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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Your name is Tim Drake and you are nine years old.

Today, tomorrow, and soon, you're going to save Robin.

----

Tim stares at his reflection on the sink tap. It trembles, along with the plane, as he contemplates his situation.

His face is rounder, now, with unfamiliar baby-fat rounding out the sharp lines he'd come to expect. Even with the subpar reflection, Tim can tell that his dark eyebags are all but gone, replaced with youthful skin.

Magic. He's being quite literal, seeing as he's been tossed into the body of his younger self at the hands of a crazed magician.

He could find a way back... or he could create a completely different timeline by fixing everything that went wrong. It's not like he has anything to go back to, anyways. That crazed magician was actually competent and killed everyone he ever cared about. Tim barely got away with his life. He could go back to save that shell of a world- surrounded by people whose minds were broken beyond magical and medical repair- or stay here, fix his own personal troubles and cut off the magician before he could start with his world domination bullshit.

Well, Tim already has an idea of what he wants. So he begins a list, after having oriented himself.

Save Robin

There's no point trying to convince Bruce that he knows where Jason's being held. So, Tim finds himself on a plane to Ethiopia a day before Jason's meant to die. This was long before Barbara even thought of being Oracle, and the tech is ancient in his hands. In short order, nine year old Tim has a trust fund with millions in it, all siphoned from billionaires like Lex Luthor and his own parents.

Tim toddles back to his seat, after washing his hands because he still can't shake the extra bit of paranoia that came with a missing spleen. Oh. Tim blinks guilelessly at his seat neighbor, smiling like Timothy Drake, Angel of a Son as he reels from the realization that he still has his spleen.

Tim adds another box to his list:

Keep Ra's away from my spleen, creepy bastard.

What else...? Ah, the League of Assassins.

Damian

Tim pauses. Holy crap. Damian's only six right now. Tim moves Damian's box upwards in urgency. Tim might have a mildly antagonistic relationship with his younger brother back then, but he wants baby pictures of his siblings, dammit. He's gonna put that photography expertise to good use if it's the last thing he does.

Watch over Z, Owens, Pru

'They're alive!' His mind screams. Cold rationality slaps the sentimentality down with a quick 'But they won't be if I fail.'

His mind wanders to Dick Grayson. He scowls as something pops up in the back of his head.

Catalina Flores

Contact Nightwing- in space

He's gotta call Dick back from that Teen Titans mission, Jason's gonna need all of the support he's going to get.

Find Cass

Train Steph

Save Duke's family from Venom

Tim taps at that last point. He'll save them. But that might mean Duke might never join their family.

But he'll be happy and Tim... will deal with it. He'll be the only one mourning, anyways. To end on a lighter note, he adds something that he should have done ages ago.

Give Tam a raise.

Tim sighs as he gets out of the airport, the hired escort he found and vetted, delivering him to a predetermined hotel. They think his parents are already inside. He laughs and does not say anything to make them think otherwise. He has so many things to do, Tim laments as he settles down to track the Joker's movements. Here. That's where Jason's being held. Being tortured.

He can, however, knock two things off his list in one go. Tim picks up the burner phone he acquired. He doesn't have time, or else he would have done this sooner and saved them all the trouble.

[RR: Are you in Ethiopia yet?]

[Deathstroke: Payment confirmed. In Ethiopia.]

[RR: Third building by the docks.]

An hour.

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Target spotted.]

Ten minutes.

[Deathstroke: Target eliminated. Bringing Robin to Safehouse.]

Twenty minutes.

[Deathstroke: Basic first aid applied. Leaving.]

[RR: Secondary payment sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Pleasure doing business with you.]

Tim sprawls on the king bed. He sighs a breath of relief. He'd check on Jason in person, if he weren't paranoid about leaving traces that would get back to him. Tim's pretty sure that Deathstroke's going to get hunted down in the near future, regardless, so he made sure to add a huge tip on top of the extra fees for burning one of Deathstroke's safe houses and the emergency first aid. He taps into the rudimentary camera Deathstroke had given him the access codes to, to stare at Jason's rising and falling chest. On a further table, the Joker's head laid in a preservation box.

He bypasses all of the security on the Teen Titan's tech to send Dick a message.

[Robin has been retrieved from the Joker. Contact Batman for details.]

Then, he sends Bruce the location of the safe house. Tim spends the rest of the day staring at Jason and watching his father in another timeline break as he huddles close to the broken body of Tim's Robin.

Timothy Drake destroys the burner phone.

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hellish-sunsets · 27 days

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You're an Asshole - Pt 2 - First Attempt

Pt 1

Summary: Adam goes to a concert and tries to win reader over.

Warning: swearing

Word Count: 1,302

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This was fucking bullshit.

He glared at the stupid list in his hand, squinting at the smudged and blurry ink. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the clock on the shelf somewhere above his head. The only light was from the desk lamp, dim and just enough to light the old wooden desk. It wasn’t the grand mahogany desk of his office at work, but the worn pine of the desk shoved in the corner of his bedroom. The corners were covered in dust, telling of how rarely this desk was used. Why would he? There was plenty of better shit to do.

He was supposed to be going to a concert later tonight. That should be a fuckton more fun than agonizing over this bullshit.

Misogynistic, egotistical, sex obsessed, demeaning, condescending (he was almost certain those two were the same thing but whatever), hateful, violent, foul-mouthed all around rude.

He was sure he wasn't always like this, was he? He huffed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He chose not to dwell on that thought. What mattered right now was proving to that stuck up bitch he wasn't an asshole. Even if… he was starting to think maybe he was. But what did that matter? No one was perfect. Besides, he was the first man himself! He was allowed a few more assholeish mannerisms, right?

Fuck that stupid bitch! This whole thing was fucking with his head. He would just got to this lame ass concert, prove to that bitch he was the most charming, not assholish person in existence, they would fuck and he could be over with this whole fucking situation.

He smirked at himself, leaning back in the chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. He would be sure this night would be worth it.

‐‐—--------------------

Just as he suspected, the concert itself was lame as fuck, some whiny emo bullshit he just couldn't get behind. He spent most of the time looking around for her. What even was her name again? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered.

He didn't catch sight of her until the concert was almost over, the chorus of the last song clashing over the audience and drowning out their cheers. She was towards the front, the lights flashing and playing across her skin, lighting up her face and broad white smile, long white hair and wings reflecting the various colors, mostly blues and purples. She almost looked like she was glowing, but that was corny ass couple shit or something. It was just another chick at a concert, just like all these other bitches.

He let her enjoy the rest of the song before approaching her, the last clash of the cymbals his signal to swoop in.

“Watch this, Lute.” He said with a smirk, elbow digging into her side and making her scowl and roll her eyes. “I'm gonna have this bitch eating out of my hand.”

“I know, sir, just get going before she runs off.” She said with a huff, fighting off a smirk of her own. He gave her a mock salute and headed towards his latest victim, the picture of innocence as she happily chatted with the few winners around her, unaware of how hard she was about to fall for him. He shoved through the crowd, earning scowls he ignored.

Just be nice. Don't talk about yourself too much. Pretend you care. He could do this, just for one night.

“Hey, ti- uh, toots!” He said with a cocky grin, sliding in next to her. He mentally congratulated himself for not calling her tits. Most chick's didn't like it. He wasn't wearing his mask tonight, figured it would be easier to win her over if he could use his naturally good looks. That, and maybe she was stupid enough to think he was someone else.

