#fix it' every fucking day is literally giving me brain damage
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At least she's confessing she takes handfuls of mhi pills now. Instead of pretending she's okiedokie it's just ADHD. Now if only she would look at that, then look at the last pinned post and her playlist, then look at reality, then let me go. So here we go trying again, condensed.
Yo, crazy lady with the handful of pills who's inner self she keeps disassociating so she can ride my dick and have zero accountability, that inner logic brain self told her to go to therapy. Read it again.
Whether or not you accept it, that is reality and the core of your problems. Every fundamental you think of Hermes, was just me understanding myself THROUGH Hermes because I was actually following his path, and you leaned it all on me.
That is LITERALLY there due to your attachment to the way our characters met in roleplay, that is the only reason it is there. End of fucking story. Remember my name, you goddamn know it.
Now you're gonna get mark and your other misled pals all the way off.
If you want to try to learn Hermes, that's fine, but you gotta learn HIM, not me. Khaire has a beautiful, unique, but appropriate playlist. Yours is a mess of old albums I all referenced, it is literally my old vibe list, again.
Giiiiirl. Girl it should not be so hard to dump you that I've made a bootstrap paradox trying to get the fuck rid of you. Why the fuck are you acting this brain damaged, I don't know how many pills you have to take on a day, you posted your playlist with some accidental prompt lucidity, thinking you were being annoying, only to give me your heartsong key and show it's... still fuckin mine, mostly.
YOU WANT TO FOLLOW HERMES, THEN FOLLOW HERMES, NOT A SHADOW OF ME YOU'VE GRAFTED YOUR UNDERSTANDING TO. HE WAS LITERALLY MY WRITTEN SHADOW PROCESSING BLOC GIRL.
Your ENTIRE UNDERSTANDING of him comes from trying to shortcut across my own path and my own identity, and "Secrets" being so high on your list only to descend into the rest literally quantifies that. Maam every moment wasn't divine inspiration, it was my own soul trying to find who it was in this life, as it is for everyone, if they listen. And you ran off with that, because you refused any of the work that wasn't roleplay romance or disassociative channeling for attention. And you're still refusing the work now, just coasting on the easy parts!
If you realize you've been on the wrong path YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO WHERE YOU FUCKED UP, not JUST KEEP WALKING
ATHENA IS SCREAMING BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO BUSY CHASING ME TO LET HER OUT. Therapy is just guided shadow work, hence me working in crisis counseling. Whether people call it that or know the mystic face or not isn't the point, it's the same fucking thing. your Logic Brain is telling you to go to therapy because she's trapped in that Giant Screaming Lady but is among your more accessible levels, maybe Artemis too. She can't fix it, because you won't let her. Your Logic Brain told you to go to therapy so you stop intentionally confusing yourself with my Chaos Brain, which is in fact a different brain, and mine, not yours.
That's why Athena told you to go to fucking therapy. Because she can't help you, because you won't help you, and you won't help each other until you face this very basic truth.
What's got you fucked up is accepting you thought you dumped one of the few Magi that can on command pull off his mask and be him, all of him, everything all at once and everywhere, but also still maintain being myself. And man, that SUCKS for you to have picked a fight with. Or stalked or gotten confused. Or been highly offensive to the ssnakes in the sservice indusstry and the manager. Something about blackscreening from a hidden screen you were thinking about a lot. I have an eight page doc of notes called "stole it from the supervisor, not sorry about it."
Yo crazy lady in the wet bear suit with the handful of pills and the therapy because her inner logic brain can't anymore that's arguing with the 20x accredited psych worker and degreed Magus. Yeah you. Why do you think the song we met on, basically, is still in your playlist core, and all the albums I referenced. Lloth of the 10th in red that doesn't know why she got Boo'ed by the spider weilding Pan so vividly. Crazy lady. You.
Lady, you've been dumped by Coyote, and now you gotta set your shit straight with all the other people you've done fucked up and gotten locked on me. You wanna follow him you have to do more than copy me and other people's playlists or my old stories or designs or, literally, my old shadow processing bloc.
We're still fucking doing this? Is it the depth of the entanglement you've cursed your life to, or the embarrassment stopping you more now? Gonna give ALL our secrets away, sweet cheeks.
Some fucking things in life aren't about your motherfucking opinion or personal comfort, princess. Sometimes, we lose things, and sometimes we make mistakes, and those things can't be fixed and won't come back, and it's time to learn to process grief like a fucking adult and face reality, because this is it, this is reality. And you objectively refuse to actually go back and learn Hermes properly from the gate, you don't want to, you WANT to stay clung to me even when our ancestors are screaming, and athena is screaming, and your inner broken self is overall screaming, and I'm screaming, and you still won't fucking listen, let me go, or learn over right, you just keep doubling down on a path you fucking admitted was wrong without turning around.
I REGRET TO INFORM YOU IT TAKES MORE THAN CHANGING YOUR BLOG TITLE TO CHANGE YOUR PATH.
This shit is literally my experience with you harassing me at any possible angle for the last three years since our breakup, begging for my motherfucking attention, and maybe you hadn't noticed, there's a lot of Cat metaphors going on.
BUT UR NEW ICONS ARENT ALL RAINBOW HAIR. well yeah. I started basing them after my appearance at the time fused to the other elements. That and, Coyote was a fractal part of a whole. There was still Ash's mess and the rest to unpack. That, all of that, is me and my history and family and lineage and right, and you fucking have your own but you keep trying to ride on mine. Yeah there's a crazy disco lights rocker in here, but he's actually unified with an old gambler staring at you and squinting, woman. Hey. Hey Lady. Guess what it's all of them all at once, and that makes me. What's not clicking. Now fucking do yours. Now will you consider hopping off me long enough for sis to actually give you a hand?
Girl it's time to accept "Min" knew you were full of shit for at least a few years before we broke up. And was all but over you. But made you a series of promises, and intended to keep them, even if it was slowly killing me. And it still is, just largely and rapidly now. Because I/she/me/whatever you want to disassociate your ex lover to are still keeping that promise. You won't let us go, so we're still technically with you, so we're making it so you don't have to do the Work and are doing whatever you need to be provided for. You know, promise 3, getting you out, even if that's just Athena and a new installation for her that actually fucking functions. You not liking what that looks like is somewhere among a plethora of personal problems.
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Big brain time Shea. Imagine if Ash and Coyote DNA digivolved as one anthropologically coherent legacy become personage and X-crossed into someone that used to call themselves Min, and then you managed to piss them the collective and him the singular off by being a veil of conscious and willful delusion fuckin stalking abusive llothian shadow cultist fucking up Athena, Artemis, and Selene all at once. Try that hat on, cocaine bear. Brian was always my chaos brain. Niekai was always your logic brain. Why are you fighting this.
Someone sure the fuck is in the giant shitbowl you keep trying to ignore happening. We've been in code blue for hours.
Huh wonder why this is.
I'd like my mask back. All the way. No halfs this time. Those are my air jordans, my songs, my works, my stories. Running from the octopus jibberish was just the first bandaid ripped off. Your castle of glass is going to break. The thing you're only a crack in. Funny. That song's not mine. But I, too, reflect energy.
Call me thee crustdaddy, honest papa lotus, the angels are laughing and saying be mushroom funny guy.
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Fuckin sorry everybody I started going code red for a second there but switched tracks, we're good now.
#piratecandyrumpockyridingsniffmakesbuttrumhoopleborpna#i make uplifting emotional abuse music#my gun so big the matrix had to reload it#just stop stealing my shit homegirl hashtag magus#you put copyright symbol on other people's work and are still connected to me psycho#Youtube
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I am ***so god damned tired*** of feeling like I'm not being god damned HEARD.
I'm literally laying out, daily, what exactly is wrong with me and my brain and YOU'RE DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT AT ALL.
I sincerely feel hidden, dismissed, and ignored. Especially when it's the same thing...every...single...day....
You say you know. You say you want it to. THEN GOD DAMNED DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Stop making it my responsibility.
If you want something to fucking happen too, please put some god damned effort into it as well.
I just want to feel like someone actually gives a flying fuck if I'm actually okay. Don't ask if I'm okay if you aren't willing to do any fucking thing to fix it.. to make it better.. to at least try.
You say you're trying.. but what have you really done?
You're the one who said I have to stay hidden. That people can't know.
You're the one who did this.
And I allowed it to happen..
So yeah, I blame myself for my own shit mental health right now. Because for safety, nobody can know about me.
I'm just another fan. Another follower. Another parasocial relationship that will never see the light of day.
You aren't going to be able to convince me otherwise at this point. It's been 6 months. You've proven the opposite.
It's never going to happen. I'm never going to get better. I'm only getting more and more bitter.
I hate it. I want to be happy.
I just want one of the fucking three partners I have to act like they give a fuck in public.
When it's one way in public and the opposite in private, but you're only getting the positive attention in private...
It really starts to feel like your partners are ASHAMED of you. Like you have to be a secret because you're the problem...
It starts to cut really deep after awhile. And there's only so long before the damage that's been caused is irreversible and I'm always going to feel that way.. because it took so fucking long for you to say anything.
You really are ashamed of me aren't you? You really don't want people to know.
and it's because I'm crazy. I know it is.
You can't lie and tell me it isn't.
it's because I'm unstable and volatile.
Try living inside the brain that there's 97 squares and they're all quick self destruct buttons, but the one in the very center... and you have to hit all those other buttons to feel safe... to have a chance and not self-destructing...
But every day is a new button to move towards the center.
I don't know how many more booms I can take..
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• Humpty Dumpty Elegy 9 | five books on 🤪STUPIDITY🧠 •
I'm a real dumb bitch
It may have all started when I threw that brick up in the air as high as I could, and it landed on my head. Or when I pulled my arms into my sleeves, and faceplanted right onto a sidewalk, losing my front teeth. Maybe it was when fell down a steep gravel driveway, and though I had perfectly good arms, I still bounced my face off the ground again, leaving me with a very cool lightning bolt scar over my left eye.
Those were just a few big memorable blows I took to the head. The rest came in the form of daily bonks and pratfalls to make my friends laugh.
I can't be sure why I hit my head every day. Might have been inspired by my dad, who was a textbook case of CTE. Not only did he have endless funny stories of catastrophic head injuries, from football and bar fights, he let the people he loved slap him in the head when he was being a silly little baka, which was always.
Coulda been The Three Stooges, a show my dad revered, with Curly Howard taking hit after hit to the dome. The fact that Curly obviously died from head trauma only made him seem more like a hero to him.
Or maybe it was the constant threat of special ed classes. Which may seem designed to help us dumb kids, but in my school it was OBVIOUSLY a disciplinary gesture, not a learning resource. The teacher of the Speds was Ms. Clarke, our school's version of Ms. Trunchbull, a sadistic old witch with owl eyes. Her only job was to teach kids to stare at the floor and keep their mouths permanently shut.
Being threatened with Ms. Clarke's presence was the equivalent of being threatened with The Chokey, or Guantanamo Bay. And until the end of grade six my parents were constantly in meetings to keep me out of her arthritic bumpy old bitchass claws. In between discussions with well dressed drug dealers, trying to get me hooked on the same pills they gave to god damn Kamikaze pilots.
The stress of all that was very painful, and I think my headbanging was plain old self-harm. The dissonance of being told I'm clever by people who love me, but mentally defective by the people teaching me was a dilute form of hell. I was like, "Ah well, never going to use this brain anyway [bonk]".
Humpty Dumpty and I had remarkably similar sounding upbringings. Only difference being (aside from his lack of head trauma), he had nobody advocating on his behalf. He had weak, ignorant parents, who just wanted their broken kid fixed, and they trusted goblins to do it. He did a full sentence in The Chokey, and took the whole suite of PILLS NOBODY SHOULD FUCKING GIVE TO KIDS.
It ended in sixth grade, when a friend of mine decided to not laugh anymore. I banged my head on the desk, then looked at him, he was stonefaced. Couple more bonks, nothing. Bonk bonk bonk... arms crossed, unimpressed. I bonked till I had a headache, for nothing. The message I was getting at the time from him was, "Not funny, dude." But as an adult, I picture the look on his face and hear, "Please, please stop hurting yourself."
I stopped, thank gosh, but now here I am, the kind of guy who acts like he has mild brain damage, all the time.
And I love it! My name is a reference to my lazy mumbling mushmouth, like "gibberish" or "gobbledygook". All my favorite people have brain damage! Roseanne Barr, Roald Dahl, Alex Jones, Mike Tyson, Steve Brule, Lady Gaga, Abe Lincoln, Harriet Tubman, etc. it's a glorious club to be a member of. Next on my bucket list? Trepanation.
Around the time I threw that brick, and ate that gum off the underside of a banister, I also discovered the power of words: My friend Newfie and I were in the midst of a huge crabapple fight. We were in the middle of the street, circling each other counterclockwise, hurling crabapples, missing literally every throw, until the fronts of our t-shirts ran out of ammo. A crowd had gathered to watch, as we scrambled over the lawns to reload. Getting tired, and knowing round two would be just as pathetic, I decided to stand there and just dance as the apples flew by. With my friend getting all winded, I stood tall, pointed at my him, and boomed in my tiny little boy voice:
"Newfie! You are a PENIS TOUCHDOWN!!"
I stole the whole show. The audience (of other stupid kids) hit the ground laughing, including Newfie. And I was the neighborhood wordsmith until I moved away. Kids thought I must have some connection to the muses, to come up with something as devastating and one-of-a-kind as "penis touchdown". Nothing was more impressive than the stupidest thing I had ever said in my life.
I've always had a weird relationship with stupidity. While my family insisted that I had a big brain, I had to ask, whothafuck are they? Aren't they just obligated to say that? My grandad was my biggest advocate, but that silly bitch also accidentally put a cigarette out in my fucking ear. My dad was an R-word, and my mom, for all her booksmarts, married at least two different R-words. So what do they know? A boy must wonder.
"R" stands for "renegade" of course.
I went from the clever kid with the oversized skull (some boys called me "Epcot Kid" because my head looked like the Epcot Ball), to the dopey asshole with an oversized dented skull, to a sped kid, to "gifted", to a highschool dropout, to a line cook working beside two people with masters degrees and two-foot flames jumping off their frying pans.
Intelligence and stupidity are my greatest fascinations. It's why book #1 in this series is You Are Not So Smart. I remember my mom shouting in the car about how dumb people are, and angrily gesturing at a fumbling driver. Then at some later point, she nearly ran into a woman at a stoplight, and I saw the lady silently ranting about my mom... to her kids in the back seat.
This is the first topic that got me into psychology books. As a non-recovering stupiholic, I wanted definitive answers about what "smart" meant. Here's what I discovered about even the smartest people you know:
They are 99.9% ignorant of how the world around them functions; their memory is tiny, brutally selective, editable, and temporary; believing is seeing, 10x more than seeing is believing; they confabulate, and self-justify in a matter of milliseconds, a thousand times a day; the span and depth of their attention is as pitiful as just about anyone else's, and getting worse by the year; as objective and rational as they pretend to be, most of their decisions are inevitably swift and subjective gut intuitions. Our brain is a biased, excuse-making, faith-based, dogmatic hunk of pig shit. Show animals more respect, and don't you ever pretend you're not one. ♥
Why did experts want to put me in special ed? Not because I was much dumber than my peers. I was just a giant asshole. And they justifiably didn't like me.
Socrates said self awareness is the basis of all wisdom. And what did he know about himself? That he didn't know shit.
This month, instead of passing over "Know thyself" and "I know nothing", as clichés people tattoo on their pubis, we're going to dig in deep. So that in the future, when you say "I'm an idiot", you can say it knowledgeably. Not as a fatalistic, nihilistic, irresponsible douchebag. But as a reflective, introspective, humble ape.
• #1 The Knowledge Illusion by Steven Sloman and Philip Fernbach •
Can you draw a bicycle, from memory? Try it. Doesn't have to be beautiful, just functional.
Despite the fact that many people can ride a bike, or have at least seen hundreds of them, people fuck this challenge up royally.
Maybe you've got bikes figured out. How bout the flushing mechanism in your toilet, or the clicking mechanism of a pen? It's one thing to visualize the parts in your head, or even fix it when a piece comes loose, the question is can you put them together, in a causal chain, from beginning to end, so that they work?
For as many things that you can explain in depth, there are thousands more you can't. The list of known-knowns is infinitely smaller than all the unknown-unknowns. Even the simplest man-made things you can find are products of dozens, sometimes hundreds of different clueless participants. They specialize in one tiny thing and they work all day handling vague unanalyzed information. Then they blindly pass it off to someone else, who doesn't ask questions.
Astronomers don't have to go to school to learn how to melt or polish glass into lenses, or how to magnetize iron to make a compass. And the people who professionally make these instruments rarely get paid to use them.
How does a bike work? I get on that punk and pedal. Turning and leaning are basically the same joystick. Speed keeps you upright. The wheels suck dick without air. And don't slam on the front brake alone. Done. Bikes. 🚲🚲✔
But before you go feeling all inadequate about your inability to explain everything down to the gnat's ass, relax. Nobody likes to be reminded of the "illusion of explanatory depth". The point is, unless someone asks you to manufacture bikes, you have zero reason to look into it. Even if you did track that information down, you'd only be the holder of a handful of trivia. Not necessarily more intelligence.
When asked, "do you know X?" we substitute the question in our head for a new one, and hear, "could you find out about X, if need arose?" and say "yes." When the answer to the original question is, "no" the vast majority of the time.
The truth is, though, that's perfectly fine. Because individual intelligence is overrated. Intelligence doesn't exist in any one person's head; It exists in the collective mind. Sound spooky and ethereal? It is. Plato didn't fuck around.
What about geniuses like Isaac Newton? Newton had a library of books reaching back a thousand years before him. He's the one who famously said "If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."
What about Genghis Khan? Man ejaculated all the way to the fucking moon, and he didn't start out his career, flipping through books. But he was a central node, in an innovatively built network of highly mobile people, sharing news and oral history all over the silk road.
Most of the greats have famous quotations, begging readers of history to give their contemporaries more credit. But hell naw. In the end, complexity reduction always wins.
It's not that we're just a bunch of children who want superheroes to worship, and we're too stupid to handle all the details. Not at all. We just evolved as oral historians, without literature. The most efficient way to immortalize a person, and hold on to their contributions for generations, is to turn them into myths. Something that can spread from campfire to campfire, or troubadour to troubadour. Also, if we couldn't reduce big ideas into basic ones, we'd never have the brain power to reach beyond, and discover even bigger things.
Some people are more reflective than others. Meaning they're more likely to ask themselves whether they really understand something. They probe their own illusions of explanatory depth, and enjoy attending to details. But even the most reflective people still avoid 99% of all explanations.
We specialize, and collaborate. Like Gladwell wrote about in The Tipping Point. Nobody winds up in the history books all by themselves. You got people specialists, thing specialists, and specialist specialists. But alone none are terribly special at all.
Have you ever been subjected to the "Why?" game? Typically played by kids, the rules are simple: Ask someone a why question, and when they answer it, ask, "why?" again, and again, and again... till the person being interrogated winds up at the Big Bang, and has to either shrug or sob at all "why?"s from there on out.
This is one of the many things that Humpty hates about kids.
Part of the shock of the "Why?" game is that as we get older, we get better at overlooking complexity, worse at probing ourselves, more certain, and we forget all about our ignorance. Kids with their fresh minds effortlessly throw it all back in our face.
So what does that mean? Collective intelligence? Basically individual intelligence is the info you can personally recall, ad noodle. Collective intelligence is info you know how to find. A friend with expertise. A bookshelf. Google.
When my brother, Wednesday, and I wanted to experiment with drugs, I did 100% of the research on how to safely take them, find them, test them, etc. I learned contraindications, local laws, antidotes. I poured through best and worst case scenarios from trip reports on Erowid so I could reassure them if they're hesitant, or warn them if they're acting recklessly.
"We" know a whole lot about drugs, Brotherface, Wednesday, and I. I know, because I spent all of 2016 on Erowid, Bluelight, Reddit, WebMd, and beyond. They know because they know me, and we did drugs together. I'm their faster, more relatable Google, that loves them. I'm a big book on their shelf. That's how mavens do baby.
I forget who said it, but some dude on Sam Harris' podcast put it well when he said (roughly), "People aren't interesting based on what they say. They're interesting based on who they listen to."
Or as Aes puts it:
You fucking dorks ain't a source of the art. You can't be cooler than the places where you source all your parts. -- Aesop Rock, Dorks
Humpty Dumpty listens to bitter videogame critics on the internet, speedrun commentary, incel forums, fictional action heroes in movies or games, blackpill Doomer news, and people fighting on Twitter. That's his daily diet of mental stimulation; that's his brain. His working memory is stuffed with trash from sunup to sundown. He had two well-resourced and experienced dudes in his collective mind for more than a year, trying their hardest to redirect his focus to less nihilistic bullshit, and he absorbed not a single word from us.
This book kind of explains why. See, when we think someone is wrong, the natural, charitable view is to believe they merely have a deficit of information. So in order to change their mind, all one must do is make up for that deficit, fill them in, and they'll naturally come around.
That's called the "Deficit Model" of misunderstanding. But it's flawed the vast majority of the time. We don't believe things based on intelligence, rationality, or an understanding of causality. We believe based on emotions. Science isn't popularly believed in because intelligence is going up. Science is popular because of the glowing rectangle you're staring at right now. Its efficacy speaks for itself. Jesus didn't give us electricity and germ theory, so Jesus lost our faith.
Humpty didn't have a data deficit. He was just emotionally committed to despair. He didn't want anyone to change his mind, he just wanted people around. But we weren't looking for a decomposing nihilist. We thought we were helping someone along the same path we followed, towards emotional recovery and maturity.
He's just a pity addict. And the only way an addict recovers, is when they decide they're tired of their habit. He could have smartened up. It was always up to him. If he ever does get fed up with himself, these books will waiting patiently.
For everyone else, this book is amazing at demystifying personal intelligence, and drawing your focus to the far more important idea of collective intelligence. You don't need to be a supergenius to contribute to humanity's knowledge. Just start searching; Climb the first giant you see, and give the world a fresh look.
Don't discount your own curiosity. Don't idolize people; we're all peers. This universe can't observe itself without you. And as Isaac Asimov (tentatively) said:
The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not “Eureka!” (I found it!) but “That’s funny …”
• #2 The Forgetting Machine by Rodrigo Quian Quiroga •
If there's one thing my damaged brain does outstandingly well, it's forgetting. And no shit, that may be one of my greatest assets.
Until I get Alzheimer's, of course. But the only trick there is blowing my brains out before it really gets me. I'll wind up coming home with a grocery bag full of handguns, and look around to see the all the cupboards, drawers, and fruit bowls are full of the ones I keep forgetting to fellate.
But hey, by then, my incontinence and blabbering will be somebody else's problem, baybeee! 👨🦽👨🦼✔
It'll be their fault for not shooting me in the face anyway. Selfish prick. You want nostalgia? Diaper duty's on you.
How is there any advantage to forgetfulness? Well lets consider what happens to people who can't forget anything. "Hyperthymesia", is a rare disorder where a person can perfectly recall every single thing they've ever experienced. Pick a date, and they can walk you through it from dawn to dusk, with seemingly zero effort needed.
A disorder? Maybe that sounds awesome to you. But it comes at a huge cost. The most obvious one being the fact that some things are better left as forgotten as possible, like the sensation of breaking a bone, or kissing a sidewalk at 9 m/s. There's also the issue of how distracting such an intense perception of memory can be. And surprisingly, it destroys a person's ability to think creatively, or "platonically".
You could go to a party with 100 people there, and no matter how bad you think your memory is, I guarantee that with the right strategy, you could memorize all 100 people before the party ends. But here's the catch, you won't meet a single one of them. You have to abandon comprehension in favor of memorization. In this instance, you'd have to abandon all hope of making friends that night.
