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thessalian · 9 months

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Thess vs A Return to Normalcy

Updates from the workplace, and the news is ... for once, not terrible.

See, turns out that Scruffman came in on Sunday, along with the other part-timer (who has been petitioning for more hours and I think she's going to get them at this rate), and really registered the massive dent I made in the backlog. Because seriously, that whole week we went from just under 300 to just under 150 and that was about 95% me. So we're finally back down to the low-mid double digits in terms of the size of the typing queue, and I have a feeling Scruffman had a general sense of, "Ooh. [Thess] did a lot. [Thess] should not have been doing that much, I know that."

Scruffman does not have the best communication skills, mind - especially not over email. He sent an email going, "Give me a bell ASAP" and actually included his number, which I have had stored on my phone for literally years, so I thought there was going to be something urgent and horrible. Because, you may recall, he was going to touch base with me today about potentially having to drag my poor fibro-riddled carcass over to fucking Hampstead owing to lack of bums in seats. I was concerned that this was going to be a call where Issues were brought up.

However, no, this was his way of saying, "I has a concern and want to make sure you're okay after the hours you put in last week". I didn't pull punches, either. He asked how I was doing, which is how he starts all telephone conversations, really, and I just told him, "I seriously overdid it last week". I could hear the gears turning as he was going, "Oh. Yeah. Oh, right" before moving on to the whole thing about the various unexpected absences.

So ... turns out that Violet, Goblin, and Temp are all out at the moment, though Goblin and Temp are apparently coming back on Friday. He's got Other Part-Timer coming in tomorrow, so it's really only Thursday where there might be a requirement for me to come in. But apparently that's only if Scruffman himself takes ill or something else goes entirely to hell. It was pretty clear that he was trying desperately hard not to make me go into the office, particularly after the couple of weeks I've already put in. He also recognised that I do more typing when I'm at home than I do at the office, and then surprised me further by going, "I don't necessarily mean overtime or anything!" like he very much doesn't want me to have to do any more of that either.

So the overall gist is, "Things are back to normal, we will try to manage things without forcing you on to public transport, thank you for all the help and we promise we're not going to make you do too much more of that!" I'm not sure what happens with my overtime - whether it's Time Off In Lieu or actual money, but I think I'll find that out when Head Honcho comes back from his own holidays ... or rather, when I come back from mine because he's away until next week and I'm off next week.

I very much need to be off next week. I haven't fully recovered yet. But at the very least my house is full of nice foods to have that don't require too much in the way of cookery. I did up a pork roast last night so I have leftovers from that. There's a roast chicken that's good in the fridge until Friday, which gives me time to do things with the leftover pork roast and with the duck legs and pork chops I got on sale with this month's grocery shop. But tonight, since I am exhausted (whoever was typing with me today also left me with the longer bullshit - thankfully there were no ten-minute atrocities but if I see one more placenta report this week I'm going to lose my damn mind), it will be leftover roast pork with mashed potato and an asparagus/tenderstem broccoli medley, with an appetiser of gluten-free mozzarella sticks (which, yes, still have the lactose issue but I have Lactaid so I can still have my breaded hot cheese) and possibly a salad. I did actually eat today! Okay, not lunch, but two pieces of gingerbread as breakfast went really well with my morning coffee.

#Thess has a day job #Thess cooks

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tundrainafrica · 4 years

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Masterlist

This will serve as a personal tracker of all of the fics I have ever written, all of the books and series I have consumed etc. I wrote this out to help me organize my thoughts since I have time now to reflect on this closet hobby of mine. I also put it up just in case anyone has ever read my stuff and is curious about how these works are doing in my head space.

Some were written back when I was way younger so apologies for the quality.

ALEX RIDER

Come Home (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Memories don't keep people grounded in their present. They're the reason people think of what ifs and would haves, regrets and daydreams. Alex sees three dimensions of his reality and makes a decision. Set after Never Say Die.

Status: Done (I guess?), not posted on tumblr or AO3 yet

Killing (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Spoilers for Never Say Die. Killing is like learning to ride a bike as Alex is going to figure out very soon. For Spyfest 2017.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not posted on tumblr or AO3 yet

Transparency (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Although the bank robbery made national news, the young boy who saved the lives of all the people in the bank didn't. First hand witness accounts said the boy was a hero, the media said there was no young hero in the bank and one journalist tries to get to the bottom of it all.

Status:WIP (could probably still finish it, it’s almost done anyway), not posted on tumblr or AO3 yet)

Type II Error (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Written for Spyfest Week 3. Set before Ark Angel. The updates on payroll accounts and budgets lined up too well with mysterious deaths and undisclosed missions. An auditor working for MI6 decides for herself whether or not the orders of her bosses Blunt and Jones were worth prying into.

Status: Done (Oneshot), will post on tumblr yet

Unforeseen Circumstances (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

It's April, the time of year when most students start salvaging their grades. Missions had taken their toll on Alex's grades and he needs to start salvaging soon or risk repeating the year. Nature wasn't on his side though and it turned out that his devil's luck had just run out.

Status: WIP (8/15), On hold, not posted on tumblr yet

ATTACK ON TITAN

Levi and Hange’s Relationship in Erwin’s POV (Status: Completed, not posted yet)

A Tale of Two Slaves (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

"Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is a choice. At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

Status: WIP (6/?)

A Free Spot (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Slight AU! Levi sacrifices himself in Chapter 132 instead of Hange and Hange deals with the consequences years later. Written for Levihan Angstober Week 4. Prompt: Free Spot

Status: Done (Oneshot), not posted on FFN yet

Division of Labor (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

"The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly..."

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Status: WIP (1/?)

En Prise (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Hange already had the innate analysis skills and the quick wittedness to excel in the classroom. Chess should have come easy for her. As she processed her fifth loss to the man in front of her, she started to understand that there was more to the game than meets the eye.

College AU! Levi is a little too good at chess and Hange gets roped into studying the game further.

Status: WIP (1/18), will try to create a backlog before I post more.

Heroes or Victims (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Post Chapter 115, Hange reflects on emotions, relationships, war philosophies, and a future while taking care of a severely injured Levi.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not posted on FFN yet

Household Planning (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

"It was Levi's household. The plates were arranged and sorted by color and use, the way Levi liked it. The cabinets and the storage were arranged in a way which would be efficient for cooking, or at least the way Levi would have wanted to cook."

Levi gets sick and Hange is left to navigate household chores.

Status: Done (2/2)

Passion Project (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Levi tries to ignore Hange but it never seems to last. A ficlet detailing the development of Levi and Hange's relationship before canon.

Status: WIP (1/3) Timeline written, Chapter 2 rough draft complete, not posted on FFN yet

Rough Day (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

It should have been apparent to Hange by the weight gain and the sudden lack of red days. Somehow, Levi noticed it first.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not posted on FFN yet, will probably write more fluff similar to this

Sugar Rush

(AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Marley brings the celebration of Halloween to Paradis. Hange and Levi go trick or treating with their child for the first time and start to realize how much the world has changed since the war.

A Halloween piece for the Levihan spookfest one year late.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not posted on FFN yet, will probably write more fluff similar to this

Would You Cry? (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Hange asks an innocent question and Levi finds himself reflecting on his emotions and his relationship with Hange. Written for LeviHan Week, Angstober 2020. Prompt: Silence/Screams

Status: Done (Oneshot)

Vulnerabilities (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Slight AU! Although Levi is humanity's strongest soldier in the battlefield, his rough childhood had left him weaker and more vulnerable to illness. Levi had always taken measures to prevent sickness nit anyone who has ever been close to him caught wind on it anyway. A series of oneshots throughout the story focusing on Levi's chronic weakness and others taking care of him.

Status: Sporadic updates depending on mood, not yet posted on ff and tumblr

Big Hero Six

Deal with the Devil (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

When mourning becomes too much for him, Hiro finds himself resorting to prayers and deals to bring back the brother he lost. The devil may have had pity on him but he never promised to let Hiro go unscathed.

Status: WIP, on hold, probably could get back to it just need to rewatch the movie, not yet completely posted on AO3 and tumblr

Fatal Flaw (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Grieving may be a long and painful process but in time most people do recover. For Hiro Hamada though something probably went wrong along the way because from what Aunt Cass could see, he was moving on yet at the same time, he wasn't.

Status: WIP, abandoned, completely forgot what I was planning, not yet posted on tumblr

Coco

Dares, Pranks and Curses (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Written for the Coco Valentines Fanwork Exchange. The night of Dia de Los Muertos, Miguel ends up staying out late to play a little game with his friends in the cemetery. Hector, Imelda and Miguel reunite through a game of Ouija.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not yet posted on ff and tumblr

Somewhere between Life and Death (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Dia de los Muertos isn't the only day the dead can visit the living. Miguel is reunited with Hector, Imelda and his other relatives from the other side but in one of the worst ways possible and he finds himself caught in a struggle between life and death.

Status: WIP 9/20, on hold, timeline is complete just need to get it written, need to fix tumblr tags

Crossovers

Quest for Origin: Ranger’s Apprentice x Percy Jackson (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

A young boy gets washed up on the shore of Camp Half Blood with no memories whatsoever of his life before. How did he end up there? Is it all just a coincidence? Or is it a message from the Gods? What's with his uncanny skill with the bow?

Status: On Hold (25/35), timeline complete, will probably continue with PJO TV show comes out, not yet posted on ff and tumblr

Kingdom Hearts

Coded Connection (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Post KH3. If Kairi keeps Sora's memory alive, he'll eventually call out to her right? Then it will be her turn to find him, hold him and never let go.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not yet posted on tumblr and ff

Kuroko no Basuke

Yellow, Red, Green, Blue and Purple (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Collab with friend back in high school. All Kise wanted to do was complete one more level of Flow Free before practice starts. When you have teammates as lazy, eccentric, hyperactive, sociopathic or invisible as the Generation of Miracles though, sometimes the things that sound the simplest, can be the hardest to do. Crackfic

Status: Done (Oneshot), not yet posted on tumblr

Ranger’s Apprentice

Being a Ranger’s Wife (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

As Will leaves on a suicide mission, Alyss ponders on her choice to have married him.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not yet posted on tumblr or AO3

Danger Zone (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Rangers are human. Humans make mistakes. The difference though between an ordinary human and a ranger is the consequences they'll eventually face for past mistakes. Will should have known that for rangers, this included being on the run from an angry group of pirates with his silver oakleaf on the line.