The group around her seemed tense when he showed up. One of them, another chick, tried to grab her arm and drag her away, but she gently nudged them off and offered them a warm smile.

“Hi, Adam. Gotta say, bit surprised to see you around here. Didn't think you liked this type of music.”

Not stupid then. Good, more fun that way.

“Ya know, just figured I'd try something new.” He said with a half shrug.

Her eyes lit up, a sparkling sort of blue. He couldn’t make out the exact shade in the dim lighting of the venue. “Good for you! I love hearing new music, it's so interesting to see all the different ways humans come up with to make songs! I also just really like finding what new instruments they come up with! How did you like it?”

He could feel the smirk slip from his face as he huffed. He had a lot of words to describe this donkey shit of a concert: whiney, pathetic, shit, stupid, fucking lame. But he couldn’t voice any of that. He had to be polite. Eventually he managed another shrug.

“Yeah, definitely not my thing. Still going metal and rock and roll all the way.” That cocky smirk of his returned to his face and she gave an understanding nod.

“Yeah, fair enough, but I'm glad you gave it a try! Life’s boring if you never try anything new.” She said with that flashing smile. Her friend's hand was on her arm again, but she still wouldn’t follow their lead, not yet anyways. He smirked to himself. He was reeling her in nicely, he was sure.

“Yeah? And what music do you find rockin'm?” It was a trick question, of course. He had already heard her music before, but he wasn’t about to let that slip. Don't want to give her a big head or something or give off the impression he was some fan.

“Ah, I don't usually have a genre preference.” She said with a wave of her hand, feathers ruffling slightly as she thought. “It's more like… I have specific songs I like, but no favorite genre. I don't really have a favorite band either. That's kind of fucking lame though, huh?” She said that last part with a nervous chuckle, wings drooping slightly, finger scratching at her cheek.

“Of fucking course not, don't be fucking stupid.” He said with a frown. It was a rather lame attempt at reassurance, but that was the best he could do. Her eyes widened in surprise and he was sure he had fucked it up, but then she flashed that bright smile of hers.

“Aw, thanks Adam! I guess you're right. Anyways.” She waved it off and continued. “I'm in a band and we do stick to a specific genre, I guess, but that’s just for image, you know? No one likes a band that's constantly changing genre. It's like… folk… punk? I think that's the best way to describe it.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds badass.” And he might have actually meant it? He wasn’t entirely sure. Probably not. “Anyway, want to take this party on the road or something?”

And for a moment he really did think he had her. She gave him that pretty little smile, her wings fluttering slightly.

“Nah, I can’t.” He could feel his face fall and she giggled at that look. “Awww, come on, don’t look so disappointed! I’ve got work to do before bed, but we can hang out another time, okay?”

It took every fiber in his being to remind himself to keep his cool, play it off, it wasn’t a no. He could still win her over yet.

“Yeah, alright, no biggie. Catch you next time bitch!” He abruptly turned away and marched off, managing to hide the scowl on his face, at least from her.

Next time, bitch. He would fucking get her next time.

#reader insert #hazbin hotel reader insert #Adam x reader #adam x fem!reader #adam x angel!reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam

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artificial-transmutations · 7 months

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Beating Recession

Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.

"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.

Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.

In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.

So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.

He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.

He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.

"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"

He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.

To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:

"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"

It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:

"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."

The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:

"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"

Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?

"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."

Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.

"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"

What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?

"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."

"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."

"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"

Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.

"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."

That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?

"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."

"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"

"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"

"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."

Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.

A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."

"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?

"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.

"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."

"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."

Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:

"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"

Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."

"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."

Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:

"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:

"... penis is big enough for such a position."

The answer came promptly.

"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"

A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!

He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!

His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.

"Are you still there, Sir?"

"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?

Instead, Kevin answered.

"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"

"Uhm, yes."

"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"

Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.

"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.

"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"

Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."

"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"

Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...

"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.

"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:

"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"

Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.

"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."

"Are you sure ;-)?"

Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.

Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.

Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?

"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.

"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.

"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.

"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"

This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.

He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.

He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:

"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"

He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!

That's certainly a way to beat recession! Also check out this blog!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #straight to gay #dumbing down #racial transformation

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spookberry · 1 month

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Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

#shadow high #rainbow high #my art #fanart #i had to write down all my ideas just to get them outta my head #now im free

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pinkpigtailsprincess · 22 days

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𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ The Advice Column Issue No.1 ; How to deal with fake friends while balancing school life 🎀🧁

Hii Dolls!!!⭐️ This is officially the first issue of my Brand new segment The Advice Column!!!! and i chose the topic fake friends bc as someone who’s had an alarming amount of fake friends in the past i can definitely give endless advice in this topic and its a collab with the @honeytonedhottie !! bc i thought she could also give so really good advice!!🎀⭐️

Are you struggling with keeping up in your studies? worried if your friends are talking behind ur back? Stressed? Feeling like school and socials are just to much??? DONT WORRY!! Dolly n Honey are gonna save the day!! 🎀⭐️

Section 1 ; Honey!!🍯

how to balance ur school and social life (in bullet points) !! 🎀🧁

- make a list of priorities and stick to it like its a handbook

- practice saying no to events and saying no to excessive studying, the key is to find an equilibrium

- combine social and academic events

- make sure to use ur time wisely and do whats important first, so that then u can have loads of time for ur social life!

Section 2 ; Dolly! 🎀

No.1 ; Stand up for yourself!! ⭐️

if ur so called “friend” is constantly make smart remarks about you,scrutinizing you for the smallest thing,being passive aggressive or really just trying to hurt your feelings always stand up for yourself and never let insult like that because that shows that you have no self respect and then they’re gonna just keep doing it set clear boundaries and don’t be a doormat never let this person/people walk all over you , if you didn’t appreciate something they said don’t take shit from them address and make sure it never happens again

No.2 ; spotting a secretly fake friend⭐️!

now there’s obviously “friends” that you can spot from a mile away that they’re definitely toxic but theres also a certain type of friend that could be the sweetest to ur face but secretly talk shit behind ur back and its honestly not that hard to spot one of these “friends” so here are some characteristics of ‘the secretly fake friend’

- never sticks up for you

- constantly lying

- at time can be very passive aggressive

- will tell you that someone was talking about you and not defend you at all

- will make you feel like a bad friend even if they’re wrong in the situation

- if you’ve ever confronted them on their behavior and they say they’re sorry but then repeats the same actions

- lets their other friends talk shit about you

- HUGE VICTIM COMPLEX!

these kinds of fake friends are tricky bc you really can’t spot them at first and then it can be harder to cut them off which brings me to my next point

No.3 CUT THEM OFF !!⭐️

listen i know its hard to let go of these people at first im mean I’ve had to do it multiple times but i swear it gets sooo much easier to not have these people in ur life its way better to have no friends than a bunch of friends thats secretly hate you don’t stay caught up on toxic people like this its a waste of ur own peace and well being , block them,stop following them,stop talking to them have NOTHING to do with these people/person

No.5 ; Ur not special !!

now this title is a bit alarming but what i mean by that is if you have a friend that’s constantly talks down about people for no reason whether it be their friends or someone they know and im not talking about the standard gossip talk bc tbh everyone gossips but im talking about like drags them through the mud calls them mean names and purposefully spreads rumors about other people they’ll do it to do you as well ur not special i doesn’t matter what this person is telling you they’ll talk about any and everyone it doesn’t matter people like this do not care

No.4 ; Being Un-phased !! ⭐️

now after you cut them off either gonna

A. make it seem like they’re innocent and have been nothing but nice to you and try and make you feel bad

B. Act like theirs beef when in reality theres not they just want a reason to start a problem

C. to the standard mean girl remarks side eyes,whispers,random pointing and slightly laughing, or even in some cases talk loudly about you but indirectly

now in any of these situations never let it bother you show no reaction these kinds of people feed off ur fear of them shows no reaction when it comes to things like this and you can also do it back side eye them back,give them weird looks back now im definitely not saying be just like them but play their game don’t let disrespect like this slide and i know how hard it can be especially since these are people ir support be close with but i promise making friends that actually care about you is WORLDS BETTER!!! you’ll have such a peace of mind and being able to make friend that actually care about you is such a freeing feeling!!!!