That's a key difference: Memorizing vs comprehending. Memorizing is cumbersome, and frankly it's the last thing your brain wants to do. Even if you did remember all 100 names, without any emotional salience attached to them it's only a matter of time till your recall evaporates.
Salience is like memory saliva. Just as we can't taste food in a dry mouth, we can't remember facts without answering the question, "why the fuck would I care?"
They don't seem to teach this fact to teachers. Can't tell you how many times I got in trouble with them just for asking "so what?" or "why does this matter to me or my life?". They take that question as a complete affront to the meaning of their existence. Meanwhile, if the question goes unanswered, the lesson that day goes totally unabsorbed.
Kids with "ADD" are just chronically averse to wrote memorization, in favor of comprehension. Their brains don't reward them for learning things the stupid way, so they quarrel with their rent-seeking dipshit teachers. It's not a disorder, it's a high-powered bullshit filter.
Plus, there's nothing more salient than money. Before leaving highschool, I would have told you I have the most hopeless memory of anyone you know. Then I dropped out, got a job at a Spirit Halloween store, landed an inventory manager position after the original guys suddenly quit, and by the end of the season I had the entire inventory memorized. Front and back of house, plus what's coming in the next shipment. If they had told me what my job involved up front, I would have laughed hysterically, and left waving my middle finger. But that money snuck up on me. When I left, the info vanished without a trace.
Just as Atomic Habits reminds us that there's no such thing as overcoming our laziness, this book applies that wisdom to forgetfulness. You can make it to 72 years old, receiving more than a terabyte of sensory data every single day, and by the time you reach the finish line, you'll have remembered... a generous 125mb of data. That includes all your memories, intuitions, opinions, sensations, etc. The rest, you'll have forgotten it with a zeal you never knew you had.
When you focus on memorization over comprehension, you inhibit your brains ability to boil information down, and make connections between associations.
This reducing process is where wisdom comes from. Our brain sifts through the waterfall of stimuli in our short-term working memory, picking out patterns, meaning, emotional salience, sensory data, etc. And then discards the rest when we go to bed.
Whatever is left, we work into our long-term memory by creating time and space saving "schemas". It's the quality of one's mental schemas that determines their intelligence, not the sheer volume of memorized factoids.
I think of learning sort of like duckboards. Duckboards are a clever solution to getting over swamps or quicksand. Or famously, in trench warfare, over a bombed-out wasteland. You drive wooden piles deep into the mud, which stay firmly in place. To get around, you need only two planks. First you lay plank A over two piles making a bridge, carry plank B over plank A, hook it up to the next pile, pick up plank A, carry it over plank B, make a bridge again, and so on. A plank to stand on, and a plank to reach ahead. You can go wherever the piles are driven in.
Some nerds overcomplicate things, and waste energy. They do the mental equivalent of laying down ten planks. So to move forward, they have to walk back over plank I, H, G, F, E, D, C, then B, to pick up A, then walk it aaaaall the way back to the end of J. They see all the effort as a testament to their mental horsepower, not their extreme inefficiency.
Or some deny the natural impermanence of planks in a soggy quagmire, and try nailing them to the piles. But then it rains, fungus gets to work, the mud shifts, nails rust. Suddenly the footpath they were so proud of last week has become a worthless strip of disconnected punkwood.
Embrace your forgetfulness. Pack light. Don't sink into the mud. Consider the idea that maybe you forgot something because it was truly irrelevant. Demand salience from things wishing to be remembered. And don't be too dazzled by people with powerful rote memorization skills, it's a gimmick.
Oh! And get a notebook! Jot down your good ideas. I know you're full of them. But the odds of you recalling them later is like one in one hundred. I've got a pile of banged up Moleskines and Field Notes with both the dumbest and smartest ideas I've ever come up with. Re-reading them is very fun, and always surprising.
Humpty loved to pretend like he valued all our fancy advice, but he was just too gosh darn forgetful to remember any of it. But to me, all I could hear when he claimed that was, "Yeah, that's nice. Didn't ask. Didn't listen. Don't care. Fuck you."
Just like me when I was a student. I might admire him for it if he was wasting someone else's time. But he wasted mine. Dasa nono.
• #3 Mistakes Were Made, But Not By Me by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson •
"Confabulate" from Latin, "con" meaning "together" and, "fabulari" meaning "to talk, chat"; where we get the word, "fable", and, "fabulous"
In the general sense of the word, "confabulating" describes two or more people chatting (whereas "conspiring" describes two people breathing, i.e. whispering). In the psychological sense, it means "making up stories in your head."
Some say Homo Sapiens should go by another name. As sapience might not be our defining trademark after all. Animals play games, but none are as sophisticated as ours, so perhaps "homo ludens" hits closer to the mark. Or maybe, "homo coquens" for our grasp of fire, and the ability to cook food. Or, "homo deus" for the fact that in many ways we can play god, editing genes, harnessing fission, manipulating weather, etc.
Well I say add to the list of nicknames, "homo confabulans". For the fact that we never stop telling stories. To others and most especially to ourselves.
You know why deer always get hit by cars? Because those stupid fucks aren't story tellers. If they could, they'd have turned our headlights into scary bedtime stories long ago. Bucks would clash with bumpers and fenders on their antlers like they're enchanted items of magical power.
If I split your brain in half, separating your verbal centers on the left from your visual centers on the right, then fed humorous images to your right side, your body would start laughing. However if I asked you to explain why you laughed, since the story teller in your brain wasn't there to see the joke, it makes up any random ass reason it can think of, in a matter of milliseconds. But it'll have nothing to do with what you saw.
"What's so funny? Well you scientists just ask such silly questions, they crack me up."
Nature abhors a vacuum, and our brains abhor ignorance. Its solution to gaps in perception or awareness is to simply fill them with whatever is in reach, within that day's working memory. It happens so quick, we don't feel confused at all.
Worse than uncertainty, our brains hate cognitive dissonance the most. When do we feel dissonance? Any time our thoughts, words, or actions become misaligned with each other. It's painful, and we often employ drastic measures just to squash the feeling.
It doesn't take a lot to feel it. You don't have to think something all your life, say something countless times, or repeat an action over and over, for you to keep these things consonant. A small change in behavior can wipe away a lifetime commitment to certain ideas. And a minor adjustment in personal narrative can completely transform the way you act.
You could be someone's sworn enemy for as long as you know. But if I could convince you to give them a gift, that animosity would begin to diminish. You'd think, "I don't give gifts to assholes. Maybe they're not as bad as I thought. Life would definitely be nicer with fewer enemies. God it takes so much energy. Glad I'm forgiving enough to see past our differences. We've been through so much together. Can't find a bond like ours easily." And so on.
Try it, it's called the "Benjamin Franklin effect". If you want a hater to like you, don't do them a favor, make them do you one instead. The cognitive dissonance it creates breaks down walls like roots through brickwork.
Conversely, harming someone makes you dislike them. If I could fool you into violating or insulting a random person, then asked you later what your opinion of them is, while logically your opinion should be neutral, chances are you'll have a whole story ready to go about the stranger's bad vibes to explain why you fucked them over. Because you didn't know I tricked you, and your brain won't tolerate explanatory gaps.
We all think we're decent people, doing our best. We like to think we're competent and reliable. On some level we need to believe these things, true or not. When we fuck up though, these beliefs get threatened, and the most natural response is to self-justify. It makes perfect sense from an evolutionary point of view, but it's not exactly the most sapient thing to do.
This self-justification response is lightning fast and unless we're deliberately vigilant it'll run the whole show. Counteracting it is a slow cumbersome process, but there's no such thing as being an intelligent person if you don't.
I said, "don't" not, "can't". Anyone can, it's just a question of time and effort. Unless you have some glaringly obvious neurological damage.
Some people self-justify more often than others. Strangely, it's people with the highest self-esteem who cook up the most excuses. This includes expert professionals; doctors, police, political leaders, researchers, etc.
Not during this pandemic, though. They did everything perfectly. Mistakes were not made. /s
Disturbingly, when a perpetrator harms a victim, the perp is more likely to victim blame the more helpless the victim is. Like if a soldier kills a man in a knife duel, he just says "Es lo que es; I did what I had to do. Him or me."
But if that soldier firebombs a village of innocent rice farmers, "They put a lower price on human life over there." He'll say, "There's just so many of them, they don't mind if you burn a few. They'd do it to us if they could." Things go from bad, to disgusting, to odious.
People with low self-esteem may be less likely to make excuses. But they're also more likely to discount any information that might improve their self-esteem. Since all thoughts words and actions are self-reinforcing, and we naturally confirm our biases, people with low self-esteem will argue in favor of themself being trash, and high-self-esteemers will argue in favor of themself being treasure.
Hump had no interest in hearing anything that would counter his self-loathing. He was remarkably lucid about the power of narratives. He never argued with me about it. But the second it was time to analyze his narrative, out came the yeah-but's, and the broken record would spin.
You don't need money, or religion, or drugs to get good people to do bad things. You just need to fool them once, then let self-justification run its natural course. Like siphoning gasoline. Get a sucker over the edge, and gravity will take it from there.
Self-justification is what gets otherwise ethical police officers to falsify evidence and throw innocent people in jail (NEVER TALK TO THE POLICE. Repeat after me: "I want a lawyer"). Or worse, ignore the bullet hole in your face for six hours, because they decided you're the perp, not the second victim of a shooter who's still at-large. It gets doctors and psychotherapists to keep people on harmful ineffective treatments, till a patient dies or harms someone else, rather than undermine their original assessment. It gets two people in a relationship to turn small incompatibilities into deal-breakers. It keeps blood feuds roaring for generations, and makes retaliation escalate exponentially. It creates nonsensical prejudices and keeps them in circulation, long after their supposed use has worn off. It makes change nearly impossible, and absolutely destroys the impact of an apology.
Btw, I'm amazing at apologies. I don't even have to say "sorry," here's the script:
"You're right to be upset. I think I would be too if I were in your position. The last thing I was hoping to do was harm you. If I'd have known better, I would have gladly done something entirely different. I don't ever want to put you in this uncomfortable position again, so here's exactly what I plan to do differently from now on:"
It's wordy, but it's comprehensive. Your victim will probably want to customize and edit your apology a tiny bit to feel completely heard. Take their adjustments graciously, then thank them. A+ apology. What guilt? Big caveat: it absolutely doesn't work if you don't actually change the way you said you would, so be very careful what you promise.
One of the most important takeaways from the book is this: we live in a culture that doesn't tolerate mistakes. We don't see errors as a necessary part of learning. We see them as damning character flaws. We hide our mistakes, judge others by terrible standards, and when things aren't instantly easy, we're more likely to just give up and play the sour-grapes card. Like, "I could learn to do X, but it's just not my jam." or, "I wasn't born to do that like some other people."
In cultures where mistakes are respected, kids make better students, leaders are less arrogant and dishonest, and I gotta assume that life is a pinch less stressful. They have more of that Evel Knievel spirit, like it's not about how many times you fall, but how many times you get back up.
I made mistakes with Humpty. He was pitching, I was catching. I can say the guy throws like an inflatable tube man with cerebral palsy, but I also have to fully admit that my catching game was like Mr. Magoo trying to hunt mosquitos with a pair of chopsticks. This was a failure on my part. Period. I'm a shit therapist. I definitely figured I'd be better at this. But that's how the Dunning Kruger effect works.
(Unlike our boy Wednesday, who just graduated this week at the very top of his class. He's a bonafide therapist, not an ignorant wannabe prick like myself. Like I always say, Humpty's an anti-model, Wednesday's a role model.)
Or maybe I just hurled Humpty's ass into the air, and he landed on my stupid head.
Either way, he'd be better off ignoring all my criticism of his behavior, grabbing this book, and learning to do it himself.
• #4 The Shallows by Nicholas Carr •
Lets face it, ain't nobody reading no more books.
About 90% of all my "books" are in my Audible library. I write extensive notes but I'm also simultaneously playing something like The Long Dark or RDR2, or going on a walk while I listen. Sitting down with no distractions and flipping through a book for me is rare.
It just doesn't feel like an escape, because I'm constantly reading anyway, just like everyone else. I read as I scroll through my YouTube feed, social media notifications, comment sections and tweets, subtitles on foreign media, or flitting through aimless rabbit holes of hypertext. Powering straight through a fat wad of text from beginning to end is something my brain is just increasingly unwilling to do, no matter how much I beg or scold it.
I'm not alone.
Even famous galaxy-brains are admitting it. Long form, linear media consumption is disappearing; We're all developing attention deficit disorder wherever the internet exists. We want the Sesame Street version of absolutely everything.
Does that mean we're getting dumber? Not necessarily. Although it depends on who you ask. We're transforming into the kind of humans Socrates warned about, as people began to transition from an oral culture to a literate one.
He said it'd wipe out our capacity for memory, which is true. We can see this demonstrated in dyslexics, who have above-average memory abilities. When you have information stored in a page, you forget all the details, and simply remember where to find the page.
Practically speaking that's just fine. In fact it's far more efficient. But it has two drawbacks: if you lose the book, you lose the info. And we confuse knowledge in our hands or on a shelf with knowledge in our actual head, exacerbating our "illusion of explanatory depth" problem mentioned above.
The existence of books has expanded the whole human race's overall capacity for knowledge. But among individuals, they can make the reader a more shallow thinker, with greater pretenses to knowledge they don't actually posses. We couldn't have gotten to the moon, or invented insulin without literacy. But we also might be incapable of coming up with another Odyssey. If the computers all fry and the books all decompose, modern humans are going to vanish from history.
(Which is a major factor in me learning masonry. I want a mushroom cloud carved into stone, and I want people thousands of years from now to never forget that we harnessed the power of the fucking SUN.)
The internet has taken this to an extreme level. Books rewired human brains in an unprecedented way, and for the first time since those juicy Gutenbergers came hot off the grill, we've found a medium to displace or maybe even replace them.
We're trading intensity for extensity; breadth over depth. People give a web page twenty two seconds on average to determine if it's of use to them, before leaving. When they do stick around to read, they read only about eighteen percent before spotting the most promising blue hypertext and moving on. Everything is chopped up between notifications, refreshing news feeds, opening new tabs for later, etc.
"Learning" and, "multimedia" don't belong in the same sentence. Unless that sentence is, "Multimedia destroys a person's learning abilities."
Switching our focus like this incurs what are called "switching costs". Essentially, we lose the momentum of our focus, and it takes time to get it back.
Just as when someone loses their sight and the auditory centers of the brain annex the visual ones, the linear reading areas of our brain are being annexed by the non-linear crossword puzzle ones.
There's no resisting this, as far as I can tell. It's the direction the world is going in, thanks to the internet. It's the world I've been living in my whole life. I've been saying ADD is not a disorder since forever. It's only a disorder insofar as schools and certain institutions don't know how to cope with it. But now we're all learning to cope with it. Sweet, sweet vindication.
But maybe you want to keep those linear-focus circuits nice and sharp. Well, there's a bunch of options. The most obvious one is reading books, the old fashioned way. Less obvious is things like meditating, walking in nature, exercise, and generally making sure that you're having fun while learning.
Serotonin isn't just the best part about cocaine, it also plays a key role in learning and neuron growth. This all might explain why the only games I play if I'm listening to a book are ones rich with natural scenery, and zero dialogue.
So don't feel like a dumb-dumb. Everyone's attention is getting more shallow. Attention is not just some moral virtue, it's a sensitive balance going on in your brain's reward system, which can be altered by a number of surprising factors. The fact that humans became literate animals was weird enough already. This is just the next chapter humanity's never-ending weirdness.
Our capacity for abstract thought is going up though, in the meantime. Which is basically what IQ tests measure for. IQs are going up, attention span is going down. Like I said, "smart" is a puzzling concept.
• #5 Thinking, Fast And Slow by Daniel Kahneman •
Man, how the fuck am I supposed to sum this one up? This is a god damn jawbreaker of information.
This will now be the third time I've read it, and I would say I got three more reads to go before I'll ever claim to know how to draw this proverbial bike. There's always something new that stands out and finally sinks in.
But that's part of why it's considered a masterpiece. As thiccboi whizz-kid Nassim Taleb once tweeted:
1) Never read a book that can be adequately summarized
2) Never read a book you would not reread
3) No book that can be shortened survives
I love that quotation, because that means I can just phone these summaries in, and put all the onus on you to read them. I'm not summarizing, I'm propagandizing.
If you liked You Are Not So Smart and want more where that came from, or you read it and thought it was too basic, this is the book you're looking for. A huge chunk of David McRaney's work comes straight from this book right here. They share many sources.
Matter fact, this book prepares you to read nearly every single book in this series. After this chug, everything else feels like a sip.
First he lays out the general dynamic of "fast" vs "slow" thinking. For the sake of memorability, he personifies them as two characters in one story. Two different homunculi working simultaneously, piloting our actions.
Our fast mind ("System 1") is in charge of emotions, intuitions, instincts, sensations, things happening in the here and now. It's automatic, and often imperceptible. It follows the rule, "what you see is all there is." It doesn't problem-solve, it just reacts, and often has the first and last say in decisions we make.
Our slow mind ("System 2") is our beloved rational system. It crunches the numbers, handles logic and abstract info, manages memories, imagines the future and past, and weighs contradictory notions. It's cumbersome, energy intensive, and most importantly, LAZY.
For the longest time, economists followed the "homo economicus" model of human decision making. The idea was that humans are fundamentally rational beings, maximizing utility, and persuing wealth.
Now, Matthew Arnold puked all over that garbage in 1869, with his book Culture And Anarchy. He warned about that kind of mechanical, "Benthamistic", philistine gunk. But Arnold didn't have cognitive psychology to back him up. Just sass.
Not until the 1960s did we start to see what we now call "behavioral economics." Which is a fancy way of saying psychology caught up to all the bullshit coming out of the world of economic "science". If economists get a bad rap, it's due to the sins of its pre-psychology days, and the number of them that haven't yet caught up to 1960.
Cold, mathematical, rational decision making is the rarest kind. Your doctor, judge, professor, consultant, and every other type of expert you rely on, relies heavily on their emotions to decide things.
In fact, if I disabled your emotional responsiveness, you'd struggle to make even the simplest decisions. There are stories of people with that affliction, standing in the grocery store for an hour, staring at two different boxes of cereal, reading every last jot of writing on each box to decide which one to chose, including the numbers on the barcode, and making absolutely no progress. They just can't decide. Rationality is not what moves us to action, System 1 is.
Once the two systems are illustrated, then the book starts crunching on your brain, one chapter after another, applying this model to explain dozens of biases, illusions, and heuristics. It's not just a dorm room wall poster covered in logical fallacies to help you pwn noobs in a formal debate. It's the guide to checking oneself before wrecking oneself.
For everyone wishing K–12 schools would teach critical thinking classes, I've got terrible news: that's never going to happen. Dream of something more possible, like running an ice cream parlor on Venus, or catching a speeding bullet with a single pubic hair. But hypothetically, if that far-fetched fantasy class did ever exist, this would be one of its main text books.
Before this book came out, Kahneman was known as a guru figure to many of the greatest scientists and philosophers you know. Some, like Steven Pinker, call him the most influential psychologist alive today.
His point is not that humans are irrational. Just that they're not well described by the original rational agent model. We're unreliably intelligent, not reliably unintelligent. We can use our System 2 to refine and improve our System 1, but time is always of the essence, and we can always use more help making better decisions, and more accurate judgements. Most of our brain's shittyness is laziness and disorganized thinking.
I can't even poop on Humpty with this one. I mean Wednesday and I were always trying to explain this stuff to him. But it's all highly counterintuitive. It's stuff you really just need a bible about.
• End Bit •
Still stupid. Feeling even stupiderer this month. This put such a smoosh on my head I don't think I've spoken out loud to a friend all April.
Just tossing cheese curds into 2lb bags with a big scowl on my face, wondering how to arrange this wonky Venn diagram of information into five distinct summaries. Every one of these assholes quotes at least one other book in this entry, if not multiple, and tons of the same sources.
This was the month that really made me wonder how I managed to sign myself up for a year of this. Gotta be the wildest hair that ever found its way up my ass.
But I'm glad I did. Because as the Knowledge Illusion reminded me, it's easy to believe you can draw a bike, but can you actually draw it? It was easy to read dozens of books, but also easy to forget them and just say, "look, it's in my library." So this whole series, as well as being a petty act of spite, has been me going out of my way to shore up my explanatory depth.
Failing to have any impact on Humpty could just as easily reflect my lack of understanding of all these books. Which I can't abide. I've spent years now, proud of my library, and the first time I tried to pass on these ideas to someone else, absolutely nothing was gained.
I've already called Humpty a narcissist, a fake autist, a malingering Munchausen patient, and an empty shell. This month, lets just consider the fact that I'm an idiot. I'd feel worse about the way I speak about him if I thought I was a credible source.
But I don't have to be credible. I have 60 books to recommend, they have credibility. The ones I believe changed my life, and overhauled the way I look at the world. The idea that I had something good to share with Humpty brought real light into my life, and I hate him for not taking any of it seriously.
If my series convinces just one person to read just one of these books, the whole year of work was a success.
I was running around, with my head in the sand.
Looking for a pupil, in a new fan.
She told me before, baby do your own dance.
Stay off the highway. -- K-os, Born To Run
Next month! More books! Monkey brains?!
#the knowledge illusion#the forgetting machine#mistakes were made but not by me#the shallows#thinking fast and slow#steven sloman#philip fernbach#rodrigo quian quiroga#carol tavris#elliot aronson#nicholas carr#daniel kahneman#psychology#philosophy#self help#incels#stupidity#intelligence#bias#delusion#economics#forgetting#attention deficit disorder#book club#mental health#neuroscience#behavioral economics#Humpty Dumpty Elegy#GARBLEGOX
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So the other day I said a thing about how I felt like a line could be drawn between antis, and the rise of 24-hour news networks. I’ve given that thought some time to bubble to see what, exactly, my brain meant by that statement, and here’s what I’ve got:
When I was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1990s), we had three major news stations in my town: Channel 12, Channel 24, and Channel 35. These corresponded to NBC, ABC, and CBS, but I don’t remember which one was which so don’t ask me. Anyway--you had a half hour of news at 8 or 9 am (depending on which station you watched), an hourlong program at noon in which half the program was stuff like “here are today’s beach closures and some recipes and also if you’re looking for stuff to do with the kids this weekend here are local promotions,” and half an hour at either 5, 5:30, or 6 (again, depending on which channel you watched). One of the three stations also did a half-hour capper at 10pm. So unless you were watching all three stations, and picking the news every single time, the max amount of news you were going to get was like an hour and a half. If you wanted more news than that, you read the newspaper. When my mom was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1960s), this would have seemed like an inordinate amount of news--for her, it was half an hour at 6pm and ten minutes at 10pm and then the station (there was only one station that did the news) played the National Anthem and went off the air until 6am, at which time you might get like . . . the weather and a traffic report.
For anything else, you read the newspaper.
Now with only half an hour to present a whole lot of news, what are you going to do? You are going to stick to the facts. You don’t have a choice. You have a very short time to fit a whole lot of information. “Notre Dame cathedral caught on fire today. French firefighters are working to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. In local news . . . “ And that’s it! If you want more information, you’ve got to wait for the newspaper in the morning, and you’re going to have to get a copy of the New York Times or USA Today, because the local paper will only have a blurb, and that blurb will mostly cover what you just heard!
But then the news changed.
By the time I was a teenager, the non-cable news looked like this: All three channels had a morning show that started at 5 or 6 am (depending on your station) and ran until 8 or 9 (depending on your station). The station that ended at 8am then had a half-hour morning news show. The mid-day news at 11 or 12 was still an hour. Channel 35 did a half-hour news segment at 5 and another at 5:30, back to back. The other two stations simply did an hourlong segment. And then one station did half an hour at 10:30, and the other two did hourlong segments at 10pm.