Status: Probably Abandoned, first fanfic I have ever written lmao, completely forgot where I was going with this, not yet posted on tumblr or ffn.

Farmer’s Apprentice (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Will lied to Mr. Chubb about stealing from the kitchen years ago. How did that small decision change the course of the young boy's life? AU Crack fic.

Status: Done (Oneshot), not yet posted on tumblr or AO3

Masters, Apprentices and Sons (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Gilan accepts Morgarath's challenge in the Plains of Uthal and Halt is left to care for his apprentice in the aftermath of the battle. Halt wonders why it took him this long to realize that there was no fine line between an apprentice and a son.

Status: WIP. I have written out all the way until chapter 5 but I completely lost the files. I don’t know if my current frustration will allow me to continue this.

The Fall of a Hero (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Will had fallen from his place as one of the top rangers in the corps and one of the top figures in Araluen and it's up to his friends to help pull him back up. Recovery Fic.

Status: WIP, timeline not written, could probably still continue this, just need to catch up to the series

Prince of Tennis

A Break from Ingenuity (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

Timing is everything. Fuji gets his timing wrong, makes one misstep then finds himself facing a career ending injury. Maybe, that's when everyone will realize that he's human too.

Status: WIP. Will probs continue if new POT content comes out.

Yuri on Ice

Surprises (AO3/Tumblr/FFN)

With all the stress piling up for the Japanese National Championship and more importantly, the World Championship, one can expect an athlete to get injured. To have the coach be the one struck by a career ending injury during practice is another story. That's exactly how Victor surprised the crowd though, maybe for the last time.

Status: WIP (3/?), not yet posted on tumblr

#Yuri on ice #Prince of Tennis #ranger's apprentice #kuroko no basket #kingdom hearts #percy jackson #coco #big hero six #attack on titan #Alex Rider #fanfic #masterlist

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katsukikitten · 5 years

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I love your writing first of all *chef's kiss* they make my day when I see you've written a new chapter. I was interested in an angst to fluff scenario with Bakugo and his S/O where S/O hasn't been hanging out with him as much and more with Kirishima, but the reason why is because S/O has been planning to propose to Bakugo. The proposal day arrives, but no one can get in touch with him. Maybe Kirishima or S/O finds him. Or you can resolve however, I trust you completely! Much love!!!

Distant

Ask and ye shall receive!

Bakugou wakes slowly, eyes leaden with the weight of sleep as late morning sun dances across his flushed cheeks. His hand instinctively reaches out for you but when his wide palm finds cool sheets he shoots up. His ears perk as he listens for two of your tell signs that you are home. He does not hear the steady stream of water coming from the adjacent bathroom not does he smell your heavenly shampoo. He sniffs the air further and the missing notes of robust coffee causes a small tug in his stomach.

He pushes it away with a harsh growl as he reaches for his phone. Angry that you have not been staying with him at his apartment lately, leaving early in the morning. Not making his coffee or singing off tune in the shower.

Not even lightly snoring away after an exhausting night of hero work and fucking late into the early morning.

You were treating him like more of a one night stand than your boyfriend of three years. He bites his lip before unlocking his phone, or even passing his finger over the screen as he damns himself for being so soft, vulnerable.

And all for you.

The two of you have been through a lot even since day one. Meeting at a new years party at Kirishima's house. He had begged Bakugou to come and the ash blonde filled out his obligation as the ruby haired man's friend but little did he know he was playing match maker. Katsuki figured not seeing his closest if not only "friend" for almost a year was not good for the friendship. But the two of them had been busy with their first years of Pro hero work. Bakugou especially quickly climbing into the top five.

Katsuki wouldn't have gone if he knew Kirishima was going to convince him to get drunk.

Especially wouldn't have gone if he knew you were going to be there. The two of you getting off on the wrong foot from the beginning. An assignment gone sour due to you both being too headstrong.

His one and only failure as a pro hero, it haunted him. No one else cared that the perpetrator slipped through y'alls fingers the first time. The second time Bakugou went alone and bust the whole drug ring thinking that would rectify his record for himself.

But it hadn't not even after six months and there you laughed with Kirishima, leaning close, *blushing*. And oh did that last part piss him off. How dare you.

How dare you have a grand fucking time as if you didn't almost "ruin" his career. Frankly he had enough to drink to confront you. Kirishima silently panicking as he dragged an extremely perplexed you into a half bath. He had meant to yell at you, pushing you against the wall as an asshole power move.

He had meant to really tear you a new one, to tell you that you needed to listen to your senior and not go off on your own.

That your injury could've been avoided had you just fucking listened!

Instead he kisses you, fiercely. Honestly not knowing why he did. Something about your flushed cheeks, half mast eyes. Plump lips curved up in a cat smile as if *you* were the one up to no good in every interview or assignment news coverage you were in.

Maybe it was how hard you punched him after that fateful day when he called you a dumbass even with your broken ribs.

He honestly had no intention to bend you over that vanity in the half bath, glaring at you through the mirror as you took him so well.

You rasping out his name in a drunken hush, trying so hard not to let everyone know what the naughty deeds the two of you were up too causing him to pound into you harder.

Wanting the whole party to know what a beautiful little slut you were.

And all flushed just for him.

He told himself that he didn't really care about you. That he was sexually frustrated and didn't realize it with being so busy climbing the rankings. That you were an easy fuck, a one time thing he needed.

Yet at every party he found himself gravitated to you, pulling you into any secluded room he could to make you his.

And you happily let him.

Until one day you pouted in the same half bath the two of you started this little arrangement in. Blushing furiously and not from his wandering hands or tongue.

*"Bakugou will you go out with me?"*

He tells himself that he only said yes so he could fuck you more often.

If that were true then why was he so scared to even check his notifications to see if there was a text from you.

"Come on Katsuki you dumb dick. Man the fuck up." He tells himself as he unlocks his phone to see a text from you.

Kitten🐱: 'Good Morning my King Suki. I went out with Eji 🚒 this morning. We are most likely going to be out all day. I know you have a shift this afternoon at the office. I packed you a small lunch and hopefully I set the coffee to brew around when you get up ☕. Much love ❤💋🐱'

He glares at his phone before sending a one word message back to you, knowing it will irritate you to know end.

'Again?'

Is all it reads and he know you will be furious. He slams his phone down before opening the nightstand drawer to stare down at the little black box that has been haunting him.

The same box he has carried on the last three or four dates. Somehow talking himself out of asking you.

That you would never want to marry an ill tempered, pig headed man like himself.

So boyfriend was good enough for now, that's what he tells himself as he slams the drawer shut. He rises making his way to the small kitchen in his one bedroom apartment to your promised coffee.

He is sourly disappointed to see a cup already brewed. The coffee stale by an hour or two and he curses himself aloud.

"Did I really sleep in that fuck all late?" His dark eyes find the time and the clock does not lie. He only had about and hour and a half to get dressed for his afternoon meeting and paper work.

He only hoped you be home for dinner tonight. He had promised to cook you your favorite last night but he made a meal of you instead.

He cannot help the irritation that grows steadier as the day grows older.

His shower seems colder than normal although the steam fogging the mirror says other wise.

His room much too quiet for his liking despite the music he was blasting.

A song you had suggested to him with the sly remark of knowing he would just *love* it.

Even his commute to the agency was seems dull as he stepped on and off the train.

Walking up the seven flight of stairs to his office. The door sticking like normal causing him to blast it off its hinges.

And it didn't help that you left him on fucking read.

Where the fuck were your cute 😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬🤬 emojis you would spam him with until he replied to the whole text? Where the fuck was the 'Suuukkkiii?!?!?!?' that followed the string of messages that he could hear in your whiney tone clear as day in his head.

He purposefully loses himself in backlogged paper work that the Director demand he catch up on now.

He hated reports. What was the point? You knew the end result!! Why add complicated details and play by plays when all one really needed was the criminal was captured, this is the quirk they use, the information they gave, and the organization they associated with.

Not that it was 12:55am and the perp was interrupting the dirty texts you were sending him.

Reminding him of all the things you were going to do to him.

He was in the middle of reminding you of the sinfuly things he too was capable of when the perp landed hard on the steak out he and Deku were forced to share.

Recalling the night had him picked up his phone.

Two hours.

Two hours you had left him on read while spending your fourth day with Kirishima on some "errand".

He hates to admit but it had him thinking something horribly awful as of late.

Considering you haven't been joining him for these light lunches at the often like you used too.

The past few weeks you've been aloof, so much so that you'd even taken your cat back to your apartment.

And damn it he missed that furball asshole who was finally warming to him. Lying on him when he was on his phone or batting at the food headed for his mouth as the cat perched himself on the back of the couch.

He didnt like you and Mr. Grump being at your apartment when you belonged at *his*.

"Kaachan!" Izuku all but sings, he lets himself into his office, "Finished with the report?"

"Deku why dont you ever fucking knock?" Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose wondering how this day could get worse. He was tired of thinking of you.

Tired of feeling like he was constantly chasing you recently.

And tired of the read status.

Even this late as his key slides into the apartment lock two hours later than normal.

Further fueling his dark thoughts as his mind wanders back to that new years party he first saw you out of hero work. Blushing and too close to Kirishima for his liking.

Still no fucking message. Still no voice memo or even phone call to say you'll be late or that you've even noticed that he was late, by accident not out of spite, and that you were missing his cooking.

Jealousy plagues him as he flicks on the lights in his apartment. He grips onto his phone tight enough that it groans from the pressure before furious fingers fly across the screen.

Your phone pings out on the coffee table in Kirishima's apartment.

"No I think this is a bad idea. Katsuki won't like it." You say before picking up your phone, "I'd have to do it differently."

Blood pounds in your ears drowning out Kirishima's retort.

SukiDaddy💣💥: "Made it home. Don't come over for the next week I'm too busy to give you time. Don't forget about our date this Sunday like you forgot about our dinner."

You bite your lip angrily as you slam your phone down next to a black box carrying a black band.

The little box weighs heavy on your mind.

The week passes slowly but it does. Its Saturday. You've packed your bag, gotten Mr Grumpy's things together all waiting at your house but you needed one final thing.