Reminders!!! 🎀🍯

- they’re opinions don’t matter

- these people are no above you in any way shape or form

- stress is normal don’t let it get to you !!

- you deserve much better friends

- it normal to feel sad after cutting them off

- this person/these people don’t deserve you!!!

- you got thiss!!!

#2sweet2eat🎀🧁#manifesting #The Advice Column with dolly 🎀⭐️#dolly #advice #it girl #itgirl #dream girl #self care #self improvement #that girl #wonyoungism #girl blogger #girl blog aesthetic #girly aesthetic #girl blogging #dollygirl #dollcore

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khaire-traveler · 18 days

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🌠 Subtle Nyx Worship 🌌

Go star-gazing, especially out in nature where you can see the stars more clearly

Learn about the different constellations as well as any Greek myths associated with them

Pay attention to the phases of the moon; learn what their meanings are

Try veiling

Get a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Wear silver jewelry

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal horse or owl; have a stuffed animal of any nocturnal animal

Have imagery of the night sky, stars, space, horses (especially in a chariot), owls, nocturnal animals, or foggy nights around

Meditate at night; try to relax at night; sit in darkness silently for a bit

Get a telescope; use it to observe the stars

Leave a glass of water/salt water on your windowsill at night

Take a bath/shower with only the light of candles/dim lighting (SAFELY!!!!)

Support space-related organizations such as NASA

Learn more about space, stars, planets, etc.

Engage in relaxing activities or ones that you're passionate about

Have a bedtime/nighttime routine

Keep a dream journal; write down your dreams; try to interpret them

Drink black tea or coffee (or anything that relaxes you); add honey if you want

Drink red wine or red sparkling grape juice; raise a glass to her

Pick and save flowers still wet with evening dew; dry or press them; great if the colors are ones you personally associate with her

Feed neighborhood cats, dogs, birds, etc., especially at night (please make sure it's safe to leave food out in your area; do not attract predators!!!!)

Burn a relaxing incense at night; lavender, jasmine, patchouli, etc.

Write poetry about the night, stars, space, etc.; it doesn't have to explicitly name her

Try to practice meditation; practice mindfulness

Ground yourself regularly, especially at night

Make your space comfortable and relaxing for yourself; sleep with cozy blankets, decorate with dim fairy lights for nighttime, sleep with stuffed animals, etc.

Learn getting comfortable with change; go outside your comfort zone, do something spontaneous, cope with stress during an unpredictable situation, etc.

Let go of things that no longer serve you

Dance or sing at night; enjoy yourself at the end of your day

Play with pets before bed to tire them out so that they can sleep better c:

Watch movies or shows at night with loved ones; something you'd all enjoy

Light a bonfire or small fire at night; enjoy the peace of the night around you

Go camping; sleep under the stars

Keep a personal diary; write down positives and negatives; make it your own

Make a list of things you enjoyed and disliked about your day at the end of your day

Feel your feelings; cry if you need to, etc.

Practice listening and observing your surroundings/people around you; don't make yourself paranoid, just passively observe

Practice patience and compassion, especially towards yourself

Spend your evenings decompressing, whatever you need to do to unwind; drink a warm drink, eat something comforting for dinner, read a book, etc.

Try to cut down your screentime before bed

I'll likely add more later, but for now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Nyx. I hope it's helpful, and take care! 💜

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #nyx deity #nyx worship #nyx #paganblr #deity worship #pagan tips

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itsgodepi · 7 months

Text

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment.

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse.

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand.

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish.

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger.

How is any of this possible?

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least.

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room.

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate.

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.

You had made all of this up.

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day.

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought.

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this.

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it.

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice.

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly.

They say you have done great though, so that is something.

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice.

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul.

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?”

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand?

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips.

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate.

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you.

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry”

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice.

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’.

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head.

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel.

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though.

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you”

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year”

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming.

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles.

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?”

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment.

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right?

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #carlos sainz x you #charles leclerc x you #lewis hamilton x you #daniel ricciardo x you

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snickerdoodlles · 1 month

Text

headcanons behind fic: Chay's allowance and KimChay zero baht dates mentioned in long & short

Kim chokes trying not to laugh. “Seriously Angel?” Chay looks at him, lips pulled into a pouty moue like what? “You only take me out on zero baht dates, but you’ll pay people to draw us as cats?” Chay sniffs primly. “I only use my allowance for education and fine art,” he says, haughty.

Korn giving Porsche and Chay a large allowance comes up in a lot of my fics I think, because I see him giving all of his sons and his wards a large allowance. And for once, it's not actually a part of his usual manipulation and control tactics.

(Well. It's not not about manipulation and control, because everything Korn does involves manipulation and control. Korn absolutely monitors their accounts and purchases, not to mention he's absolutely the sort of person to always have a mental ledger of favors given and owed for everyone, especially family.)

However, he doesn't need to control any of the boys' finances to have control over them and he's so present over all of them that giving them access to their own money (vs having them request it from him directly) doesn't give him any more advantage over them or could even run counter to it.

No, I see Korn giving all the boys a hefty allowance as a personal push back against the ghost of his father.

We don't know anything about grandpa Theerapanyakul beyond the fact that Gun invoked his name while yelling at Korn and the mere comparison of them rattled Korn more than the literal gun war happening in his own home. Of all the terrible fathers in this series, the grandpa takes the cake apparently!

Alongside Korn's deep-seated control issues, he also has this weird...thing where he really, really wants to be seen as a caretaker and good provider. He never outright denies his sons and is seemingly very supportive of them-- Khun was allowed to fall back and be taken care of, Kim was allowed to live separately to become a musician, he paid off judges in the name of Kinn's childhood dream, later he supports Kinn and Porsche's relationship-- and the whole fucked thing with Nampheung and the narrative he's constructed around him taking care of her. Even Korn's relationship with Gun is a little bit weird given how much he talks about competition. Like, he desperately wants to be seen as a good provider and caretaker, he just also can't stop being Korn and has that stupid-ass metaphor with the knife and the apple. It's a very crunchy contradiction.

Anyways, Korn's issues aside, I see Korn giving his sons and later wards personal allowances as a part of his personal image of himself as a good provider.

And Porsche and Chay hate it.

(Porsche reminds Chay they're very grateful. Chay mutters where was this help when Porsche took out an informal loan too young. Porsche hisses and whips his head around for any walls that are listening.)

