#and i need to like. not get sent to therapy in the process. how do i explain that i cant do this because i want to die

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 1

summary ;; As Jake Sully's oldest daughter, you never see eye to eye with him, always challenging him and pushing his buttons to the limit. What happens when things go too far one day? [PART 2] pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; welcome to the labor of my daddy issues and my very own therapy. this fic is inspired by this one by @layonatanvi and I only wanted to borrow the running away from home to get an ikran idea/prompt! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any.

There’s a widespread belief among sky people that every first-born daughter is a direct copy of her father. 

You listened in on your own father complaining to your mother about this privately one time; according to him, this was why you guys kept banging hammerheads like 'angtsìks. 

Lo’ak was his troublemaker, yes, but you were the rebel pain in his ass, wouldn’t stop questioning one tiny simple step he made, never took anything seriously when he needed you to be on top of things hundred percent of the time... Even your younger brother knew boundaries after he was given the stink eye, but you hadn’t stopped testing him every single goddamn day after the sky people had come back. 

His youngest son and oldest daughter were nearly identical in the speed they got him seeing red, but the similarities ended there. Lo’ak would go behind him to cause trouble, and you would do it right to his face, that fearlessness and defiance made you more dangerous than your brother in your father’s opinion.  

His blood pressure skyrocketing was reserved for Lo’ak and the shenanigans he knew right away the boy was getting into, and you got his explosive anger the moment you would open your mouth to defy him — he couldn’t talk to you, a normal conversation even about your mother’s cooking wasn’t possible without you being passive-aggressive and things snowballing from there. 

(“This is delicious Neytiri, thank you for the food. Sturmbeest?”

“Sturmbeest meat ran out like two weeks ago, father. You ask this everyday and mom answers the same everyday.”

Cue him reprimanding you for talking to him like that, you saying maybe he should greenlight a hunt soon to calm his nerves and promptly being sent to your room. It was Neteyam who’d saved some food for you that night.)

If only you would stop talking back to him and listen for once, he’d said, pacing in the tent with hands on hips like an agitated viperwolf as mother watched on, most likely tired from going through this loop for yet another day. You are the older sister to Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, why can’t you be a role model for them like Neteyam is? 

(Mom had given him the flattest, “She is at the age for such behavior, Ma’Jake, we’ve talked about this. Let her be.”)

In your defense, he didn’t make sense sometimes, what harm was there in wanting him to explain the thought process behind his decisions?

Apparently you simply were prohibited from doing that to the Olo’eyktan. 

But he was father, he was your family. Why did that have to be disrespect? 

He wasn’t like this before.

A small part of you was aware this was you lashing out because you missed your father — the lighthearted rock in your life, the big shadow protecting you from the heat of the world, who knew how to smile and show his love before all of this. Now he was just the leader of the clan, the weight of the revered Toruk Makto on his shoulders made him a total stranger you didn’t recognize. 

He barely ever called you sweetheart anymore, punishing you for being a brat, most likely. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt. 

But it did. You missed him dearly when he was right in front of you. The rest of the family did, too, they just didn’t say it out loud the way you expressed through what you called standing up to him — in reality, it was a statement about the man he had become, father couldn’t read between the lines to understand.

Mom did. 

She would always explain he did it out of love and worry, and his every move had a reason behind it after the scoldings ended. It was as if she saw right through the prickly exterior of her eldest daughter.

Her love wasn’t held back like his was, not shared like military MREs at decided moments in a day in between attacks, raids, meetings and duties. Hers were long touches, hugs, kisses on your temple, shared time and hunts together, her letting you ride on her ikran with her, the warmth of a meal and soft smiles; whilst his was randomly asking how you were after training and where you’ve been if he caught onto your absence sometimes. He didn’t have time for you or your siblings except for Tuktuk these days. That’s why you were now a mama’s girl.

Sooner or later, the breaking point was finally bound to arrive. 

Yours did after a particularly heated-up fight about your rite of passage. You had had enough of father postponing it when Lo’ak, younger than you, had already gained his own ikran and gone through uniltaron. He was present in the tent while you were fussing and debating with your immovable mountain of a father only answering with single syllable responses, and his light snickers made you all the more aggressive. He got a strong jab from Kiri after a loud snort.  

Kiri, you could get. She was built different from the start — got her mount earlier than anybody else, just walked up to it and asked. Besides, the girl wasn’t a dick about it like Lo’ak was. 

“You aren’t ready yet,” father answered the more you asked him. You thought he'd say a different thing the hundredth time, but he didn't. “Your brother was.”

Lo’ak puffed his chest at that, desperate for a drop of recognition as always, and you could only roll your eyes. “So you think I’m weak? I’m not strong enough?”

Father sighed at the provocation. “That’s not what I’m saying. This and being ready are two different things.”

“How are they different? If I’m on top of my training, that means I’m ready.”

“Physically ready, and mentally ready are not the same.”

“How can I not be mentally ready, I’ve already seen what happens—”

“Enough!” He stood up, towering above you and leaning in slightly. Your younger brother had stopped smiling so quickly you almost let a laugh escape you, and father got agitated when he saw that, thinking you were making fun of him. “Some don’t return from the dream hunt. Do you understand? The strongest sometimes don’t return from that. Your mind needs to be strong.”

“And mine isn’t?”

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not actually wanting to say it for some reason. “No it isn’t.”

“Why?”

There it is. Your signature phrase. ‘Why?’

And it made your father look above, asking silently for patience from Eywa as it always did. 

“Ma’ite, why don’t we take a break, hm? Come walk with me,” your mom interrupted, taking your hand and standing next to you, your four fingers got enveloped in her larger, warmer grip, strong and insistent. 

“No, I wanna hear it. What do you think makes me not ready?”

You insinuating that your father was entirely going off his own wrong opinion and not knowing any better set him off. You saw the change from ticked off to borderline on edge, but instead of giving into it, he turned his back on you and went back to cleaning his gun, movements choppy and harsh. “That immaturity for a start.”

And you hissed at him—actually hissed at him when none of your siblings would ever dare to talk back to him during a lecture. 

The audible gasps, the holding of breaths, and the slow turn of your father’s head looking like he was going through confusion of reality upon being hit on the head had followed. His eyes narrowed and the lines of his eyebrows got gradually lower on his face, his form seemingly expanding in mass from building anger, spine slowly straightening after fully comprehending what you just did.

“I’m way past you giving me attitude missy,” his baritone and low voice was so steady that you’d rather him yell at you like usual, but he was scarily calm, pushing you to raise your chin righteously at him to show you weren’t bothered by him none, but your ears betrayed you by cowering flat and taut against your skull. “But you’re hissing at your father now? Hm? You think this right here is gonna get you the respect you think you deserve?”

“You don’t listen,” you said, ignoring your heart trashing away from how coldly father was to you.  “Disrespect,” your fingers quoting in the air resulted only in making him angrier. Neteyam to his right, silent and observant the whole argument, was furiously shaking his head that the beads in his braids were clicking loudly. “is the only way you ever pay attention to anything anymore. See? Look how sharp you are right now. Mission accomplished, I guess.” 