"Kiri I'm so fucking nervous." You jump from the nerves as you grab onto him. Blush dusting your cheeks as he cannot help but smile at you.

A scene to play out at the wrong time as Katsuki stops cold in his tracks. He was on his way to the flower shop to grab sunflowers, your favorite.

But no longer were those in his head. No only the image of you blushing towards Kirishima while he beams back at you. He takes a step forward. Thinking of confronting you and his supposed best friend.

He changes his mind last second, he watches you pull out your phone fingers flying across the screen.

Kitten 🐱: "Five right?"

He reads the message and crushes his phone in his hands. Hoping to never see your nickname pop across his screen again.

×××××××××

"Baby! I'm here early. I brought Mr. Grump!" You sing song as you waltz into Suki's dim apartment. When he doesn't answer you figure he got called into the office for a few. You turn on the lights, humming your favorite song as you let out your cat. He stretches before trotting into the bedroom to laze on Katsuki's half of the bed.

Three o clock is what your phone reads as you prepare some last minute stuff. You aren't sure where Bakugou is taking you but you know you're ready. You set your body con black dress that you wore to the first new years party onto the plush comforter. Cranking the hot water all the way up in the shower before taking your time to get ready. Blow drying your hair, braiding part of it. Applying lipstick that matches his eyes and lining your eyes with dark liquid liner.

The final touch of slipping into your dress has you smiling ear to ear in the long mirror. Your heels give you an extra few inches in height putting you close to Bakugou's eye level.

"I'm ready grump butt and just in time too." You say as you pet caramel fur glancing at the clock. 4:45pm. You set yourself down on the couch and wait patiently.

Time seems to tick by slowly.

5:00pm finally rolls around and your heart gushes when you hear a jangle of keys and the thud of boots on hardwood floor in the hallway. But the footsteps seem to bypass the door moving on quickly down the hall.

You frown, Katsuki left your message on read and never really confirmed 5 o clock. Nor did he tell you he was called in or anything of the like.

He could be running behind.

But he has never forgotten to text you that he would be.

5:15 turns into 530 then 545 accompanying several text messages and missed phone calls that go straight to voicemail. At first rage slithered through your veins as you tried to figure out where your boyfriend could be. But as 630 rears its ugly head on the clock your feelings begin to change.

Now worry starts to sink into your muscles, causing a severe ache to form in your chest as your mind began to play out scenarios in your head.

Dangerous ones at that.

Finally you break down and kick off your heels, phone in hand calling Kirishima.

"Have you heard from Bakugou?!?!" You scream into the receiver in panic.

"Ah no I haven't. Is everything okay? I haven't spoken to him in about aaaa....a week I think."

"He's an hour and a half late you know he's very punctual." You rush as you shove impatient feet into black converse. Grabbing your keys and jacket. The ring forgotten in the bottom of your pocket as you rush out the door.

"Alright. I'll call the agency and Izuku. You look in his usual spots."

"Eji what if..." Tears burn your eyes as you jump over the railing of the stairs landing hard on the bottom floor.

"Y/N this is Bakugou we're talking about." He says softly, "I'll send Izuku and others out if they don't know where he is okay. He's okay."

"He better be." You growl, anything to keep yourself from crying.

630 quickly turns into 7, 8, 930 and you're in a complete panic.

No one has heard or seen Bakugou all day. You stop at the mouth of an alley way as the large clock in the city rings out the time. You dry heave as a sob wretches your body, panic full on as thoughts bring you to dark places.

Him tied in a basement, his quirk being pulled from his body or his body contorting into a grotesque shape as more quirks are added until he becomes a shell of himself.

Or dead.

Your eyes find the full moon winking behind whips of clouds and then it hits you.

There is one place you haven't checked. A place you took him months ago, dragged him really when you saw an article about a super moon online.

You break out into a sprint, pushing through the crowd to catch a train. A train that moved too slowly at 80mph arriving an hour later. You push the doors open jumping onto the platform running full speed again.

Shoes echoing in sparsely lit streets as you smell the cleaner air and little to no light pollution to better see the moon.

A spur of a moment trip taken in leggings and basket ball shorts.

The moon was huge, so much so you felt as if you could reach out and touch it. You turned your head to gauge his reaction and when you caught him staring at you, as if *you* were the reason the two of you were here.

Not the freaking celestial body floating in the sky by mere fucking chance of placement.

That was the moment you knew you wanted to ask Bakugou to be your husband.

The cliffs edge could not come fast enough, the street could not move under your feet fast enough as you propel yourself through the biting night air of fall.

You begin to see a silhouette of a man, shrouded in shadow by the large moon. The muscular looking body seeming to throw something. You sob pushing yourself on. Talking your self out of the possibility that that might not be him.

But when you see a spark fly from deadly hands, illuminating his face for a fraction of a second you know.

You'd spot those blood eyes and ashen hair anywhere.

"BAKUGOU!" You scream anger catching up to you as you skid to a stop a few feet in front of him. His hands now dangling over the railing.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Voice raw as emotions fist fight in the pit of your stomach.

"Where the fuck was I? Where the fuck was *I*?!" Bakugou begins to heat up but makes no motion to move hands still dangling, voice dipping down dark, "I know where *you* were and have been for the past month."

"What?! I'm not the one who's gone fucking missing." You shout stepping closer, "You're not the one who fucking got stood up!"

"I'm not?! Really?!" He shouts, turning his face to you, his eyes are narrowed to slits, "I'm pretty sure I HAVE been the one being stood up for the last fucking month. Left behind after a good fuck so you could hang out with Kirishima!"

You take a step back as his voice gets dark once more

"Do you call him King too *kitten*?" He growls and it sounds animalistic.

It also cuts deep as tears well in your eyes, nausea ripping up your throat before you huff out puffs of heated air.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The little box in your pocket suddenly popping to the forefront of your mind. You rummage clumsily by way of anger through the jacket gripping onto it had enough that the points bite into your palm.

"I was asking him for help!"

"For what?!" He barks, "What would you be asking him for help for that you couldn't fucking ask me?

Silence settles over the air before you produce the box, slamming it into his bicep, hot tears falling down your tender cheeks.

This was not how you wanted to do this.

These were not the feelings you imagined either party to feel when you asked him.

Not jealousy that is swirling thickly in the air as Bakugou's eyes widen staring at the box

"Wha...what is this?"

"What is it? It's a fucking box holding something that I got Kirishima's fucking help with!" You shout, box still pressed hard into his skin, hard enough it leaves an indent. He laughs a bitter laugh as explosions dance over exposed skin. He holds up one of his dangling hands, a diamond ring that he twirls upright for you to see better.

A nervous laugh bubbles up your throat before echoing around the two of you. You pull the box back to you with red cheeks.

"You're fucking kidding. This WOULD how this played out for us?" You laugh again, he pulls his hands to him slipping on the ring before you slip on his.

"You mean dysfunctional as fuck?" He says coolly, eyes falling onto the ring. He loves it, it matches him to a t. Not flashy, simple, a black band that shines in low light but would not catch the eye.

He sighs, looking at you painted in moon light reminding him of the exact moment he wanted to marry you as your eyes rove over the ring happily.

He grabs onto your waist pushing your back against the railing trapping you between a death drop and his deadly, hungry, gaze.

"Were you that impatient to be asked kitten?" He smirks as you blush. Lips easily finding that tender spot on your neck. You attempt to swallow desire.

"Did...did you tell Eji you were going to propose?"

He stills agaisnt your throat before biting down hard enough to produce a moan from your plump lips.

"Don't say another man's name while my hands are on you." He squeezes your hip harshly as he speaks husky in your ear, "Got it kitten?"

"Ah...Yes king." You rasp back before he grips onto your chin, leveling your face with his

"If I told him do you really think he would have let you get a ring and let you beat me to the punch?"

You laugh before shyly saying yes, he probably would.

The moon paints you in the best light as it always does, it brings out that twinkle in your eyes. The curve of your lips and hips. Bakugou leans in and kisses you slowly, savoring one of the first moment that would lead to the rest of your lives.

Knowing he will never doubt your distance again.

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha ask #bnha imagine #ask kitten

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

Fic: Hearts and Hopes

Summary: It's been a long week and Edge is tired. His husband still has a trick up his sleeve but that's okay, he keeps his heart on his sleeve, too. It's a fair trade.

Notes: If you thought to yourself that I couldn’t possibly get more fluffy with this, brace yourself.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established relationship, Fluff, hurt/comfort

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The monitor screen was starting to blur in his vision and Edge rubbed at his sockets irritably, trying to focus. It was late enough in the day for it to be close to pointless and the stacks of folders at his elbow were a clear sign that he hadn’t gotten nearly enough done over the course of the day. Janice was sorely missed and as much as he wanted her to take her time recovering, he’d be relieved when she finally came back. Working without her was like trying to type with a hand tied behind his back, doable but slow going.

Edge sighed tiredly. He was being unreasonably annoyed with himself and he knew it. Along with missing his assistant, he hadn’t slept well, nightmares lurking in the corners of his sleep. Those dreams always came back when he was stressed. He hated that particular weakness, didn’t allow his nightmares to follow him into his waking hours but still, his sleep was interrupted, and it left him drained.

It was endlessly irritating that his subconscious mind refused to leave the past in the past. Underfell no longer had a hold on his daytime life, when would it leave his nights in peace? The probable answer to that was not one he particularly liked.

A knock on his door made him jerk and Edge swore under his breath. It was nearly time for him to go home, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone else’s problems today and without Janice to run interference, he was going to have to put his own diplomacy to the test.

“Come in,” he called, trying to keep his irritation from his voice.

To his surprise, Stretch poked his head in the door, grinning cheekily. “heya handsome, you about done?”

Edge could only sigh in a mixture of fondness and exasperation. Days after Stretch had promised him to be careful coming down here, if he came down here, which he rarely did, of course that would be when he showed up at his door.

“okay, you can stop with the look,” Stretch chided. Not that there was a look, Edge was certain of that, but Stretch could always read him better than anyone. “i shortcutted into the lobby from the bus stop, as per. no one saw me outside. i even called reception before i did so no one would have a shitfit about me coming out of nowhere.”