What do you do with that much time? Well, you expand. Yes, you can fit more news, but you can also fit more about the news. “Notre Dame cathedral in Paris went up in flames today. The fire began in the famous historic bell tower, and spread to the roof. At this time, portions of the roof appear to have caved in, and there are concerns about the integrity of the medieval stonework in the cathedral walls. French firefighters have been working since 8am Paris time to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. Some firefighters are also helping with this project, as portions of the building have become too unsafe to enter. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation late this evening and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. Of the cathedral itself, Somebody said, ‘Our Lady has weathered worse troubles than this. Paris as a city, and France as a nation, will overcome.’ In local news . . . ”
Still facts, but a few more facts. At this point the internet as a public thing is just past its infancy, and in theory you could go look up some stuff on, like, AOL, maybe, about what was happening.
(Nina, you were talking about antis . . . ?)
(Yes, I was. Bear with me.)
But at this point you also saw the rise of Fox News and CNN.
Now up to this point, I could trust the news. That is important to know. “Nina, American news is full of propaganda--” Listen, you’re not wrong, but the point is, if Scott Brennan told me Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics, I could safely assume Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics. If Channel 24 told me “the blizzard of the century” had occurred the night before, I could look out the window of my snowed-in house and go “yeah, that seems legit.”
I grew up, in other words, in a world in which facts were facts. We didn’t waffle or wring our hands over whether or not Notre Dame was on fire. And this allowed me to take a similar approach to fiction: it is a fact that murder is wrong, and knowing this, I can read a book in which someone commits murder for very good reasons, but still know they did something wrong.
But now you have 24 hours of news to fill.
No matter how you pad it, no matter how many voice clips you play or retrospectives you do, you cannot find enough news in the world to fill 24 hours, seven days a week, 365 days a year. You just can’t.
So they started adding “opinion pieces.”
Notre Dame is on fire--is it worth saving? Notre Dame is on fire--but is it as big a catastrophe as it’s made out to be? Notre Dame is on fire--but France has been steadily calling themselves a secular nation, so is this the punishment of G-d? Notre Dame is on fire--
--wait, what was that?
Yep. You saw it, I saw it, we all saw it. But as the “opinion pieces” slowly took over the regular news and stopped being called “opinion pieces” and started being called “programs,” it became less and less clear what was and wasn’t fact.
Now obviously Notre Dame is on fire. But now we have to ask ourselves: is it worth it to save it or not? Is the financial cost outweighed by the history? Will those answers change depending on how bad the damage becomes? And you, lonely elderly person in your chair whose predominant socialization these days is at church, how does this make you feel about French people? These are questions that once would have been asked of the church caretakers and the French government. Now every single person is being asked to think about them, without being provided all of the context that is available to the church caretakers and the French government. And along the way, you get these nice, nasty little bits of prejudice and slanted thinking and bias sneaked in.
I told you I’d come back to antis. And here we are.
The vast majority of antis are very young. They grew up in a world where those “programs” were the norm. They were not provided with a cultural basis of “these are the facts.” They were provided a basis of “here is what I think about the facts.” They were provided a basis of, as Mr. Banks said in Mary Poppins, “kindly do not cloud the matter with facts.”
There are no facts! Who fucking cares! An anti who’s 15 years old today was eleven years old when we were introduced to “alternative facts”! Is it wrong for a 27-year-old man to pursue a relationship with a 13-year-old girl? Depends on which news channel, and which presenter, you ask!
They literally grew up in a world in which critical thinking was discouraged. Once upon a time, you would have seen on TV that Notre Dame was on fire, and at dinner--or whatever your family did for together time--you might say things like “going to be expensive to fix that, I wonder what they’ll do,” but you wouldn’t have been hit with six presenters telling you exactly why Notre Dame should/shouldn’t be rebuilt. And don’t forget--even if you, personally, do not watch the news (or read it on the internet, which is just as bad, because everybody’s after those elusive advertising clicks, everybody needs the “scoop” two seconds before it happens), you know people who do. You hear their opinions and their hot takes and their retellings all around you. And those opinions and hot takes and retellings will be colored by which “program” that person saw first.
Watch the first thirty seconds of this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn2RjahTi3M
Walter Cronkite, a legendary news anchor, giving his opinion on Vietnam. You will notice that he states, very clearly: “it seems very clear to this reporter.” This is Cronkite’s opinion, nothing more, and he makes it clear that he is speaking only for himself.
Now skip to approximately 1:05, and watch him report the Kennedy assassination. You can see he’s emotional, but also keeping it under wraps as best he can because he has An Important Job To Do, and that job is twofold: to deliver the news accurately and concisely, and to keep the American public calm (you can see this when he hurriedly says Johnson is probably taking the oath to become President; a missing VP would be a crisis at this moment). This is a man who’s just found out the most beloved president in modern times is dead. And not just dead--murdered. It’s not like Kennedy had a heart attack, his damn head was blown off. This news is still coming in so quickly that you can see him glancing off the screen to get fresh reports. He’s one of the first to receive this absolute blow--and he’s still holding it together, barely wavering. (When I was a kid, this role would go to Dan Rather. He was no Cronkite, but he tried.)
Where is that kind of rock for today’s teens? Imagine--heaven forbid, in the state our country’s in right now--that tomorrow we get the news Biden was shot.
How would we get that message?
Would it be delivered by an even-keeled, just-the-facts reporter like Cronkite? Or would we get it from a bunch of half-hysterical articles and crisismongering “programs”? And would it be delivered to us straight, like Cronkite did, or would it be buried in three days’ worth of opinions on his “legacy” and policies and What This Means For America?
Now: how are you supposed to build any kind of strong convictions and moral compass on a world like that? Where anything can be true if enough people have an “opinion” on it? Where the facts get immediately buried in a wave of bullshit?
Antis are reacting to a world of “opinions” and “programs” being thrown at them 24/7 by trying to create a world they can control, where there are in fact things that are true, in a world that has actively refused them the opportunity to learn how to parse and process facts. And so what they’ve come up with is this grossly distorted version of facts, because gross distortions of facts are all they know. It’s all they’ve ever seen. They’re perpetuating a system they don’t even realize they’re part of, because they never experienced life before it existed.
They’re not lying when they say they were heavily influenced by fiction because the bounds between fact and fiction have been actively erased. On purpose. And it’s difficult to grok that, if you grew up in a world where you didn’t have to go seek out photographic evidence to be absolutely certain that Notre Dame was, indeed, on fire.
So what we need to be doing, first and foremost, is rebuilding that wall of facts, that line of truth. Otherwise, what we’re going to see is more of this, but getting worse daily.
We set them up for this, and now we’re paying the price for it.
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mine
—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.
Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader
Words: 2.4k
Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.
The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.
You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.
“You miss me?”
You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”
Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.
He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”
You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”
Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”
You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.
“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.
You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.
—
You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?
“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.
Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”
“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.
Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.
“What are you involved with?”
You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,
“Pharmaceuticals”
“Drugs”
You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.
“Automotive recovery and repair”
“Grand theft auto”
You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.
“Defense trading”
“Selling illegal weapons”
You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.
“And contract execution.”
The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...
“Y/N!”
You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?
“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”
You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”
You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”
His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.
“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”
You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.
“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”
You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.
You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.
“He’s your boyfriend?”
Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.
You looked back down, “Why would you care?”
He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.
“Let’s go.”
—
You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.
“Jaehyun!”
You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.
You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.
“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”
You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.
—
“Get out!”
Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.
“What the hell Mark?”
You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.
“Shut up!”
He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.
“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”
Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.
“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”
“That jackass? That? Him?”
You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.
Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”
You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.
“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”
“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.
You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”
He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.
“You want me to fucking prove it?”
He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.
"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."
He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.
“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”
He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.
“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”
You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”
“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”
“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.
“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.
“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”
“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.
“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.
“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”
With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”
Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.
He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.
For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.
“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”
Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.
You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”
His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”
“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.
“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”
You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”
The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.
“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”
Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”
©️ DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
#nct mark#mark lee#mark blurbs#mark boyfriend#mark imagines#mark lee imagines#mark lee scenarios#mark lee smut#mark scenarios#mark smut#nct smut#nct u smut#nct x reader#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct mark lee
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ayo!! congrats on 666 <33 I'm not sure if its much of a request but I love how you wrote the demon kids personalities! I was wondering what kids of personalities you would see the other brothers kids having? Hypothetically of course (unless 👀)
BRO- I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while! Fan kids are fun to think about, what can I say? Now, these kids aren’t canon to the Awfully Familiar series, the HOL is crowded enough as is… but I hope you enjoy anyways!
(I’m giving all the kids names just so no one gets confused with which kid is whose)
Levi’s Kid
Uh let’s use probability to figure out how rare children of our snek boy are. The Otaku left the house (unlikely), spoke to a human being (very unlikely), did the devil’s tango with them (impossible)
I’m kidding, but seriously what the fuck why did this human exchange student look so much like Levi? Was that a tail? Hehehe… what a weird practical joke…
(I’m calling this MC Percy. Three guesses as to why)
Okay, onto the kiddo’s personality. I’m picturing them being REALLY hyped and REALLY enthusiastic about their hobbies and isn’t afraid to yammer about them. They’re good at what they do and they’re damn proud of it! They turn their envy into *~inspiration~* and get better at the things they enjoy doing!
In all fairness to Levi, it’s a bit easier for his kid because Percy isn’t literally being eaten alive and consumed by this sin every waking moment of his life… perks of being half human! :D
Percy loves swimming, and the ocean, and fish, and they brought a shark back from the beach- wait hang on a second-
It’s not uncommon for Levi to be hardcore gaming while Percy swims around in the fish tank.
The pair of them have a very good relationship, Percy is kind of Levi’s hero with how eager they are to get better at the things they love doing and how they almost never self pity spiral. The one issue is… ugh… Percy is a 🤢…. Sorry. Percy’s a 🤢 🤢-
They’re A FUCKING NORMIE. THEY DON’T LIKE ANIME!
Other than that, the two get along swimmingly. (Ba dum tisssss)
Percy’s reaction to Levi’s cool military titles is basically “WOAH! YOU HAVE BOATS?! CAN I GO ON ONE?!” And Levi would be a monster to decline.
Percy wore a pirate hat despite Levi telling them numerous times that they were a part of the navy, they CATCH pirates. Which are apparently still a big problem in the Devildom…
Also, Percy and Lotan absolutely adore each other. It makes Levi very happy
Satan’s Kid
Satan’s a pretty charming guy, and it’s canon that he’s amazing at seductive speech craft so it’s no surprise that he was able to seduce a human.
You know what is a surprise? The fact that Satan, the smart one, didn’t think to use protection! Like- DUDE I EXPECTED BETTER FROM YOU.
Whatever, anyway, when this kid slammed onto the floor of the assembly hall no one had time to react when the kid suddenly grew horns… and fangs… and a tail… OH FUCK THE KID WAS GOING THROUGH THEIR FIRST TRANSFORMATION WHAT THE FUCK-
(For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to call this kid Lyssa, mainly because of the meaning of the name)
The first thing Lyssa did was launch themselves straight at the first person they saw, and I ask you to guess exactly who sits in the middle seat of the assembly hall. That’s right… Satan… yay…
This kid nearly clawed his face off in the span of two seconds and it took Lucifer and Beel working together to drag them off of him and then Asmo had to step in to use his powers to calm them down. Well. That was eventful.
So Lyssa has a volcanic temper and they’re honestly really bitter and upset at everything, which is something that’s supposed to come in adult life, not so early. So what’s up with this kid? Well, when you’re born with a burning rage deep inside you that can be set off at even the slightest inconvenience and because of that everyone around you immediately assumes you’re dangerous or crazy can really do some damage to a kid.
So who oh who is Lyssa going to blame for this…? Hmmm… who is responsible for the anger? *Side eyes Satan*
“Wow, this kid is blaming me for passing down my wrath even though I couldn’t control giving it to them and if I had the choice I would have made sure they wouldn’t have to live with it and they’re mad at me for subjecting them to existence itself… wow this feels so bad :( who would treat someone like this..?” “*Dad sigh*”
The two of them do eventually get along. It’s actually Satan who extends the olive branch and offers to help them control their anger. As the two spend time together, Lyssa’s intense hatred slowly subsides.
So… what’s Lyssa going to do now? They’ve spent so much of their life being defined by their anger… who the fuck are they????? U-uh… cats! Cats! Lyssa likes cats! Is liking cats a personality? No? Okay… um… Music! Music is relaxing! Lyssa likes music! Um… um… ooo- look at that! They like space! And stars!
You knew what they don’t like? School. Lyssa doesn’t like learning in a controlled environment where they’re being told what to learn. Leave them alone so they can go read about space.
Beelzebub’s kid(s)
*munch* *munch* *chew* *chomp* huh, *chomp* why does the takeout- I mean the human look so much like him…? They’re his kid..? *choke* *cough* *cough* …Huh. Want some chips?
Surprisingly chill first meeting. Well, Beel and the kid were chill, everyone else was freaking the fuck out.
I’m calling this kid Pepper. Why? Fucking guess.
Pepper themselves is just… chill. They’re sort of like a capybara, their vibes are just so immaculate that everyone wants to hang out around them.
Unlike Beel, Pepper’s penchant for food mainly comes from “food is good.” instead of “my body is literally eating itself alive every second of the day and I need to be eating something at almost all times in order to stave off a rampage.” Beel is very happy that his kid doesn’t have to live with food constantly on the brain.
All was well until three days into the exchange program when Pepper asked at the dinner table “so when are we bringing my twin down here?”
…twin genes man… twin genes…
Second kid, I’m calling them Cane. (CANE PEPPER, GET IT?! GET IT?!) this kid is less like a capybara and more like a honey badger. They don’t give a shit.
Here’s the thing though… they’re identical twins.
Cane is basically Beel but smaller. They follow Beel to the gym and usually get stopped at the door. “Kids aren’t allowed in the gym.” Ha, the rules don’t apply to Cane, they just cross their arms and raise their eyebrows and whoever is stopping them just steps aside. Don’t fuck with the honey badger kid.
Pepper and Cane are super close though, but don’t ask if they have a telepathic link or something, Cane will fuck you up and Pepper won’t be able to stop them. (I know a pair of identical twins, and the amount of times they’ve been asked if they can read each other’s minds is enough to make anyone homicidal)
Belphegor’s kid
*squints* how’d this happen..?
Whatever. When Belphie’s kid woke up on the floor of the assembly hall everyone took one look at this kid and collectively went “shitballs”
Belphie was in the attic and his kid was wandering around the house like they ran the place! What the fuuuuuuuuck was Lucifer supposed to do with this????
Anyway, meet Arien.
Arien, how does one describe this little hellspawn? Well, one would call them the brood of Lucifer or the spawn of Satan but that would be false because this manipulative evil devil-child that crawled straight out of a teacher’s nightmares is BELPHIE’S kid. And it fucking SHOWS.
This kid won the demon/human genetic lottery and they’re going to make it everyone’s problem. Basically, they’re sin is sloth, but unlike Belphie, Arien’s is more voluntary, if that makes sense. They sleep and slack off because they like not doing work, not because they’re always tired. They have this sort of lazy relaxed facade that vanishes the second it’s not needed, it’s honestly kind of terrifying.
They quickly learn that if they just pretend to be having troubles with being constantly tired, the rest of the house will go easy on them if they miss their chores and schoolwork.
Jeez Louise when this kid met Belphie…
They both just stared at each other for a solid five minutes before anyone said anything. Belphie somewhat nervously started up his “oh woe is me get me out of here :(“ charade, and the kid played along for a few weeks, until of course, they got suspicious.
You remember how Belphie guilt spiralled with L!MC? Yeah imagine that but 40 times worse, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
But yeah, blah blah blah Arien breaks Belphie out, they don’t die, family’s back together, happily ever after. But not quite. Arien’s “oh no I’m sorry I’m sleepy…” charade was found out and boy howdy was everyone pissed.
Surprisingly, it was Belphie who gave Arien the wake up thwack, but Arien called Belphie out on his laziness so Belphie was forced to become a better example.
The way they fixed Ari’s behaviour? Extra chores, extra schoolwork, extra everything, and the boys did nothing to help. Basically, “this is how we felt! Deal with it!”
It worked… thankfully.
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#Obey me fankids#obey me! headcanons#Obey me Headcanons#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me Satan#Obey me MC
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The Loser Who Will Save Him
Fandom: Venom
Pairing: Symbrock
Rating: T+
Words: 901
They collapsed onto one knee in the church.
We lost them, Eddie gasped as Venom began to recede from his face. "We're safe. You're safe."
Venom formed his own separate head next to Eddie’s so that he could face him directly. "We ran like cowards," he spat, annoyed, even as he began healing the broken ribs in their side. For all his annoyance, Eddie could feel how much the fight had already taken out of him, how much slower the healing was than normal.
He moved a hand to their side. "Stop. You're exhausted. There was a lot of damage, but you've fixed the worst of it, my love. The rest can wait."
The symbiote grumbled indignantly and continued his work. “If you puny humans weren’t so fragile...”
“Oh, this is on me? This is why, by the way. This is why I try to get you to be discreet."
Venom narrowed his eyes and drew in until he was an inch from Eddie’s face. "’Discreet’ is for the unremarkable," he growled.
"And it's for the fucking alien symbiotes that every scientist in the world would give their left nutt to study and every government to try to make a weapon of! Some day, they're gonna take—"
A shrill sound blasted through the sanctuary.
Venom exploded from around him, shrieking with it.
"No!" Eddie reached, trying desperately to draw Venom back to him, to soothe him; but the sound grew even louder as the church doors burst open and the room was flooded with fuckers carrying guns and blowtorches.
"Get him! Capture the symbiote! Separate them!"
"NO!" Eddie reached for his other, but something hard found the back of his head, and Eddie’s world grew the wrong kind of black.
~~~
Eddie came to on the tacky, red carpet of the sanctuary floor, wondering if any of that red was his. He groaned and put his hand to the back of his head; it came away bloody.
"Fuck."
He gripped at his chest and cursed the emptiness. "They took him. I told him they'd—fuck…"
He stood and stumbled out into the night, looking up at the sky to confirm what he'd feared: he'd been out for hours; they were gone.
Venom was gone.
Venom was taken. He was taken, because the symbiote was reckless and wild and stupid refused to keep a low profile, and because—because...because Eddie couldn't protect him.
Eddie looked to his left and almost laughed at the irony when he recognized where he was. He walked over to the church graveyard.
He made his way through the graves, knowing exactly the location of the one he sought. He picked up a pebble and slung it at the headstone when he saw it; the pebble clicked lightly against it right next to the name: Flash Thompson.
"Fuck you," Eddie spat. "He still thinks about you, you know...you and Parker both. He tries to hide it, doesn't think I know, but it's not like we don't share a brain…
"He wanted you. He wanted Peter first, was obsessed with him, knew how strong they could have been together...but that was literally the only way they were compatible: physically.
“Then he found me and I...well, I was stupid. Then he found you...and I may have been first, but he loved you first.” Eddie swallowed. “But you lost him. The FBI took him from you and then you died. You lost him, and now I…” He sank to his knees before the grave.
Venom’s words from a fight years ago rung in his ears: Do you know how lucky you are I chose you? Ha, chose. Is that what you call settling for someone because the ones you really wanted either rejected you or died?
Eddie glared at the headstone. “Venom’s funny, and snarky, and makes me laugh even if he stresses me out and pisses me off…” Eddie swallowed, “and I think he got that from Peter. He’s proud, and he’s cocky, and he’s so sure he can use his bloodlust for good; and I think he got that from you. What am I teaching him? To be a loser? To get in over your head and then run?” Eddie choked out a sob.
“Peter rejected him, and at first, it made me think I should do the same, made me scared to let him influence me just like Peter was, but in the end, I wanted him. In the end, I loved it, loved him. I got him back. That’s gotta count for something, right?
“And that’s where we’re different. Peter rejected him. You used him for good. I just—I just want him. God help me I want him. I love him. That's—that's gotta count for something to him. It's got to.
He pushed himself up from the ground. "So, fuck both of you. I'm the least. I'm a loser. But you know what? Where Peter rejected him and you lost him, I'm the fucking one of us who's gonna save him.”
Eddie walked resolutely out of the graveyard and towards his motorcycle that was still—thankfully—where they’d left it beside the church.
“All right. Enough of the fucking pity party.” He mounted the bike and turned the key, put his thumb on the ignition. “Hold on, my love." He cranked it and revved the engine. "Wait for me. I'm coming.”
(More Symbrock fics on my AO3 here)
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Since we're on the full on "relentlessly clown the rapidly exposed homophobic antis busted making up shit trying to hold onto a dim hope that the gays lost", as I intend to be until the finale or they all get enough self awareness to feel shame and leave in advance,
I wanna know the logic in these fuckbags brains on another one. Beyond the existing hilarious post of 2po conflicting his own points day to day.
OK so hear me out. You're like. Big Powerful Businessman at some company, right? You're not new to business or industry, but to This Particular Company. (You can pick WB or CW in this instance, both have been replaced.)
All you have to look at is hard, cold, basic business. You have zero investment or opinion in products beyond their ability to generate you business.
But somehow. SOMEHOW. in their heads.
The same people who can't sell out M&Gs even at base price anymore. The same people that are openly bitching about the show or, in the very least, are passive aggressively backhanded like 2po and the other scripthunt mods.
You have a new product, on a hit global phenomenon show, for a new generation. Let's say it's... I dunno, we'll say it's Star Trek. And there's a new Generation. But some old fuckbag cheeto huffing incel that Swears He Is Super Connected Because He Goes To Every Con And Every Greet And Is Their Best Customer That Has A True Connection WIth Them is there, mouthbreathing on the new kids. And there's like, 20 of them. Just. fucking. fried out hair, zero self care, zero self awareness, putting off a questionable odor. That's it. That's the SPN con crowd, actually. They just think they're immune because--IDK, they're women? They assume their nerd show is superior to the other nerd show, just like the Star Trek incel thinks Star Trek is higher brow than Supernatural?
But like, this is your audience. Some 47 year old hag with yellow armpit stains that's almost out of demo, their even older friends that advertisers don't want. The 5 people still buying a certain pass. And nobody wants to go to the conventions because these people are going to be there, stinking up the place and making threats, literally.
Why. On earth. Would you. As a neutral businessman. Cater. To these fuckin idiots. That aren't even giving the money they used to in the con circuit anymore. Why. On Earth. Would you. As a neutral businessman. Have ANY fucking care of what their opinion is, after the one time they were catered to, it literally murdered a network so bad you bought it to fix it. YOU literally felt millions or BILLIONS in impact, because catering to these same idiots in the past got several megacorps taking a bajillion zeros in damages, and you're gonna do it again because... why?
You're gonna... keep the hostile, stinky bastards chasing people out of cons, that aren't worth shit anymore, and prioritize them, the aging out audience, over the new, large, vigorous following for new actors waiting to blow down the door? You're gonna... prioritize a show from 2005 more than the 2023 show in 2023? You're gonna, what, murder your franchise to cater to these chucklefucks?
Yeah. Okay. Makes sense.
Your convention fields are ending within the year. Heh. Someone told us there was a war coming. And people like us, we were gonna be the soldiers. Everything is about to change. He didn't tell me. He showed me. The future.
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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬┃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫
chapter one
warnings: cursing, mentions of death, season 4/manga spoilers ??? (that’s about it, think!)
word count: 2,705
notes: this is the first installment of wistful irises !!! i guess it would be a slow-burn fic that would contain 5 or more chapters. i wrote this to cope with the tragedy of AOT manga chapter 138 — that’s just fucked up tbh. please give this one a like/reblog/feedback so i know whether or not you liked it !!