“Bro…” Lo’ak, frightened by the wide eyed glare father was giving you, weakly protested, but you knew he would never be able to interfere in the verbal struggle between you and father the way you did to his. 

“You will go to your room,” father said between his teeth, “Do not let me see your face. I swear to Eywa—Neytiri, get her outta here.“

“Do you ever want to see our faces anymore, father?” 

A beat. 

Mom gasped your name in shock, grabbing your arm this time as if she wanted to drag you away. 

All his fury froze away immediately. “What did you just say?” 

You just stared at him. 

“That’s enough,” your mother snapped at you, but you didn’t hold it against her, she was more worried about what would follow if this went on. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Father slowly shook his head, the storm brewing right under his skin got you preparing for the impact, and all the kids flinched when he threw the unloaded gun back in the crate. “You know so much, don’t you? You’re smart, wise. Know better than Tsahik herself. Fine, you get your way. Go.”

You froze. “What?”

“Yeah, go. Get yourself an ikran.”

“Father—”

“Don’t father me. Go on. I’m not stopping you. Since you’re so ready and you’ll say just about anything to get what you want, who am I to get in your way, huh?” 

But you didn’t want it to be like this. Iknimaya was supposed to be something exciting, prideful — a ceremony. He was saying it like you were being thrown out. Who was going to paint your face? Be proud of you? 

“Why are you just standing there?” He poked your crushed ego further, confident in the fact that you wouldn't set one foot outside of the cave systems at this hour of the day. “Didn’t you want this?”

You didn’t want this. 

“Dad, it’s the middle of the night,” Kiri said, appalled, not quite believing her ears. 

“What does it matter?” He showed you in mock pride, up and down that you couldn’t stop the tears from stinging the corners of your eyes. “Mighty hunter here is ready.”

“Jake,” your mother warned in such a threatening tone that he stopped and shifted on his feet, almost uneasy. 

“What? If she doesn’t want a father’s concern I’m not giving it to her.”

Like you weren’t standing right in front of him at all. 

“Jake!”

That was the final straw. You wrenched your arm free from mom’s iron grip and screamed, “I hate you!” at the top of your lungs at him before storming off the tent.

His ears flattening was the last thing you paid attention to as everything became a blur because of tears swelling. Yeah, right. You wished you could hurt him, unfortunately he was too much of a wall for that. You bet he was scoffing at your declaration right now.

Your body thought faster than your brain did even when the emotions had you drowning under the current, deciding you were going to sneak off to the ikran rookery tonight. You knew he would send Neteyam after you — him barking, “Follow your sister,” at the boy right after you hid yourself between the rocks surrounding the tent was the confirmation of the hypothesis. He was to make sure you didn’t leave High Camp. 

Everyone in your family knew your favorite hiding spot to cool off, Neteyam of course was heading there automatically, and it was the headstart you needed to get a move on. 

Fine. You would complete your iknimaya yourself without anybody’s support, as if these things had any value anymore with how military he’d conditioned the clan to be. You were going to make him eat his words for humiliating you.

The muffled of father drifting off flared up your determination as you soundlessly sneaked off. "Jesus, I've spoiled her too much..."

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝 #📖: light

[bunni-v1]

Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul. 

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you. 

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be. 

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything. 

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens. 

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you. 

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little. 

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand. 

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is. 

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him. 

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes. 

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend. 

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story. 

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you. 

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

#twst #twisted wonderland #bunni's treats 🧁 #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jamil viper #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim twst #deuce spade x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?” 

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.” 

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.” 

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.” 

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.” 

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.” 

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”  

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.” 

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.” 

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.” 

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”  

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars. 

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking. 

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.  

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.” 

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf. 

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.” 

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?” 

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”  

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”   

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl. 

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?” 

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.” 

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”   

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough… 

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby. 

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. 

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point. 

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?” 

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”  

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.” 

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment. 

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.” 

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me. 

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?” 

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?” 

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?” 

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?” 

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though. 

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.” 

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.” 

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?” 

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?” 

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?” 

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his? 

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.” 

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.” 

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.” 

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show. 

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.” 

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could. 

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.  

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.” 

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.” 

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.” 

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?” 

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.” 

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.” 

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.”  Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” 

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.” 

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat. 

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me. 

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.” 

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.” 

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?” 

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.” 

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.” 

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.” 

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.” 

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.” 

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.” 

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.” 

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.   

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off. 

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.   

 Dieter’s POV 

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day? 

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days. 

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home. 

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.  

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.    

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!” 

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored. 

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming. 

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing. 

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple. 

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first. 

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.” 

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.” 

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…” 

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure. 

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.   

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.”  I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.” 

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?” 

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.” 

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?” 

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.” 

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.  

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?” 

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.” 

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position. 

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.” 

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting. 

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”    

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances. 

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble. 

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”   

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?” 

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming. 

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.” 

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face. 

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission. 

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.” 

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?” 

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.” 

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”  

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok... 

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #closed position series

[makethatelevenrings]

Half Eaten Bagels // J. Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: this has heavy discussion of emotional abuse by parents (I literally used a memory of my own home life, thank u therapy), emotional/panic attacks, discussion of food/food waste, disparaging comments made by parents that have been internalized

Summary: Jason had a shit patrol and you try to fix things only for familiar thought processes return from your past.

He didn’t mean to be angry.

You understood that, you really did. Jason wasn’t usually the kind of guy who slammed doors and let his frustration boil over and spill onto you, but today wasn’t a normal day. A drug bust yesterday had gone wrong and people were injured. Civilians and batlings. Jason hated being injured, but not more than he hated others getting hurt for what he deemed to be his failure.

So when you woke up to the sound of the front door slamming that morning, an unsettling emotion sank into the pit of your stomach.

“Jay?” you called softly as you climbed out of bed. You tugged the hem of his sweatshirt down until it hung to your thigh. A pair of soft sleep shorts were hidden underneath, but you didn’t care about propriety. You cared about the safety this single piece of fabric provided.

Quietly, you made your way out of the bedroom and found Jason at the fridge. His shoulders were tight and tense and you could see the edges of bandages peeking out from under his collar.

“Here, let me cook breakfast,” you exclaimed. Jason turned, not surprised by your presence but certainly surprised by your offer. He usually was the one to cook breakfast because it gave him a chance to do something for you before he sent you off to work and then took a nap. You rarely cooked breakfast since your culinary expertise focused more on dinner.

Jason decided not to argue and instead stepped away from the fridge. “I bought more eggs at the bodega and some milk.”

“Okay.” You spoke softly, ensuring that your voice wouldn’t raise at all so he wouldn’t view it as a challenge. That’s how your parents always viewed it. Surviving was simple. Don’t talk back, don’t raise your voice, and just accept whatever they say.