Chay mostly just tries to ignore the supposed pile of money apparently just...sitting there, for him, and spend no differently than how he usually would (it doesn't feel real, digital money is never real to him). However, after so many years of Porsche sacrificing to save money for his needs and future, Chay can't bring himself to ignore the account completely when it comes to things like school or food. He never actually looks at his account, he mostly just squeezes his eyes shut whenever he uses his card for essentials and waits for the system to deny him, except it never does. That does not make Chay feel any better about the situation.

The only time Chay's close to breaking his "no treats" stance is shortly after he and Kim get together. Chay wants so badly to treat Kim to something really special, but. Money. He frets. He makes a pros and cons list. He paces. He has an entire argument with himself in the mirror. He angsts. He takes one look at Kim's happy face over a candlelight dinner and decides fuck it, that's a guy he's going to spoil to the moon and back, stupid blood money allowance be damned.

Except, as established, Chay's never looked at his actual account, so he goes to Cash the accountant to see what his options are for spoiling dates. Like, he's been paying his tuition and the card always goes through at the grocer or noodle house, and Korn does keep telling him his school allowance includes some extra spending money, but Chay wants to spoil Kim. A band they like will be on tour in Bangkok around Kim's birthday, Chay's gunning for special VIP tickets and some extra money for merch and dinner. Surely stupid rich mafia has plenty of money to spare for that.

Chay: would I, uh, be able to get a little extra money? tickets are 3000 but they're for a really special occasion and-

Cash, thinking about Kinn's 3000 dollar helicopter tickets: I don't care, let me just pull up your account details

Chay: thank you so much 🥺

Then Cash turns his screen around to ask Chay how much money he needs and. That is. A lot of money. So many digits. The decimal certainly in the wrong spot. Then Chay looks to the top of the corner and nearly screams because that's his name on the account, what the fuck?

Cash: Khun Korn said to have enough money to cover your tuition

Chay: [does not point out the initial balance was 3x his four year tuition]

Chay...leaves. He thinks. He doesn't know how he got from Cash's office to his room but his next stop is his bed to scream into his pillow until his throat hurts. Fucking rich people.

In protest, Chay takes Kim out the next evening on a zero baht date. They walk along whatever part of the river's nearest to their university to watch the sunset, have to jump a fence and duck two railings to even find a private sitting space away from any other river goers. The view's passable at best, at least free of most industry stuff thanks to the proximity to school but hardly the most inspiring. Chay spreads out his flannel for them to sit on, and feeds Kim dry packet ramen and stale shrimp chips he got free from a university event. He didn't even buy a drink, they survive off a mostly full bottle of grape soda Chay stole off a friend.

(It's a magical evening for Kim, obviously. Ferreting out little hidden spaces hand-in-hand with Chay, enjoying the nighttime air curled together, eating terrible cheap food that somehow tastes good? This is DOING things to him. He will be bringing a guitar and minimum two water bottles with him next time tho.)

#kinnporsche #kimchay #fic: gone fishing #fic headcanons #this almost counts as fic lmao #anyways kimchay zero baht dates my BELOVED let chay open kim's eyes to a whole new world his rich kid ass never knew existed #kim: u know its okay to spend papa's money right?#chay: don't be silly p'kim electronic money isn't real

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merakiui · 6 months

Note

PLEASE WRITE THAT SPY AU PLEASE

I'M SO TEMPTED AAAAAAAAA,, orz but I can't write anything else until I finish tmdg (and the rest of the fics on my list). But just know that if I do write Floyd spy au, it would naturally have to include these very crucial details and scenes:

✧ hand-to-hand combat training with Floyd and you're one of the only other agents (aside from Jade) who can match Floyd's pace and sporadic fighting style. Exchanging blows is fun, even more so if you manage to give Floyd the ass-kicking of a lifetime. He's lying flat on his back and you're standing over him and he's never been more horny in his life before.

✧ reader finding out that Floyd's father is the head of the mafia they've been investigating on the sly. Perhaps it's one of those scenarios where the mafia has taken something from you or you're on the run from Mr. Leech's debt collectors, so there's lots of angst to be had when you find out Floyd is the son of your enemy. The betrayal is so yummy... orz Floyd being a wolf in sheep's clothing all along. Oh, you thought he was an agent allied under the same cause as you? As if. <3 (or the misunderstanding angst!!!! Floyd trying to tell you that he's different and not like his father, but you won't hear any of it.)

✧ things get particularly perilous during a mission and maybe the enemy has you cornered. You think this is the end, but then Floyd's there, killing them in the most brutal, cold-blooded way. And you don't see his usual goofy, carefree grin or hear his nasally laughter. It's just this blank, dead-eyed stare and the ever-so-subtle curl of his lip as he sneers at the one who dared to threaten his Shrimpy's life. He shrugs off the bloodlust afterwards just to give you a silly smile and say, "Aww, did I scare ya, Shrimpy? My bad."

✧ missions with Floyd as your partner never go to plan, which means you're both often called into Azul's office so he can scold the two of you (although most of his ire is usually directed at Floyd) for "fucking up the mission." And Floyd has such a smart mouth on him, so it drives Azul insane (even though Azul knows what he's getting into when he assigns these missions to Floyd; it's mainly why he has a partner. You're there to keep him in check). T_T

"But we got the stuff you wanted, Azul."

"Yes, but I specifically said it was to be entirely covert."

"But we got the stuff."

"But you weren't covert."

"So what? We got the stuff. Who gives a damn about—" and you're already dragging Floyd out before he can continue bickering with Azul.

✧ Floyd who always gets you into the most dangerous situations during missions and he's always the one who saves you from said situations. Danger just follows him wherever he goes, but he also has a penchant for inciting it.

✧ his code name is "Bind the Heart," but Floyd thinks that's so lame and so he just uses his real name even though Azul's choked him out for it every time. So now he settles for BTH as a shortening and if anyone asks what it means he says, with full seriousness, "Bacon Tomato Hamburger." LOL

✧ Floyd who is so down bad for you that he's always flirting with you in his own weird, Floyd way, and each time you shut him down with a stern, "Never gonna happen," because you're dedicated to your job (and love is a distraction in this line of work). But Floyd's not one to give up and he keeps trying because according to him, "Never might be today and tomorrow, but Shrimpy doesn't know what'll happen in the future..." (He's right; the two of you end up fucking months later because Azul booked a hotel room for you to share on one of your missions and it did have more than one bed, but why sleep separately when you can sleep together?)

✧ despite how closely you and Floyd work together and how chatty he can be when he's in the mood, neither of you know much about the other's personal life. Cue Floyd wanting to know more about you and you getting suspicious each time. And he always answers your questions with, "Because. Can't I ask about Shrimpy's life if I'm plannin' on bein' in it long-term?" He will be the death of you........ orz

✧ Floyd gets himself badly injured on a mission, so he's stuck on bed rest until he heals up. Which means you're transferred to Agent Shock the Heart in the meantime, and Floyd does not like the idea of you and Jade cozying up during missions. >:( he's in Jade's ear the entire time the both of you are on the mission (he dragged himself out of bed and to HQ's tech room just to steal the microphone from the agent who was in communication with Jade) and he's saying stuff like, "Jade, you lay a finger on Shrimpy and I'll break all of yours..." and Jade just has to be annoying, so he's like, "We get married in June. I do hope you'll be my best man."