NEXT CHAPTER: H E R E
𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬
It was quiet — so eerily quiet, a hand came up to soothe her ears bitten by the cold wind. Devon’s palm felt at the rough rubbles on the surface of which she was sat on. Everything she laid eyes on tugged at her heart, scanning at her surroundings as if she looked one more time, her vision would change.
Alas, she gazed upon the damaged cities from her place atop Wall Rose, with no success. Devon threw her head back, opting to find comfort at the stars that laid peacefully on the sky.
“They’re dead.” She asserted, nearly winced at the wave of overwhelming devastation rushing at her heart.
However, she was unsure who or what she was alluding to. Was it the people of Paradis? Those she lost? Or even — the stars?
Nothing was clear, at the moment. Only hurt and confusion clouded her devices. She found her palms closing in on the small rubbles she had caught, clutching them tightly in her fist.
It had been four years since everything went into a complete spiral. Perhaps it was for her alone, considering a massive part of her died along with the hundreds of comrades who sacrificed themselves for the sake of the truth.
She remembered the day they found out about the life that existed beyond these walls. The walls she had known all her life, was quite literally, made to imprison its people. It was unclear whether she was angry or sad that there was a whole world out there that hated their existence so much that they’d created monsters to attack them.
“It’s late, Devon.”
She recognized that sweet-tuned voice instantly but didn’t turn to look his way as she spoke. “It’s awfully cold, too.” Her voice came in a whisper.
Her new companions footsteps grew closer, making her glance to her right. “Are you here to wallow in despair with me, Armin?”
The blonde simply sat down beside his friend, looking ahead the dark path. “No,” He answered. “I was just looking for you.”
The silence returned after that. Chilly air wafting at the night, Devon laid her hands on her lap, inspecting how they’ve gotten small cuts from the sharp stone she had held. Her ears felt blocked as her hands began to tremble. She clenched her teeth in the hopes to ebb away her impending emotions. She exhaled a shattered breath, pressing her hands against the skin of her face.
Armin’s hand that intended to ease Devon’s cries, seem to have worsen them the moment it touched her. However, he continued on, rubbing small circles at the column of her back.
“I — “ Devon started, her voice failing her as another ripple of pain pounded at her chest.
An encouraging hand reached up against her own, gently coaxing her into a state of solace, just enough for her to be able to convey her emotions.
With a breath, Devon began once more. “I thought we’ll be close to peace, once we discovered what was in that goddamn basement,” She laughed, lacking humor. The back of her palm wiping at the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. “But — it was just another door to one more disaster.”
“That’s true,” Armin agreed, but still mulled over her words. “It is a big step from freedom, though.”
She gritted her teeth, baring the headache that came with it. There was a part of her that knew it was the exact idea Armin had in mind. Regardless of her understanding, she couldn’t help but feel a whistle of displeasure crawling against her lips.
With a swing of her head, she finally flashed her attention to Armin. Devon gave him a once-over, noticing how his once shoulder-length hair, had been cut shorter, lips curled into a frown, dragging down a creases on his forehead. The main thing that always saddened Devon was the look in his eyes.
Armin was the last person Devon thought she’d see with those haunting wisp. He was the last shred of hope she had in this world, even before everything came tumbling down, Devon saw Armin as a beacon, that she could run to whenever it all became horrifyingly dark— staring at him now, Devon felt extremely helpless, loneliness grasping at her throat, catching herself reaching for Armin’s hand that was placed on her back, snatching it on her own.
“We’ve lost so much,” She mumbled, compressing her grip on his hand. “I can’t afford to lose anything anymore— Armin—”
“You won’t—”
“— If we go tomorrow, I will—”
“Devon—”
“No— we’re going into a lion’s den! Every single person in that goddamn land wants us dead!” She stressed, leaning in closer to Arnim as if it’s bound to improve his comprehension.
Armin halted, observing the panic flood in Devon’s sunken eyes. The usual brilliance of its green hue had faded over time. In it’s place were tired, dull irises staring back at him.
He swallowed the lump building up his throat, nodding in understanding. “I know— but we have to bring him home, Devon.”
With a quick dark chuckle, Devon faced the sky, leaning her head back. “I don’t even know if I want to see him,”
Huffing out a breath Armin was holding, he abruptly got on his feet, pulling his hands from Devon’s freezing ones.
The latter flashed him a confused glance, awaiting his next move. She watched as Armin shook off his Survey Corps jacket, soon hanging it on her shoulders.
Maybe it was the topic of discussion that made them neglect the air that had been a lot chillier than before. Devon felt warmth seeping back into her skin as she hugged the material tighter against her body.
“You don’t seem to have a choice for the matter,” Armin muttered, gazing down at her. “Whether or not you’re in good terms with him, Eren still belong with us.”
Devon grimaced, as if Armin had said something completely ridiculous— in her eyes, it was.
She recalled that painful night, about three months ago. The night Eren decided to sneak out and leave Paradis. He had been babbling about it for weeks prior to his escape. Devon made the mistake of thinking it was all that— mindless babbling.
She was wrong, of course. Eren had actually planned everything. He was going to see through his stupid plan.
“Are being fucking serious right now?” Devon hissed, distressed eyes were scanning Eren’s face, hoping this was some sick prank he’d gotten everyone in.
Eren cringed at the volume of her voice, hands putting up immediately to cup her mouth. “Devon— Please— Listen, yeah?”
His pleas were met by deaf ears, as Devon slapped his plams away from his mouth, glaring at him with the outmost disbelief.
“You’re being stupid,” She scoffed. “This is stupid— Eren— You want to go there?” Her furrowed eyebrows deepened the more she thought about it.
Eren bit his lip, nodding slowly, standing rigid in front of her, frozen at the fire in her eyes. He examined her, sitting on her bed, contemplating the information he threw at her face.
The light of the single candle in the room, illuminated the left side of her face as she turned to him again. “What ever you think is going to fix this, it’ll only call for another war—”
“That’s nothing new.”
“You selfish—” She had lunged at him, limbs acting before her brain. “—little brat—!” An echo deafening resounded in the small enclosed space, rearing on the silence it followed. Devon’s palm stung, eyes raging and barely seeing anything beyond her seething anger.
Before she had the mind to process anything, her head banged against a solid surface, a groan leaving her lips from the impact.
Everything was fuzzy, scarcely making out anything at sight. Only cloudy images filled her vision, almost not feeling the bruising grip pressing her down by the wrists.
The searing breath near her ear, felt uncomfortably cold, a pair of lips grazing at the tip, making her shudder.
“For your own protection— all of you— remember that . . .”
The words echoed, but she could barely hear the last ones, as her breath turned calmer, the last thing she saw were those turquoise orbs, looking back at her with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.
Devon shook herself out of the memory. There was more to it, she knew that — but she couldn’t seem to remember. When she tries, a huge headache always came crashing down on her. A sick wave slapped her as she thought about the dreadful possibility of Eren, messing with her memories.
She hated the big gapping wall in her mind. It was always incomplete, left her nothing but empty guesses about what else he could have said to her that night before he left her hanging with a missing piece in her heart.
He left them — and just like that, he gets to come home in the most unnecessarily brutal way possible. Eren was asking for a bloodbath, and unfortunately, that was what most likely going to happen tomorrow.
“He’s going to get us killed.” She muttered, voice thinning at the thought of her fallen comrades — endless blood — fire — explosions — “We’ll be lucky if we all make it out in one piece.”
This time, Armin didn’t contract her declaration, having her look down. He was frighteningly aware of the fact that any of them could die at any given moment. It brought him peril at how Devon had smacked him in the face with the reality he was trying to avoid. A part of him wanted to believe it was all going to go smoothly, but the logical part of him had mulled over the dreadful alternative for a long time now.
He sympathized with the hostile feelings Devon had grown for Eren. Perhaps it was due to the puzzling relationship they possessed. If he was to base it on his observations alone, it was painfully obvious that they cared deeply for one another but never had the time or courage to say it.
No one has ever pried about their relationship, since they both dismissed it as nonsense. It was perplexing yet as clear as day what they had for each other.
They would always be found bicker when they were younger, Devon calling Eren an ugly airhead then Eren shooting back that they were the same. Back then, it was true. They were kids who thought they could do everything themselves. Armin could say, Devon grew out of that attitude as time passed by when he got to know Devon a little better.
After the battle with Zeke, Reiner and Bertholdt, the amount of trauma everyone endured was terrible. The bloody aftermath of Paradis was engraved into their minds, never fading until their last breath.
The guilt ate at Armin when he found out how he came to be alive. He often wondered why it was him. Why did Captain Levi give him the chance to live over Commander Erwin.
On the other hand, remorse gripped at Devon’s throat at the unintentional betrayal that crossed her mind that day. She found herself opening her mouth before she could hide it away.
“I was so desperate for peace . . .” She whispered, yanking down Armin by his hands, his behind slamming against the hard concrete as he was forced to sit down in front of her. “That I . . . For a long time — I believed that only Erwin could lead us there —”
“It’s alright — “
“It isn’t — it was meant to make me happy, for goodness sake — you came back from the dead after I stood there and watch you get burned alive . . .” She failed to realize she was crying until she felt droplets of her tears falling on her hands, intertwined with Armin’s.
Looking away, she continued, Armin watching her carefully. “Mikasa and Eren were desperately convincing Captain Levi to resurrect you — while I stared at both yours and Commander Erwin’s body , absolutely loathing the choice that had to be made.”
Devon could no longer hold in her heavy sobs, as it broke through her completely. “I get why you thought that, and you weren’t selfish for doing it, were you?” She listened to Armin’s reassuring voice. “You thought Erwin should’ve had it because you believed people would follow him and would avoid getting hurt — “
“ — you’d be able to do that too, though . . .” Devon countered, sniffling as she glanced back at Armin’s oceanic orbs. “I was just blinded by fear to think straight back then.”
Armin smiled at Devon in a silent gratitude. “I thought about everything you did, too, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m too blinded by my own fears to face another life that was given to me — but I promised Captain Levi and Commander Hanji I’ll do everything it takes to bring us the peace we’ve been seeking out for years.”
Devon winced at the sudden touch on her head, chestnut locks swishing from one side after the other as Armin ruffled her hair.
“Regretting could only get you so far,” Armin stated, a small smile gracing his face. “What’s important is what you decide to do about it.”
Warmth flooded at Devon’s core, nearly bursting into tears at Armin’s comforting words. Her mind went back to Eren, his circumstances and living conditions on that island were mostly unknown. But seeing as he had the facilities to send a letter, hints that it must be at the least safe.
She started to fly over the scattered thoughts inside her head, mulling over how mentally drained she has been, yet the noise and dull of her heart seem to only worsen. The countless times she had to convince herself of the good things left in the world to bask the gift of life, but lately, she found herself sitting by the windowsill of her room. Eyes always glancing up the sky whether or not they were painted with shining stars.
Devon often clutched her chest when the uncontrollable pangs in her heart refuses to remain still. Some days, the rejection of waking up rattles her tremendously, and the refusal to face the day ahead was stronger than anything.
She wanted nothing more than to take a few steps back and reverse time to relish the tranquility of it all. It sounded ridiculously selfish, but she’d trade anything if it means she would awake to Eren and Jean’s loud voices arguing or to see Sasha pocket goods she had stolen from the kitchen while being chased down by Armin. And oh — what she wouldn’t give to replay the day they’ve all bonded together after Keith Shadis made Sasha run until she was in the brink of insanity.
It’s those little things that made her nostalgic, bringing a sad smile on her lips that she wasn’t sure if she wanted those thoughts randomly popping up her mind. Sometimes, disbelief hits her harder than anything whenever she’d allow herself to scan the faces of what’s left of her teammates.
When Erwin had told them, he knows “they’d one day go far and achieve great things”, if he was still here, Devon would surely make him look at what had become of them.
Everyone was preparing for the expedition in Marley tomorrow. Devon had exited the room when she had heard the severity of the situation. Eren was going to wreck havoc in that foreign island and he gave them no other choice than to lend him aid.
It was rather conflicting, Devon was worried for him but nonetheless, despised his living-breathing self. She often wondered about his whole motive, considering his adamant proclamation that it wasn’t for his own self-indulgence.
It felt like it was, as she began to feel the shuddering screams of the impending battle that was set to take place.
If another life of her loved one’s taken from her tomorrow, she fears that it might throw her in an unstable state and she had every right to blame it all on Eren.
#eren yeager x reader#eren yeager x oc#eren jeager x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#armin arlert x reader#levi ackerman x reader#mikasa ackerman x reader#erwin smith x reader#eremika#reiner braun x reader#hange zoe#hanji zoe#historia reiss#eren smut#jean kirschstein#armin arlert smut#aot headcanons#attack on titan#levi ackerman#levi ackerman smut#yelena#connie springer#erwin smith#survey corps#sasha blouse#sasha braus#mikasa ackerman#eren yeager#armin artlert
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Metallic (18+)
-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --
Oh lord here we go- Ok, first off, y'all get a small paragraph beforehand, please forgive me. :'D I've... never posted smut THIS PUBLICLY before. This is admittedly incredibly nerve-wracking and I'm hella nervous because I feel like I write... 'conservatively'? You'll see what I mean. So... Please go easy on me for this one...? I'm great for sweet stuff and angst, but smut is a whole other beast despite NSFW being one of my favorite art forms when drawing. I mean, I've already made a few *spicy* art pieces for them, but just... Writing is difficult. I mean, I really hope you guys like it anyway!! But fair warning. THIS is new for me. QuQ I do have a few more smut pieces in the works, but this was the first one written.
So uh... on to the story, I guess...!
**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**
-------
*Warning?: Hella smut, lots of biting, choking and kisses, some blood from said biting, just rough sex in general? Normal, to rough, to fluff. not entirely sure what else to add?? :'D It's all consensual, no worries.
Summary: With some high tensions, a smart mouth, and some unfortunate forgetfulness, Emelia gets herself into a bit of... 'trouble' with the notorious Metal Man. But maybe this time she bit off a bit more than she could chew... Not that she really ends up minding.
A pair of footsteps echoed through the underground tunnels of the factory, almost mimicking the constant sounds of pickaxes being dug into the stone. The walking man looked around every once in a while, seemingly proud of whatever progress had been made.
"All is going well. Good, good." He said proudly, puffing on the cigar he held between his fingers. The woman next to him rolled her eye. The small lights of the tunnels glinted in the glasses he wore as he turned his head to glance at her. "Is there a problem?" He chuckled.
"If by 'well' you mean 'excruciatingly slow by dimwitted slaves', then yes."
"Would you like to join them then, Emmy?"
"Bloody hell, no. I'm still sore from lugging those damned carts around..." Emelia mumbled, reaching to rub behind her neck. The man next to her chuckled again, handing over his cigar. He stepped forward slightly as she took it, holding out his free arm.
"And yet you're still walking!" He chimed, looking back at her as she puffed on the cigar, herself. "We'll change that soon enough."
"I'm not working myself to death, Heisenberg." She huffed, picking up speed and shoving the cigar back into his face. "While factory productions are important to me too, perhaps learn the definition of a 'break', and not as in 'break my back'."
Karl took the cigar with amusement as she walked forward ahead, clearly heading back to the main building.
"First you tell me to work harder, then you say not at all." He mused, following closely. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I can do what I want?"
"And yet, what you want is what affects YOUR factory in the long run... Timing, Karl."
"You act as if you know more about MY factory than I do."
"And what do you know?"
"Everything."
"Good, then you know I'm heading upstairs to rest for a moment."
"I assumed so."
~
The two wandered along the corridors to a hall with stairs leading to a metal door, sharing the cigar before she went forward and kicked the door open, snorting as she heard an irritated grunt behind her.
"If you break that, you're fixing it." He muttered, setting his hammer down to the side as he took the cigar from her. She snorted, tossing her own weapon to the side, watching it land on a pile of fabrics used for either covering machinery or covering herself when she slept, whichever happened to come first.
"You say that as if it would be difficult." She retorted, taking her hair out of the tie it was in and running her hand through it before stretching slightly as he walked past her to sit in a chair next to a desk in the room they were in. It was similar to a bedroom, but not quite. 'More like an office with a small bed' , she always said, occasionally taking residence on said 'bed' when she was tired. She felt Heisenbergs eyes on her as her muscles stretched and popped, and she let out a satisfied groan.
"It wouldn't be, but you'll have to make a new one from scratch." He said, arching a brow as he leaned back in the chair. She rolled her eye, moving to stretch her arms in front of her.
"Again, not hard." She shrugged, finally moving towards the desk he was next to. "Making a door takes less brains than you already have."
"Are you calling me an idiot?"
"I'm not calling you a genius."
She almost laughed as she saw him pause before taking a long drag on the cigar.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you say that." He sighed. She shrugged, leaning over the table and looking over the papers that had been laying on it.
"It's a joke, Heisenberg. I'll admit you're more intelligent than you let on." She said, moving the papers and other objects slightly while looking at them. She then paused as she held them, her eye going over the plans, x-rays, and sketches. "Did you leave out the other Soldat plans?"
"They're in with the cadou notes. I thought you would have seen them." He said simply, reaching for a manila folder on the corner of the table. He put the cigar in his mouth as he opened it and flipped through with a huff. "The new ones haven't been functioning properly, damn things... I'm thinking of rewiring the circuits to the brain.".
"Wouldn't that cause more damage than good?"
"Not if it's done properly." He chewed on the cigar for a moment before flipping over one of the papers. "The worst that could happen is the head exploding from the current. In that case-"
"Lycan food?" She suggested. He nodded in agreement.
"Lycan food. They're mostly useless to me otherwise..."
"As are most things..." she muttered, earning a glance. She looked back at him. "What? Am I wrong?"
"Not necessarily. Others do still have use."
"How?" She asked, turning to face him. "No head means no use."
He shrugged, tossing the folder back onto the table before leaning back in the chair.
"Replace certain muscle tissue and bones with pneumatic or hydraulic systems, whichever proves to be less of a pain in the ass that day, hot wire circuits to the remaining muscle structures, add an engine system into the chest with a strong battery..." he tilted his head slightly, almost as if he were picturing the plans in his head, thinking of more details as he went along. "They would quite literally be mindless, but a few shocks and currents would make them go just fine."
"Sounds a bit like you..." Emelia snorted, turning back to the table to organize the papers as he glared at her. "Shall I pick a few poor sods from the village to test this?"
"Or I could just use you..." he muttered.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Keep making your ass-backwards comments and see what happens." He shot back, finally pushing himself up to stand. "Yes, I'd like you to do that. Fresh bodies work best for the experiments. I'll send out the Lycans as well, given they don't tear them apart."
"That wouldn't matter anyway, Karl. You'll just stitch them back up like you always do."
"I could, couldn't I?" He started, taking a step closer to stand next to her with a sinister smile. "Or I could make YOU do it. You seem to have fun with tearing things apart and putting them back together-"
"I'm NOT sewing your bloody creations together." She interrupted. "I'll kill them and I'll tear them to shreds, or I'll assist with the inner workings of the mechanics. I don't sew."
"You'll learn."
"Like hell I will."
"I'll make you."
"Bullocks."
"Keep talking, Emelia." He dared, his voice lowering in a threatening manor. "I'm not in the mood."
"You were before we got here." She challenged. She only held her breath as he suddenly snuffed out the cigar on the table itself while his eyes seemed to stare directly through her.
"That's what happens when you keep insulting me, Emmy. I start to get angry. You know that."
She felt a chill down her spine at his voice. It was different from any other time she had aggravated him... It was as if she were in actual danger. His face was only inches away from hers, and he smirked once he noticed her hesitation.
"Scared, Emelia?"
She kept her eye on him, watching his movements carefully. No, No she wasn't in danger... Maybe.
"No." She replied, lifting her chin slightly as he arched a brow.
"Oh?"
"What is it you say to me...? I'm 'in a mood'...? Because I believe you're currently in one, yourself." She asked, finally moving forward and brushing past him in a nonchalant manor despite being somewhat stiff in her movements. "Drink some coffee and throw a few things around with that power of yours, you'll be fine."
She felt his eyes on her as she neared a cushioned chair against the wall.
"I'll throw YOU around..." He growled, taking amusement in her body slowing down as he spoke. He walked towards her as she turned to face him. "See how that pretty mouth works after your head goes through a wall."
"You forget I've stopped your hammer with my arm." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest before smirking. "You smashing my head through a wall would be as effective as Sturm trying to hold something with his nubs."
"You don't seem to understand what I can do to you, Emelia."
"And you don't seem to understand the amount of fucks I don't give, Karl."
His arm twitched slightly, and she glanced over as metal pieces on the floor began to shake just slightly. She just hoped he wouldn't direct his power towards her...
"If you would like to play, I'll GLADLY entertain you."
She suddenly got in his face, a mischievous, antagonistic spark in the gold of her eye.
"Entertain me HOW? Throw me to the Lycans? The Varcolacs? Hell, let Urias get ahold of me, see what happens."
He bared his teeth in a snarl, though the corners of his mouth stayed in a malicious grin.
"I'll turn YOU into a goddamn Soldat, you'll be so full of metal you won't be able to FUNCTION without me-"
"I'm more afraid of your SISTER than I am you!"
Her smirk widened as she saw a sudden spark of anger in his face, his smile faltering.
"Don't you dare attempt to bring that bitch into this, I'll put my hammer straight into your skull-"
"TRY ME, THEN-" She started, only to give a yelping gasp in surprise as Heisenberg slammed her against the wall by her throat.
"Shut your damn hole!!!-" He snarled. His grip was tight, but he seemed to stop once he glanced at her open mouth. All of a sudden the air around them changed, and she stared at him with confusion in her one golden eye. "Oh, Emmy, you didn't tell me!" He said with a sudden cheerful tone, moving his hand from her throat to her jaw. He switched so quickly...
"Wh-" she began, only to stop as her jaw was yanked open. She was confused until she saw the reflection of her tongue piercing in his glasses.
Shit.
"Well well, I guess you've got some metal in you after all. I won't have to try as hard..." He chuckled, tilting his head as she stared at her own reflection. "What else are you hiding from me, Emmy?"
Her eye was wide in simultaneous fear and curiosity. She knew she couldn't have hidden the piercings forever, but certainly longer than this. She usually at least took the one out of her mouth when around him given how often they talked for this reason... But even then, he had never noticed it before. Why now?! She kicked herself for forgetting. She wanted to shove him away... Shove him and run. Would he chase her? He was most definitely trying to scare her, she knew that much... But she also wanted to know how far he would actually go if she did nothing. Would he rip them out if he found the others? Use them as control like he mentioned? Or would he leave her alone? Something told her the latter was out of the question as he showed growing interest in her silence.
"N-.... Nothing..." she managed, nudging her jaw out of his grip. "I just-"
"You're a liar, Emelia." He said, his grin growing wider. She gave a huff and shook her head.
"I am not, you ridiculous-"
She was stopped with a startled gasp as a gloved thumb was shoved between her jaws, nearly propping her mouth open.
"Now now, this'll go far easier if you do it my way. Now open up."
He lifted his other hand to his face, taking a finger of the glove between his teeth and sliding it off. The glove fell to the ground between them, and she watched as he reached for her face with his bare hand. She flinched slightly as his fingers pressed against her lower jaw, though admittedly relaxed as his thumb drifted over her bottom lip. The skin was expectantly rough, she found, calloused and covered in smaller scars. She closed her eye as it drifted over her sharp lower teeth before thrusting over her tongue, pushing it back and causing a small gaging reflex. It tasted... metallic... Metallic with hints of other things. Not quite metal, not quite blood... Maybe residual oil? Maybe a hint of the cigars. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the mixture wasn't bad... She really didn't mind much. She could almost feel the interested look on his face as she relaxed, though she attempted to hide it. Oh god, was she enjoying this...? She only flinched as he pressed his thumb against the muscle, pushing it out of her mouth somewhat to see the piercing fully.