“Here, why don’t you go sit down and watch TV or something?” You pushed him towards the couch, ignoring the confused look he shot your way. Luckily you didn’t work today so you weren’t in a rush, but you also didn’t want to mistime your cooking and give Jason cold food. As you began to fry the eggs, you glanced nervously back at where he was seated.

Yeah, bad move.

The oil popped and caught you on the cheek. You let out a sharp hiss of pain and pressed your finger against the spot in an attempt to soothe the sharp, stinging spot on your skin. Jason was halfway up off the couch when you waved him off.

“Don’t worry. Just me being stupid.”

He sat back down, but kept his gaze on you. Being under his stare was making your stomach roil. Was he waiting for you to fuck up again? No, Jason wasn’t like that. You were being unreasonable. Irrational.

But that’s the thing about anxiety. It’s irrational.

“Damnit.” This time, the bacon grease had caught your wrist and you shook it out quickly before grabbing your spatula again. You also needed to get the coffee machine started because Jason always had the french roast with a shot of creamer and a spoonful of sugar. The bread needed to be in the toaster in the next minute. Was there jelly in the fridge? He liked strawberry jelly on his toast. Did you forget to buy more when you got groceries? Shit.

“What can I help with?” Jason asked.

“Nothing, Jay. I’ve got it.”

His large hand enclosed around your wrist as you went to flip the eggs and you immediately wrenched away from his grasp.

“I said I’ve got it!” Jason stood in stunned silence at your outburst and you immediately dropped the spatula on the ground and sank to your knees. Your arms came up to cover your head as a bone-wracking sob tore through your body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. Wh-what can I do to fix it?” You didn’t want to look at him and see his frustrated face. You didn’t want to know how badly you fucked up.

You waited.

Nothing.

You hesitantly peeked up from the protective cradle your arms had created. The stove and oven had been turned off and Jason sat in front of you on the kitchen floor. His knees were drawn up to his chest but they were spread apart instead of guarding himself like you were. Instead of anger on his handsome face, there was only worry.

“What’s going on?” he finally asked. The words weren’t accusative, but rather a gentle exploration. You shut your eyes and looked away form him, the words to explain getting lost in your frustration. Jason sighed and scooted closer. You didn’t flinch back, but you did keep turned away from him.

“I was late for the bus once,” you said. “And food wasn’t allowed on so I ate half of my bagel and tossed the other half into the trash. I was eleven, y’know? I didn’t think about wrapping it up or saving it or anything but I’m getting off track. I didn’t think about it anymore, right? But then my mom called when she was leaving work to tell me to do the dishes and I could tell she was angry. She and dad had been fighting the night before and I guess work hadn’t made it any easier.

I figured I would be a good kid and do more than do the dishes. I was eleven and I swept and mopped the kitchen floor, I prepared the ingredients for dinner and had it laid out on the counter for her when she came home, and I cleaned off the dining room table. And when she walked in the door, I was doing homework at the table. The perfect kid. Quiet, hardworking, doing more chores than asked.”

Jason was silent as he listened to you. He could sense that there was something heavy hanging around your neck, but you had never elected to share. You always felt as though he suffered enough.

“But that damn bagel…” You took a deep breath in to steady yourself and finally turned your head to look him in the eye, a bitter smile playing on your lips. “She saw it on the top of the trash and lost her shit. Screamed about how fucking useless I was and wasteful. Said I was a waste of space and time. Said she regretted having me. Because of a bagel. I went to bed hungry that night because if I stayed in her eyesight, she would just find new things to be mad at. The utensils weren’t in the right drawers, I got the wrong kind of cheese out, I don’t know.

I learned to manage. I learned to keep her and my dad happy to survive. Being useful meant that I wasn’t worthless or a waste of space. It made me feel like they wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.”

A sob boiled up in your lungs, through your throat, until you were choking on the depths of your childish grief and Jason was at your side in an instant. One of his hands cradled your head to his chest as the other stroked up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you chanted.

“No. No, stop apologizing. Nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I came in so angry.” He pressed kisses to your temple, forehead, hair as he whispered quiet apologies and faint praises.

“This is your home,” you whimpered. “You have a right to be whatever the fuck you want. You shouldn’t repress your anger because of me.”

He sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head. “You’re right. I just…I can’t see you like this again, sweetheart. You were freaking me the fuck out. And don’t you fuckin’ apologize.”

You hummed, your ear nestling against the fabric of his shirt and right over where his heart rested in his chest. The steady beat lulled you, regulating your breathing and heart rate with his. In and out. In and out. Your hips nestled between his legs, his strong hands holding you up…you had never felt more safe.

“How about this?” His breath washed over your cheek and you tilted your head up to take in the sight of his furrowed brow and sharp, calculating eyes. “You know how we have a safeword for scenes?”

You nodded, curious as to where he was going with this. Jason licked his dry lips and then grimaced before continuing. “What if we make a safe word for this? Anytime I think you’re in a bad headspace or you find yourself falling back into old patterns, we call the word and time out. Sit down, talk it out, get out of the house, do something that isn’t some sort of task you think you need to do to appease me.”

“Yeah, that could work.”

“Alright.” HIs cool lips pressed against your temple once again. “How does Pluto sound?”

You giggled. “Like the planet?”

“Good, you still acknowledge its rightful designation. Does that work?”

“Yeah.”

Jason squeezed your hip and then made you sit up and face him. He wiped away the sticky tears that were quickly drying on your skin and then grasped your hands. He rose them to his face and pressed a delicate kiss to each palm.

“What word do we use for the bedroom?” he asked.

“Giraffe.”

Jason kissed your inner wrist. “Good. And for outside of the bedroom?”

“Pluto.”

He kissed the other wrist and then pulled you into his chest once more. “Good. That’s good.”

“I’m sorry the food’s cold,” you whispered against his cheek.

“Don’t you worry about that right now. I gotcha.”

Tag List: @khaetiin​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​

#red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fluff #jason todd drabble #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction

[possibilistfanfiction]

not truly a prompt but would love some more outside perspective for surgeons au

‘dr. v, hey, what’s up?’ silva says, leaning against the doorframe of the supply closet with far too much aplomb for someone who spilled chili all over himself in the cafeteria — in front of beatrice, who had, horrifyingly, just rolled her eyes with a smile — merely an hour ago.

‘silva.’

you’re a little proud when dr. silva — usually infuriatingly unflappable — gulps. ‘hey, so, uh, well. i’m saying this in confidence.’

you resist the urge to just walk past her, because you definitely could, and you’re way too busy, but she’s unfortunately actually a great intern, switched to your service after beatrice told chief superion they had feelings for each other. which, well — it seems serious, and dr. silva has made beatrice, your best friend — your sister — happy, happier than you’ve ever seen her, so you’ve come to terms with the fact that ava silva is probably going to be in your life for a long time now.

‘go on,’ you say.

ava nods, steps into the supply closet and closes the door, glancing behind him quickly. 