“Thank you for your caution,” Edge said dryly, masking his relief that Stretch was at least taking him seriously. “Can I ask why you’re here when I would have been home shortly anyway?”

“you can ask and i’ll even answer,” Stretch grinned happily, rocking on his heels, and Edge waited, suspiciously. “i want you to drive me someplace.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Edge gave him a narrow look. “Where am I driving you?”

Stretch’s grin turned sly and he tapped the faint protuberance of his nasal bone, “now, see, that’s where you’ll need to be patient, babe. you’ll see when we get there.”

For one moment, he considered begging off. Whatever game Stretch was playing was surely heartfelt, but he was tired and wasn’t really feeling up to a mysterious road trip. Janice was supposed to be back next week, and even so they’d be days catching up to the backlog of work.

Tempting, but to do so would steal that look of glee from Stretch, his visible delight in whatever it was he had planned. Stretch would accept it if he asked, Edge knew, he wouldn’t complain or protest, and whatever disappointment he felt would be held back, muted into nothing but dimmer eye lights, his normal exuberance only slightly subdued. Nothing that most people would notice.

But Edge would know.

“Let me pull the car up to the sidewalk,” Edge sighed. “You can see it from reception, and you can shortcut to it.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Stretch said agreeably, bouncing on his toes as he waited for Edge to put on his coat.

You make me happy, Edge didn’t say, though he did reel Stretch in for a quick kiss, one that was happily given.

He did hope it wasn’t a long drive.

~~*~~

Stretch really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

For one, he could tell Edge was tired. That was fucking disturbing as it was, Edge was usually a six-foot energizer bunny, his baby could go and go, and usually did. He wasn’t used to seeing lingering weariness in him, the way his eye lights were dimmer than normal.

Yeah, that and the nightmares he’d been having this week, thanks, if Edge thought he was hiding those, he was ever-fucking-wrong, and maybe he didn’t wake up screaming loud enough to peel the linoleum but even still, he wasn’t sleeping well.

Tempting as it was to play the hypocrite card and point out that he’d gotten dragged to a therapist when his nightmares were bad, eh, even he couldn’t pretend it was quite the same. His own issues had always been a little deeper than just a few bad dreams. Not that Edge probably wouldn’t benefit from a therapist; fuck, between him, Sans, and the Fell brothers, they could probably see about getting a group rate, but it didn’t feel like a battle worth fighting.

Not yet, anyway.

So, after spending a few days wracking his brain, trying to come up with something to do for Edge, he’d finally had an idea. Good idea? Time would tell, but he was hedging enough on it to have Edge following the GPS on his phone without letting him see the final address.

The building they pulled into was unimpressive, only two other cars in the parking lot and there was no sign to betray him.

Edge followed him up the walkway, waiting with silent wariness as Stretch knocked on the unassuming door. They didn’t have to wait long for a young Human woman to answer, smiling warmly even though she’d only met Stretch face to face once before, that very morning. They’d known each other on Twitter for a long time and had a pretty good working relationship, and she’d been eager to help when he asked for this very particular favor.

“Hello,” she said brightly, holding the door open, “Come on in, you’re right on time.”

“deena, this is my husband, edge.” Stretch told her as he toed off his shoes. Edge did the same, slower, though he nodded to her politely, shaking her hand when she offered it.

“It’s good to meet you in person, Edge,” Deena smiled. “Just follow me.”

“What is this?” Edge muttered, low enough to only carry to Stretch. His confusion deepened at the sound that was getting louder as they walked down the hallway, whimpers and whines. At the end was a doorway blocked by a baby gate and behind it were crying balls of fluffy puppy, all of them piled together in front of the gate.

“Get back, you little beasts,” Deena laughed, stepping over the gate. She made her way to the back of the room where there was a table laden with items. “You’ll have to excuse their manners, they’re hungry.”

Stretch followed her and, more reluctantly, Edge. The puppies milled at their feet and Stretch reached down to pick one of the squirmy bundles up.

“this is the hearts of hope animal shelter,” Stretch told his husband, petting the eager puppy in his arms. “i post for them all the time on my twitter for donations and adoptions. someone found these little guys in a box behind a dumpster and they’re fostering them until their old enough to adopt.” Without waiting for any protests, he thrust the puppy into Edge’s hands, waiting only long enough for him reflexively catch it before letting go and snagging up another.

“Rus…” Edge murmured warningly.

“it’s not what you think, i promise. i’m not angling for another pet, the chickens are good.” He grinned, nuzzling into soft fur. “but come on, look!”

The puppies looked like little toasted marshmallows, puffy white overlaid with tan, the leftover little ones tumbling around their feet, whimpering and crying. Deena came back carrying a box of filled bottles, handed one to Edge and Rus before gathering up a puppy of her own.

“Here you go, greedy Gus,” she laughed as the puppy latched on to the nipple instantly, suckling hungrily. “They eat so much at this age.”

Stretch offered the bottle to the puppy in his arms, sinking down to sit on a clean spot on the floor. Another puppy took the opportunity to clamber into his lap, and Stretch laughed, snagging another bottle and trying to feed two at once.

It was worth all the effort, all the worrying and planning, to see Edge shifting to sit next to him, inexpertly handling his own puppy, but soon each one of the floofs had a bottle and were eating with blissful eagerness.

It didn’t take long for them to drain the bottles and that left them with a lapful of sleepy little critters, their tummies round and full.

“There we are, you little troublemakers,” Deena crooned. She gathered up her puppy and sat it fearlessly into Edge’s lap where it curled up with his sibling. Stretch loved her a little for that, but then, she had a lot of experience in dealing with bruised souls, didn’t she? “Hold them for a bit, could you, while I clean up?”

“I…all right,” Edge agreed, a little helplessly, as Deena gathered up the empty bottles and left. He stroked a tentative hand over his puppies, petting gently. One of them kicked a foot, whimpering indistinctly and sighing as Edge scratched behind one tiny ear. Softly, he asked, “What made you think to bring me here?”

Stretch shrugged a little, petting his own sleepy fluffies. “you told me once how loyal the dogs of your Snowdin were. i just thought…you sounded like you maybe you missed them.”

“They were very loyal,” Edge agreed. It did not escape Stretch’s notice that he didn’t say anything about missing them. “But puppies of Aboveground are not the same as Monsters.”

Stretch only shrugged again. No, they weren’t, but Edge didn’t stop petting them, either.

He did slant Stretch a narrow look. “We aren’t taking one home.”

“nope, not even asking,” Stretch agreed, gathering up one of his puppies to nuzzle soft fur. “these are more like…therapy dogs.”

“I don’t—” Edge began and stopped, biting off the words.

“don’t what?” Stretch settled his drowsy puppy back into his lap, trailing his fingers through silky fur. “don’t need therapy? you can say it, i’m not offended.”

A flicker of something like guilt tinted Edge’s expression. “I don’t mean to imply there is anything wrong with needing it.”

“you aren’t,” Stretch said firmly. “now c’mon, these little guys need your help.”

It was deliberate phrasing, and even if Edge knew what he was doing, it tended to work. Edge was hardwired somewhere in a way that made him like helping. Even puppies.

“My help?” Edge said dubiously, but he took the sleeping puppy Stretch handed him, gently adding him to his pile.

“yep. he needs pets and loves.”

There was something indescribably precious about seeing his fierce, proud husband with a lapful of sleeping puppies curled against him. Petting them carefully, heedless of the shed fur clinging to his expensive trousers. No wonder Edge had so many clothes; married to Stretch, he sure as hell went through them. Their drycleaner was going to be able to retire in the tropics.

He couldn’t resist snapping a picture of it, planning on making it the background on his phone. Only to blink in surprise when Edge asked him, hesitantly. “Do you think posting a picture to Twitter would be helpful for adopting them out? My appearance is sometimes…unnerving for Humans.”

Well, that was an unpleasant realization to sneak in amidst all the adorable. Was that really why Edge didn’t like Stretch posting pictures of him online? It was on the tip of his tongue to say it wasn’t true and even if it was, he didn’t give a flying fuck. Edge was fucking gorgeous, sexy as all hell, and he didn’t give a shit what any coldhearted Humans thought about it.

He choked it back. That wasn’t going to help and Edge preferred honesty, even if it was unpleasant. They were using his Twitter and Instagram for propaganda, that was a fact, and Edge did look fierce sometimes to people, no, to fucking idiots who couldn’t look beneath the hard crust to see the marshmallow filling beneath. A picture didn’t give context; Stretch knew his love, knew how tender, how gentle and caring he was.

Stretch took a long, slow breath, and considered his words carefully. “tell you what, i’ll get a few shots that’ll let me post about the puppies online but still protect your privacy, yeah? so people don’t stop you on the street to ask for your autograph. and you can see them first, get veto rights.”

Must not have done too badly, because Edge’s smile was easier, his hesitance falling away, “All right.”

They stayed for a while longer, cuddling the puppies. One of them woke up enough to gnaw on Stretch’s fingers a little too enthusiastically with his needle-sharp little teeth, making him curse and Edge chuckle. It woke the rest of them and soon they went from snoozing balls of fluff to playful, tumbling ones, tugging eagerly on a rope toy as Edge held it or clambering into his lap for more pets and scritches, until they both were laughing, Deena staying tactfully away for the time being.

Not a cure for nightmares, Stretch knew, not an answer to his husband’s troubles, but it was hard to be too miserable when you were covered in puppies.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

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trevaleyn · 6 years

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A Callout/Open Letter to an Abuser and the Abused

This is a long post. Please be patient with it. To start, I am in no way trying to demonize or slander any of the mentioned parties. I am trying to be entirely and thoroughly honest and to hold all parties accountable for their actions and create a desire for change and more personal accountability across the server. I will be identifying patterns of abuse in a specific player and hopefully he will respond accordingly and embrace this as an opportunity to make some positive changes. At its most basic, this is a statement about a player and several of his fellow guild members who crossed the line.

As my close roleplay friends on Wyrmrest Accord have noticed, I have been absent from the server for some time now. While I have several reasons (an illness in the family, work getting more intense, dedicating more time to other passions) I would like to mention one of the chief reasons I’ve been absent from the server: The House of Crows. Specifically, Isato also known as Demetrius Deveraux. Now I know if you’ve read this far based on your personal interactions, you might already be ready to defend him and discount what I am going to say, and I know some of you have experienced exactly what I am revealing in this letter.This post isn’t to start a flame war, this isn’t one butthurt roleplayer crying to the community because things didn’t go his way. I would ask of you, the reader, to withhold your judgement until you have read this whole post. If after you’ve heard me out you still feel the same way, at least you heard me out, that’s all I can ask for.