"Let's see how much you're hiding from me, shall we?" He grinned.
There was a moment of confused silence before she felt his thumb press against the metal rod, her eye snapping open with a gasping yelp as what felt like electric sparks and currents traveled through that piercing, as well as the others.
All the others.
The sparks lasted only a second, but a second was all that was needed as her back arched slightly away from the wall. Heisenberg took a step back in surprise as Emelia suddenly collapsed to her knees, shaking and panting ever so slightly out of shock and... something else. She doubled over with a wide eye, an arm covering her chest and the other pressed against her abdomen and ever tightening thighs. What the hell WAS that...?! What the fuck did he do?!
"W-.... Wh-...." she tried, trying to voice her thoughts. But alas, despite the tingling feeling up her spine disappearing, she couldn't. She couldn't even move as she heard movement directly in front of her, the shock of the feeling only allowing her to look up as he grabbed her chin and lifted her face to meet his. She watched as he kneeled, only to look up and see the most smug grin she had ever seen.
"Liar liar, Emmy... You know how I hate liars." He chimed, adding to the smug aura he held. It pissed her off, but she couldn't do much about it now... She then grew nervous as he tilted his head, taking in her reaction fully as she stared at him with an ever-deepening red blush on her cheeks. "If I was more foolish, I'd say you enjoyed that."
"I-I... D-did NOT...!!" She snapped, stopping with a small squeak as he shoved his thumb back into her mouth to silence her.
He was met with another squealing whine as he pressed against the piercing once more, gleefully sending more currents through the metal pieces in her body. Emelia reached up to shakily grab his arm as the piercing was left alone once more, though the residual shock still remained. She wanted to say something... Say ANYTHING... but the feeling in her face, chest and thighs was so odd and... and good... It kept her silent, and Heisenberg took interest.
"Lycan got your tongue?" He joked, chuckling as she let out a growl. He found it amusing, of course. She only frowned as he tilted his head with the ever present smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the room. "You know, Emmy..." he started, yanking her forward by the jaw slightly as she kept her hold on his arm. "I can't help but wonder how it tastes."
She felt another shiver down her spine at the sickeningly curious tone in his voice. Taste... Taste?? She stared at him as he removed his thumb from her mouth, though nearly started to form words immediately in stupid curiosity. The answer came to her quickly, however, in the form of a hand around her neck, a mouth to hers, and being shoved against the wall once more. She made an almost strangled noise as her back hit the concrete, her mind attempting to play catch-up as she felt something being shoved into her mouth. More sparks traveled along the piercings as his tongue slid over hers, and she let out a whining growl in response.
The taste of metal and the slightest bit of sweetness filled her mouth, along with the taste of the cigar they had shared only minutes prior. But... Why did it taste so good? Why wasn't she fighting him? She found herself frozen for a few moments as the realization set in that she... truly enjoyed this. He couldn't have known, could he? There was no WAY he could have known... Oh god, what was wrong with her? She generally wanted to strangle the man, but now...
She allowed the frustration from earlier to bubble in her chest, giving her control of her limbs for a few moments. Heisenberg began to back off, thoroughly satisfied in her reactions and his 'taste test' before she suddenly grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him back against her, giving a quiet grunt as her back was forced against the wall again with his weight. He was brought to his knees at the force of the tug, and it was her turn to feel satisfaction as a startled grunt left this throat.
Emelia returned the forceful kiss with all her strength, her back arching somewhat with the now consistent current from the piercings. Her legs shook slightly as she felt a warm feeling in her thighs from the current, unintentionally letting out quiet whimpers and heavy breaths into the kiss. His hand stayed pressed to her throat before he moved it to the side of her neck and shoved her head upwards with his thumb. He tore himself away to attack her neck immediately, licking along the skin before closing his jaws around it. She gasped as he moved along her neck, leaving bloody bites and bruises while using his free hand to nearly rip at her shirt. The fabric was pulled it from its tucked position, his grip tearing a few holes in the worn fabric as he held it taught away from her skin. She couldn't help it as her heavy breaths turned into pants, and she gripped his arm tighter as she felt the fabric continue to tear from a mixture of his grip and her squirming from the feeling between her legs. She shuddered as he finally pulled away from her now very bruised neck, his lips hovering right against her ear.
"Let me taste all of them, then." He growled, returning his hand to around her neck and squeezing along the bottom of her jaw.
Her squirming paused in his grip. 'Please, oh PLEASE-' she thought, secretly wishing to rip the shirt off, herself. But he couldn't know that... If he did, she knew he'd taunt her mercilessly. Not that he wasn't doing the same now... Instead she shook her head just slightly, trying to even out her breathing.
"W-Wait-" she started quietly, only to gasp once more as he finally tore the front of the shirt clean off from the seams. He tossed the fabric to the side as her back arched to meet the new air her front was exposed to, the newly revealed silver nipple piercings glinting as her body moved.
"Too late." He chuckled deeply, grabbing her by the side and bringing her chest forward as if he were claiming a prize.
He leaned down slightly, his arm wrapping around her as his mouth returned to her skin. He kissed and nipped to her shoulders and collarbone until his lips met the tip of the large scar that rested between her breasts. She swore she could almost see something flicker in his shade-covered eyes as he seemed to study it before nipping at it carefully. The nips were... oddly careful. It was as if he knew what it was... She managed to compose herself enough to speak, one of her hands moving to nudge his shoulder. She couldn't help but give a nervous gulp as he looked up at her, his eyes burning as if her touch had fueled the fire.
"N-... N-Not... um..." she tried, her voice oddly timid. She knew what was happening, though the idea made her nervous... "N-Not... here..."
"Hm?" He tilted his head slightly, loosening his grip on her neck. He then followed her gaze to the small 'bed' in the corner of the room- though it was more like a single mattress over a solid 'frame' with random odd pillows along the wall and multiple covers lumped on top. It was how she liked it.
"Th-There... uh..." she looked away for a moment, heavily aware her burning cheeks. "P-... P-Please..."
She could nearly feel his smile against her skin as he chuckled, though he didn't reply. It was then that she was suddenly picked up with a surprised yelp and tossed over his shoulder, her knees pressing against his sides to balance herself. She managed to hold on long enough before he walked to the 'bed', landing roughly onto it as she was tossed. She nearly scrambled to sit up until she looked up at him, watching him quickly close the space between them, removing his thick jacket and single remaining glove.
"Stay still, Emmy. The show is just getting started." He taunted, unbuttoning the long sleeve shirt he wore before kneeling onto the cushion and looming over her. She couldn't help as her vision traveled down what she could see of his chest, seeing similar scars along his skin.
She opened her mouth to speak, giving a quiet yelp as she was shoved into the sheets by her neck, her legs now situated around his waist. Her back arched as he leaned over, biting at her shoulder and collarbone once more before around one breast and onto the other. She gave a whining gasp as he reached the peak, his tongue swirling around the sensitive skin and the small bar of metal pierced through it, his teeth grazing the it ever so slightly. He used his other hand to trail along the scar on her chest and down to her pierced belly, his rough fingers caressing the skin until they pushed underneath the tied overalls. Her legs twitched as his fingers reached the piercing between them, feeling as it was surrounded by a moist warmth. He smirked.
"I knew it." He said, rubbing against the piercing and bundle of nerves with another jolt of electricity before removing his hand. She couldn't help the whine that left her throat as her hips bucked lightly from the feeling, and he chuckled. "Easy..." he muttered, returning the palm of his hand to her stomach and shoving her down.
He dug his fingers into the skin around the belly piercing as she glanced down, and she made another strangled noise as he sent another wide current through her piercings. Her back arched as he pressed harder to keep her down, though she was startled as he suddenly crushed his mouth against hers once more. The small currents pulsed in a slow rhythm as she returned the kiss, her legs shaking and tightening against his hips. She let out a soft cry against his lips as the pulses increased, her grip on his arm tightening and even pulling him closer as the waves of a small orgasm rushed through her in spasms. The feeling was strengthened with the addition of... something pressed to her thighs underneath their clothing. But the waves... The small spasms that affected the muscles of her back and legs... While it hadn't been something she had felt even when human, and while she knew what it was, all she knew was that it felt good. REALLY good...
She could have sworn up and down she hated the man at any point before this, but as he broke the kiss and pulled away to look at her, she couldn't help but feel... want? Desire? Whatever it was, she knew she didn't want it to stop at the moment, and that's all that mattered to her. She still didn't want to give in so easily... But god damn was this feeling hard to fight off.
"D-... D-Damn you..." she nearly whispered, her voice wavering slightly. She was met with an amused chuckle as he removed his glasses and lightly sent them to the table they had been at before.
"Just what I like to hear..." He taunted, removing his hand from her throat. "Tell me, Emmy... Do you want more? Feel free to say nothing if you do."
She stared at him as he gave another sly grin, opening her mouth as if to protest... But she couldn't. Instead, she remained silent, though gave an irritated, embarrassed huff as she glanced off to the side. Her lip curled into a silent snarl as he gave another chuckle.
"I thought as much." He replied, leaning up. His fingers were dragged along her skin as he moved, trailing along other scars that littered her skin.
She glanced down to follow his hands, watching as they trailed over her hips and around to her front where the knot in the tied mechanic suit she wore. With one quick movement it was untied and loosened, and she jumped as everything was suddenly pulled away and off of her hips, sliding down her thighs. She froze at the new rush of cool air surrounding the warmth between her thighs, and suddenly the entirety of the clothing was removed as he seamlessly pulled it away from her legs. Now she was completely bare in front of him... Exposed.
The desire to cover herself was overwhelming as she met his eyes, seeing the smugness and sense of possession he gave as he took in every visible inch of her skin. Her arms and legs twitched in an attempt to cover any vulnerable areas, but she suddenly found her arms pinned next to her head and his hips against the backs of her thighs to keep them open.
"Don't you dare." He grumbled, a smirk still on his face as he glanced down slightly before looking back up at her face. "I haven't tasted everything yet."
"Wh-..." she tried, her legs twitching again.
She was met with another kiss as he leaned down, though it didn't last long. She let out quiet pants as his lips and teeth moved along her jaw to her neck, leaving more bites and bruises among the ones that already stained the skin. Her arms twitched as he reached her breasts again, hit tongue repeating the same actions as before on both piercings before finally returning to the large scar running down her sternum. He planted light kisses and nips along it, earning her confusion as he continuously moved lower. She watched as he nipped along the skin of her stomach, the corner of her mouth twitching as he seemingly, almost playfully, gently bit the piercing in her belly and glanced up at her. She rolled her eye for a moment before he sent another current through the metals, and she let out a soft whimper. It wasn't until he let go and moved to kiss and bite around her hips and thighs that she realized, her head shooting up with slight panic as she felt his lips against the inside of her thigh.
"H-Hey-"
"Quiet Emmy." He purred, the tone of his voice making her freeze. She watched as he kissed the inside of her thigh once more, her head landing back against the cushion with a shuddering gasp as he bit along the sensitive skin. Her hand flew over her mouth as he moved closer to her core, whimpering as she felt his tongue gliding along the skin.
"K-Karl, wait-" she whimpered through her fingers, only to take in a sharp, gasping breath as she finally felt his tongue against her, moving slowly as if savoring her reactions.
She tried closing her legs, though found it nearly impossible due to his hands forcing them to stay where they were. She could almost feel the bruises form where his fingers pressed against the skin, though that feeling was second in her mind compared to the pleasured sparks up her spine with each movement of his tongue. She couldn't help as her hand left the sheets, finding its way to his head as he played with the small piercing through the bundle of nerves, sending small electric pulses through her body once more. She felt the vibration as he chuckled against her, gripping his hair with small gasps and whimpers as his tongue delved into the warmth. Her back arched slightly with each movement, her thighs shaking from the new sensations. Why did it feel so good...?! She let out a long whine as the electric pulses continued, eventually biting down on her hand as to attempt to prevent any further noises. She could feel the tightness return as his teeth grazed against the piercing, and suddenly her hand was gripping his hair in a fist as she came again, a multitude of muffled whines and mutterings of his name escaping her mouth while her back arched. She barely heard the grunt he gave as he was pressed against her, not even realizing as he was able to pull himself away.
She flinched as Heisenberg reached up to grab her wrist, her body shaking slightly as he managed to nudge her hand away. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out, rising to loom over her once more as he licked his lips. Where the actual FUCK did he learn that?!
"That hurt, Emmy." He purred, keeping his grip on her wrist as she finally looked at him. Her face was red as she panted, her legs trembling as they rested against his hips once more. "Good girl."
He smirked as she stared up at him, his tongue swiping over his teeth before he leaned over and yanked her other wrist from her mouth, pinning both of them to the cushion beside her head. Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden movement, her eye widening as it met his. There was a moment of silence as they held a stare down, only ending as he shifted her wrists into one hand and used the other to undo the belt and button of his own pants in one swift motion. It took her a moment to register the movement, keeping eye contact once the full realization of just how far- and how fast- this was about to go hit her. She squirmed slightly in his grip as she glanced down, nearly breaking said grip, only to get caught in yet another rough kiss as she felt something warm press against her thighs. She could taste herself on his tongue, and somehow it made her arousal worse...
She let out a whining groan as she was rubbed against, her back arching once more at the new feeling, only to give a surprised and somewhat pained cry against his lips as she felt him enter her quickly and fully with a grunt. She gasped into the kiss as he returned his hand to her neck, her back arching into his chest and her thighs once again tightening around his waist. More of the pleasurable feeling shot up her spine as he moved a few times, pressing against her roughly as she gave small whimpers and whines. It felt... good... so good. Why did it feel good? Why did all of this just feel GOOD? What the hell was she missing from her old life that didn't include THIS?? She couldn't help the small moan she gave as the kiss was broken, and he shoved his hips against hers. He tightened his fingers around the sides of her neck with a sly smirk as he stayed where he was. Although the glint in his eyes may have looked malicious, his actions proved otherwise as he allowed her a few seconds to relax.
"Am I being too rough with you, Emmy?" He asked, his smirk widening into a grin as she mindlessly shook her head, though it was more like a few twitches.
"N-... No... N-Not rough enough..." she growled with a challenging tone, though her voice was still light. She was met with a dangerous chuckle.
"Good."
Emelia glared up at him with a somewhat clouded eye, her breaths coming in light pants that turned into gasps and moans as his movements continued, growing faster and harder with each passing second. She struggled to keep her voice down despite the feeling of each thrust sending sparks into her chest. The sounds of his low grunts and deep breathing weren't helping, she found, and it made it much more difficult to control her own pleasured noises. She was then aware of a low laugh from him.
"Ah... I didn't think... you could sound like THIS, Emmy...~" He purred, his grip on her neck tightening. She opened her mouth, nearly flinching as she let out more soft moans.
"S-... S-Shut...." she tried, though was unable to finish any thought with her gasps and whines.
Her arms struggled in his grip, shaking with each thrust, only to suddenly be freed as he let go in order to take ahold one of her hips. She mindlessly reached for him almost immediately, gripping the edge of his shirt with one hand and grabbing the necklaces around his neck with the other in order to yank him down. She was rewarded with another rough kiss, her head being jerked up as he kept a hand around her throat. She let go of the necklaces, instead reaching under his shirt, her fingers trailing over his own scars until her nails dug into his back. There was an internal satisfaction as she heard Heisenberg give a surprised grunt, only to give a yelping cry as he suddenly pulled away to replace his hand around her neck with his teeth.
Small sparks of pain made their way through her shoulder as his teeth broke the skin, though they seemed to amplify the feeling as the thrusts became rough and quick. She finally reached her other hand around and under the shirt he wore, her nails dragging down the skin of his back as her moans and whines grew louder.
"F-... FuCK...! K-Karl...!!" She said suddenly, her voice cracking somewhat as she was met with a possessive growl and the slight smell of fresh blood as he let go of her neck. She couldn't help but gasp as she felt his cheek against hers, his beard scratching against her skin as his lips nearly against her ear.
"You're MINE, Emelia..." He growled.
Emelia felt as more pulsing currents were sent through her piercings, and she couldn't help but cry out as the pulses caught her by surprise. Her muscles tensed, her nails tearing at Heisenbergs back as she felt the waves of a strong orgasm, making her body shake and her legs flex around his waist. Her thighs tightened at his hips, halting him enough to keep him where he was as she came, but not long enough to stop him entirely. He let out a low growl as he kept up his movements until he slammed against her hard enough to move her up a few inches. She gave a gasping moan as could feel his muscles shudder and a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach as he filled her, and her back arched against his chest as she nearly hugged him to her for dear life.
There was small silence as their movement ceased, each breathing heavily. Emelia held onto the man over her as if it meant life or death, momentarily forgetting her irritation around him in the first place as there was a sudden feel of lips along her neck in a multitude of small kisses. They were gentle against her bruised skin... The odd tickle of the facial hair made the corner of her mouth twitch as she panted, unintentionally laying her head to the side for him as she very slowly but surely relaxed. Her irritation only slightly returned as she heard a chuckle from her neck, and she glanced down.
"Th' bloody hell is so funny...?" She muttered, unable to keep the lightness from her voice. She watched as he looked up from her neck, a sly smile across his still bloody lips.
"You're adorable, Emmy." He said simply, making her groan and start to push him away.
"Piss off...!!" She growled, only to gasp as he suddenly leaned over her with a chuckle, nearly being pushed into the mattress again as he finally slipped off the button-up shirt.
"Precious little doll, you didn't seem to hear what I said."
'Doll' ...? Emelia stared at him, now also shirtless, taking in the rest of the scars she had never seen. She could feel her face heat up more as he leaned over her, holding himself up with his hands on either side of her shoulders.
"Wha-" she started, only to let out a gasping yelp as he gave a single hard thrust to silence her.
"I told you, Emelia. You're mine. In more ways than one, it seems." He nearly purred, leaning down to press his nose to hers.
Her single eye widened as he grinned, only to be met with a quick, relatively gentle kiss. It took a moment for her to calm down before she returned it, staying where she was and secretly holding herself to that proclamation. She didn't want to admit it... She never would. But somehow, despite how he could be, this made her feel... wanted. It was an odd feeling, and one she knew she would be hesitant on getting used to. But she still hated him... Right?
She gave a soft whine as he pulled away, physically removing himself from her with a shuddering breath. She let out a whimper as she relaxed back against the covers, feeling an odd coldness and even a slight sense of loneliness as his weight left the mattress. She opened her eye with confusion and watched as his pants were fixed before her vision trailed up his back to see the bloody scratches she had left.
"Whoops..." she muttered, earning a chuckle and a glance back.
"I'll let you relax for now, Emmy. I don't wanna break you just yet..." He joked, nodding to the shirt he had left. "Use that for now, we'll get you another shirt later."
She couldn't help but smirk, her face red.
"Done already...?" She asked, her smirk faltering heavily as he glanced back with an odd mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Never said I was, Doll. This is for your sake."
Emelia watched as he began to walk to the jacket he had left, but she felt... sad. Not because he had stopped. Not even because she almost wished they would keep going immediately... No, it was another reason she couldn't quite place with every step away he took. She carefully pushed herself to sit up, wincing at the tenderness that settled between her legs before reaching for her discarded jumpsuit. But she only grabbed the simple boxers she had, managing to slip them on with minimal issue. She saw him slow his movements as she managed to stand, her knees just the slightest bit weak. Holding on to a support beam on the wall, she shakily made her way over to him as he glanced at her with an odd curiosity. She didn't care if she was entirely naked save for underwear, simply covering her chest with her arm as she reached for him. She stumbled into his back, feeling his muscles tense as her arms slowly wrapped around his torso, her fingers lightly drifting along the hair and scars on his chest.
"Don't you dare leave me like this, Heisenberg..." she muttered, pressing the scarred half of her face against his back. She knew he could feel her trembling as her legs threatened to collapse on her.
There was a moment of silence before she heard and felt him chuckle.
"You really are an odd one, Emmy..." He chuckled, turning his head to glance at her over his shoulder before giving a dramatic sigh. "Have it your way, then."
Emelia jumped as he suddenly turned in her arms, her cheeks going red as his face was suddenly mere inches away from hers. What was she DOING? Why she acting this way? She didn't know... But she was pleasantly stunned as she felt his hand raise and nudge her chin gently. However, instead of it going around her neck again as she expected, he simply caressed her cheek, avoiding the scars around her missing eye; Even he knew she hated them being touched, and now didn't seem like the best time to annoy her. In fact, he almost enjoyed her more when she was calm like this... She couldn't help but feel relaxed as the rough pad of his thumb brushed over her skin. Relaxed enough to settle her cheek into his hand fully, ever so slightly trying to remind herself that this wasn't who he was all the time. This was temporary... But she could do temporary.
"... Don't tell anyone..." She muttered suddenly, keeping her hold on him as he leaned back against the shelving next to them to stay comfy. He chuckled once more.
"Who do I have to tell, Emmy?" He chimed. She stared at him for a moment before shrugging, laying her head against his chest.
It was a moment of domesticity that she vaguely remembered wanting as human... Something about someone being close physically always seemed tantalizing, yet there was no way to achieve it here... Or so she thought. If she could just have more time like this... Though she knew it wasn't meant to last, especially not with him... But for now, she appreciated it. It wasn't until her senses focused on the machinery noises outside of the room that she gave a sigh, reluctantly pulling away from him.
"I should get back to work, then..." she mumbled, taking a few steps away, her fingers dragging along his chest before she turned, not seeing Heisenbergs face as he watched her walk away and run a hand through her hair to push it out of her face.
She made her way over back to the bed-like cushion, absent-mindedly picking the button-up shirt he had been wearing and slipping it on, herself. She'd take it since he offered, and because she didn't necessarily feel like hunting down new clothing. It was only slightly loose over her frame, being only slightly smaller than him in stature, and she felt his eyes burrow into her back as she buttoned it up. Quiet footsteps approached her from behind, causing her to jump with a small gasp as arms surrounded her while the shirt was only halfway buttoned. Heisenberg pulled her back against his chest, one hand on her hip and the other around the front of her waist.
"What are you-" she started, only to stop as the arm around her waist raised to nudge the collar of the shirt off her shoulder, placing gentle bites and kisses along the skin as soon as it was shown. Small shivers went up her spine with the movements, and she let out a wavering breath in attempts to not laugh from the tickling of his beard. "K-Karl, stop-"
"I never told you to get back to work..." He said simply, his now semi-serious tone interrupting he train of thought and causing any hint of laughter to disappear. He trailed kisses and bites to her jaw and her ear once more. "Indulge me then, Emmy, and I'll let you go. Let me have my fill."
Her face fell slightly. His fill... Did he mean...?
"W-What, be your toy until you're done?" She huffed, turning her head slightly to face him. Though he was on her blind side, she could almost feel the grin.
"Well, when you put it that way..." he started, letting his hands wander. One trailed under the shirt slightly, his fingers drifting below her belly, while the other found and gave a gentle squeeze to a now exposed breast from the shirt being moved before resting over the large scar. "Yes. But don't worry. I take care of my toys... I said I wouldn't break you so soon. And besides..." he pressed another gentle kiss behind her ear, "You seem like you want more. Am I wrong?"
Emelia took a shaky breath as she felt the odd sensations once more, reaching to hold onto his forearms as his hands moved. Well, of COURSE he was right... She knew there wasn't much else she would have to do around the factory today anyway. She worked constantly, and the factory ran relatively smoothly without her. She even came here for a break, anyway... And, despite her feelings about him, what the man had just shown her was... Well, her legs still held a slight wobble. To say she wanted more was an understatement. And so, she have a small huff and looked forward, tilting her head to allow him at her neck.
"... Go ahead..." she muttered, her voice an embarrassed tone. She felt his grin against her neck taking a breath as he gave a small, rough bite.