✧ a classic confession in the midst of an argument. Maybe the mission got too risky and you have to leave behind your team; you and Floyd get into an argument about it and essentially it ends with him yelling, "Cuz I ain't ready to lose ya!" And you look at him with so much confusion because what is he talking about? And Floyd's so angry he's even tearing up and from there it's a soft admission of feelings: "Cuz I like ya... A lot. A whole fuckin' lot. And I'd rather those other guys take the fall than let you get hurt for 'em." AAAAAAAAAAA OTL

#twisted chit chat #so maybe floyd spy au is indeed at the top of my hierarchy of needs orz

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olsenmyolsen · 8 months

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Feeling Used

master list

dark master list

MCU AU (Vampire Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: When you are rescued by The Avengers you find it hard to do anything else but be lost in your thoughts.

Word Count: 2.5K

TW: Mentions of Hydra, Nightmares, Fluff

Reader POV

It wasn't always like this.

I wasn't always like this.

I had a life before I was bitten. Just like I had a life after the bite. Don't get me wrong, it was worse. But Hydra kept me alive. Only after they had their fun when they knew I couldn't fight back. Over and over again.

But that was a life.

My life.

Until a group of uniform-wearing people picked me up. The Avengers was their name. Or at least that's what the guard screamed outside my cell before a stream of red mist threw him like a pebble.

She was the first person I saw when the doors opened. Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. I remember as her powers disappeared into thin air before she greeted me slowly as the others ran by to free the rest.

Knowing her now, I could've made myself look stronger back then, but I cowered myself in the corner, afraid she was just like anyone else who entered my cell.

But she persisted even after I swung at her and flew myself across the room. She came forward. Strong and confident. Although once my pointed teeth shined in the swinging light above us, I saw the switch in her eyes. It was something new. It wasn't the same old scared look I had been used to in the past.

Once again. Knowing her now, I could've explained the whole teeth situation better.

The last thing I remember happening in that cell was Wanda's green eyes looking into my black ones. Her telling me her name in an accent I couldn't place, and then, like magic, a memory I had long forgotten about was in my mind before I was out like a light.

According to the star-spangled man, I was the last "enhanced" Hydra had left. Switch out that word for monster, and he would've been right. But that's not what I wanted to be.

I never wanted that.

Time wore on once the Avengers found a spot for me. After tests, a meeting with a scary one-eyed man, a holding period in a newly furnished cell, and training, I was moved to the benchwarmers. At least, that's what The Black Widow calls me.

I was given a room. Bland but a place I could make my own. The room was on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda. The latter was the only one ever to try and speak to me as if I didn't have these.. what was the word speedster used.. abilities. She was one of the very few so far who chose to spend time with me no matter how little once the test and training was done.

She talked to me. Really talked to me. Maybe it was because we both came from Hydra. Or perhaps because she felt like she had an obligation, what with rescuing me and all. I don't know. May..maybe she just wanted to know she wouldn't... Wanda wouldn't use me. Right?

Oh, come on, freak.

Why not? You read the files. She used the deepest fears against her teammates before. What would stop her now from doing the same to you?? She probably knows them already.

That's why she's been so nice to you since you arrived. That's why you're not even on the team. You'll never be good enough for them. Or her. You're only here so they can pick you apart and throw you away. She's just here to make sure you don't go.

No, Wanda wouldn't do that. She wouldn't.. she.. she saved me. Wanda saved me!

Knock

"Y/N!" I jolt up from the floor, covered in sweat, at the sound of Wanda's voice outside my door. I quickly take in my surroundings before realizing I'm in my room. My room. Avengers compound. Second floor. I'm safe.

I touch my face and feel the tear tracks that are left behind. "Y/N?" Wanda calls out again before another series of knocks land. "One second!" I yell back in a less than put-together manner. With a deep breath out and take a moment to collect myself. Running a hand through my hair before pushing it and those dark thoughts to the back of my mind.

"It's okay. It wasn't real." I silently remind myself before attempting to stand on my legs before falling onto the bed. "Y/N?" Wanda gently calls out again. "Are you okay?" I don't want to lie, so I don't respond. Instead, I pull a new shirt towards me and quickly change before making my way to the door to see a worried-looking witch.

I open my mouth, but no words come out as Wanda's hands land on the sides of my face. "Oh Detka.." I still don't know what that means, but hearing it this tone hurts me. "What's wrong?" I lift my hands to hers slowly bring them down.

She's using you!

No, she isn't.

Wanda quickly looks up into my eyes, but I look away from the stare to down the hall to her open bedroom door.

Most people in this building wouldn't be able to hear it, but I do. The outro to a show I've heard numerous times called The Dick Van Dyke Show playing on low from Wanda's TV. The bag of chips sitting on her bed, slowly crumbling down. Or even Wanda's breathing slightly increases when she follows my gaze before looking back at me. Wanda clears her throat before asking. "Would you like to join me?"

"No- I-"

"No, Y/N. Come on, it'll be fun." Wanda excitedly pulls a smile and looks up at me. "Please?" Her lips form into a pout that I see right through, but I give in. "Okay." In an instant, the witch is pulling me to her room and using her powers to shut the door behind us.

Once the door closes, I take in the surroundings. The only quarters I've seen the inside of is my own. Wanda's is drastically different from mine. She has color and a specific pop that mine lacks. Her identity is all over the room. In fact, it's as bright as she is.

Although, thank goodness she isn't any brighter than the sun, or I wouldn't be able to see her.

Little vampire joke.

Hmm? I move my head to see Wanda looking at me, holding her lip between her teeth. Her heartbeat has picked up once again. "Everything okay?" I ask. Wanda nods her head at me before waving me over to the edge of the bed. "Come sit." I take one step before: "Oh no, no, wait!" Wanda stands and stops my movement with her hand. "Wasn't I supposed to invite you in?!" Wanda lowers her hand but looks at me with such intensity, but I have no idea what she means. "Huh?"

"Vampires, aren't they- like- you uh, vampires can only be allowed to places if they're invited. Right?" Everything I was thinking before this moment is melting away the more I look at the witch's face. "Where did you hear that from?" I manage to ask without laughing.

"Well, Pietro said that you- oh my God, never mind!" Wanda puts her head into her hands and laughs, letting me break as well. "Don't listen to my brother!"

"Well, I wasn't going to start now." I take a seat next to Wanda. Close enough to be comfortable and not touching. This seems to satisfy Wanda as she starts the episode of the show over. "Have you seen this?" I shake my head no as the introduction with a tune begins to play. "Um.. before.. Well, before, this wasn't something that existed, and then it's not like Hydra had time for enhanced like me (monsters) to be watching.. whatever this is called." I smile and force a chuckle at the end of my sentence as I look at Wanda. She has a frown on her face that confuses me, but before I can comment on it, she looks away from me and to the screen as the show begins.

I'm Weak.

"Hmm?" Wanda looks over at me. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh." Wanda's eyes stay on me before she once again looks at the man on screen. "It's called Bewitched. The show we're watching." I look over to Wanda, who holds her hands together. "Before Hydra and the bombings.. these shows. These American shows were what my family had. Whatever Papa didn't sell, we got to watch and learn for one more night. This." Wanda gestures to the screen. "This was always one of my favorites." Wanda rubs her hands on her thighs. "It's why I always have them on. So I don't forget them."

Wanda turns to face me, and I see the tears in her eyes. "I never told anyone that." I scoot closer and, wrap my arms around the sad witch and hold her close.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Wanda," I say into the top of her head, knowing she'll hear me.