‘the coast is clear, for whatever secret you’re about to divulge that i’m sure i won’t want to know.’ you know the coast is clear because you come into this particular supply closet to catch your breath when days are chaotic and overwhelming, to, on occasion, shed a tear or two over a bad outcome or, even more embarrassingly, a great outcome, too much family thanks sent your way. 

dr. silva isn’t deterred at all. ‘okay. um. beatrice cried herself to sleep last night. and last thursday night too. i know she doesn’t want me to know, or i guess, she probably doesn’t, but, like, i care about her, a lot, and i lov— ‘ ava shakes his head, a little panicked, but then soldiers on. ‘do you know why? is there anything i can do?’

beatrice, you are well aware of, has therapy every thursday, barring emergencies she can’t get out of. you also know, from years and years of watching her hold feelings in for days, weeks even, until she explodes a little, that beatrice is a slow processor, someone who needs her time to understand what she’s feeling. before she met ava, you’d text her every thursday, after she’d gone to the dojo or climbed or run, and you’d read a new study together (not sworn to secrecy) or catch up on love island (sworn to absolute secrecy). 

but now there’s dr. silva — ava; there’s someone for beatrice to be held by, someone to warm the cool side of the bed. you can understand from when you first started dating camila, the sheer panic that she would realize you needed things, the sheer panic that you needed her, that beatrice doesn’t want to share with ava whatever was difficult or sad or hard to process. beatrice is excellent at most things, including kindness, and especially including steadiness, and you know, no matter how open she is in therapy, that what she grew up having shoved down her throat is not an easy thing to overcome. 

‘she has therapy, thursday morning, every week if she can make it.’ maybe beatrice would be mad at you, but you don’t think so — sometimes it’s easier to have help, anyway. 

‘oh,’ dr. silva says, their shoulders relaxing immediately. ‘well that makes a ton of sense. i was worried it was my cooking or taste in music or something.’

‘i’m sure those things don’t help.’

she rolls her eyes. ‘thanks for telling me.’ thanks for knowing beatrice so well; thanks for loving her too goes unspoken; to dr. silva’s credit, she does seem to understand that there are lines too tender for her to cross.

you nod, just once, and motion toward the door. dr. silva steps aside, a little hurried, trying to be polite — for once.

‘i need post-ops on mr. williams, and then we have a consult with dr. masters.’

‘sexy.’

‘i can get you fired, you know.’

dr. silva’s grin, under the florescent lights in the hallway, is almost rakish. ‘i do know that, and i also know you wouldn’t.’

‘the next abscess i see is yours.’

ava just laughs.

/

beatrice slips into the supply closet silently, just behind you, a week later.

‘jesus,’ you grumble. ‘i’ve got to find a new spot.’

she’s undeterred, wearing a fleece over her scrubs and a bright orange fisherman’s beanie — silva’s undoubtedly; beatrice would never buy anything bright orange herself — a neat canvas tote from her favorite coffee shop on her shoulder — tired, and on her way out. ‘did you tell ava i had therapy on thursdays.’

‘well, you do.’

she clenches her jaw, seems to toy with what she wants to say. ‘thank you,’ she settles on, surprisingly but also not: beatrice is kind, above all else; kinder than you ever expect. 

‘i apologize,’ you find yourself offering, ‘if i overstepped.’

she shakes her head. ‘it’s — was it hard for you?’

‘camila?’

she sags back against the closed door. ‘letting someone in, like that.’

‘well, i certainly didn’t choose ava.’

beatrice laughs, a little, but, ‘i don’t feel as if i had much of a choice. he’s, just, spectacular.’

you refrain from saying anything mean; there will be time enough, years and years and years of it if beatrice has any say. ‘he took care of you?’

‘as much as i let her.’

you have to smile, then; there are a handful of times you’ve been in charge of taking care of beatrice: after her parents visit, each time, especially in college, tears and hours of sparring; after she had top surgery, helping her take a bath and deal with her drains; once when she got food poisoning from a sketchy burger place she resolutely loved. ‘no small task.’

‘we’ve got to get better at that, don’t we?’

’speak for yourself. i’m a seasoned professional.’

‘ah yes, you, remarkably comfortable accepting affection and care. since the moment we met.’

you laugh; you can’t help yourself. ‘you’re happy?’

‘beyond.’

’sure you couldn’t pick someone less… ava?’

beatrice elbows you but it’s lacking any malice. you sling an arm around her shoulders, as close to a hug as you’d get under normal circumstances, especially at work. ‘you know,’ she says, ‘everyone knows you come in here to decompress. you’re not stealthy.’

you shrug. ‘intimidating, then. no one interrupts me.’

she lets you have it with just a small smile, kind once again, and makes to slip out the door. ‘i’ll leave you to it then.’

‘sure.’

‘drinks later when you get off? perhaps just the two of us?’ a measure of care you’ve never been brave enough to offer but are always grateful to accept — your oldest friend.

‘i would really like that, beatrice.’

she nods. ‘text me when you’re done.’

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #surgeons au #butch bea 🥺🫡 #lilith she is so much i Love writing her lol

[starlightandfairies]

Leg injury -Austin Butler~

Description: Reader injures leg filming a scene and Austin takes care of you.

Warnings: Broken leg, fluff, implied female

Key: POV = Point of view, Y/N = your name

Word Count: 989

*Please send through requests!*

2nd Person's POV

Austin had met you at a photo shoot, you weren't originally meant to be the model standing in with Austin but the other model had dropped out and chose that she didn't want to do the photoshoot. So going through the books, looking for anyone that they thought could be a good match against Austin, they found your headshot. At the time you were an actress trying to get any sense of work. So, you ended up doing the shoot with Austin, the two of you finding an interest in each other and that created the pathway for your relationship. 

Across the next three years later your friendship turned into a romance, and you started to gain more roles as a guest in tv shows, having a couple of episodes before being written off as there was no longer any use for your character and had also been placed in movies for ten minutes before your character was either or you were playing the younger version of the main character so once you had filmed your scenes you were sent off. 

So, over the last two months, you auditioned for a movie, got the lead role and began filming with the others that had also been cast in the movie. You didn't do some of your own stunts, some of which made you uncomfortable. This current stunt was not meant to be a difficult one, you had been strapped into a harness, a suspension-like bungee wire hooked onto the back. All you had to do was stand on the edge of a tall platform, jump to a lower one and then switch with the stunt double who would be thrown off and onto a crashmat. 

Normally, Austin would be there, watching you perform your scenes, however, he had to do some interviews that he had been requested to attend. After the whole process of being hooked up to the wire, getting into position and making sure everyone else was ready. Getting into character, you ran and jumped where the marking previously was. You had no clue how it happened or what happened to begin with. 

The wire snapped before you could reach the other platform, you fell and just missed the crash mat, a scream escaped your lips as pain raced up your left leg. 