"You won't regret it, Emmy."
She gave a small, joking snort.
"I'll believe you if you can prove it, Karl..."
"Oh, even after what I've just shown you?" He played, his lips pressing to her neck once more. She said nothing, only somewhat easing against his chest with a huff. She rolled her eye as he chuckled, though her breath caught in her chest as his hand left the scar, letting his fingers trail up and along her throat. "I didn't think I would have to prove anything."
"You never do..." she muttered suddenly, only to close her mouth as she felt him freeze behind her. Where the hell did that come from...??
"Oh?"
She was silent for a moment before clearing her throat.
"Th-That, ah..." she started, only stopping as he grabbed her throat and pulled her to him roughly.
"What?" He growled, ever so slightly moving them forward. She took shaky steps, following his direction.
"N-Not... what I... mean..." she finally managed, glancing down with a quick breath as she felt the edge of the work table against the front of her thighs.
"Hm. What did you mean then, Emmy?"
"I..." she tried, though was unable to find her voice. What was this rush of excitement...?? The tone of his voice sent chills down her spine as he nibbled at her shoulder while awaiting a response. She then decided to just speak. What could go wrong?
"I-I mean...." she managed, gaining a smirk and holding onto his arm. She could feel as he tilted his head in curiosity. "You haven't quite done so thus far, how am I to believe you could...?" she continued, feeling his grip tighten. Good. She pulled away from him slightly to aggravate him. "You always need to prove yourself Karl, you won't get far without it-"
She was stopped with a surprised grunt as she was suddenly shoved down against the table, giving a surprised grunt of pain as her chin hitting it with a light *thunk* . He kept his hand between her shoulders, using his weight to keep her down as she moved to rub her jaw. Her hand was then suddenly yanked away as he twisted her arm behind her back, earning an uncomfortable grunt.
"Bloody hell- H-hey-!"
"I don't give proof, huh?" He growled suddenly, leaning down over her to talk into her ear. "I assure you, Emelia, I have all the proof you need."
She opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it with a surprised noise as he suddenly bit down on her neck and yanked her towards him. The backs of her thighs hit his hips, and she let out a small, surprised whimper. He slipped his fingers under the waistline of her underwear with his free hand, taunting her by slowly dragging them down. There was a sudden spark at her piercings once more while her lower half squirmed, and she couldn't help but give a small, moaning whine as she felt the sparks increase. Waves of pleasure traveled up her spine, causing her back to arch into the table somewhat and nearly bite her bottom lip until it bled. Small goosebumps covered her skin as she felt her underwear finally fall to her ankles. It wasn't until she felt him adjust himself behind her that she attempted to look to the side, only to be met with a growl and his teeth digging into the skin more.
She could smell the blood as it began to seep from between her skin and his teeth... It made her head swim as she finally felt him rub against her roughly, the small sparks of pain from his teeth adding to the odd pleasure she was feeling. He removed his teeth from her neck for a moment to speak into her ear, sending more shivers down her spine.
"I've got your 'proof' right here." He purred, his smirk nearly audible. He shoved her down again once more. "HERE!!"
He gave a rough thrust forward as he spoke, filling her quickly once again and earning a yelping moan; but this time, he didn't stop. A mixture of pain and pleasure racked her body as he kept up the rough thrusts, simultaneously twisting her arm more behind her back to hold her there. She couldn't stop the now loud moans and whines she gave as she panted, nearly digging her nails into the metal table supporting her. She could feel the pulses of her muscles threatening to tighten and mutate as she was slammed into nearly mercilessly, her fingers creating small dents in the material as she forced her mutation back once she felt a familiar flutter in her chest. He seemed to notice, letting out a low chuckle through his own grunts and growls.
It wasn't long before she felt the sudden waves of an orgasm, making her give a loud cry as she shifted under him, pressing back against him for a moment. She reached forward quickly and gripped the edge of the table, easily denting and nearly crushing it in her grip with light cries as he continued his thrusts through the tightening spasms. Her body shook while he didn't slow down. Instead, he increased his movements, and she almost felt tears come to her eye with the overwhelming sensation.
Her other arm was suddenly freed as he moved to grip both of her hips, leaning down to bite at her shoulder once more with low grunts and growls. He kept going... Oh god, he kept going. She couldn't speak, the only noises leaving her throat being whines and cries. She couldn't help but lean into his jaw, almost begging him for more despite the overstimulation. Her neck was bitten multiple times as if she were being marked, each bite breaking the skin with ease. Beads of blood slowly dripped from the wounds and over her skin every time he let go, only to feel his teeth elsewhere. She felt tightness below her belly once more as she let out a wavering cry of his name, only to be met with slower thrusts and a growl at her ear.
"What do you want, Emelia?" He growled, his voice low and strained. She couldn't help but squirm and push back against him with whining whimpers as he slowed more, quickly becoming frustrated and seemingly desperate. No... No, why was he stopping... Why was he slowing down?!
"N-.. N-No...!! D-Don't- fuck- D-Don't slow-...!!" She managed, earning a dangerous chuckle.
"Tell me Emelia, or I swear to God I'll stop right NOW." He played. She could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. She knew this was amusing to him... It was payback for her insults. Her body shook out of desperation and anger as the thrusts slowed considerably, and she put her forehead against the table with a growling whine. He held her hips in place against the table to prevent her from moving against him. She couldn't take it anymore... She wouldn't even try to fight it. It was as if she were being denied a prize, and she hated it already.
"F-Fuck- I-" she started, barely able to get words out, "Y-YOU Heisenberg, you bloody idiot!!! I want YOU!!!" She finally yelled, her voice cracking somewhat. "J-Just... D-Don't... Don't FUCKING stop!!! Fuck- PLEASE!!"
She could almost feel the pride-filled smirk he gave in knowing he had won, but she didn’t care... Her little outburst gave her slight confidence as he chuckled, his last breath coming as a low growl.. She jumped as she suddenly felt an arm around her waist, roughly pulling her back towards him as his other hand reached to pin and hold hers as if keeping her in place. A wavering whine left her lips as he gave a possessive growl, looming over her with obvious intent.
"Good girl." He grumbled, only giving her a chance to inhale before returning to the powerful, near brutal thrusts from before, pulling her to him with each movement.
She didn't even attempt to hide her voice again, her cries and moans growing louder with each passing second. She almost didn't want the feeling to end, allowing herself to melt into him as her back arched into his chest.
"D-Don't... D-Don't stop... F-FUCK- Don't stop...!!!" She repeated, her voice wavering with uneven pants and gasps.
"You. Are. MINE." He suddenly growled in her ear, not letting her respond before biting into her shoulder once more.
More electric pulses were sent through her piercings, nearly making her scream while gripping the hand over hers. The orgasm she felt then was strong, traveling through her body in waves and overstimulation as the pulses continued. The feeling was amplified as he kept moving for a few seconds, finally pressing her roughly against the table with a loud, wavering growl and swear as he came as well. She let out another gasping moan as she felt him twitch inside of her, shuddering with the light warmth she felt at the pit of her stomach.
The room was filled with the sound of their panting and deep breaths as their rode their highs, and Emelia finally relaxed against the table with a shaky, satisfied sigh while still panting. She felt... good. Great, actually... Very sore now, as well as numb, but good nonetheless. It was as if any frustration she felt had melted away with the thin layer of sweat on her body. She gave a quiet whimper as she felt Heisenberg shift somewhat. He removed his jaws from her shoulder, nudging her head and pressing his cheek against hers as his grip on her loosened to allow her to relax more.
"Are you alright, Emmy?" He asked quietly, his voice low and catching her off guard enough to flinch. She only made a small, confused noise as she glanced over. He chuckled, catching a glimpse of the residual pleasured tears that stained her cheek. He reached over, dragging his thumb over her skin to wipe them away. "Is that a yes?"
She kept her eye on him for a moment before giving a small nod and setting her head back on the table. She attempted to shift, but found her body was... unable to move. The numbness had begun to turn into the feeling of being a puddle, she found. Her muscles shook as she tried to push herself up, and she almost collapsed under him. He nearly laughed while kept his grip on her waist, keeping her upright while he watched in interest.
"Would you like some help?"
"N... N-No, I..." she tried, her voice quiet. There was silence for a moment before she gave a shaky sigh, putting her head down once more in defeat. "... y-yes..."
"I thought so." He chuckled, finally pulling himself away with a quiet grunt. She could hear the amusement in his voice. "Alright. Keep steady, now."
Emelia glanced back as he partially adjusted himself, not bothering to fully fix his pants before he let go of her waist. A small panic entered her chest as her legs began to collapse under her, barely able to use the table to keep herself up before she felt him at her side. Her body shook as she tried to lean up once more, reaching to hold on to Heisenbergs arm as he draped it across her shoulders. He didn't even flinch as she leaned her full weight on him, and he chuckled.
"Come on, then." He said, suddenly leaning down once she was fully off the table. She let out a surprised yelp as he swept his other arm behind her knees, bringing her up into a cradling position against his chest as she held onto him tightly. She tightened her grip more as he started to walk, her face red. "Something wrong?" He asked, amusement thick in his voice. She watched his movements, only somewhat relaxing as they neared the bed.
"N-No..." she replied quietly, slowly easing herself in a sitting position the tattered covers as he set her down, wincing again at the soreness she felt. While the fabrics weren't always the best for relaxing, right now they were comforting, and a godsend for her shaking muscles. She then jumped as he sat down himself before he laid beside her with a huff. She stared at him for a moment as he held his arm out for her. What was he doing...?
"Well?" He asked expectantly, raising a brow as she looked confused.
"... what?"
He rolled his eyes.
"You're wearing my shirt Emmy, the least you could do is lay down."
"What-" she started, only to look down. "O-Oh... um..." She had admittedly forgotten what she had been wearing, and sheepishly pulled the shirt over her now throbbing shoulders and neck. She then adjusted herself on the mattress with a quiet grunt. "Ok..."
"NOW you're embarrassed??" He asked, nudging her arm slightly. "Should I describe, in detail, what I just did to you?"
She glared at him and gave a small huff as she managed to lay down.
"Shut up..." she mumbled, somewhat begrudgingly cuddling onto his chest as he smirked.
"It was an honest question."
Emelia only grumbled in response, though relaxed as she felt his arm go around her. She adjusted her head on his chest, pausing as she felt a heartbeat. It was slow and rhythmic, lulling her into a relaxed breathing pattern. He glanced at her as her arm wrapped over his chest as well, though he froze as she mindlessly began to trace over some of the smaller scars over his skin. She watched her own fingers move, an amused smile creeping on her face as she felt him tense and relax at her touch. She tilted her head slightly as she heard a light grumbling from his chest, her fingers pausing. He shifted under her, and she looked up to meet his eyes.
"What...?" She asked, resuming the movements. She watched as his eyes traveled between her and her fingers multiple times, his breathing easy with small grumbles in each inhale.
"Nothing." He replied simply, only to lift his chin slightly in confusion as she moved her hand to the scar across his neck. She felt his breath hitch as she traced it, and he looked at her again. "What are you doing, Emmy?"
"Nothing." She copied, almost laughing as he rolled his eyes.
"Don't get soft on me now Emelia, just earlier you were threatening me." He snorted.
"I still can if you would rather that."
"Hm. No, I'd rather fuck you again."
She went silent for a moment, her face heating up once more with embarrassment. "You said you wouldn't break me." She huffed.
Heisenberg gave a chuckle before turning to face her, gaining a smirk when she looked at him in surprise.
"I won't. I can't, actually." He said matter-of-factly, suddenly pushing her shoulder to have her lay on her back. She jumped, staring up at him in a stunned silence. "That doesn't mean I can't try. I haven't had that much fun in years, and I know you're durable. So am I."
"I-I can tell..." Emelia managed, clearing her throat slightly. Well, she knew he had a point... Despite being sore, she still felt oddly energized... Sure, the light exhaustion was there, but she knew she would have gone back to work immediately if she were physically able to. And she had to admit... She enjoyed this. It felt... normal. Almost.
She kept her eye on him for a moment before taking a breath. Was she really debating on this? The reality of the current situation hit her full force like Sturm on a rampage. She was silent for another moment before gulping slightly.
"What... What is... 'this' , exactly...?" she asked, her voice quiet. Karl drew back slightly, caught off guard by the question.
"Excuse me...??"
"I... You... You piss me off, Heisenberg..." she started, her arms resting at the sides of her head. Each movement of her shoulders resulted in a dull pain from his teeth, and his mouth twitched as he realized. She paused as she saw the smallest... tiniest twinge of regret in his eyes. But she shook her head, looking down at herself.
"I don't... I've been here for... only a short time compared to you, Karl... And now I... We do... THIS..." she continued, looking back up at him as he held his place over her. "What are we doing...?"
It was his turn to stay silent, obviously contemplating his answer. She had seen the same look on his face when discussing important factory matters... It almost made her feel better.
"What do you want from it?" He asked finally, tilting his head with a light shrug. She blinked.
"... What?"
He rolled his eyes, giving a small smirk.
"Ah, who's asking the hard questions now?" He played, chuckling as she glared at him. "I don't quite care what this leads to, I know what my goals are." He explained. "What are yours? What do YOU want out of it?"
"I..." she started, looking to the side. "... I don't know."
"Then don't worry about it!"
"But I-"
"Look, Emelia. If you can't figure it out, then focus on something else. Is it really worth wasting the energy if you don't know right away?" He asked.
She was silent. He... He was right.
"That... That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say."
She nearly laughed at his insulted expression.
"Hey-"
"I'm joking, Metalhead..." She sighed with a small smile. There was silence for a moment before she finally gave a huff. "Just... For now just..."
"Come on, we don't have all day." Heisenberg joked, smirking as she glared at him.
"... Shut up you daft idiot." She growled finally, reaching to yank him down by his necklaces.
The movement startled him, but he seemed to know exactly what to do as his lips met hers with a light chuckle. The kiss was... gentle, oddly enough, but she relaxed once more under him. Light shivers traveled up her spine as she felt his fingers travel along her skin. The shirt was fully unbuttoned once again and nudged to her sides, and she took a deep breath as she felt the air on her chest. She only whined as her legs were moved, making him pause. There was a soreness between them from his roughness beforehand, sending small waves of a low, pulsing pain through her body. He gave a questioning hum against her lips, and she spoke against his.
"Sore..." she admitted quietly, feeling his amused smile.
"Good." He replied simply, adjusting himself and his pants to rest between her thighs. Emelia let out a quiet whimper as she was rubbed against, her legs shaking against his hips and her arms reaching out to his onto and wrap around his shoulders.
The dull throbbing sensation continued as he pushed into her once more, earning a somewhat pained whine as her back arched. It hurt... But the feeling lessened to a light sting after a few seconds, and she took lighter breaths. She couldn't help but wonder as he stayed still, his words and question playing in her mind as he returned to his position of leaning on his forearms over her. What DID she want from this...? Did she truly wish for any sort of stability from this? Or just survival? Maybe this was the first and last time she'd experience this, or maybe it would be regular. Did she WANT it to be regular, though? She didn't know... All she knew was that his touch swung wildly between rough and gentle every time he touched her, even before this. He always switched between harsher interactions and kind ones, making her angry and thankful at the same time. And yet, when he touched her NOW... Even while over the table, it was almost careful, hesitant to push her too far even while leaving bruises in her skin. Somehow, while sharing this intimacy, he was a perfect mix of the two. And somehow, it calmed her and even gave a small hope in the back of her mind.
Her thoughts stopped, letting out a breathy moan into the kiss as he started moving, this time at a slow pace. This time she kept her arms around him, hugging him close enough for their bare chests to press against each other. Her breaths and moans came from a different sort of pleasure, almost willing to believe that sharing this with him would allow some sort of normalcy. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he set a careful, hard rhythm, one of his arms moving down to press his hand against her stomach.
A single second passed before Heisenberg sent a low pulse of electricity through her body and piercings, causing her back to arch as she pulled away from the kiss with a gasping whine. She felt as he lowered his head with a low groan, starting to kiss and nibble along her jaw. Her nails dug into his back as his movements increased somewhat, creating more scratches to match the ones he already had. Her voice came out in quiet whines and moans into his ear as she clung to him. Sure this was making the soreness worse, but she almost couldn't tell between the low pulses and thrusts coming from the man. Her body shook while simultaneously encouraging more. She WANTED more... She already admitted as much to herself. Another whine escaped her lips as he nibbled just below her ear.
"Fuck, Emmy...~" he nearly purred into her ear, lifting her hips slightly and switching to smaller quick thrusts.
"K-... K-Karl-! F-FUCK-" she managed, her voice breaking somewhat as she allowed her legs to loosen at his sides to bring him closer. She whimpered as he suddenly leaned up, her nails digging and sliding down to his biceps before gripping them as she felt a familiar tightness below her belly; he could feel it, too.
Emelia suddenly held her breath in a surprised, wavering gasp as he slid his hand up her body from the belly piercing, his fingers dragging along the large scar on her chest before lingering and pressing against the sides of her neck. Her whines and moans continued, even as his hand moved higher to her jaw. She then jumped as his thumb pushed past her parted lips, resting on her tongue. She attempted to look up at him, but found it difficult to even keep her eye open... Heisenberg gave a low chuckle at the sight, pushing on her jaw slightly. He didn't even have to say a word as her mouth nearly closed around his thumb. Her whines and whimpers grew louder and her grip on him tightened, and she could only gasp as he pulled his thumb from her mouth and replaced it with his own.
The kiss was returned instantaneously, followed by her wavering, now muffled cry as she finally came once more. He grunted into the kiss as she tightened around him, her legs wrapping around his waist once more while her back arched. She wrapped her arms fully around his shoulders with overstimulated whines as his pace quickened before he finally let out his own wavering moan against her lips. She joined him with her own moan as he shoved his hips against hers, feeling the warmth enter her as he rode out his own orgasm with shaking muscles. God, it felt... It felt good... The warmth and twitching from him kept her whines going as they panted, her body shaking under him.
Both were silent for several moments, the kiss lessening to gentle movements before breaking.
"D-... D-Damn..." Emelia nearly squeaked, her head rolling to the side as her jaw was nuzzled.
"Hm. Are you alright?" Heisenberg asked, earning a small nod.
"... gonna be sore..." she replied quietly, relaxing somewhat as he kept his face against hers. He chuckled.
"You wanted it."
"Shush..." she huffed. Her breathing eased, feeling his smile against her skin. This was... Nice, she had to admit... An uncomfortable whine left her lips as he began to push himself up and away, only pausing as her legs twitched around him to keep him there. "N-No... stay..." she whined, watching as he raised a brow. "... P-Please..."
"I've never heard you say 'please' this much." He joked, earning a light glare. But he simply returned to his place over her with an amused chuckle, nearly laying on her.
She was relaxed despite nearly his entire weight on her torso, though she had no issues. He was really warm... She could almost purr with the warmth both on top of and inside her, the feeling relaxing her to the point of her limbs going lax around him. She felt him chuckle against her skin, taking a breath as his lips found her bruised neck. But her mind wandered elsewhere, and she found herself pressing her cheek to his.
"Can we... Not talk about this...?" She asked quietly, earning a confused hum as he glanced at her.
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"J-Just... Um..." she tried, turning her head to look at him. "M-Maybe this could be... just... stress relief...?"
She jumped as Heisenberg shifted, his face now hovering over hers with their noses together.
"Just stress relief?" He asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as her face reddened. "Is that what you want?"
She simply nodded, her fingers traveling over small scars that covered his upper back and shoulders. 'For now...' she thought. Wait, 'for now'...?? Did she really mean that...? She was pulled out of her thoughts as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.
"Then so be it." Heisenberg said simply, meeting her gaze. She stared up at him before nodding and taking a breath. But he moved before she had a chance to even think, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Hold on."
"What-" she tried, only to cling to him with a surprised yelp as he pushed against the mattress to lean up with her against his chest. She let out a light whine as she was shifted on him, small sparks shooting up her spine as she was settled against his hips while he sat and leaned back against the wall. He couldn't help but smirk as she let out a whimper, her legs twitching. "Better?"
"I..." she tried, though couldn't manage words as she felt him shift against her to make himself comfortable. So she simply nodded before leaning against his chest.
It was his turn to freeze as she nuzzled to his neck, giving a pleased sigh as his arms hesitantly went around her waist. She relaxed against him, enjoying the warmth he gave and the feeling of his arms around her.
"... You're warm..." she said quietly, earning a surprised chuckle.
"I would almost hope so." He replied, reaching up and under the shirt she still wore to drag his fingers along small scars on her back. He smiled as she relaxed. "I'm going to assume you're not moving any time soon?"
He nearly laughed as she nodded against his shoulder.
"Fair assumption..." she mumbled, closing her eye.
While she wasn't necessarily tired, there was a sliver of exhaustion in her chest. She had to admit, there was still pain from the bite marks that now covered her neck and shoulders, and the soreness of her legs came as a dull throbbing. But she oddly didn't mind... She held her breath as she realized her enjoyment of this. The touches, the intimacy... Even the dull pains she felt. Maybe she didn't even mind HIM...
No, no... She DID mind him. Did she...? She still found him infuriating... But the way he held her now was... Well, it made her question quite a bit.
She finally sighed, relaxing fully against him. She focused on his touches against her back instead of the thoughts in her mind, willfully ignoring them for once. She'd enjoy what she had for now... Her attention went to the sounds of his heart and distant machinery, letting them lull her into a light sleep. She didn't NEED she sleep at the moment, but to her, it was almost perfect.
She only hoped it would stay that way.
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FULL REVIEWS: “The First Day”
After Adventures in the Elements, I was all in on the lumity hype train. Granted I thought it was going to be like Little Witch Academia where they’ll do as could as they can without making it canon. I’m still afraid it’s going to be like Star vs The Forces of Evil where they make it canon in the last minute. I hope not. I’m so sick of that crap.
There have been shows where the main couple gets together and they stay together as the story continues. Parks and Recreation, Kim Possible, Tangled the Series, etc.
But you guys didn’t come here for a rant. You came for a review. Luz starts her first day at Hexside and it didn’t go the way I thought it would. Egg on my face, huh?
The cold open actually starts with an animation error showing Luz in her multicolored uniform. Hello? Spoilers, guys. According to The Owl House wikia they’ve fixed it in reruns, but I don’t know if that’s true.
Turns out the fabled “placement exam” is just impressing Principal Bump.
Forced to use all your skills and knowledge to impress one person in order to live your life’s dream? Where have I heard that before? Oh right, the WWE. Fuck the WWE.
The placement exam goes...exactly the way I thought it would.
Exactly.
Principal Bump’s response is also...exactly the way I thought it would be.
Good for you, Luz.
So Luz begins her first semester at Hexside. Amity congratulates her (more on that later) before meeting up with Willow and Gus. Several funny jokes later and Luz meets with Principal Bump to work out her schedule. Luz wants to do a little bit of everything (Red Mage style) but, thanks to the coven system, the school districts have a “Hocus Focus” policy. Everyone has to specialize in one track only.
This actually really scared me at the time because as a viewer it would be pretty lame to have nine tracks and only have us focus on one of them. The only other thing to do would be to keep switching characters based on which track we would want to focus on for that episode, but like typing that sentence, that seems like a lot of work for something simple.
Luckily we get a funny shot at Harry Potter before Principal Bump employs his “eenie meenie minie this one” policy. I’m starting to think someone on the crew is really likes Harry Potter and some else in the show thinks Harry Potter is really stupid.
Okay so he’s dead. We know that, right?
Bump picks potions for Luz because get out of my office. An inspector from the Emperor’s Coven is going to show up and he hopes to impress them enough for a donation to cover the costs of the damages from the previous episodes.
Luz tries to get into her potions class, but it’s not as exciting as the thought. And the idea of a potions coven also bothers me. Like if the coven system limits your magic does that mean people in the potions coven can’t do shit? It doesn’t take magic to mix shit together and stir. Hell we do that IRL. No magic required.
