow cocaine residue on everything. 

You crave the cocks, Dad. This is known.

You can tell summer is here, because it’s going to reach 80 degrees today. It’s beautiful outside, except for the swarms of tiny white gnats. I think we’re not getting much hummingbird traffic at the feeders because they mostly eat bugs, and nowadays, they’d just have to fly with their mouths open to catch a whole day’s worth. 

I must say a word about lasers. When I was a kid, the only place you ever saw a laser was at the planetarium, or the laser light show, also at the planetarium. I had a friend in high school (call it…1985) who had money, because his dad was a doctor, and he was working with another rich nerd kid to design their own homemade laser. Then someone figured out how to make a pen-sized red laser that one could use as a pointer, and the laser pointer was born. I was fascinated, and the first time I bought a laser pointer, it was $50. Fast forward to now, and we’re already 10 years past the first time when I first saw a gumball machine from which you could purchase a genuine laser pointer for 75 cents. Lasers are now everywhere, and they’re super cheap. I love that we figured out how to mass produce them. 

Anyway, I think my boss’s birthday is coming up. He’s very secretive about when his birthday is, but he did let slip one time that his astrological sign is Cancer. At the time, I was all, “Shit, I coulda told YOU he’s a cancer,” because I didn’t know him well enough to like him then, though now I do. I like him quite a bit. Cancer is June 22 through July 22. So here’s my plan. I went on Amazon and found him a nice gift: a three-pack of laser pointers, one red, one green, and one violet, all for about 12 bucks. They are marketed as cat toys. You believe that shit? I’m going to split the difference between those two dates, which would be about July 7th, and I’m going to go into Tyler’s office, and say, “Hello! I want to play a short game with you, related to your birthday.” 

At this point, I predict he’ll be a bit weirded out, so I’ll just plow ahead, “I’m going to guess your birthday, and if I’m correct to within two weeks, you have to tell me the day of your actual birthday.” And he’s someone who likes poker, so he’ll run the numbers, and probably realize that I’m ONTO HIM and I KNOW HIS DARK SECRET ALREADY, but he’ll agree to the terms of the game. Then I’ll guess July 7th, he’ll go, “Shit! How did you know?” and then I’ll soften the blow of having dominated his ass completely USING MATH by giving him his birthday present, a three-pack of laser pointers. He’s mentioned wanting one in the past, for when he’s training new auditors, to point at the portion of the screen where he wants the auditor’s attention to be focused. We look at a lot of visually busy spreadsheets. 

As I said, I like Tyler now. Just as I’m gaining experience learning when to tell him the truth about feeling overwhelmed, or stressed, or shat upon (i.e. telling sooner rather than later), so too is he learning more about how to be a leader. 

That’s enough letter. I go now. Have a good week, and don’t let the homos take all your guns away.