You had been raced to the hospital, an obnoxious plaster cast placed on your leg, resting in bed while you waited for Austin to come home. Austin raced into the hospital room, looking panicked and worried. 

"Sweetheart, how are you doing?" He whispered, sitting at your side as he placed a hand on your face and rested a couple of kisses across your face. 

"I can't feel the pain, I'm on a lot of painkillers." You explained, smiling at him and holding his hand, Austin was glad to know that besides the broken leg, you were otherwise okay. Austin rested a kiss on your lips, holding your hand and looking over your form. 

"They won't be mad at me?" You asked, Austin shot you a look and brought your hand to his lips and rested a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. 

"No, sweetheart, they won't be mad, if they are I'll yell at them. Y/n you're the one that should be mad at them for not checking that wire." You nodded at his words, taking a breath and smiling as he handed you some water. 

"Thank you." He nodded and grabbed a marker out of his pocket. 

"Can I draw on it?" You nodded happily at his words, Austin chuckling as he moved the chair he had been sitting on closer to your leg and lightly began drawing over the plaster. You watched some sitcoms on the tv, ate the food that was brought in for you and talked with Austin as he drew cute little pictures on his new canvas. Austin placed the marker down, moved back to you and rested another kiss on your forehead. 

"The doctors were saying that I would need to be in a wheelchair for a while, then be placed on crutches and then I'd also need physical therapy in the end." You explained sighing at how drastic it all sounded. Austin caressed your cheek, resting loving kisses on your forehead and gave you a caring smile.

"I'll be there with you, all the way. I promise." He reassured, grabbing something from his bag and smiling at you before showing you a teddy bear. 

"You brought me Cookie!" Your teddy bear from your childhood was named Cookie, it normally sat on your bedside table and Austin didn't call you childish for keeping the childhood comfort. You cuddled the sentimental item close to your chest, smiling happily at the boy and rested a kiss on his lips. 

"I love you."

"I love you too." He whispered, sitting back in the chair and watching as you fiddled with the ears of the loved but well-maintained toy. 

"They're talking about returning to filming two weeks after I'm out of here, they just film me from the waist down or do scenes where my leg isn't showing. They don't want to use CGI unless they have to." 

"We'll see how that goes. We don't want you pushing it too much." He stated lightly, standing up and closing the blinds as the sun was pouring in violently. He switched the lights on, smiling as you looked more relaxed from being able to see properly. 

"Thanks for taking care of me." 

"Always. I'll look after you. You're my girlfriend and I'd be a pretty shit boyfriend if I didn't." Austin reassured, resting a kiss on your lips and tracing patterns on your arm. Austin discovered it to be a way to soothe or calm you whenever you needed it. 

#austin butler x y/n #austin butler angst #austin butler #austin butler gif #austin butler icons #austin butler x reader #austin bulter x female reader #austin elvis x reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis fluff #Austin Butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin x reader #elvis movie #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis x female redaer #fluff #angst

[randomshyperson]

So I finally watched The Marvels.

~SPOILERS AHEAD~

They missed the opportunity to actually say Wanda's name but it's totally fine 'cause this is not about her, but also, excuse me Miss Rambeau??? Monica is that powerful now and all because she visited Wanda's little Sims city a couple of times, like what? I love it. That old theory that Wanda was the one who gave Pietro's power is coming back stronger now

I strongly believe misogyny and racism are behind the flop of this movie, I had an amazing time watching it, whole thing was genuinely funny with relevant marvel lore and characters plots (the aliens are still fighting each other and blaming humans, but hey, colonialism and exploit of resources are the main reason we have to protect planets). Everyone loves when Peter Quill explores the galaxy but if three women do the same it's suddenly a problem.

A lot of people saying how tired they are of Marvel, were only tired of women doing the Marvel formula, don't believe those haters. Just like every other Marvel project, we have the hero journey and their blockbusters cliches, a lot of visual effects and jokes, LIKE EVERY OTHER MARVEL PROJECT, but sure, let's blame the girls for the failure. To me, it was really refreshing just to see women having fun and supporting each other and throwing little energy balls every now and then.

Also, the fact that Princess Carol is a fucking Star now? Pretty sure that got her killed in the What if series but good to know she's more powerful than that.

Kamala is the star of this movie, she's so funny and charming but also Monica and Carol angst got me crying and it was not enough!! I need more of their pain

I almost forgot, Miss Carol Danvers is all by herself in space just using a god damn TORTURE DEVICE to try to get her memories back, EXCUSE ME??? Someone gives this woman a hug, or idk, sent her to therapy with Bucky cause jesus Christ that's not healthy lady.

For the things I didn't like, the rhythm for sure. Such a quick movie, a lot of things happening, one minute I was crying the next I was giggling then crying again and then thinking about politics like slow down a little. I wanna digest the dialogues for a second.

THE SINGING PLANET I CANNOT-

Really funny movie, kamala's parents, the cats, everything was so easy going and cheerful even with the little angst moments, I had such a good time.

The best thing about this movie, as fanfic writer who gets truly frustrated with plot holes and stuff like that, it's that I will be able to watch it again. Movies from the first phases I used to love before I start writing, I can no longer enjoy the same 'cause I keep seeing how they don't make a fucking sense or have unbearable characters storylines and personality changes (yes I'm talking about Civil War and Age of Ultron or Ultimate, maybe STEVE ROGERS LEAVING BUCKY in a specific matter). This and also the fact they lack all kinds of minorities. Doctor Strange had like 2 women in the cast?? And don't even get me started on talking about what the sequel did to Wanda's character development.

The Marvels, Ragnarok, Black Widow, Captain Marvel, Captain America (1&2), Infinity War and Guardians of The Galaxy (all three), Black Panther (both), Ten Rings, Eternals, are still the only Marvel movies I actually enjoy rewatching, because they are projects that respect the characters established personalities and history and for origins ones like Eternals or Ten Rings, they are simply fun, what a crime for a movie to be just fun huh

All of the shows are worth rewatching (even Fury's one that I hated it), 'cause they were given time to develop into stuff and as a writer there's a lot for us to work it.

Btw, I'm not talking about Kate Bishop'cause I'm simply unable to process my happiness over seeing her again. I do think I might have a stroke once Yelena is back.

#the marvels #the marvels spoilers #this is me venting #watch me write carol fanfiction after this #me and kamala actually haha #i want to hear everybody opinions as well

[landojpg04]

Revenge on the Ranch II//G.Tillman

Index

Go read part one if you haven't already!

Synopsis: Rumor and Gator reunite.

Warnings: R*y Tillman, slight mention of how R*y treats his wives, language.

I woke up to the sound of pans clinging. I rolled over to see eleven am on the clock. I haven't slept in this late since my freshman year of college. My body feels rested. I feel rested. I walk into the bathroom to at least get ready if I’m making my appearance late.

But as soon as I was done, I walked downstairs. Momma and Dad were making their famous BLT sandwiches.

“Oh, look who decided to join us today,” Pops says as he sees me.