Anyway.

I’m going to start by laying out patterns of abuse. I will be using a very famous and well renowned book titled, “Why Does He Do That?” written by Lundy Bancroft. I highly recommend reading it, as it helped me identify abusive behaviors both in others and in myself and fight to correct them. Below is an excerpt from the book.

“The qualities that make up an abusive man are like the ingredients in a recipe: The basics are always present, but the relative amounts vary greatly. One man may be so severely controlling that his partner can’t make a move without checking with him first, and yet, oddly, he contributes substantially to the domestic work and child care. Another man may allow his partner to come and go as she pleases, even accepting her friendships with men, but there is hell to pay if she fails to wait on him hand and foot, or if she makes the mistake of asking him to clean up after himself... Each woman who is involved with an abusive or controlling man has to deal with his unique blend of tactics and attitudes, his particular rhythm of good times and bad times, and his specific way of presenting himself to the outside world. No one should ever tell an abused woman, “I know just what you’re going through,” because the experience of each woman is different.

Viewed from another angle, however, abuse doesn’t vary that much. One man uses a little more of one ingredient and a little less of the other, but the overall flavor of the mistreatment has core similarities: assaults on the woman’s self-esteem, controlling behavior, undermining her independence, disrespect. Each abused woman has times of feeling that a riptide is dragging her under the sea, and she struggles for air. Confusion has been part of the experience of almost every one of the hundreds of abused women I have spoken with.” (Lundy 220-222)

This story starts well before my introduction into it. I won’t make any claims of anything I don’t know or don’t have receipts for or was not privy to in person myself. I will also add that a lot of this stuff happened 2+ years ago for me, but some of it is still currently on-going. For me that started when I met one of my good friends on the server, Pleo. We met through an ongoing plot line where our character’s clashed and then interacted, she was in the guild at the time and I was not. Now through several roleplay sessions we got it in our heads that we would continue to roleplay, and that my character Ulysses, since he was already locked in street brawls and conflict with the House of Crows as a whole, would make an excellent heel to this evil/crime themed guild. This would make it easy to write some more internal stories with an in-house heel and make for much easier dialogue and communication, or so we thought. I had a talk with the guild master Isato in voice chat that was meant to set clear goals, expectations, and boundaries of what we were comfortable roleplaying. After this talk I joined the guild with great enthusiasm and confidence.

Unfortunately, that confidence was short-lived. In the coming weeks and months, plots that had been thoroughly discussed among myself, Pleo, Isato, and other guild members were entirely ignored, altered, or outright stolen by Isato. The chief example I will use is a plot-line I wished to write that was about my character possessing a power ring. The gist was my character was going to generate a power ring that was a new source of energy outside of any currently existing in the world that would augment his current strengths. This would provide both an explanation as to how one man was able to consistently fight an entire guild and also a goal for those within the guild to strive for; fighting my character and taking the ring for themselves. Alternatively, they had the option to side with my character and be granted a small taste of power.

That is not how the story went. Almost immediately, my character was isolated and my chief connection, Pleo, was barred from events that involved my character. Any roleplay battles were always slated to end in the defeat of my character despite our previous agreements. This would cause me to get quite upset--I’m all for organic and spontaneous roleplay, but when a plan is created with a promise of a storyline, then altered, then it’s disingenuous to a person’s roleplay partners and in this case the guild as a whole.

I was isolated within the guild. Whether it was intentionally done or otherwise, that simply is what happened. I would plan events with Isato he would say “Talk to me later and we’ll set it up”. A week would go by. I would ask again. Get the same response. This went on for over a month on two separate occasions, despite the careful planning of myself and Pleo, as well as others within the guild. Many events that members tried to create would be promised to be addressed then ignored. In creating a backlog of events, this created an atmosphere of craving Isato’s approval. When your “turn for interaction” came (for lack of a better term), you took it because the player had been wanting to do this event so badly, no matter how much Isato interfered, altered, or redirected the event. This is the first controlling and manipulative behavior I saw that really stuck out to me, and it wasn’t just happening to me, it was happening to many of my fellow guild members.

Basically to sum up the first pattern in a nutshell, it’s this: guild members craving events and roleplay are isolated and made to wait, creating an atmosphere of poor communication generating confusion and desperation for said roleplay event. This creates leverage in playing the event how the manipulator wants said event to go.

In my case, this abusive pattern was used to take my storyline and redirect it for Isato’s personal use, despite the hours of careful planning and writing that I had done for it, something I consider to be tantamount to plagiarism or theft of someone else's storyline, and I know I’m not the only person who experienced this within the guild.

The second incident was more blatant; an outright infringement of boundaries previously set.

Fast forward to a month after the first event. I was quite livid that my storyline had been usurped and I was trying to work with this guild and Isato to redirect things In a healthy direction. This would come in the form of my character attacking the guild’s established fronts and headquarters. This was planned with Isato and other members in chat, and after a few revisions a conclusion was agreed upon. However, before this plot could be enacted, a guild meeting was held. The purpose of this meeting was to establish that as a villain guild, House of Crows would be adopting the practices of slavery again. Naturally my character’s reaction was less than favorable, but let's go back to those boundaries set.

I will roleplay most things, provided the other parties roleplaying them are comfortable with it, but two thing I won’t roleplay are rape and the murder of someone's character. Now you can roleplay whatever you like so long as it’s consensual in my book, however it needs to be just that. I’ll remind the reader that at the beginning of all of this before I joined the guild there was a voice chat with Isato as well as several other guild members. Among other things discussed were the boundaries of what I would be okay with happening to my character, and I said, something along the lines of, “You can do whatever you want, so long as you don’t kill my character or rape my character. I can write bloody torture scenes or mindfuckery all you like.”

Here I was, two, maybe three months in, and one of two guidelines set was being broken at this event, as during it they tried to humiliate my character by turning him from male to female with the intent to have him be raped and become a sex slave for other guild members. Not. Cool. You can see how this would be classified as undermining my independence, disrespectful, and controlling behavior.

Another instance of abuse given to me was by an ex-officer of the guild who would prefer to remain nameless, I’ll refer to them as Lee. Lee was an officer within the House of Crows who decided to leave the guild along with a few other friends, for character development reasons. This split was meant to be amicable. It was agreed upon between Lee, their friends, and Isato through several chats that they would phase out of the guild over the course of two weeks. Within twenty four hours after this was decided, Isato called a guild meeting to publicly announce that they were leaving the guild and proceeded to force them out before they were ready. This caught Lee and their friends by surprise as the time frame they had established was not observed, nor was the split remaining amicable as planned. It robbed these leaving members the chance to continue roleplay with members still within the guild after the split. By outing them in this manner, Isato had once again undermined these players’ independence and corrupted their public image to serve himself. These players had formed their own guild and were trying to move on in spite of these events and would still regularly interact with the House of Crows. that changed when a member of House of Crows spied on them under the guise of friendship, entering their voice chats and relaying information back to the House of Crows who then used this information against them. You can see how this behavior is a clear breach of respect and trust. This breach went deeper and came to a head when Lee was called out as being abusive to one of her long time roleplay friends:

http://wyrmrestaccordsecrets.tumblr.com/post/150294095492/foxes-who-think-they-are-wolves-are-talking

The link above is a WRA secrets post made by a House of Crows member alluding to said abuse, however I have since spoken to both parties, Lee and their friend, who assured me this was a fabrication created by the House of Crows to smear this ex-officer publicly and cause further rifts to form. You can see how this is is doubly problematic as this sort of behavior is not only an attempt to corrupt someone else's public image but also a blatant lie and manipulation tactic generating the kind of confusion Lundy Bancroft wrote about.

Finally, more widely known instance of abuse (though I think has some confusion around it) involves someone who wants to remain anonymous. For my purposes, I will refer to her as “Debbie”. Now for those of you unfamiliar with the House of Crows, they are an 18+/adult themed guild. Debbie is not 18. Debbie explained to me that during her tenure within the House of Crows, it was known among most members that she was a minor. The best case scenario is negligence on Isato’s part and the worst case scenario is his feigned ignorance of Debbie’s age. The House of Crows and its guildmaster either knowingly permitted a minor to join their guild and participate in adult content, some of which went beyond established boundaries, or did not know at first and refused to take responsibility after the fact. I know anyone can go on the internet and see just about anything, but when you set a standard you need to keep it.

(CW: Violence, nudity) http://bubblesteaart.tumblr.com/post/158413069096

The link above is from an event staged by the House of Crows in Stormwind. Debbie’s character was beaten, stripped naked, paraded through the streets, tied to a cross and burned alive. Gruesome stuff. However, the devil lies in the details; Debbie wasn’t playing her character. The avatar you see in the images in the link above are not Debbie’s character, nor was the art featured commissioned by her (it was actually commissioned by someone else within the guild behind her back). Debbie originally was participating in the event. She voiced her disapproval when her character was beaten in the House of Crows’ RP hub, stating, “Do whatever you want, I’m done.” Whatever followed, she had not consented to. She then proceeded to log off, logically assuming that would be the end of it, as I think most people would.

However, rather than speak to Debbie once she had cooled off, the participating guild members created a faux simile of her character and proceeded to strip her naked, parade her through the streets, and burn her alive with the expectation that Debbie as a player would be totally accepting of this. Now I don’t know about you, but when someone tries to kill off my character without me even being present for it I would reject that notion and so did Debbie.

So, with no resolution in sight, Debbie decided to leave the House of Crows guild, which resulted in her harassment. This harassment escalated so much that Debbie felt there was no other recourse but to leave the server entirely. Even that didn’t end all of the harassment she received. This is a complete refusal to acknowledge someone's independence and agency over their own story and character. It’s putting his own desires for an outcome to a story that is supposed to be a collaborative effort by all parties involved.