I choose you to die.
It’s made even worse when Willow and some moon-headed girl have a POKEMON BATTLE right outside her window. It’s made even double worse we we get a glimpse of Luz’s class schedule.
Potions for beginners
Potions in motion
Potions (again)
Still potions
Potions 'till you die
Potions after death
Good thing I’m not writing for the show because I would have added:
Potions, don’t you get it it’s all potions
Demonics JK more potions
Potions 2: The Quickening
How about potions on my hand
This drives Luz to try out that crystal ball she saw where she immediately gets caught by Principal Bump because magic I guess. Principal Bump becomes an odd number because he literally can’t even and ships Luz off to the detention track. That thing that educators do when a student needs extra attention but they don’t want to do the work.
The detention track seems terrible at first. The students aren’t allowed to do anything except wait until the day ends. But when the “teacher” falls asleep, one of the girls leads Luz to The Secret Room of Shortcuts. They use this secret network of magical back doors to peek into any and every class so they can learn whatever they want. Turns out Bump put them in the detention track for wanting to mix magics.
And there’s the part I expect to get flack for. I don’t like the detention track kids. It’s not that they’re bad. I just think they’re kinda lame and boring. Viney could be cool but the rest seem like afterthoughts. They’re not funny or interesting and they’re not on screen enough to make me care about them. They kinda bring down the episode for me. For a show that has so many creative characters I was really surprised on how not invested I was.
They get along well enough until Willow and Gus pull off the second laziest plot device in fiction: the misunderstanding. Yup, overhearing something without the proper context and taking it personally. It always works none of the time.
Meanwhile in the B (C?) plot, Bump is trying to use Amity to impress the inspector and it works too well. The inspector is actually a Greater Basilisk, a snake-like monster that eats magic from witches.
That’s not a face you wanna see everyday.
Everyone tries to fight it off but it’s a snake-like monster that eats magic from witches. Luz’s magic doesn’t come from her; it comes from nature so the basilisk can’t eat that.
Luz rallies the detention track kids to fight off the Basilisk, and I got pissed because the dog’s palm reading thing did nothing and was completely useless.
Bump gets pissed at the kids for mixing magic but Luz confronts him about it. Luz does something that angers boomers and uses logic to prove her case. Bump realizes he was wrong and just lets the kids study multiple tracks and I’m thinking how does that work? If one track has a full day’s schedule how they going to do double the work? Or do they just do half the work?
Pokemon and Sailor Moon? Someone’s 90s anime is showing.
Luz still can’t decide on a track so Bump let’s her do all of them. Which begs the question even further, how is Luz’s schedule going to look like? Big brain hurt. Just tell yourself it’s just a show; I should really just relax.
Meanwhile in the C(?)-plot, King sneaks into the school to eat trash, leftovers, and free food. Somehow he ends up as a substitute teacher of a class proving my point that people are basically stupid and will believe anything you tell them.
FINAL SCORE: 4 - Liked it.
I really wanted to give this episode a 3. I was just so not impressed by the detention track kids and I know that everyone else just loves them to pieces for the seven minutes maybe of screen time and the palm reading to defeat a Greater Basilisk. Whatever.
But I liked it because of the jokes, the jabs at Harry Potter and King’s C-plot was just funny enough to push it over that edge. And there’s also...you know....
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health update - long, long post
two out of three appointments done!!
good news all around. first, with my hematologist... so apparently I've been in remission since december and didn't know it because the literature talks about milestones you have to reach for the type of leukemia I have but lmao ???? hey I've been in remission for almost eight months, cool ;P if I go two years with no signs of leukemia, we can extend my appts out! but for now we will still check labs every three months
my endocrinologist sent me to an Expert Thyroid Radiologist and she said my ultrasound on the goiter/nodules looked good enough to not even need another ultrasound again (barring any major changes in numbers, I imagine) and my tsh levels are excellent so 👌 don't have to do labs again for a year!!
I see my rheum on the 3rd and I imagine it will go much the same way as I've already seen my labs and they look ok to my layman's eyes lol and thank god she let me switch to a telehealth appt so I don't have to go in for this one because I had to go in yesterday to my hematologist's office hnnnn
this is all really good news and feels great but GOD! it's extremely hard to tell what's been giving me symptoms since CML, hypothyroidism, and of course rheumatic diseases all cause intense fatigue, appetite weirdness, skin problems and more. but depression/anxiety/ptsd also cause all of these things and so do both of my neurological conditions. my rheum thinks the basic symptoms my PCP was concerned about for lupus or scleroderma is the whole shebang combined and I'm sure she's right
it's always been the neuro shit that's given me the worst symptoms and agony and extreme discomfort I've ever felt in my life lol and that has an uncertain and at this moment frightening future so... yeah, we'll see where I'm at in a few months I guess and if there's been any improvement. but fighting what happens in my brain every day is the most exhausting thing I've ever done and the damage it does to my mental health cannot be understated, which my neurologist loves to do! so as soon as I do a couple tests he ordered I'm finding a new one. not for new answers, but only for someone not a complete mess of a person who contradicts themselves constantly within the same breath
y'all my last appointment with him was absolutely BANANAS. he spent more time complaining about the company he worked for and defending himself and justifying himself to himself??? than like. treating me lol he makes so so so many mistakes, he lies, and I'm still boiling over the question he asked on the phone on july 1st 'so did anyone go over your MRI results with you?' (from mid-APRIL) like do you mean YOU, SIR???? god. he reviewed them with me on my appt on july 14th and got all huffy about them doing 'the wrong MRI' cause I was supposed to have an MRV, not an MRA, and yet he has put in like 6 or 7 orders (four in the same day) for an MRA, including on the 14th, just in case you need a picture of what this man is like. I could make three whole posts about him, he's chaotic and not in a good way
him: 'well you've lost 30 pounds and with IIH, that should show improvement. and since there's no improvement, that's very uncharacteristic so it could be something else. but also keep in mind that even with losing the weight there may not be any improvement in IIH symptoms'
hmm still working that one out
anyway I've had insomnia for the majority of my life and only medical marijuana helped. I'd go to bed at midnight and not fall asleep until 3 AM if I was lucky before I tried it. now that I can't be on it, but I am at war with my brain 24/7, I'm sleeping the whole night through better than I have for most of my life 😒 this sounds like a good thing, but I'm still exhausted waking up every morning. my brain can't catch up on rest while it's this bad
I still don't have a lot of hope for this shit. and it is IIH, he just doesn't want to say it. we all know it's IIH, it's literally the one explanation and fits all my symptoms. I wish it had been the easiest one to cure and was gone because it's a living hell. gonna continue
working toward my goals and hope my health is eventually as kind to me for this as it's been for the CML
I really want to go to therapy to deal with the trauma of the last year and a half but I can't have a conversation, especially not an emotional one, and I can't process or think very well when talking to someone anymore. it sucks and it's scary feeling my brain function is not what it was just two or three months ago. memory 👎 decision making skills 👎 processing questions 👎 mixing things up/confusing myself on the daily? 👍
neuro referred me to a neuropsychologist for cognitive function stuff
so yeah. hoping for a miracle at this point
anyway, pretty proud of myself for losing weight though and in a healthy way. my neurologist, neurosurgeon and psychiatrist seemed doubtful I could do it on my own, but my 31lbs gone says hey fuck you lmao 19 more to my big first goal! even if it doesn't fix IIH and I have to have surgery, not being obese anymore will make it safer and I'll feel better all around. started at 210 and I'm now at 179 c:
sorry for good news and also doom and gloom but s i g h at least there's forward progress in some ways, right?
#medical#personal#vtforpedro personal#I just saw someone mention oversharing as being like a bad trait#so I'm sorry if me blogging about my health issues is uncomfortable or feels like oversharing but it helps me#i'll always have these to look back on#I also only have like two people to talk to about this stuff otherwise and I need to really let it all out so I can breathe#but now I'm rethinking if I should've ever started blogging about my health in the first place hnnnn#i really am sorry if they make you uncomfortable so i added a new tag you can blacklist#anyway love you all please stay safe and healthy
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Common traits of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome
I’m not a doctor, so there may be some details off here though tbh chronically ill people usually know more than most doctors. I'm making this post because there’s very little awareness about this, and people who fit the diagnosis criteria end up never being diagnosed and suffering in silence, even risking early deaths, as I now suspect happened to my grandma.
Definition:
Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) is a group of disorders that affect connective tissue. It’s a genetic disorder that has no cure, but does have palliative treatments depending on the type of EDS.
All types of EDS are characterized by abnormal collagen synthesis. This doesn’t mean that you have too little collagen (necessarily?), but that the collagen your body synthesizes is and will always be altered or of bad quality, regardless of how much of it you synthesize.
EDS is regarded as “rare” by most doctors, but many patients believe it’s more common than they think, only being so “rare” on paper because doctors perceive it as rare, so they don’t diagnose patients despite fitting the criteria (search why EDS communities use the zebra as a symbol). Due to this, EDS communities encourage self-diagnosis, and many times even self-treatment.
Abnormal collagen sounds like it’s “only” one thing, but collagen is a key structural protein ALL over the body, so if your collagen is wrong, a lot of things are wrong or at the very least unusual. As a result, EDS affects the skin, ligaments, joints, blood vessels and other organs (including gastrointestinal organs and the uterus).
Common traits and symptoms:
Please, keep in mind that these symptoms don’t have to be super extreme to count. EDS symptoms range from mild to severe. Most of my symptoms aren’t remarkably visible to the eye, but they’re still bad enough that I suffer tremendously and it affects every single aspect of my life.
Take into account that many of the following traits/symptoms aren’t exclusive to EDS, but if you have more than one or two...
Joint hypermobility: Being "double jointed". The joints are so lax, that they luxate or even dislocate for as much as staying still in the same position too long. It can affect some joints, or all joints, small joints or big joints. It obviously comes associated with joint pain, including chronic joint pain. Can also manifest as scoliosis.
Skin elasticity: You can pull your skin (by pinching it) and it stretches more than the skin of most people. This can, in some cases, make EDS patients prone to skin sagging.
Abnormal scarring: The skin of people with EDS is fragile and elastic, and takes longer to heal. Abnormal scarring includes “cigarette paper” scarring, keloids, slow scarring and healing, higher propensity to stretch marks, post-inflammatory hyper-pigmentation.
Bruising too easily: The blood vessels of people with EDS are fragile to one degree or another. This makes us prone to bruising easily or dramatically, to the point some present spontaneous bruising. Spontaneous bruising might point to vascular EDS, in which case please seek medical help because it’s the most dangerous form of EDS.
There’s cases recorded of parents who’ve been falsely accused of beating their children because of the child’s easy or spontaneous bruising.
Digestive and/or nutritional issues: GUESS what intestines and other digestive organs are made of. Yes, collagen. People with EDS are prone to having delicate digestive systems (IBS, nausea, constipation, diarreah and food allergies included), and/or difficulty absorbing the nutrients from our diet.
This trait can be bad enough that the patient needs to be fed through a tube or have nutrients injected into their bloodstream, but most of us do fine with regular nutritional supplements (I recommend multivitamins and minerals).
Among other things, the nutrient absorption issue makes us prone to excessive hydration due to imbalance of water-salt intake or absorption, and that’s a REALLY bad thing. It made my hair fall off MASSIVELY for years, and intensified my pain, brain fog and fatigue.
Chronic fatigue: Between the physical pain and bad nutrient absorption, most if not all of us experience chronic fatigue (as a symptom, not the disorder). This isn’t just being tired, it’s being exhausted to your bones for no reason all the time, even if you’ve done absolutely nothing in weeks. Might be pervasive, might be recurrent.
Muscle pain: When you have EDS Everything Hurts™. This can be exacerbated in EDS patients by imbalance of water-salt intake (generally leaning towards excessive hydration, but can be dehydration too).
Chronic pain: Everything Hurts™... All the time. It’s a general pain expanded throughout your body that just won’t go the fuck away no matter what you do.
Except that this can be exacerbated by imbalance of water-salt intake too! Fixing mine made my chronic and muscle pain so much more bearable to the point that on a good day it’s GONE (just remember, your pee should NEVER be even close to clear, it should just not be solidly opaque, and you could damage your kidneys too by drinking too much water).
Brain fog: Linked to chronic fatigue and pain (ALSO POSSIBLY THE WATER-SALT INTAKE). Like chronic pain and fatigue, it’s not necessarily present every single day, but be recurrent instead.
You can’t think. You can’t read or process what you read. You can’t turn thoughts into words. Your grammar goes to shit. You can’t retain or process new information. You can’t remember words that you KNOW you know. You can’t remember things in general. Someone asks you a simple question and it’s like they’re speaking to you in another language.
You start to feel increasingly frustrated and desperate because you’re constantly disoriented and your mind is lagging like an old computer running on a 256 MB RAM memory. ERROR 404 BRAIN NOT FOUND TRY AGAIN LATER.
Well, turns out you are not dumb, your body is not cooperating with you, and that includes your brain.
Asthma: Highly comorbid. Just... Everything is made of collagen, pal. EVERYTHING.
Autism: Don’t ask me why, but EDS and autism are highly comorbid too, so if you’re in the autism spectrum (same hat) and experience any or many of the other symptoms/traits listed, it’s very likely that you also have EDS.
Depression: It’s really hard to be "positive”, have any motivation or enjoy anything, when NOTHING in your body works right, Everything Hurts™ and you’re so depressingly exhausted that all you CAN do is lay in bed all day.
People and doctors telling you you’re “faking it”, people thinking you’re lazy, underestimating how much pain and fatigue you’re going through, having to pull through all of that anyway because you have no other option (ie. your job is your or your family’s only source of income) does not help AT ALL with this.
Tight/narrow “inner plumbing”: In my case, my throat is so narrow, that swallowing one (1) small pill is genuinely difficult, and big pills make me GAG. But its not just your throat, it’s ALL your plumbing being too tight or narrow.
Varicose veins: The whole blood vessels being fragile thing. Most common in vascular EDS, please seek help if you think you may have that specific type.
Thin “transparent” soft skin: Again... FUCKING COLLAGEN. I think it’s obvious what this one means? Except it’s likely that it’s harder to notice the “transparent” part of it on darker skinned patients, but if you’re pale or light skinned, you’d be one of those people whose veins are very easy to see.
“Moldable” nails: Yet again, collagen is everywhere. Some of my nails (index and middle fingers) are slightly deformed because I tend to clench my hands A LOT by instinct and the continued pressure changed their shape.
Aracnodactilia, or “spidery” hands/fingers: The fingers are very skinny and long in proportion to the rest of the hand, can apply to feet too. Having very narrow feet (ie. your shoes are always to wide for you) is part of this.
Gynecological issues or abnormalities: Excessive bleeding during your period, bleeding outside your period, infertility, spontaneous abortions, pre-term labor, high risk pregnancies. Very common with vascular EDS too.
Dry eyes: I didn’t know about this one until like, literally two days ago but apparently it’s a thing, since the test this Chilean EDS specialist we’re hoping to see gives you, includes it as a potential symptom.
“Elongated” body, face (and its features) and/or limbs: Actually the aracnodactilia is often part of this. I also have no idea why but many EDS patients have “elongated”, narrower features, be it subtle or very visible.
Chronic fatigue and brain fog are really hard to describe properly to people who don’t go through them. Hell, even to people who DO go through them. So here’s two videos by Jessica Kellgren-Fozard (just in case, she was misdiagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but discovered recently that she has EDS, besides her neurological condition). All her videos have CC.
youtube
youtube
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this is what happens when u enable me lets go
(spoilers ahoy)
Firstly, here’s some somewhat miscellaneous reasons that don’t contribute to any sort of narrative analysis but are still parts of the character I like.
His boss fight is my favorite in the game thus far. It’s not super hard, but it isn’t super easy either, and I even managed to solo it on my Balance after a few practice rounds. Sufficiently challenging without feeling unfair.
His boss fight music. It is a bop and a half, go give it a listen, my soul ascends from my body a few centimeters every time I hear it start up.
His voice. I’m sure it’s processed at least a little but gotdamn his voice is so deep and spooky it startled me when I first heard it. Very curious who his actor is; I think he and Inyanga Whitestripes share the same one. Either way, very well voiced and acted.
His design is very good. It’s the perfect mix of innocuous but also spooky sorcerer fella who knows some shit. And I was afraid that the designers would try and make him like. Handsome? Under the hood? To try and make him more sympathetic? But they didn’t and I’m glad for it.
With those out of the way, the next thing to establish, I guess: I don’t interpret Old Cob to be the main villain of arc 3, nor do I interpret Raven as such. They’re definitely antagonists, but they’re not the ultimate problem; the ultimate problem is their divorce, and how they keep dragging people into their bs. It’s established the Aethyr is a physical manifestation of their anger towards each other, and as it thins, communication between them becomes possible, as Sparck puts it in this thinly veiled metaphor toward the start of Empyrea part 2.
But Cob’s still an antagonist and I love him so I’m gonna talk about that. Most of this is going to be talking about his motivations for doing what he does, since I don’t see him quite as the ‘likes to watch the world burn for the hell of it’ archetype that others might.
One of the reasons that drew me to his character is how legit his gripe is, when put in perspective. Old Cob- or Grandfather Spider, if you prefer- is not a mortal like the other antagonists of previous arcs, which establishes he has a different thought process right off the bat. This new universe was built on his suffering and he has a grudge against the ex wife who made it, so as a god, it makes some sense he’d try to destroy it and build one he would like better. He’s fully aware that what he is doing will hurt people but decidedly doesn’t care, and I appreciate that so much. He’s chaotic as fuck and he owns it, along with his superiority complex that’s as wide as the day is long.
Yet his reasoning is like. Weirdly understandable? Like, if my ex-whatever put me in jail for a lifetime sentence and stole my kidney to pay for a new house or something, I too would go apeshit and want my fuckin kidney back. That’s mostly how I interpret his situation. He’s not doing this for hell of it, he’s doing it because he wants to get back at his ex because he’s bitter and petty and for the most part he knows this but he feels justified in doing do because she ripped out his goddamn kidney- I mean heart, and he wants that back.
And then, even after all that, he and his magic are treated as if they’re inherently evil. While, sure, Shadow is a ‘dark magic’, its actual properties aren’t anything malicious by itself. It is described as “a magic that changes reality,” and that’s it. Incredibly exploitable and you should practice caution while handling it, but used correctly it is powerful and helpful; this is likely alluding to the backlash mechanic, where likes decrease the percent of damage you take, dislikes increase the percent, and I imagine the person meant to be the literal embodiment of the magic in question to be similar in nature: not inherently harmful and lashes out if he feels he’s been mistreated.
Going off that, I’m not sure he ever wanted the FirstWorld to be destroyed, and therefore believes his incarceration to be entirely unjust; he doesn’t deny that he instigated the fight between the Titans, but when it comes to being accused of its actual destruction, he gets angry.
...Okay the written text doesn’t really display how mad he got here, but he was like. Big Angy. Super offended. Honestly, a big part of why I love and analyze the hell out of his character comes from how his VA delivers his lines and his voice in general. If you haven’t heard it for some reason, I recommend looking it up. Anyway, here he’s basically saying he didn’t destroy the First World, and even if he did, he’s suffered enough punishment because of it, to my interpretation. The only one I remember blaming him for it is Raven; Bartleby was there, and I don’t recall him blaming anything other than the Titans for it. This is of course not accounting for the various changes made to the lore since he was introduced, but they could have easily thrown in a line like ‘And now Spider plans to destroy the Spiral the way he destroyed the FirstWorld!’ or something to make it clear it was done intentionally.
And this may very well be straying into headcanon territory here, but I think he holds positive relationships very closely to him, even if things went sour in the end; he clearly still has some remaining affection for the Titans, calling them ‘the children’ and being incredibly angry at Raven for forcing one of them to destroy his Heart.
When Rat loses in Polaris he shows up to praises his efforts and even comfort him, in his own weird way. He reprimanded Scorpion in Mirage, but it’s because Scorpion wasn’t doing what his dad asked him to and got his ass kicked as a result. As for Bat, every time they’re in the same room together he pays him some sort of compliment.
Bat claims that he and his brothers are meant to be his tools, and to some extent that’s true, but he also genuinely cares about them, and it’s really interesting to see a villain defect from the usual ‘not caring about anyone other than themselves’ and openly show affection for his kids while still managing to be an incredible asshole.
In line with this is his relationship with the Wizard. There is, of course, a foundation of manipulation to their dynamic, at least to some degree. I thoroughly believe that Spider was overshadowing Coleridge, at least partly, so our character could bust him out of prison.
And while this is happening, he regains some of his spent power and removes threats to it as well, namely Morganthe, using the Wizard’s help. In fact, I have very little doubt that he was at least partially responsible for her fall; his timing on that two-liner was too on the nose.
But even with that, I think he genuinely treasures the Wizard’s help and company, which is why he attempts on four different occasions to either sway them to his side, or warn them away from what he’s doing.
Boy, I want that vacation, but it’s your fault I’m here.
And then, of course, his relationship with Raven, something that is basically a summation of his character arc. Laden with baggage and tragic in concept, it is my belief that most of what he’s doing isn’t because he genuinely hates the Spiral or he wants to get back at her, but because he loved her and treasured their relationship; so upon her mistreating him, he lashed out at everything she’d made and detested it as a result. But only because he felt betrayed and hurt so he has to inflict that on other people because he is, as aforementioned, a petty and bitter old fuck.
Moving off that line of thinking, an admirable quality he possesses is how smart he is. This guy has so many wrinkles in his brain it must look like a raisin. Well, perhaps not ‘smart’ exactly, but how good he is at manipulating certain situations to his advantage. Like in Mirage; you just know that he was fully expecting Mellori to be there and fully planned to use her as a back up plan, or you could even argue that the whole debacle in Mirage was a ploy to get his hands on her, while having the added possible benefit of things actually working out.
Actually his scheme in Mirage was really interesting now that I think about it. His aim was to turn back time to when the FirstWorld was whole, further implying that he never wanted its destruction in the first place. It would also, of course, be a time where he had his Heart and would have the ability to avoid having it ripped out again. This would involve not having the Titans fight each other again, or at least not starting it and suffering the consequences. It would be everything he wanted to achieve knocked out in one go with minimal muss or fuss, compared to other methods. It’s probably a part of why he shows up personally to bargain with Eerkala and the Cabal, and why he directly intervenes in our Wizard’s efforts to stop him; it was too important to trust to any of his kids, so knowing Scorpion probably wouldn’t have been able to execute it anyway, he used his kid as a distraction for the most part.
I also like looking into the fact that his element, besides Shadow, is Storm, as opposed to pure Shadow or Death, as most major antagonists are. Storm is a school based on invention, experimentation and improvement. This is something that interests me for two reasons: one, the magic of major antagonists is always a part of their character, Malistaire the most blatantly, and two, because of this line he says in Mirage.
To my interpretation, this would imply that he sees the Spiral as something that could be improved. And as a god, he would of course find it his obligation to try and fix this flaw. When he made the barter with the Cabal, I don’t doubt he was being at least partially honest about restoring the FirstWorld; it would certainly fix the flaw it has in the context of stealing his internal organs, but he would also probably seek to improve it, make it more suited to Shadow or something.
Something else I find intriguing is how weirdly honest he is; I don’t recall him ever lying to us once, unless you count omitting certain facts as lying. But that’s absolutely something I can see him using against people, like “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you, your fault for not asking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .” As said before, he;s really good at manipulating people and he weaponizes whatever he can; @that-wizard-oki made a really great post about how he uses conflicts- his fault or not- to his advantage, and does his own thing in the background without interruption, Mirage and Neumia probably being the best example of this, with Scorpion and the Cabal serving as distractions while he either carries out things himself or gives instructions.