“Told you she needed to get food in her. We practically put her into a coma last night.” Momma said. I just chuckled at her antics. I looked around, seeing that it was eerily calm. 

“Where's the boys?” I said.

“Rhett is already doing his prep for tonight. Jane and Robert went to her doctor's appointment and took Rylee with them,” Momma said. I nodded as Pops handed me a plate of food.

“I bet the city doesn't have good BLTs like these.” He said, I took a bite and was sent to heaven. The city doesn’t have a lot. 

I spent a few hours just sitting with my parents. There was not much talking; they were just taking in one another.

Jane and Robert came back with Rylee. Momma is making Rylee, and I eat a plate of fruit and vegetables. 

It wasn't until two hours later that I noticed Momma getting visibly worried. She’s always like this when Rhett has a competition. She begins to pray, sweat, and at times send herself into an anxiety attack. Robert jokes that the entire process is Rhett’s good luck charm. If Momma isn't visibly upset, he won’t win. 

Rylee wanted to get ready with me, which I could not deny. I helped her pick out an outfit. Braided her hair and added bows.

“Sometimes she is a spitting image of you,” Jane says at the doorway.

“Begging to dress up, always speaking what's on her mind, and not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

“Runs in the blood,” I say, smiling as Rylee tries to get her boots on.

“Rylee, go help grandma and grandpa with the car.” 

Jane closes the door as Rylee runs downstairs.

“Your turn,” Jane says, walking up to me. She sits me down at the vanity and plugs in the curling iron. One thing Jane loves doing is hair, so this is like therapy for both of us. I talked to her about everything. Missing home, especially missing Gator. She tells me he comes by often to check in with my parents, her, and Robert. 

Gator would never verbally say he felt more at home under the Abbott roof. With the past of Linda, Nadine, and now Karen, Reese was the only mother figure who was a constant in his life. He saw how his father treated his wives and vowed to Reese that he would never do that, even if he didn't marry me. 

Jane and I continue to talk; I tell her about work and some of the cases I’ve helped on. I also complain about Vincent from the coffee shop.

She jokes, “Gator would kill him if you asked.” But deep down, I know Gator would do anything if I said I was uncomfortable with someone. 

Jane finished up my hair and helped with my outfit, and we were on our way to the grounds. 

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“You’re never round here anymore, Rumor,” Peter said to me. He was in the competition and grabbed me as I was looking for Gator.

“Yeah, well, I did move the day after graduation.” I was annoyed with Peter’s antics.

“Well, is there anything that could make you move back? Maybe someone?” He said, moving closer to me; I noticed he was trying to move his hat to fit onto my head sneakily. I begin to laugh at his foolish antics.

“You put that hat on her, Collins I swear I will break every single bone in that arm of yours.”

Right on time. 

I turn around to see the carrier of that voice. Still in full uniform, standing well over six feet. He has one hand on his belt while the other holds the top of his vest as he stalks over. Peter audibly gulps, standing in front of me.

“Move. Your pony ride is coming up.” He growls out as he is now standing next to me. Peter nods and frantically turns to walk away.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you? Not even a full twenty-four hours back home, and these assholes are already on the prowl for you,” I just shrug at his comment. I turn my body towards him. I wanted to take him in. 

His hair is slicked back, but I can tell it's longer. He smells like cologne and nicotine. I know he didn't grow, but with his work boots on, I feel as if I’m straining my neck a bit more to meet his eyes. He looks good. He notices me taking him in; he grows red in the cheeks and lets a small smile pass through.

“You look good,” I say.

“I look good because I knew my girl was back in town. Should've seen me yesterday; I was a mess.”

It was his turn to take me in. His eyes travel down and back up.

“Your hair got longer since I last saw you.”

He grabs my arm. I can feel what he is gonna say next.

“Did your Reese yell at you for not eating enough down there?”

“She's been feeding me as much as Rylee the entire day.”

He laughs. “You look good, Rue, “ he begins to move closer; I close my eyes and feel him ghost over my lips “You look good.” 

He finally pressed his lips onto mine. His lips were cold; they’d always been cold. I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him in closer. 

Fuck did I miss this. 

He grabbed the loops of my jeans to pull me closer than I was before. I gasped at the maneuver and Gator took this to slide his tongue into my mouth. I could tell he was hungry through the way he kissed me. I can't blame him, though. 

For once in what felt like a lifetime, the world was quiet. There were no fears circulating in my mind. 

“Jesus, would you two knock it off! She didn't go off to war Gator!” 

And there it was, the one thing I wish would blow away in the breeze. Roy Tillman. Gator and I broke away from each other. I looked towards the voice. God, did he look worse with age.  

“Nice to see you too, Roy,” I said.

Roy never liked me from the moment I was born. Said I was a mistake my mother made. My father and he were good friends, almost like brothers growing up, but now the bond was too big to break. My father never shared the same values as Roy, but he knows that the thoughts and ideas Roy thinks are just a representation of generational trauma. 

Growing up, Roy always tried to tell my parents that my mouth was gonna get me in trouble. He hated that I was outspoken, especially towards men. 

One day, he talked about how he respected the army, navy, and peace officers, especially Federal Bureau of Investigation agents. I then spoke about how I also wanted to work for the FBI. Roy laughed at me for over an hour straight. The next day he woke up with all of his tires slashed. Still today they are looking for that culprit. 

“Heard you’re back for a few weeks. Quantico, realize you don’t fit the job description anymore?”

“Dad, come on, leave her–” Gator began to but in, but I never miss a chance to tell Roy to fuck off.

“No, Roy, they sent me up here. Said to start an investigation about a crooked Sherrif in a small town.” I said with a stern face. Roy went white for a minute, like the statement I was saying had truth behind it, but then he realized I was just doing his favorite thing, running my mouth.

He laughed and then grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, lighting up.

“You think you're funny, Rumor. You think you're funny.” He said, sauntering off towards the bleachers. 

Gator let out a laugh the second Roy was far enough to where he couldn't hear.

“I don’t think he’ll show up to our wedding.” 

“I think he’ll put me on America’s most wanted the day he finds out you're not a virgin,” I said, backfiring at his comment.

Gator just wrapped me in his arms, placing his lips on my head.

“How long do I have you for?”

“Rhett or Robbie are gonna drive me back next Thursday.”

“I can drive you back,” Gator said. I just nodded into his chest, not wanting to break our contact. Gator was my security blanket up here.

“I miss you, G,” I said into his chest.

I felt him squeeze me even tighter in his grasp. 

“You have no idea, Rue,” He said. I looked up to meet his eyes again. I could stare at him for hours. He had soft eyes that went dark, but right now, they were gleaming. He leaned in once again, meeting my lips—a short and sweet kiss. 

“Come on, let's go watch Rhett,” I said, unraveling myself from his embrace, but Gator didn't let me stray too far as he placed one of his hands in my pocket, something he had been doing since we got together.