Seconds of holding her turn into minutes, not that I mind beca- "Y/N?" Wanda pulls out of the hug and looks up at me. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" I hesitate. Questions at Hydra were always a trick. "Sure." Wanda nods and wipes her eyes. "Do you like being here? At the compound." I nod almost immediately. "Anything better than Hydra, huh," Wanda says, making me smile and nod again. "Yeah."

"Can I ask another question?" The first didn't hurt, so why not? "Okay." Wanda turns her body more towards me now. "Do you trust me?" I hear Wanda's heartbeat pick up as she waits for my answer. But why do I wait? Of course, I trust Wanda. She helped me. She saved me. It's Wanda!

She's using you.

"I'm not!" Wanda speaks up with a wide-eyed look, slightly startling me. "Oh my God, Y/N, I'm sorry!"

What?? Did she just read my thoughts?

"No, Y/N! I didn't mean to. I normally don't. It's just your thoughts are so loud sometimes! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

I slowly move myself off the bed and start backing away from Wanda, who looks at me with a destroyed look. "I promise." She pleads. "Y/N, please." Wanda stands up and walks to me. For a second, when I blink, I see us back in Hydra's cell after she arrived with the rest of the team. "Y/N?" I close my eyes and focus on the one thing that matters right now.

"Repeat it," I ask. "What? I-" "The apology.. I believe you, Wanda, but please.."

I sense Wanda nod, and I listen to her as she voices her sorrows once again—every word she says with conviction and truth.

Especially when she says: "And you're not weak. Or a monster. I've fought monsters. They don't look like you." Wanda quickly smiles. "No matter what you think or what Hydra made you think. You're stronger than most people I've met in this line of work. Because of what you had before them. Before the bite. Is you. It's you, Y/N. I'll always remind you of that."

I open my eyes and run back into her arms. "Can I, uh, ask you something," I ask into the air floating around us. "Anything."

"You never have... or ever will use me, right?" I hold onto Wanda tighter because I know if I look into her eyes, I'll break down. "Never Y/N. I never have, and I never will." Truth. "Thank you." I hold her close and let the few happy thoughts I have fly around my brain.

"Read my thoughts, Wanda."

Wanda giggles at one of my favorite memories before her. "I know you didn't mean to read my thoughts before. It's okay, Witchy."

"Sometimes they just get too loud, and I can't help it. It happens to the others as well. But tonight, your nightmare- I just wanted to ensure you were okay."

I swallow the lump in my throat. Not because she saw my nightmare. I had a feeling. But because she cared enough to check on me.

"Thank you for waking me."

"Now Y/N. Can I ask you something?" I let out a shaky breath with a smile as my grip around Wanda loosens. "Sure."

"This isn't my question, but can you look at me?" I look down to see a smile on the witch's face. She pulls the ends of her sleeves down and wipes below my eyes. "Better." She says with another shining smile before it morphs into a soft, compassionate face. "This is a serious question. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Pietro says vampires can't have garlic. Is this true?" Wanda's lips crack into a smile just as mine do the same. The air in the room becomes lighter as her angelic laughs fly around. "No, it's not true."

"Stakes? True or false?" She asks as we find ourselves planting our butts in the middle of the bed. The complicated conversation and the show playing in the background become something we can look back on. "Wooden stakes. Yes. True." Wanda makes a hmm noise before offering me the Garlic and Herb bag of chips that's been sitting there since I got here. "The team. Do they trust me?"

"Bucky no. Natasha maybe. The rest, yes. But that's because you scare two of them." I tilt my head, confused. "Who do I scare? I've barely talked to them."

"Sam and Peter."

That makes sense. Wanda hums in agreement before taking some chips and placing them in her hand. "Besides flying, strength and powers. What else can you do?" Wanda innocently asks.

"I can turn into a bat."

"Shut up!! Really?!" I shake my head no and laugh to let her know I was joking. "Aww Y/N! That would've been so cool. And cute!!"

Cute!?

"Do your fangs hurt?" Wanda asks before eating her last chip. "Not me," I respond with a wide grin, showing off the fangs that, for some reason, I hear Wanda's heartbeat growing faster..?

"Wow." Wanda breaths out before she looks away from me and to the room around us. "Let's get more comfortable," Wanda suggests as she gets up and grabs the remote for her string lights, dimming them before moving to the top of her bed. Leaning her back against the headboard. "Come on." Wanda waves me over again.

Just like before, I get comfortable next to Wanda; however, where there was space between our bodies before it is now gone. As her thigh touches my own. "Is this okay?" Wanda asks me. I don't know whether she's referring to us touching or the new show she's putting on, but I nod.

I smile at the thought that this won't be the last time I watch TV with Wanda in her room. "It won't be." She smiles at me.

"Thank you, Wanda."

"You're welcome, Detka."

dividers by @/benkeibear

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ask-spooky-manor · 5 months

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Toby Character Headcanons

So I was tagged with a list of questions for me to answer that I reblogged, and while none of them were sent in my inbox, I still wanted to answer some cause they were really interesting.

Trigger Warning: I do talk about how abuse has affected Toby and how it has left some long lasting scars mentally and emotionally speaking. Not all of the headcanons are like that though, just be cautious. Nothing too in detail but can be uncomfortable

Clothing style

Toby’s style is like mixing grunge with cottagecore (goblincore is what it’s usually called). He likes his knitted sweaters and earthy tones, but at the same time he enjoyes ripped jeans and chunky black boots that can basically double as a weapon.

Eating Habits

Toby has a massive appetite. You will always catch him with a snack in his hands or complaining that he’s hungry despite having eaten a full meal not ten minutes ago. He just really likes food, and people in the house know to give him an extra serving for dinner

Hobbies

Music is more of a passion so tinkering around and making little gadgets is probably his number one hobby. He mainly likes to make things that blow up. Other general hobbies he has are cooking, hiking, uhhhh arson, and drawing

Fighting Style

He’s fully aware that he’s not the strongest or fastest or even has the most endurance, but Toby is extremely clever and crafty. He thinks way outside of the box and relies heavily on all of his odd little gadgets and inventions to surprise an enemy like smoke bombs, traps, loud fire crackers, you name it. He is an unpredictable fighter because you’ll never know what he has up his sleeves, and the surprise is something he will very much use against you. Not to mention that when he’s stuck in a sticky situation, he’s really good at coming up with on the spot plans that will get him out of trouble.

Ways he says I love you

Well, he will just say it. Toby won’t shy away from using the L word on anyone he even mildly likes. Though another way he shows it is through encouraging his loved ones to take care of themselves. He will make sure you eat properly, sleep well, take your meds, etc. Also hugs, Toby is a hugger.

Introvert or Extrovert

Extrovert, which surprised him when he realized it. Toby thought he was introverted for the longest time when in reality he was just dealing with a lot of nasty people who made him feel unsafe. Being alone felt safer, but at the same time it made him miserable because he naturally gains more energy with good people around. Ending up in the manor was the best thing to happen to him because now he has buddies he can spend time with like all the time.

Religious or Non-religious?

Complicated as fuck. He was raised Christian only to kind of despise organized religions as a whole. He would say he’s an atheist if he didn’t live with a literal moon god (Ben), so now he just has a beef with gods in general (Except Ben, they’re chill). Basically he thinks about how if these beings really are all powerful, all kind, all forgiving and omniscient and good then why the fuck did none of them help him? Why did it reach a point where he killed his own father? Why was he never saved? Basically, the idea of there being a higher power gets him in a bitter mood. Best to avoid the subject altogether.