Given these three detailed examples of abuse and the seven other unwritten stories I heard, I felt the need to address this to hopefully inspire a positive change towards accountability and observing consent. I would much prefer no one else have to go through this and I would much prefer the perpetrators see their errors and learn from them, but this won’t happen unless we all hold the parties involved accountable for their actions. I know some of you might discount or question the validity of these accounts, and to those of you who do, I implore you to investigate further. If any errors or inaccuracies are found, please detail them to me.

Out of nine people I spoke with, ten including myself, only two other people allowed me to use their stories, provided I protect their identities. So of 10 people who experienced this behavior, 3 of us felt comfortable enough to speak out, the rest of these people were too afraid to speak out due to fear of harassment. Two of these other eight were so badly harassed that they left the server and have not returned since. Three people speaking up out of 10 is 30 percent. If 70 percent of people you have previously interacted with are so fearful of retaliation from you, that speaks volumes to the kind of person that you are and the behavior you exhibit.

Yeah, we all pay our 15 dollars a month but this doesn’t entitle us to overstep our bounds in favor of our own desires. There came a point when their in-character behaviors bled into their out-of-character actions, and this crossed the line. Behind every computer, behind every character, there is a real person with the right to the same respects we give ourselves. With that said, I will take a moment to reiterate that this is not a call to harass, slander, or otherwise do things of ill intent or nature to the House of Crows members. We can only precipitate change when we as a community hold ourselves accountable and that means doing the right thing. It’s okay to stick up for yourself and call out the toxic and abusive behaviors you see in others, it’s not okay to repeat them. Uphold the standards you set for yourself and uphold the standards you agree upon with others. The only person’s behavior that you can control is your own, when we lift ourselves up we lift everyone up. I can’t tell you how to deal with toxic behavior but moving forward, we all must deal with this with respect and decorum. Otherwise, we’re not any better than those we condemn.

#call out #time to change #wra #rp #ooc #house of crows #stand up #that's fucked up #humility

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missingverse · 6 years

Text

Missing Chapter Nineteen

Once again I need to apologize for a long delay. I'm in the process of moving house and it's adding stress to my already busy schedule, but thankfully because the entire country is on red alert for a storm I get to take a break for a little while.

Also, a note: don't worry that this might be close to the end, I still have quite a lot of story to get through.

…..

The hell of it, according to Ambrose Palmer's internal thoughts, was that he wasn't even supposed to be in Warleybridge that day.

The police station had called him a month before to ask if he would mind coming down to pick up some of the belongings Ed had left behind after thirty-four years being their deputy clerk. He had assured them he would, but he put it off for as long as he could. It was a long drive, the weather was bad, he had to arrange for someone to look after his dog while he took the trip....

(mostly because he had just about finished clearing all of Ed's other stuff and life was getting back to normal again)

...but eventually he manned up and tackled the drive. There wasn't even that much to pick up, just his coffee mug, a small cactus, a framed picture of the two of them from that trip to Kansas City two years before Ed died, three notebooks and a whole bunch of pens. Barely worth the trip, but Ambrose was glad he took it.

On his way back, it was getting dark and he was zoning out, there were no other cars on the road. When the lights picked up on something he managed to swerve just in time to avoid hitting it.

At first, he thought it was a deer, a fawn maybe. A moose calf even. But as he focused, he realized it was a person. Not just a person, but a child. A child in very bad shape. If it wasn't walking on the road, he would have thought it was dead.

He got out of his car and called.

“Hey....you okay?”

It was a stupid question, because the child was decidedly not okay, but what else was he supposed to do? It was moot either way because the child apparently didn't hear him. Leaving his car, mumbling uncomfortably to himself, he ran after it.

Her.

“Oh Christ....hey kid, can you hear me?”

She stopped in the road and stared at him, unblinking. She was skeletal, her face was covered in blood and the rest of her was covered in mud, insect bites and long thin scratches.

“Okay....okay....” Ambrose muttered, reaching gingerly for her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “We need to get you to a hospital.....you're gonna be okay, all right? Everything's going to be fine.”

It was the same kind of panicked babbling that Ed made fun of him for as he was nearing the end, but it was better than nothing. The girl seemed to agree, because the next moment her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell into a dead faint. Ambrose caught her just before she hit the asphalt.

“Shit,” he muttered, lifting her into his arms and rushing back to the car. “Oh lord....just hang on, sweetie, we'll getcha to the hospital, they'll fix you up good as new....”

He wrapped her up in an old blanket sitting in the boot of the car and drove with her stretched out on his lap, so he could make sure she was still breathing. Warleybridge had a small hospital-slash-respite home, he'd been there a lot with Ed.

He talked all the way back to Warleybridge, a non-stop outpouring of reassurances, promises and whatever the hell else popped into his head. If she heard any of it she gave no sign.

…..

She was checked against the Jane Doe registry, because of course she was. It was standard procedure.

The fact that she wasn't immediately identified as relatively-well-known-missing-child Helga Pataki was down to a perfect storm of circumstances that might not have happened had she ended up somewhere else.

*Firstly, the most recent pictures of Helga Pataki weren't really that recent. The one used on the national database was taken when she was eight, the other few that showed her between ten and eleven were deemed too blurry or too distracting to be useful.

*She had lost a lot of weight in captivity, and due to emaciation didn't look anything like her picture. Some of her hair had fallen out and her eye sockets were too bruised to take a good comparison photo. The doctors that treated her put her age at between seven and nine.

*The teeth that had been removed caused swelling in her jaw, knocking the entire lower half of her face out of kilter.

*Warleybridge was a rural area, and though they had internet it was slow and spotty. Loading pictures even in the sheriff's office or the hospital took longer than average, and after searching through pictures of little blonde girls all day with no clues people got fed up and left it.

*DNA taken from the girl didn't match anything in the system, and she could not be identified via dental records or any other medical procedures. As far as could be told, she hadn't had any medical care of any kind in her life.

*A backlog of work had been building up at the sheriff's office since the death of their clerk and they were having trouble finding a replacement. Therefore, they had been cutting corners on a lot of things, including calling around other sheriff's offices in nearby states.

*There were 'hillbilly' families in the area who lived off-grid and mostly under the radar of any kind of social services. Occasionally they popped up when someone was very ill but it was rare. Farming accidents were common with these people, as were hunting accidents, and it was thought likely that the girl had been left for dead after something like this.

So, for five years, even as reports and stories and podcasts and TV programs and forums and blogs all wondered what had become of her, Helga Pataki was lying in a hospital bed in Warleybridge, anonymous and mostly ignored.

…..

The name 'Serenity Doe' was a quip courtousy of a local who thought she was in a coma. Coma was not quite the right diagnosis, nor was she in a persistent vegetative state. What she had was closer to catatonia, she had moments of waking and even lucidity.

One month after she'd been brought in, she woke up but seemed to be incapable of speech and frustrated that she couldn't make herself understood. Paper and pens were given to her but when she tried to write it was an incomprehensible scribble. She was holding the pen correctly, though, so they knew she was educated at least a little. She was back sleeping within twelve hours.

The next time she woke, it was the middle of the night, and she tried to get out of bed but only succeeded in spraining her weakened ankles. Tube-feeding was helping her gain weight but it was slow, and she had mild atrophy from being in bed for so long.

Ambrose Palmer visited once a week, and when she woke for the third time she seemed to recognize him. She still couldn't write recognizably, but she managed to fold a piece of paper into an origami crane to give to him. The following week, he brought a guitar. She was back sleeping again, but he played for her and she could be observed smiling in her slumber.

Fourth and fifth times she woke, she managed to drag herself to the hospital kitchen, made herself a sandwich, ate it and then vomited because she couldn't handle solid food yet. A year had passed and she had ceased to be an interesting story to the town, but was still a patient the hospital staff were very protective of.

In her second year, she woke just three times. Once was just as Ambrose was arriving for his weekly visit, and it was thought that hearing him talk to the nurse in the hallway jolted her awake.

She woke more the third year, but for shorter lengths of time. Instead of twelve to twenty-four hours, she would have spells of lucidity for three hours or less. She did speak some recognizable words, mostly 'home' 'baseball' 'bridge' 'notebook', names of objects but never anything descriptive.

In year four she managed fragmented sentences, out of context and garbled. Talking about baseball games she had played when asked what she wanted to eat, complaining about the cold during a heat wave, telling Ambrose over and over (as he nodded along patiently) about some history report she had gotten a B- on. At the very least these 'conversations' ruled out the possibility that she was an off-grid hillbilly kid; she was educated and had a mild inner-city accent.

Year five was the most dramatic. She spent more time asleep than she had since the first year, but she could speak coherently and clearly when she was awake. She still couldn't explain who she was, where she had come from or what had happened to her, but she could answer simple questions, tell the doctors when something was hurting and hold a full back-and-forth exchange with Ambrose on his visits.

She seemed to be under the impression that she had only recently arrived at the hospital, and was convinced that she had just been somewhere else with someone whose name she couldn't quite recall. She had done his homework for him, apparently, and went on bike rides sitting in his basket. The nurses giggled, not unkindly, that she had an imaginary boyfriend.

By now she had gained much of the weight she had lost, though she was still thin and pale from living indoors and in bed for five years, and if they had checked they might have seen a resemblance to Helga Pataki. But by now all thoughts of trying to identify her had been put out of their mind, and they preferred to take care of the person they had now with the hopes that she would some day be able to live a normal life.

St Jude's Hospital and Convalescent home ticked along nice and quiet right up until a boy turned up claiming he knew the girl who had been sleeping for five years.

…..

In the motel, he squirmed and paced. Arnold wanted to get to Warleybridge as fast as possible. If there was even a small chance that Helga's body was there, dead or alive, he needed to see for himself. But just his luck that he would find this out just as Helga had gone into one of her long sleep cycles.

Should he message Phoebe? He wanted to. But if he turned up at this place and it turned out to be a false lead.....

But again, she had asked him not to keep things from her. He had to respect that.

Phoebe, I need to tell you something.

What's up? Did you find her?

Yeah, I did. We're at a motel in Tappenack.

But I found something else out here.

What is it?

A missing girl was found on this

highway five years ago. She's been

in a coma in the local hospital ever since.

Are you serious? Arnold,

if this is some sort of joke,

it's not funny.

I wouldn't joke about something like this,

Phoebe. I'm going to check it out as

soon as Helga wakes up.

Call me as soon as you get there.