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Author's note: Hope you guys enjoy the reunion, next part will be a bit steamy 😉

Lmk if yu guys enjoy or want to see anything in this series!!

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #joe keery #gator tillman fanfic #rhett abbott #outer range #gator fargo #fargo #fargo fx #fargo s5 #fargo season 5

[hell-drabbles]

Wait after seeing your Lucifer pieces

I just realised do you know how shattering it'd be if Lucifer is the first person to see Companion after their anglification or after their fall

Lucifer watching his friend returned into a angel knowing full well what they'll go through and how he feels when he sees their mangled body fall to the earth of hell staining the ground like his did

Even better in Raqi timeline

Only he and Raqi know Companion is back and has to take care of them

I imagine Companion is in a vegetable state for a while before making enough recovery to think and speak

Dante Anon

Yeah you'd have to think of how the bones have probably set wrong, so they'd have to be reset. Their vision will definitely not be right for many a day, so, in their heavy brain fog and migrained state, the Embittered Companion would think they're back in the hands of the angels. Whatever healing the devils are trying to do is made excruciatingly hard because, for that moment, the Companion body keeps rejecting that power. Ever fierce, ever spiteful.

They'll need sponge baths for a time, then they'll need assistance for regular bathing so there'd be a shower chair for them to sit on while they're being washed. And then there's the physical therapy to think about. Man, their body is going to be such a hurting mess. Lot of chronic pain, tremors, cramps. Ouchies.

Recovery just ain't a sexy process but the dedication behind it is nice nonetheless.

Ah, Raqiel hasn't been in my head in a whiiiile. My boy! I have forgotten my boy! Anyways, Raqi over here doesn't hold the biggest reputation but his name has passed by others lips enough for Lucifer to probably have heard of him. After all, a lot of the bloodlust-y techniques that the angels use can be attributed to Raqi, so there's probably a certain amount of caution Lucifer has towards Raqi, but not in the sense that he feels Raqi will be of any danger to him. Raqi has most definitely heard of Lucifer but has probably only seen him just as Lucifer fell out of Heaven. To Raqi, Lucifer was the falling star that had him questioning just how strong his own love towards God is, how deep does his dedication truly go? Never really thought to question it up until now, Raqi was simply going with the flow.

"To me, Lucifer was always wingless." is what Raqi would probably say.

But anyways, once those first meetings are out of the way, I feel Raqi and Lucifer wouldn't mind being around one another, seeing as they're fellow outliers in the grand scheme of things. Can potentially annoy Lucifer when the topics of Raqi's kinks come up. He gets pretty talkative about them, which is amusing in it's own way considering how the angels usually are, but the novelty will probably wear away after a certain point.

That being said, I can imagine that Lucifer found the Companion first and probably sent for Raqiel to come to Paradise Lost, because he most certainly was looking for the Companion harder than anyone else.

#admin #embittered companion au #dante.anon

[ovaryacted]

Ok so I’m gonna get mega-angsty. I also sent something similar to this to someone else, but I need to share my thoughts with ppl. (Tw: I see Leon as an extremely tough dad on his son)

I personally see Leon having a son and a daughter. We all know he’s wrapped around his daughter’s fingers. So I won’t go into detail with her. I love girl dad Leon. It gives me warm and fuzzy feelings.

But I see Leon being unintentionally very hard on his son. Leon’s a protector. A warrior. And he wants to instill that same ethic into his son.

Leon knows how fucked the world is. He knows just how dangerous everything is, and while he wants to protect his daughter from it, he wants to prepare his son to handle it.

He doesn’t do it out of misogyny. Not at all. He knows if she wanted to, his daughter could take on the world. But there’s just something different about his daughter facing such danger vs his son. Maybe it was how he himself was raised. Maybe it was just ‘the times’ he grew up in.

He’s not abusive. Not by a long shot. He’s just…hard. Leon himself sees it as ‘tough love.’

If his son is the oldest sibling, it’s even worse. Leon unintentionally goes damn near military on him. Leon sees it as making sure he’s disciplined, hardworking, and a good man. But at the cost of Leon’s son feeling like he’ll never be good enough in the eyes of his father.

Until it all explodes. Maybe it’s when his son is a teenager. His boy breaks down finally and Leon sees the worst thing he ever could. Leon sees himself in his son. The exhaustion. The depression. And Leon *hates* himself for what he did to his boy. His precious little boy that he pushed passed the breaking point.

Even taking the steps to undo what’s been done, with therapy and time, Leon despises himself for what he did. He cries one night after his son had a full on panic attack over a C on an exam.

Yea, his son has become hardworking, driven, intelligent…but his son also became anxious, depressed and exhausted.

Leon loves his kids. He loves his family with every fiber and cell in his body. So he puts in the work to change. He apologizes properly. Hugs his darling little boy and doesn’t let go. He changes his habits. His thought process. He does everything to help break his son out of his unintentional conditioning. It takes time, Leon isn’t perfect. But damnit, he tries his best.

Sorry I love Leon. I wanna tuck him into bed and kiss his forehead. I also wanna peg him. But I also wanna hurt him lol.

Anon...let me tell you something right now...put your phone on the damn dresser and walk away. But this was painful to read, as it was also interesting and entertaining.

Want to thank you in advance for the long-ass analysis I've conjured up, so hopefully you will like reading that over. :)

#ovaryacted asks #this hurt so much #but like #it tickeled my brain in a good way #made me think real hard #maybe too hard #worth it tho

[waitmyturtles]

Alright. I’m all caught up on The Eighth Sense. WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. Good. Lord. 

First off, before all the theories: this is obviously a really fantastic show, by way of the soundtrack; the use of silence; the cinematography and very varied filming styles; the use of LIGHT and lighting; the film editing and smart, sharp editing cuts (more on this in a sec), and the utterly, UTTERLY amazing acting. CHOPS, we are seeing CHOPS in a show that’s just reducing the usual K-drama tropes to DUST. WOW, KOREA. KOREA SHOWED THE HELLLLLLL UP for this one. This is like zeitgeist-level stuff.

And, oh my god. The kissing scene in the waves. The scene in bed. My heart was taken away. The last scenes, the storm coming in, the waves getting higher and higher, Jae Won yelling Ji Hyun’s name. WHOA.

I know from what I’ve reblogged so far that these points are all being discussed, and I have yet to really dig into the tag because I need to process all of this out in writing first, so I’ll do tag and conversation-digging over the rest of today and tomorrow and re-group with the fam. But working in part from my last post after episode 5, I’ll offer a couple thoughts and theories now, because I just need to get them down, whoa. 

I want to set some macro context for myself first, to kind of do a journey map on my understanding of Jae Won. From the start, his friends talk about how Jae Won’s dad is a big shot. Jae Won’s life is supposedly set: if you know about chaebol, you’ll know how controversial it is in Korea (many, MANY K-dramas feature chaebol, including Crash Landing On You and the much more recent Why Her?). It’s controversial because, of course, you always wonder if the "right” people are taking over a business, not by way of merit or talent, but only by way of inheritance (peep the “nutgate” incident with Korean Air as an example) (it’s INSANE) (chaebol is INSANE).