Something he could never forgive.

Toby is generally a forgiving person but the one thing he could never forgive is when someone takes advantage of the kindness he is willing to give. Classmates did it in school as a way to bully him, and his dad would sometimes guilt trip favors out of him (usually to sneak him more beer, which will end up biting Toby in the ass when facing his drunk dad later on). Just the general act of trying to manipulate Toby, knowing they can toy with the heart he wears on his sleeve, is enough for him to want that person dead.

Something that scares him.

For the small, irrational fear; Toby is afraid of the dark. It’s just a childhood fear that he never really got over. It’s fine if he’s with someone but being alone in the dark will put him in fight or flight mode. For the bigger existential shit: dreads the idea of everyone secretly hating him. His own father and peers have created this idea in Toby’s mind that there is nothing good about him. That his own existence is nothing but a burden on others, so there’s always this fear that his friends and even his own boyfriend don’t actually like him and that it’s all a front. He knows that realistically that’s not true, but it’s hard fighting against a toxic mindset that was pushed into his brain at such a young age.

Did he grow up too fast?

No, thankfully. It was Lyra who had to grow up too fast. Connie did her best, she really did, but there have been a lot of times where it was Lyra who had to care for Toby. Especially after really bad nights where their dad thought having one more bottle wouldn’t be a problem. Toby was unlucky enough to have been surrounded by people that were cruel to him, but thanks to Lyra and his mom he at least was able to be a kid from time to time.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby #toby rogers #lyra rogers #ben drowned #they’re mentioned so it counts lol #headcanons

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study-diaries · 4 days

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How to do group projects? (If you're selected as the leader of the group)

I hate group projects, it's not necessarily the project rather, the people are not cooperative enough so here's some tips I use when I was chosen to do a PPT and a damn play with 13 members.

(Pictures aren't mine!)

Take phone numbers

Even though my teacher discouraged the idea of it, I still took the numbers of all the members and saved it on the same day the project was given even though the deadline was a month later. You should make sure that you have the necessary means of communication to every member.

Plan and outline within 3 days!

Make an outline of what needs to be done, plan out who's going to do what, how they'll do it, when will they complete it etc etc. The reason i do it within 3 days is because you'll get the base of how you'll do it because generally in group projects, by the time everyone completes the work and gives it to you, it would take atleast a week or two, if you start early, you'll complete earlier than everyone else

No group chats!

I personally don't prefer this because one i realised everyone just didn't reply expecting others to reply, especially when your group is big! So... Dms!! Just send the instructions personally, yes, it takes alot of time but it makes up for the energy wasted in group chats that involve unnecessary talks and questions.

Both face to face and text reminders!

When you've assigned work to every member, make sure they actually do it because you'll be the one responsible. Not gonna lie but reminders help especially when the deadlines are closer. Just a message like "Hey, friendly reminder about the XYZ project."

Save your own name!

This is something I'm really careful about. The accusation that you're being biased and assigning easier work to friends and people I'm close with. So, i figured that the best way to avoid it is to write all the work and the names of members in alphabetical order and assign accordingly. If the member can't do it, then I'll discuss and swap. It saves a hell lot of drama and actually results to better outcomes.

Back up

Make sure that there's always a second in command. This was a mistake I did, on the day of the 2nd project (the play), I was in one of the competitions and our teacher had started with our group first... I didn't exactly tell anyone that everything about the characters assigned to members and the narrations were in my bag so they had to scramble alittle but in the end, our group did the best play despite the situation so that's what you're aiming at. Your group needs to manage without you.

Flexibility

Do not, under any circumstances, expect everything to go well! You need to expect hindrances, like gurl, come on. A mistake I made in the PPT project, i made the PPT and told 4-5 people to explain it because that's how it was supposed to be done but in the end, ALL THE 4-5 PEOPLE HAD TO BE IN SPORTS PRACTICE so we ended up changing plans last minute. But nevertheless, we got an A-. Tell everyone to prepare accordingly.

Be a little lenient

Personally, when the teacher asked me to give the list of work everyone had done, i did'nt just write nothing for the members who didn't, i have even the smallest contribution because in the end, even one person's scores matters. It affects the whole damn group so be careful when you take out anger and frustration on the members when giving the list of contributions or even while doing the project. The last thing you need is drama.

Contact!

Make sure your members are comfortable enough to clear any questions or misunderstandings with you. If you don't know what's going in the group, you can't maintain the group. Be very clear that they can reach you any time.

Demo!!!

This is really important! Decide on a day and keep a demonstration of how your project is going to be presented. Do exactly as how you're going to do it infront of the teacher. Exchange some points on how to do better during the demo and discuss! It helps you to correct your mistakes.

Hope this helps! :)

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your-punk-mom · 1 month

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Vash needs therapy Pt. 1

(FYI: My view on therapy is that everyone can benefit from professional support, at least at times. But some people *need it urgently, right now, and maybe long term*. It’s a tool, don’t judge.)

So here’s my personal rule: DON’T DIAGNOSE PEOPLE OVER THE INTERNET. It’s unethical, and even if I were qualified (I am not) it would still be wrong.

But Vash is fictional, so that’s ok. :)

I said previously that psychological character analysis tries to explain how a character’s actions flow naturally from their past, relationships, and assumptions.

Today, we’re going to mostly look at actions. And Vash’s actions say he’s got a Savior Complex.

Savior Complex (SC) isn’t a diagnosis of mental illness. It’s not even in any version of the DSM. It’s more like a state of mind, stemming from toxic beliefs and reflected in toxic behaviors. Anybody can develop this mindset, with or without an accompanying mental illness.

Thanks to not being a “disorder”, SC is not a big subject for serious academics, but practicing therapists write about it a lot, so my citations are a little bit informal.

My favorite version of a definition of SC is from Grouport:

The savior complex is a psychological construct that describes a person's need or compulsion to save others, often neglecting their own needs in the process. It's a behavior pattern often rooted in empathy, but when left unchecked, it can lead to unhealthy dynamics in relationships and personal distress.

Individuals with a savior complex often believe that their worth is tied to their ability to help others. This belief can stem from societal expectations that value selflessness and altruism, sometimes to the point of self-sacrifice.

Doing good deeds is not a bad thing by itself; it even has health benefits for both helper and helped. But taken to extremes, it becomes a problem. People with SC often damage themselves and others in the name of saving someone, even the target of their help.

WebMD has a pretty thorough list of behaviors and beliefs that can indicate a SC. Let's match some of what we observe in Vash's actions and words to these indicators.

Does helping or saving others:

✅Put you in danger physically if you try to save someone in a dangerous situation

Agreeing to duel the Officer Chuck Lee in Jeneora Rock; jumping back inside the worm to rescue the reporters; getting in the middle of Wolfwood and Livio's firefight; walking right into Knives' trap; taking a bullet for literally anyone.

✅Affect your mental state, especially if you aren’t able to save the other person

After Rosa kicks him out of Jeneora Rock, Vash tells Meryl he is smiling because "I don't deserve to cry"; refusing to talk after Jeneora Rock; refusing to eat for two days after Jeneora Rock, refusing to eat for weeks after the Big Fall (especially significant since he only eats for the joy of it); stating that that he “failed” to protect Rem, and so he *has* to save LITERALLY EVERYONE; after the Big Fall, lying about Nai's survival to Luida and Brad.