The next bus to Warleybridge was due in two hours. It was a half-hour walk down the road. He had already gathered his stuff, and there was nothing left to do but pace and wait.

He felt sick. He felt elated. He felt weak and energetic and exhausted all at once. He resisted the urge to try and shake Helga awake, trying to wake her up had never worked before.

Thankfully, just as he was starting to really panic, she did wake up. She was rubbing her eyes as he marched over and pulled her out of bed.

“What the hell...?” she grumbled drowsily.

“We need to leave now,” he told her sharply. “I'll explain on the way.”

…..

When he did get to the hospital, he must have looked a state; unshaven, sweaty, bouncing on his heels. The nurse at the front desk eyed him warily.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a frosty tone.

“You have a patient here,” he babbled at her. “She's in a coma....Serenity Doe?”

“Mm,” the nurse said, lowering her eyes. “We have a strict D-notice on press here, even school newspapers. Your teacher should have told you that.”

“What? Oh, I'm not press,” he stuttered.

“No bloggers either,” the nurse said sweetly.

“No, no, that's not why I'm here....”

“Then you're a ghoul. We got a big D-notice on those two. You can take your 'fascination' somewhere else, kid. Maybe the asylum will let you in for a gawk.”

“No, you don't understand,” he growled, taking out his phone and dragging up an internet image of Helga. “I think I know who she is. She went missing five years ago, she hasn't been seen since.”

He pushed the phone in front of the nurses' face. She looked to it, then back at him.

“And who are you to this girl?” she asked.

“A friend,” he told her. “We grew up together....there was a bunch of new evidence found, she was taken by a serial killer who was holding her near Tappenack, but her body wasn't there. It's been all over the news, and the timelines match up. If it's her, I can identify her.”

The nurse stared hard at the photo. And then she stood up.

“I need to talk to the resident on call,” she told him. “Stay here. Don't talk to anyone.”

Helga had hung back behind him, and she stepped lightly to his side once the nurse was gone.

“What if it's not me in there?” she asked. She had been subdued on the bus, in contrast to how jumpy Arnold was.

“Then we look somewhere else. We won't stop,” he told her.

The nurse arrived back with a jovial-looking man who towered over Arnold.

“So you say you know our Serenity Doe, eh?” he said with an airy tone, though his eyes glittered with something hard, angry. “And what makes you different from the other nuts who turn up here with the same story?”

“Same story?”

“Yeah, you're not the first,” the doctor laughed, a little cruelly. “We get all kinds.”

“Uh, well, I'm not a nut,” Arnold tried to explain. “I came across a news article, the timelines match and so do the locations. I could identify her if I saw her.”

“Uh-huh,” the doctor sniffed. “And what makes you think that you could identify her when five years' worth of trained professionals couldn't?”

“Because I know her,” Arnold told him, a hard edge creeping into his own voice. “I'd know her anywhere.”

“Fine, fine,” the doctor shrugged. “Tell you what, if you can give me some information about your friend that matches what we have on file, I'll let you in to see her. Something nobody else would know.”

“Okay....” he agreed as the doctor opened his file. “Um, she fractured her eye socket when she was eleven. She said it was a baseball injury but really it was because she fell into a door.”

The doctor hummed noncommittally, wrote something down. Arnold wanted to tell him about her missing teeth, but that had happened after she was taken. The scars on her head and torso, too. What else was there?

“She's had no dental work done,” he told them. “That's why she has no dental records. She had the measles too, she was never vaccinated.”

The nurse pursed her lips and looked to the doctor, whose expression didn't change. Arnold wracked his brains for more.

“She has really distinctive eyebrows,” he said. “They were really big when she was a kid, not so much now I'd say. Her hands are callused because she was the batter in Little League. She took her bat everywhere.”

“This is all pretty basic stuff,” the doctor said. “Anything else?”

That panicky feeling was rising in him again. He had grown up with Helga for eleven years, mourned her for five, sheltered her for months....how could he know so little?

Just then, Helga whispered in his ear, and he repeated it.

“She has a burn mark on her knee shaped like the letter L, from when her dad threw a lit cigarette at her,” he recited. “A whole bunch of freckles on the back of her neck....if you join them up, it makes a really wonky-looking puppy....her left arm was broken three different times, first time was when she was four....oh, and a sickle-shaped scar on her back. She fell out of a window. There's a mole just beside it.”

By now, the nurse was ashen-faced, twisting her cardigan in her hands. The doctor's anger had left him, and now he was smiling wryly.

“Sounds like she was a rough-and-tumble kind of girl,” he said, scribbling on his notes.

“The roughest,” Arnold sighed with relief. “Half the kids at school were afraid of her.”

“All right, I'll let you in. You have ten minutes.”

��..

It was her.

She was smaller and paler and thinner than she had any right to be, and she was peacefully sleeping as lights blinked and tubes dripped and little monitors beeped and booped and did their jobs around her. The ghost of her looked more alive than she did, except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she took in air the ghost didn't need.

There was the star-shaped scar, but it had faded into white scar tissue and a tiny spot where hair would no longer grow. It was proof she was alive, and healing.

Arnold was rooted to the spot, afraid if he stepped forward something would change. Maybe this was a dream and he would wake up to find none of this had happened at all. But once again, the ghost Helga jolted him out of his stupor.

Her face was stoic as she drew up beside her living body, looking down on it as though she was observing from a great height. To Arnold's dismay, she was beginning to fade.

“This is why I came back,” she said. Her voice had an odd echo to it. “This is why I came to you. So you could find me.”

Arnold shook his head, not knowing how to react.

“I knew you wouldn't give up, and you didn't,” she said, her voice wavering and distorted in the air. “I was supposed to lead you here.”

He was beyond elated that he had found Helga, alive and well, and beyond horrified that the shade he had sheltered in his home, the spirit he had laughed with and comforted and talked long into the night with and loved had fulfilled her purpose and now had no reason to be by his side anymore.

“Thank you,” she said as the first spectral tears started coursing down her rapidly fading face. “Thank you so much....”

“You don't have to go,” he said with a strangled gasp, and upon opening his mouth he tasted his own bitter tears. “We can go home, the doctors will take care of your body here. She might never wake up.”

“I do have to go,” she said, smiling as she held her body's hand. “We were separated from each other, I needed your help to bring us back together. Everything's going to be fine.”

He crossed the room in three steps, and just about managed to gather her into his arms and kiss her where the star cut through her hair before she faded away entirely and, he knew, for good.

He was properly sobbing when he sat in the chair across from Helga's body; it felt like something had been torn out of him. He took her hand, the one the ghost had been holding before she faded, and brought it to his cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he gasped. “I'm so sorry I took so long to find you.”

The body's eyes fluttered open and the head turned to look at him. She frowned a little at him, and he gave her a watery smile back.

“Hey,” he managed to say with a graceless croak. “Welcome back.”

Her mouth opened, just a little, but no sound came out. She was trying to say something. He came in closer to hear, but nothing. He watched her mouth the words before he could understand what she was trying to say.

Football Head.

#missing #hey arnold fanfiction #hey arnold

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keziacole · 7 years

Text

tagged by @bumbleblossoms - thank you!

Tagged Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people.

THE LAST:

1. Drink: Coffeeeeeee

2. Phone call: My partner, just as they left the dentist. :( 3. Text message: Motherbot 2.0 4. Song you listened to: Been Caught Stealing – Jane’s Addiction 5. Time you cried: Uh… some point in the last couple months, I guess? Not sure when, but it was at something related to dogs. Honestly, I did most of my crying last year, during The Year From Hell, and I’m still a bit dried out.

6-92 under the cut. :)

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: As in getting back together again? Nooooo. 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: …yup. Often. Sometimes not until a long while later, though! 8. Been cheated on: Not to my knowledge. 9. Lost someone special: Yep. 10. Been depressed: Eh, I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, so no, I don’t think so. Situationally really fucked off with things? Yes. 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Once. Story time, everyone!

So, I generally have a really good alcohol tolerance and a cast iron stomach (not necessarily for good reasons, but hey), but I did once go to a party that ended very badly. I was about 17, had recently been diagnosed with CFS, and was on a heavy painkiller regimen. I drank when I shouldn’t really have done so, because bullshit and All the Emotional Drama, BUT… I did not know that my friend’s asshole brother had spiked my drink. (He was a peach. Gave his 14 year old brother acid once just to point and laugh at the result. Fuckin’ hated that guy.)

At some point in the evening – somewhere after the sham marriages, interpretative dance, and someone putting someone else through a table, because teen parties – I realised I was wayyy more wasted than I should have been, despite the painkillers, and I ended up spending all night hallucinating and throwing up, plus feeling horrific for about three days afterwards.

Moral of the story: if you spike people’s drinks, you are a gigantic bag of toe lint and should suffer mosquito bites on your asshole for a thousand years. The end.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12. Purple 13. Red 14. Blue

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: Not yet. Befriend me, tumblr, you’re my only hope. 16. Fallen out of love: No, though I have watched my relationship with at least one family member crumble into dust. Does that count? 17. Laughed until you cried: At least four times a week. Which is one big reason why I’m marrying that motherfucker. 18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes. See 16. 19. Met someone who changed you: Not yet. 20. Found out who your friends are: Yes, sadly. It sucks when you realise how effectively someone has manipulated the people around you. 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Nah, I don’t really do the FB thing. I should, I guess?

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: See above. I kind of have a profile, but I only use it to message people I’m related to who are freaking obsessed with Facebook and won’t communicate any other way. Ugh. So… most of them? I guess? 23. Do you have any pets: One dog – Hector, a grumpy and elderly terrier - down from two resident mutts and a boatload of fosters. Older dog died last year, and I’m not in a position to foster right now, which sucks, because I miss having a house full of beasties, not to mention making a difference. 24. Do you want to change your name: Already have done/am doing! I have no real interest in keeping up with more than 80% of the people I’m related to, and I never liked my birth name, plus this is easier to spell and dictate to people, and isn’t known by the abusive assholes in my life. So, yay! 25. What did you do for your last birthday: Ordered pizza and watched favourite movies with my partner. We did The Blues Brothers and shit-talked the progression of police militarisation in the US over the past 30 years, and it was incredibly fun, despite the fact we’re 3000 miles apart right now. Also, they remembered my birthday, which is more than can be said for over two-thirds of the people I’m related to. 26. What time did you wake up: 9am, but in my defence I was up until 3 last night.