To pull all of this together narratively, I think it’s important to consider this line from Mellori during one of their confrontations:
He feels powerless, so he puffs up his god status. He has little power to fight with, compared to before, so he mostly manipulates and creates back-up plans while causing conflicts to serve as distractions. His love hurt him, so he lashes out at others and drags them into his problems.
You may ask, “But Sam, these are all bad qualities, why should we like him because of this?” And I would respond “Because it makes him a complex and interesting antagonist.” The kind of character that executes his shitty actions in such a way that you can’t help but respect- even just for the level of dramatics put in to it- while also having a motive that makes you stop and consider that maybe he has a point but is very much handling the situation the wrong way.
Like, c’mon, he ticks so many villain boxes. Tragic backstory? Check. Blatant thespian who owns it? Check. Gets his hands dirty before the climax of the story? Check. Smart/ manipulative/ has back-up plans? Check. Understandable, strong motives? Check.
He’s got layers. Like onion. I felt like there was always something new to discover about him, and for that I can assert my opinion that he’s one of the best characters in Wizard101.
lmao if you read this far into my simp-for-shithead post congrats. feel free to shoot me more asks on the subject bc i cant write persuasive-essay-esque format anymore my brain is rotting. if you will excuse me, im off to listen to the chronoverge combat track for the 82937487734th time
#i get that a lot of people havent gotten far enough into the game to meet him but I ENCOURAGE U TO TRY BC HE'S A GOOD AND FUN CHARACTER OKAY#i need more cob content >:U#wizard101#w101
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From the Dining Table
hello friends <3 this is my second fic for the HS1 Masterlist that @bfharry , @stylesloveclub and I have teamed up to write for you, hope you enjoy x
2.9k angst angst angst
For the first time in a long time, Harry was alone. It was a strong contrast to his old schedule, his days were always jam packed with press interviews, meetings, radio interviews, red carpets, appearances, talk show interviews, meet and greets, concerts...He was definitely a busy bee.
He knows he should be happy. It should be unquestionably irie to simply relax and have some time to himself, but Harry is miserable. Has been ever since her. It’s been too long since he’s seen her eyes, those pretty eyes that he could get lost in for hours gazing back at him, and her smile. God, her smile could cheer him up in his darkest days. He can’t stop thinking about her cheeks and how he used to squish them while he cooed at how adorable she was because they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen and whenever she would blush around him he’d brush his thumb across her cheeks and give her butterfly kisses across her soft skin.
He loves her sense of humor, and how she could always make him laugh. Even if he thought he was having the worst day of his life, he saw her and nothing else mattered. Thinking about her personality made his heart thump in his chest. She was so sweet and kind, and so selfless. She was always doing things for other people and she was strong, and so supportive of everything. His lifestyle, his busy schedule, his privacy, everything.
He loves her style, he definitely finds himself wearing things that he thinks she would like. She’s the one who inspired him to jump out of his comfort zone of tight jeans and chelsea boots and explore different colors, patterns, materials, and he’s forever grateful that she showed him that he could be himself, he swears she’s the real reason he truly blossomed into his own style. Not just around her, but that he could show the world who he really was as well. And she cares so much about animals, he loves watching her interact with them, one of his favorite memories being the time that she rescued a family of bunnies from a fox in Harry’s back garden and it was quite literally the sweetest thing his eyes had ever seen. He misses her tender heart and how gentle natured she is.
He misses how he feels fireworks every time she touches him. He misses how her lips taste, how it feels when they move against his. He misses her soft skin, and how she smells like citron and rose. He misses waking up every morning and seeing her all sleepy as he kisses her all over. He misses how she used to touch him and he feels in his bones that no one could ever make him feel the way that she did.
He misses all of that, all of her. Every single inch of her skin, every little bit of what makes her who she is. But he doesn’t get any of her. Not anymore. Instead, he’s alone in this random hotel room and awake at four in the morning because he can’t think about sleep. If he does, all he’d dream about is her. Not that being awake is any better because she is the only thing swirling around in his brain. Flashbacks are hell, especially when he can’t stop thinking about her being on top of him right now, looking completely fucked out of her mind as she rides his cock. He’d be pressing the back of his head into the pillows and she’d touch his chest and smooth her hands down to his lower belly and she’d be doing all the things that she knows drives him fucking wild.
He can’t help himself as he starts to lightly tease himself through the white sheet covering the lower half of his body and there’s a hitch in his breath at the feeling of his fingertips stroking his cock under the thin material. His eyes flutter closed and he’s got nothing on underneath and it just makes him think of her more because he thinks of how much she loved barebacking, and Harry really fucking loved it. The feeling was indescribable, feeling her so deeply on such an intimate level was something out of this world. With every thought of her his reflexes added more pressure, his body temperature rising with every moment passing by until he’d had enough and nearly rips the sheet away from his lower torso and he’s fisting himself now, chasing his release and all he can think about now is how much better she is at the act in question, so much so that it blew Harry’s mind. He didn’t last long, but at this point he didn’t give two fucks if he had an orgasm or not, he just needed to feel something. He was left in a daze as he pushed himself off the bed and towards the bathroom.
˙· .° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °. · ˙ ‧̍̊
Long, hot showers were created for the sole purpose of contemplating your life, right? Or are they just for trying to cry away a broken heart. He doesn’t know the answer, nor does he know how long he stood there, before tilting his head back and letting the water splash onto his wet locks. Hot water from the shower head hitting his back. After around twenty minutes his skin was numb to the feeling.
In the beginning he’d considered it all, but the reality? She left him, without any sort of reason. Harry’s spent weeks and weeks wracking his brain for something, anything he could’ve done so that he can apologize, make it right. Truly, he hadn’t felt that he’d done anything to upset her. So yes, he had every right to be angry. Maybe it was his fault. He’d spent endless sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of a hotel room, mostly because he couldn't bear to be home because everything reminded him of her, and his mind just couldn’t go there. His nights were spent tossing and turning, doing absolutely nothing until his friends finally convinced him to go out with them.
He didn’t want to admit that it was better than wallowing in self pity all night, but it was. For the next few weeks, all Harry had gotten himself into a cycle. Go out, get drunk, and at the end of the night he’d always be unsatisfied. He kept telling himself he was never going out for the sole purpose to bring a girl that looked like her back to his hotel room, but that’s just what he was telling himself. Deep inside, he was struggling to feel anything. He was angry, sad, and broken.
She didn’t leave her bed for three days. Dejection mercilessly beat up her heart until it felt like there was nothing left. The heartbreak gnawed away at her. She was barely eating, couldn’t sleep and she had no one to blame but herself. She stayed huddled under the covers as she wallowed in self sorrow, knowing all too well that this was all her fault.
It was a travesty. It should have never happened, especially not like this.
The connection they shared was unbreakable. It was evident that nothing could ever raze the bond that they created together. They made the best team, and they were inseparable. Everything was perfect. Harry was charming, loving and softhearted.
Their love was like the ocean. It was tranquil and soothing, yet strong and deep. It was so incredibly breathtaking, but also had the intense potential to destroy. To put it simply, she was damaged. Way before she met Harry, and that was it. She thought she had it under control, she thought that they could make it. They did, for a while, but her demons caught up with her eventually. Everything heightened after she was exposed to all of it. The rumors, the paparazzi, the backlash. It triggered all the worst parts of her, the things that she had kept under control for so long. He tried to help her, tried to fix them. They both tried, but it just wasn’t working.
Now, months later, she was here at the airport. She knew she had to go to him and try to make things right. Clutching her ticket in her hand, she slouched into her chair, staring at all the glowing red words that read “cancelled” across the board. How unlucky was she that she would be stuck at the airport, alone.
“Hi, d’you have any flights t’London for tonight?”
She could hear her heart thumping in her ears when she heard the voice at the desk a few feet away from behind her. It felt like every cell in her body was on fire, she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could happen yet! She was supposed to have a six hour flight to coach herself before this.
“A’right, thank you.”
Oh my god, is he gonna say something? Of course he won't, he hates me.
It felt like she didn’t know him anymore, this boy, this charming, sweet boy that she fell in love with. She was afraid of how angry he is, how bitter that she left.
“Y/N?”
His voice was soft and hesitant, almost shaky.
Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment before looking up at him. He looked dumbfounded, at a loss for words. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw each other. He watched the color drain from her face, and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. There they were, face to face in JFK Airport. Seeing each other for the first time since their downfall.
The tension couldn’t get any thicker. Her eyes were locked onto his face, watching him give a pained expression before quickly brushing past her.
“H, wait—”
“You don’t get t’call me tha’ anymore.”
His voice was cold, biting back at her words over his shoulder. He didn’t stop sauntering across the airport and she struggled to keep up.
“Please...I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?” She implores before pressing her lips together. “Please.”
His teeth clench before stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her.
“Took y’long enough.”
There was no hint of humor in his voice, no Styles charm, no cheeky smile, no dimples, nothing.
“You look good.”
He scoffs, almost rolling his eyes because he know’s that she’s lying. He knows she’s being kind.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Shit.
“Right.” she nods, eyes falling down to his shoes.
“How are you?”
“Miserable.” she answers honestly.
“S’tha’ supposed t’be my fault?”
She felt her waterline start to sting, but he had every right to be bitter.
“No,”
“Fuck, shouldn’t have said tha’, m’sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” she shakes her head dismissively, brushing off his apology. “I deserved that.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Are we really doin’ this right now?”
She gave him a look of desperation, silently begging him to stay. Begging him to listen, even if she didn’t deserve that from him, she knew she didn’t. Harry contemplated whether he should give her any of his time, miss his flight to listen to whatever sorry excuse for an apology she had. But, his heart was still soft for her.
“Where were y’goin?”
“I...I was coming to see you. I thought you’d be in London.”
She was going to London?
“Y’were goin’ t’London?” he quirks, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
She nods. Yeah, to see you.
Harry has the biggest, yet quickest inner battle of his life. He wasn’t sure if letting you back into his house after what happened was the worst decision he’ll ever make or the best one, but he sure as hell felt that it was the right one.
“We can’t talk here.” he muttered, fumbling with his phone once it was pulled out of his pocket. “We can go back to mine.”
Her focus falters, eyes looking at anything but him. she hadn’t been there since…since she fucked up, to put it simply. Her nerves were on the verge of snapping into an anxiety attack.
The car ride to Harry’s house was...well, she couldn’t think of anything more awkward. Except the first moment they had stepped inside his house. Neither of them bothered to get their things out of the back of his car, the luggage quickly forgotten.
It was evident that his energy was extremely low. The discoloration under his eyes was evident and it made her want to cry. She watches in agony as he trudged over to the fireplace mantle, fingertips padding the glass of the frame. Inside was a photo taken when he had taken you on a trip to Norway last October. The two of you were dressed in some cozy pajamas, cuddling on the sofa as Harry took the picture with his camera.
“They weren’t rumors, if you were wondering.”
Her heart aches at his words. She remembered the headlines that ripped at her heart. Tears started to well up in her eyes, intently listening to the broken boy in front of her.
“I was alone, would try and drink ‘til they looked like you.”
Look at me. I’m right here, look at me.
“Said your name.” he murmurs, eyes focused down to where he’s fumbling with his hands. “Didn’t mean too, slipped out.”
Don’t cry, please don’t cry.
“Please look at me.” she cries, desperately trying to reach him, her Harry. “Look at me.”
“Can’t.” he’s shaking his head, locks flopping in front of his face. “I...I-I can’t-”
“Why not.” only a mere second passes by and it’s already too deafening for her to bear. “Tell me.”
“Because, you-” he gulps down a cry but tears are still filling his waterline. “You.”
It feels like time is frozen, like the only thing happening in the entire universe is this conversation.
“What?”
“You.” he looks up and locks his eyes with hers. “It’s you, s’always gonna be you. There’s never gonna be anyone else.”
She takes a step towards him, but he backs away and she swears he flinches and it breaks her heart.
“No, no, no. Y’don’t get t’do tha’. Don’ touch me.”
His words stung like venom inking through her veins.
“H-”
“No!” his eyes turn cold. “If you touch me, I...I won’t make it, I swear. Just- please.”
Just let me love you.
“I…” It’s too much for her to look at him, but she has to say it. He’s quiet, waiting for her to finish.
“I’m sorry.” she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up.”
“Look at me.”
He repeats her previous words. Maybe it’s out of spite, but could she blame him? Not in the slightest.
“You left me!” he snaps. “Why? What…” his chest is rising and falling faster than he can keep up with. “I’ve barely slept since you left, tryin’ t’think of what I did that was so awful.”
Guilt pangs through her as she watches him run his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyes averting to the floor.
“All I’ve ever done was treat y’like a princess,” he murmurs, kicking at the rug beneath his feet. “Sure, we were apart a lot, but I was starting fresh. We finally had time to do anythin’ we wanted. I thought you, of all people, would’ve wanted that.”
“I did, I-I still do.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ it.”
She stayed silent, so he chose to pipe up again.
“Why.”
If she doesn’t say it now, she’ll never say it. This is her once chance to fix things.
“You were talking about things...moving fast, too fast,” she speaks barely above a whisper, the chipped blue polish on her nails suddenly becoming quite interesting. “And with everything that people were saying,”
“Know y’had a hard time, I know tha’. But I thought we worked through it. Then I wake up and you’re gone.”
“I got scared.” he sits down next to her as she’s talking.
“Y’could’ve bloody told me tha’.” relief washes over him, but the temporary emotion is making him forget that the damage had already been done. “Would’ve understood.”
“I know.” she cried. “I panicked, and once I’d left, I felt like I couldn’t come back. I was so scared.”
“Y’can always come back t’me.” his voice is soft and he resists the urge to brush his thumb across her cheek. “I fuckin’ love you. Y’know that. Fuck’s sake, I was calling you, begging you for something.” he pried, not caring to wipe his eyes, now irritated from crying. “Why? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
Tears spilled onto your cheeks as you tried to apologize. “I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m so sorry.”
“I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what scares you so we can work through those things together. Don’t just...don’t just leave.”
“It never should’ve happened that way.” she admits. “But I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.” she offers, and his eyes flicker to her face when he feels her fingertips graze his own. “Maybe someday, the time’ll be right for us.”
He loves her. Regardless of what she’s put him through, he loves her.
“Tha’ time could be right now.” he speaks softly, moving his hand to hold hers. “For us.”
She looks up into his eyes, filled with hope and she moves her hands ever so slightly into his hold and he’s holding both of them now, and they're looking into each other’s eyes.
“You think so?”
He nods, squeezing his grip gently. “Know so.” he brings her hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “We can make it.”
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Truth (Todoroki x Reader)
Pairing: Todoroki x Reader
Genre: Crack, fluff
Summary: By some dumb luck, Todoroki’s drank some truth serum, and it’s the only way anyone finally hears what’s on his mind aka my excuse for making Todo act like an incorrect meme
Word count: 1,802
Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak
a/n: I’m back on my Todoroki BS. Only because I had no other ideas and I was babysitting most of the day so I had to pick something that I can passively write without any intense feelings. And because Todo deserves some crack. Not terribly proud of it, but it was a good idea in my head so, here ya go.
"It was a mistake! Honestly!" Hatsume cries, backed against the wall at the group of students confronting her.
"Well, YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO FIX IT!" Bakugou yells, the most ticked off of all of them, sparks popping in his palms.
"How could you do something so irresponsible? What were you even doing with something like that?" Iida reprimands the girl, chopping the air as usual.
I was planning on asking Hastume for some adjustments on my hero costume, but instead I'm standing in the doorway watching a confrontation. In addition to the two boys, Uraraka and Midoriya stand behind them, slightly flustered but still cross. Yaoyorozu stands with them, arms crossed over her chest in disappointment.
"Uh...?" All of their heads snap towards me. "What's...going on, guys?"
Before anyone has a chance to respond, Bakugou bellows, "THIS IDIOT MADE ICYHOT INTO A RUDE EMO BASTARD!"
Huh? I blink and turn to the three standing aside for a better explanation while Iida continues reprimanding the support girl for her wrongdoings.
Yaoyorozu rubs the bridge of her nose. "Hastume-san made a truth serum for some reason and left it in a cup of tea, which he drank."
"I thought he would've liked it to cheer him up," Uraraka twiddles her finger nervously, "He seemed more stoic and quiet than usual today. Deku and I came for some upgrades and we saw it on the table."
"Hastume-san said I could have it, but we figured Todoroki would've liked it instead," Midoriya whines out. "It's all my fault, I did this."
"You had no way of knowing, Midoriya, don't beat yourself up," I assure the poor boy and I quirk an eyebrow. "But, if Hastume said you could have it, and there was a truth serum inside it, then what was she trying to...?" I slowly turn to the girl in question.
At my train of logic, Bakugou growls and steps closer to her. "YOU BETTER START TALKING, PINK HAIR!"
Her face becomes flustered. "I just needed to ask him a few questions, that's all!"
"You should be ashamed of coercing your schoolmates for information like that! That's way beyond unethical!" Iida chimes in, truly the class representative.
"Guys, why she did it is a whole side issue, the bigger thing is that she makes something to fix it," I cross my arms in front of my chest and give her a harsh stare.
Hastume waves her arms around. "I promise it's only temporary! It should wear off by itself in an hour or less!"
"If you're wrong, I won't have any qualms about the two of us roughing you up," I crack one of my knuckles and she nods frantically. I turn to Bakugou. "Wait, so what do you mean Todoroki's a 'rude, emo bastard'?"
.
"I think it's unhealthy for you to be eating all those sweets, but it's part of your quirk, so I guess you can't help it."
Frankly, Sato doesn't know how to react to that. The confused guy was just coming out of his dorm with freshly baked cakes ready to share with his classmates when Todoroki, quite literally, violated his quirk with such a stoic expression.
"Okay, I understand the rude part," I whisper to Midoriya, covering my hand with my mouth.
"Just wait, it gets worse."
Mineta casually walks down the hall towards the two boys and waves, "What's up guys-"
Todoroki looks down at the little purple boy. "I'd love to file a restraining order against you on behalf of every girl in this school, it's a good thing you're not pansexual or else I would've done it myself."
Mineta's jaw drops to the floor. "I- Where-"
Kaminari laughs from behind, patting the boy's back. "Todoroki got you good, Mineta!"
Todoroki sighs. "I don't know how to sugarcoat this, Kaminari, but I'm afraid that being around you might make me lose brain cells. Sero should probably tape your mouth shut. At least then he would be a more notable classmate."
My jaw drops to the ground and I shrink back a little behind the corner so they can't see us. "Oh...my...god." Half of me doesn't want to go out there for fear of what he might say to me.
Kirishima eases up to the sharp-tongued boy. "Hey, hey, where's this coming from, dude? We're your friends."
His mismatched eyes downcast. "Unfortunately, I was never taught how to be friendly because I was isolated for most of my childhood. Not to mention my father isn't the most personable or kind either."
The hallways falls silent. What is anyone supposed to say in that situation?
"I'm going to bed. At least in sleep, I can feel a percentage of the sweet relief of death," Todoroki casually turns on his heels and walks off.
"Holy shit, it's worse than I thought," I mutter. I've always wondered what's inside the usually quiet and proper boy's head, but this is something else.
"OI, ICYHOT!"
"For fuck's sake, Bakugou, you couldn't have just left him alone?!" I whisper-yell at his sheer stupidity.
Todoroki turns around to face the spiky-haired hothead. "Yes, Pomeranian?"
Bakugou growls at the insult. "I'm still not finished with you from earlier!"
There's still the same cold expression on his face. "What more do you want? Do you want me to say that if I wasn't hesitant to use my left side at the Sport Festival, I would've been the 1st place winner?"
The ash blond pops sparks from his hands. "You wanna test that theory out right now?!"
Todoroki puts his hands in his pockets, still keeping his cool. "I'd rather not waste my energy ruining this building to appease someone with a deeply rooted inferiority complex."
"You better shut up before I smash your face in!" He bends his legs into position, about to spring.
"And I'd still be considered better looking than you."
I come out from behind the wall to calm the situation down before it escalates anymore. "Alright, that's enough." I glare at Bakugou. "You didn't need to egg him on, stupid, you just made it worse for yourself." I brace myself and turn around. "Todoroki, just-"
"I like you."
The rest of my words catch in my throat. Huh? I had to look up to make sure he was looking at me.
His heterochromatic gaze fixes on me. "You can be just as aggressive as Bakugou at times, and it's frustrating how you have so much potential to be a great hero with such a strong quirk, not to mention that you can be such a mess during practice." He steps towards me so we're standing arm's length away. "But you're charming and sweet as well. Just seeing you smiling makes me feel warm on the inside. Sometime's it's the only thing I need to see in the morning to make my day better. And I can look into your eyes..." He trails off suddenly.
My heart's already pounding and I can feel the heat from my blush reach my ears. When he stops, I finally let out a breath. I thought I was going to die if he continued.
Todoroki's expression morphs into slight confusion before his eyes widen and he looks around at all the slack-jaws and smirks around us. A blush as intensely red as his left side colors his entire face and neck. When his gaze finally rounds back to me, he nearly bursts into flames and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Pardon me," he murmurs before retreating to his room.
I'm dizzy enough that I could faint, from both embarrassment and joy that the guy I like has feelings for me too. My legs are about to give out until Midoriya holds me up. "I guess...the serum's...worn off now," I let out shakily.
"Are you okay?" The freckled boy looks concerned trying to balance me back onto my feet.
I nod, my thoughts a little scrambled, but I still need to address the rest of the students. "So, uh, Todoroki was under a truth serum, which is why this all happened. Just thought I'd let you guys know." I lean over Midoriya's ear. "Can you take care of the rest?" The weightlessness in my stomach tells me I should go knock on a certain someone's door and talk to them.
The boy nods and I stumble over to Todoroki's door, leaving Iida's signature class rep voice to deal with damage control. I take a deep breath to calm my rattled nerves as I stand there. I'd say we're friends by association, since we both talk to Midoriya, but we've never really been alone to talk before. Somehow, I'd developed a crush on him, but I'd never really planned on confessing.
I gather my wits and knock gently. "Todoroki? It's me."
There's rustling of clothes very close to the door, which means he was probably sitting behind it, before the boy opens it a crack. He clears his throat, "Yes?"
It's cute how he's trying to sound like everything's normal. "Can I come in? I'd like to talk."
Without another word, he opens the door fully to let me in, closing it behind me. He doesn't meet my eyes, trying to hide his face behind a closed fist. The image of this normally cool guy falling apart embarrassed is priceless. "I'm...sorry...I embarrassed you. And I wasn't very kind to everyone else either. My behavior was completely out of line, and I'd like to take back everything-"
"You want to take back what you said about me, too?"
His face turns even more crimson. "If it makes you uncomfortable..."
"It doesn't, actually."
The boy finally looks at me, childish shock clear in his eyes. It makes me want to hug him and not let go. "Really?"
I nod, "I'm just a little upset that you cut off where you did." I close the distance between us and tug the fabric on his sleeve. "What did you want to say about my eyes?"
It seems I might have asked too much of him. He's the complete opposite of how he was 2 minutes ago, but that's what makes this more genuine to me. "I...was going to say...I can look into your eyes...all day." And he finally does so. "Because they hold the entire soul of the person I'd like to get to know."
My heart flutters at the cliche but sweet line and throw my arms around him. "Was that so hard to say?" I tease.
"Somewhat..."
I rest my head on his shoulder. "I like you too, Todoroki." The words coming out of my mouth feels almost like a liberation. And when his stiff figure finally loosens up to envelop me too, I smile. "You know, you're gonna have to apologize to everyone formally tomorrow."
His body becomes hotter. "I know..."
#todoroki x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#todoroki shouto#todoroki fluff#crack#todoroki imagine#todoroki scenario#gender neutral reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction
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