✅Cause you to neglect your own physical needs, which could lead to illness

Refusing to eat for two days after Jeneora Rock; refusing to eat for weeks after the Big Fall; Letting that one officer in JuLai shoot him over Jeneora Rock, when Vash easily could have dodged; letting the JuLai military police beat him up until he was bleeding, in Jeneora Rock.

❌Lead you to get burned out

Not Vash, but only because he's not human.

✅Affect your personal relationships

In Rosa's first appearance, she says Vash rescued the town before, and that any friend of his is welcome in her diner. But after the Nebraskas, EG the Mine, and Knives wreck the town and Knives steals the Plant, Jeneora Rock has no power or water, and they have an enormous quantity of injured and dead people. Rosa blames Vash and kicks him out.

Wolfwood and Vash continually fight because Vash wants Wolfwood to adopt nonviolence, while Wolfwood finds that totally impractical. This creates conflict when Wolfwood kills the giant worm, then again when he shoots Rollo as a mercy, and again when Livio turns up on the steamer. Vash wants Wolfwood to change, even against his own will.

And then there's Knives. //sigh//

Effin Knives... Let's just put a quote here from VeryWellMind:

They also can have problems in their relationships with family and friends, and frequently find themselves being taken advantage of by others. People close to a person with a savior complex just assume that person will take care of them, without any regard to their needs. It can lead to a toxic, one-sided relationship, where your boundaries and feelings are not respected.

🤷‍♀️Negatively affect the person or people you’re trying to help

This is less clear-cut, because lots of people blame Vash for events that others are acually responsible for (chiefly Knives). We could argue that his previous failures lead to people not trusting his intentions, and acting against his saving them... Or we could just talk about Rollo. Vash essentially failed Rollo twice, when he didn't return in time to prevent him being made a child sacrifice, and again 20 years later when Wolfwood shot him as a mercy killing. Vash was angry, but Wolfwood pointed out forcing Rollo to continue living in pain and misery was cruel, and Vash was not able to cure the monstrous changes done to Rollo. Wolfwood feels the killing was actually compassionate, but Vash insists he could have found a solution without killing.

If we call that one a half-point, giving us a 4.5 out of 6 behaviors. Again, SC is not an illness, this is not at all diagnostic, but it's enough to suggest talking to a therapist would be helpful.

There's other self-assesment lists and articles out there, and some lump Hero Complex into the same broad definition as Savior. I had accidentally confused SC with Martyr Complex in an earlier post. The difference really seems be that both people with a Hero or Martyr complex need acclaim or praise for the good deeds they do, but Vash doesn't care about rewards or recognition at all. Rosa said he fixed the plant before for free, and other than food or drink, we never see him ask for payment or even trade in exchange for helping anyone in Trigun Stampede.

---

Please tell me what you think of Part 1. Part 2 will cover the psychology of Vash regarding how his past relates to his beliefs, and if we have time, we can try to get into what that does to his relationships.

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gumnut-logic · 3 months

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Found this Scott and Em Harris 'discussion' on my hard drive.

Em Harris is an OC from Gentle Rain.

Language warning for this as she is not happy at all.

-o-o-o-

“I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”

Scott blinked at the fire in her words. He would have taken a step back, but he was held by his seat in One, its safety harness and back preventing him from moving an inch away from the fury of his wife.

Em hovered in front of him, the white of her medical baldric glaring at him. It had stains. Some identifiable, some not so much. But all of which he wished he could have protected her from.

But he couldn’t.

Because she was who she was and there was no way he could hold her back from helping people any more than he could himself. If there was one thing they both shared, it was that.

Her determination was what made her so beautiful.

“Emaline-“

“No!” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak after a stupid stunt like that. All you had to do was wait for Virgil.”

“There wasn’t time!”

“Another thirty seconds, Scott! If Virgil hadn’t caught you, YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” Her pale blue eyes electrified with a mixture of fury and fear. “I almost lost you! For no reason!”

“A life was saved!”

“Virgil nearly missed the both of you! He has enough bruising from his leap off that cliff after you to inspire his next painting. Kay is going to kick your ass, flyboy.”

Scott swallowed. Kayo he could handle, but he hadn’t realised Virgil had been hurt. “Is Virgil okay?”

Em sighed and looked down a moment before looking him in the eye. “No. No, he is not. You owe him an apology.”

As if he was aware of his name being mentioned, Virgil’s calm voice issued over comes. “Thunderbird Two departing danger zone. Transporting injured to Capetown Medical and returning to base.”

The line cut out before Scott could reply. The lack of personal address or even his callsign was enough to illustrate exactly how much shit he was in with his brother.

“Scott, please.” And suddenly the anger in her voice was gone. “Why? Why is your life not worth as much to you as it is to me?”

She wasn’t crying, but there was so much grief in her voice, he had to reach out and pull her to him.

There was resistance at first. She was as stubborn as she was determined to the point of the words being synonyms. But then, as light as she always was, he drew her into his arms, hoverscoot rising at an angle and their baldrics clattering as they met. Her head landed on his shoulder and he held her there, stroking the nape of her neck where her hair bun left it bare.

“I’m sorry.” It was an exhalation.

“Please don’t do that again.” It was muffled into his uniform.

“Em, you know I can’t guar-“

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. She flung herself backwards, pulling away. Practised reflexes let her go out of respect, but he grabbed at her again. No!

She didn’t let him reach her, her hoverjets humming almost as angrily as her expression.

“No, Scott Tracy, you can guarantee. You can tell me that you will wait. You can tell me that you will consider. You will tell me that you trust your brothers’ knowledge and experience. And you can tell me that I am important enough in your life for you to not give up that life in a situation that can be easily avoided.” She drew in a breath. “If you can’t value your own life enough yourself, then value it for me.” A breath. “I love you, Scott…please.”

Every rule, every philosophy, every self determination screamed at him to deny her. The thought of putting his life above others was anathema. But his strategic mind flipped the equation without permission and he saw his actions from her point of view.

His brain listed off his abilities, how he should have been able to handle the situation safely.

And how it had all gone so far south so quickly, and how only the quick actions of his engineer brother had prevented a very long plummet down a very high cliff.

His first thought had been gratitude and admiration for his brother’s skill and the fact the rescue was a successful one.

He didn’t register Virgil’s grunts as anything other than simple exertion. Now looking back, now he didn’t have his arms full of terrified rescuee, he could take a moment to examine exactly what had happened.

Virgil hadn’t said a thing.

He had rappelled them back up the cliff. It had been all business and as the adrenalin had waned, Scott had just felt tired. Em took the rescuee into Two and after a silent scan with Virgil’s mediscanner, Scott had returned to One.

It was just another rescue almost gone wrong.

Virgil had just saved the day…again.

What if he had waited? Would the man have fallen?

His heart feared what would have happened if he did. That was why he had jumped himself despite the fragility of the rockface.

He looked up at his beautiful wife. “I don’t know if I can stand by and risk a death I can prevent.”

Her lips thinned, but her eyes were sad. “Neither can I.” She drew in a breath. “Commander Scott Tracy, as Lead Medical Officer of International Rescue, I’m citing you for reckless self-endangerment and recommending psychological review.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Little more than breath. “Not like this.

“I just can’t.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #em harris #gentle rain #scott/em #scott/oc #virgil/kayo #but only background

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zazima · 4 months

Text

im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.

#hi i write sometimes #sirius and harry #sirius black #harry potter #good godfather sirius black #dadfoot #sirius raising harry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot

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