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Talking shit with my partner, knitting an afghan, and watching foster kitten cams and reviews of awful movies together, because these are good ways to help someone who has a dental appointment in the morning try to stay calm. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: Getting my current backlog of work finished. Sooo clooose…. Promised myself a movie and gaming binge when I’m done. 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Last week. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: Either having enough money to fix all my problems (yes, in this case, money most certainly can do that), or just being on the same continent as my partner, so we didn’t have this immigration thing to worry about. Not having a debilitating illness that fucks everything up would be pretty awesome, too. 31. What are you listening right now: Freddie King 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yep, many Toms. All the Toms. Well, like, five plus. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Not knowing whether or not the electrician is going to show up tomorrow, which will mean I need to move the paintings and quilt top I currently have all over the sitting room floor. I’m not done piecing that thing yet. Grr. 34. Most visited website: Lots. Mostly Google, Politico, Reuters etc., but I’m living on eBay right now because I’m trying to sell off a bunch of DVDs, books, and vintage glassware. …Does anyone want to buy some vintage/antique glassware? 35. Mole/s: Yep. I had one removed from my back once. Turned out to be benign (phew!) but I got an interesting scar out of it. 36. Mark/s: I still have a faint surgery scar on my elbow, but it doesn’t look as Frankenstein-y now. Most of my scars have faded, but I still have some weird idiosyncrasies from things that have been broken or busted up. 37. Childhood dream: Writing was always my main thing, but also acting/directing. Illness took that away. Other than that, I always wanted to live somewhere rural with lots of animals, and be happy. 39. Long or short hair: Long. Lots. It’s huge. Send help. I like both on other people. 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Not right now. Give me ten minutes and a new Fet profile to stalk and I’ll get back to you... 41. What do you like about yourself: I’m a creative dynamo and I don’t stop until I fall down. I’m also proud of the fact that I’m a pretty compassionate and patient person, and I like the fact I’m slow to really anger. Someone told me recently I’m a very stabilising influence, and that was nice to hear. I feel like life can use more of that. 42. Piercings: Ears (two left, three right), nose (left). More on the way, maybe, when I can justify it. 43. Blood type: ???? I should check. I know the NHS won’t let me donate blood because of my medical condition, which blows. 44. Nickname: Zia. Some people call me Kez. One person is allowed to call me Admiral Fuckface McAsshole III. 45. Relationship status: Open relationship with my primary partner, technically speaking. Poly is good, but my planner is too cluttered for anarchy. 46. Zodiac: Aries w/ Aquarius moon, Virgo ascendant. I also have Mars and Venus in Taurus, so mooooo. And yes, I did used to do natal charts for beer money. I read palms, too. I’d still do it if asked nicely. 47. Pronouns: They/She. I don’t mind feminine pronouns, because I’m incredibly cis-passing and most people will assume “she”, plus I can live with being labelled female if it’s a binary choice, but I see myself more as a person than a gender, so I love that neutral pronouns are being used so much more now.

FWIW, I considered whether or not I was trans for a hot minute when I was a younger teen, because I used to love passing as a boy when I was a kid (until puberty at nine. Boo.), but for me it was the difference in how I was treated when I passed as male that mattered. It was the difference between “Oh, isn’t he confident and intelligent?” and “Hello, sweetie, don’t you look pretty today?” that affected me, not a real sense of dysphoria, so I decided the problem wasn’t really in how I presented, but in society itself. I have yet to really find a satisfying way of rectifying that, but I think we’re all making progress as a society. It’s very slow progress, sadly.

48. Favorite TV Show: I don’t watch that many series, but Star Trek (especially TOS and DS9), X-Files (S1/S2), Game of Thrones, old mystery adaptations (all the Agatha Christie ever), Stranger Things, Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad… can’t think of anything else right now, but there are some. 49. Tattoos: One black and grey dotwork spiral goddess on my arm, next one coming soon (watch this space, now I’ve found an artist!) 50. Right or left hand: Ambidextrous. Yes, I can write with both hands. Sometimes, I switch in the middle of the sentence. No, it doesn’t look the same. I can also operate light switches with my toes from a standing position. 51. Surgery: I fucked up my ulnar nerve a couple of years ago by blacking out and falling on some stairs. It was melodramatic, and I lost the use of my left hand. Had surgery to correct it. I was awake but a bit sedated, and spent most of the time talking to the cute anaesthetist about chastity cages. Because... sedated? Yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Sadly, he did not call, though I’m pretty sure he did a lot of googling when he got home that night. 52. Hair dyed in different color: Always, since I discovered Olaplex, which means I can actually bleach my hair without it completely frying. Most recently, I’ve had a mermaid fantasy in turquoise, green, and purple, but it’s faded a lot. Not sure what I’ll do next. Maybe orange, or neon yellow again. 53. Sport: I can’t do much without turning blue and blacking out, but I’ve always enjoyed tennis, badminton, swimming, and equestrian stuff. Is hiking a sport? Hiking’s fun. 54. Do you use sarcasm a lot: Um...

55. Vacation: Last one was to see my partner; next one will be too. So, the woods of NEPA. Hiking out with some granola and my favourite human, and spending a few days playing with shelter pitbulls. <3 Otherwise, I’ve never really been on holiday. I went on a school trip to Germany once where I nearly got arrested and, when I was seven, I went to Malta and there was a hurricane. I remember wedging wet towels into the window frames and hoping we didn’t die, because we were on the twelfth floor and there was nowhere else to go.

I did go to Norfolk with my mother for four days after her breast cancer diagnosis. Macmillan, a cancer charity that is very worthy of support, granted her a short break. There was a lot of playing dominos and trying to convince her she wasn’t actively dying at that precise moment.

56. Pair of trainers: Converse. All the ratty old Converse low tops in the world.

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: I have the house to myself right now. It’s awesome. I’m celebrating with homemade shiitake tofu stir fry, wontons, vegetable udon… and doughnuts. Not in the same bowl, though. 58. Drinking: Rum.

59. I’m about to: Finish a short story, close out an editing project, format a print galley (again. Goddamnit, Adobe.), and try to finalise the running order of a poetry collection. Maybe send some emails, maybe eat the rest of those wontons. 61. Waiting for: The dizziness to go away, usually. 62. Want: The time, space, peace and quiet to focus on my work, and my health to cooperate long enough for that to happen. 63. Get married: As soon as possible, which basically means when we can afford it, because immigration, legal wrangling, and a ton of other bullshit. It’s a headache, but if there weren’t so many technical hurdles it would already be done. 64. Career: I write and make stuff. I’m doing it under a new name now, which is daunting, because it means starting over again, but I’ve spent the past few years doing a lot of genre fiction and being told my original work is “too original”… but I’m ready to say “fuck you” to that and see what I can carve out for myself. Come on, internet: don’t prove me wrong, ‘k? 65. Hugs or kisses: Ooh, tough. Yes? I guess hugs if I have to pick. 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes. 67. Shorter or taller: I honestly don’t care, though I do very much enjoy short subs. Pocket rockets are adorable. 68. Older or younger: It really doesn’t matter. 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms, I guess? Doesn’t really matter. It’s all pretty to look at, but who really cares? Arms are best for hugs. 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive. I don’t like too loud. 72. Hook up or relationship: Define the terms, yo. I’d say relationship, but the definition of “relationship” can be open to numerous things. 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Um… possibly a bit of both, but more hesitant, probably.

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: No. 75. Drank hard liquor: Yup.

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I once dropped a contact lens down the back of a gas fire and spent three hours getting it out with Vaseline on a paperclip. My vision is awful and I wore very expensive gas permeable lenses at the time. 77. Turned someone down: Yup. 78. Sex on the first date: Nothing wrong with it (and nothing wrong with sex being the date), but it’s not for me. 79. Broken someone’s heart: So they said. 80. Had your heart broken: Yes, but not how you might assume. 81. Been arrested: Nope. 82. Cried when someone died: Yep. 83. Fallen for a friend: A couple of times, with varying degrees of success.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: I try to, because few other people often do. (*the world’s tiniest violin plays*) 85. Miracles: Yes, sometimes in the form of coincidences, surprises, or the results of hard work. I believe in inverse miracles, too, when things go catastrophically wrong for no apparent reason. Or, as we call it at my house, Tuesday. 86. Love at first sight: Yes, in a way. Potential for love at first sight, I guess? I’ve usually found I know the moment I meet someone whether that’s a thing that’s going to happen or not. 87. Santa Claus: YES, DAMN IT. Okay, maybe not a literal dude in a red suit, but as a personification of the generous spirit of Non-Denominational-Winter-Solstice-and-Festival-of-Lights, he works. (I’m an eclectic neo-pagan/hedgewitch, but my most loved time of year is the whole October-February period, so I start celebrating Yule/Christmas around December 1st and don’t stop until Twelfth Night. I will take ALL of your symbolism, ALL your traditions, and – most importantly – ALL your festive foods and embrace them. In my belly. Thank you.)

88. Kiss on the first date: Probably. Unless it’s a baaaaad first date. 89. Angels: Again, not so much the literal sense, but it’d be nice to think there are positive presences looking out for us. I’d be very concerned about the serpent-like pillars of fire, though.

OTHER:

90. Current best friends name: Aside from my dog, that’s my partner but they don’t like their details shared, so SHHHH IT’S A SECRET. 91. Eye color: grey-blue-thing 92. Favorite movie: You can’t just ask a person that at the end of the thing like it’s a simple question…! So. Many. Movies. Depends on the genre. The Blues Brothers, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, Gattaca, Silence of the Lambs, Re-Animator, Die Hard, Stand By Me, Sleepaway Camp, Alien, Lady in a Cage, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, TRHPS, The Great Escape… those are movies I can watch a billion times (and have done). Honorable mentions, depending on my mood, go to things like Basket Case, Caramel, An American Werewolf in London, Exterminating Angel, Secretary, Gran Torino… I could have done 92 questions just on the most popularist movies I like!

tagging: I’ve been away for a few days and I don’t wanna tag people who’ve already done it, so if you’re reading this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged! <3

#get to know me #personal #long post

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