So Jae Won’s friends are, in my view, seething with jealousy that Jae Won has his life set. His dad is prepping Jae Won to take over. Jae Won is rich, good-looking, smart, and the ladies love him. 

That’s a lot of pressure for Jae Won. Putting together that his younger brother died, and he’s seeing a therapist, and that it was his parents that had originally sent him to therapy, and it’s indicated that he’s drug-dependent: I do believe, as many of the fam does, that what we’re watching in many of these scenes are dissociations and/or hallucinations. I do believe that, particularly by way of how the show is edited, with REALLY sharp cuts, scenes ending awkwardly and jumpily, scenes filmed in really fuzzy and weirdly lit ways, and threading pieces of scenes together in inconsistently-told ways. The hand-holding scene on the outdoor steps earlier in the series, and how it’s changed by a quick edit when the guys are shown NOT holding hands while walking on the sidewalk right after. I feel like the editing of the show serves as a correction for the jumps happening in Jae Won’s mind and memory.

I offered a theory in my last post that Jae Won might not have gone to the military at all while he was out of school -- that he was instead institutionalized. I set that theory in part on his therapist referencing a previous hospital stint, and on something he said in episode 4: “I just came back from the army. My sense is not on point.” When I first heard him say that, it didn’t smell right to me, as I thought that acclimating back to society after the military was more common for Korean men as almost all Korean men have to get drafted. But I’ve changed my mind somewhat after convos with the wonderful @emotionallychargedtowel and @stl29tide in the comments of that post, with ECT mentioning in part that it’s very common for returning soldiers to experience difficulties while re-acclimating back to society.

So I’m now caught between two theories here, and I wonder if either can be applicable.

Theory 1) I do still think it’s plausible that Jae Won didn’t go to the military while he was away from school -- I think it’s plausible that he could have been institutionalized, but I’m less sure about that now, after the convos with ECT and S2T (thank you BOTH for your insights!). 

Theory 2) Jae Won DID indeed go to the military, but his difficulties re-acclimating -- VERY MUCH ALONG with his other present issues -- have contributed to a serious dissociation episode in episode 6. This is likely more plausible.

Both theories are linked by yet another opinion. I believe that when Jae Won woke up after his bender in episode 5, he dissociated after his dad began knocking on his door and yelling. I’m not sure if the camera breaking was in the dissociation or in reality, but I believe the entire beach trip in episode 6 was part of the dissociation triggered by Jae Won’s dad and the pressures that Jae Won’s dad represents. I believe the utterly gorgeous filming style, the lighting, the weird jump to sleeping inside on a bed from the beach, the inconsistent scenes from morning on the beach, to surfing, to sex, to surfing again, to possible drowning -- I believe all of that is meant to be representative of dissociation.

Whew. Okay. Another theory. I do believe that Jae Won’s dad/family sent Jae Won to therapy in high school, possibly after his little brother’s death. I also still believe, as I posited in my last post, that Jae Won’s therapy could be a form of conversion therapy. Why do I think this?

(I just want to say that I keep repeating “I believe” because, y’all -- I totally think this entire series could be one big dissociation. Fight Club-like. So I’m trying to grasp at what I think is real-ish by indicating those factors as such.)

I can’t find it.... damn it, I can’t find it, but someone posted about the bed scene, and how Ji Hyun seemed more comfortable than Jae Won in bed. How Ji Hyun actually seemed/seems more comfortable in his queerness than Jae Won. (If anyone can link me to that post, I would be forever grateful!)

That REALLY got me thinking. I thought that was SO SMART, and I rewatched the scene to confirm that I agree there, which I do. 

Another piece of evidence to this theory, as I mentioned in the comments of that last post, is when the therapist says in episode 5: as Jae Won talks about Ji Hyun (or....at least....we *think* he’s talking about Ji Hyun), the therapist says “I hope you can build a good relationship without crossing the line.”

Now. BEFORE episode 6, where Jae Won talked about his little brother, I wondered why Jae Won was in therapy. It was STATED that he was there because of high school pressures. But the ways in which that therapist has been presented have been so weird. Like in episode 1 -- in only the SECOND scene of the entire series -- we see the therapist joking around, saying “For God’s sake, just tell me what your worries are!” and then giggling. I mean -- um, maybe they have a good rapport, but that’s definitely not how *I* learned how a therapist should act in grad school, ha. (I’d LOVE @emotionallychargedtowel‘s thoughts on the therapist’s bedside manner if you’re up to it -- no pressure at all.)

After putting together the chaebol deal with Jae Won’s dad, and that his family sent him to therapy in high school, and that the therapist talked about him being in a hospital in episode 5, AND that line about “[not] crossing a line” -- all of this screams to me of Jae Won’s family trying to “set him straight,” if you will. I seriously wonder.... if Jae Won became drug dependent vis à vis his therapist because his family needs him to be “normal” to take over the family business. I wonder if Jae Won, with EVERYTHING he might be holding -- from his queerness, to potential guilt related to his little brother, to the PRESSURES of being the family heir -- was either PUSHED to be drug dependent to fall in line, or has fallen into addiction as a result of those pressures.

I... would not put either of these theories past a domineering chaebol family.

Finally. After re-watching the very first scene of the series, and the very last scene of episode 6, and seeing how they’re the same, it all seriously makes me wonder if everything that we’ve seen so far is one big dream sequence. 

IN OTHER WORDS, Y’ALL. HOLY SHIT. Anything and everything is possible in this absolute MASTERPIECE of a show.

Other quick notes before I stop:

1) I stan Joon Pyo and Ae Ri -- MVPs. They care for our boy! (....if Ji Hyun even exists.)

2) Jung Seo In, who plays Ji Hyun’s boss, was also in Where Your Eyes Linger (I knew I recognized her!).

3) I’ve seen so many posts referencing the AMAZZZZINNNGGG music of this show, placed and edited SO WELL, and I just want to say that I am loving all the analyses.

Okay, phew, that’s all I got. I’m on the train with y’all for the rest of this ride. 

(@lurkingshan, tag tag!)

#the eighth sense #the eighth sense meta #jae won x ji hyun #ji hyun x jae won #WOW AM I EVER GLAD I PICKED THIS UP BUT IT IS CONFUSING AS HELL #thankfully not in like a midnight museum way #more in like a fight club way #my heart bleeds for jae won

[mysticetus]

on the topic of diy hrt as ive seen it going around the dash a few times, i want to offer what i can in terms of help as i got on hrt in secret while still living with my parents. i cant give advice for paths i didnt take (getting the hrt itself online) but i can detail the process i experienced so you know what to expect if you pursue.

i highly recommend seeing if there is a planned parenthood in your area and if it offers gender affirming hormone therapy. i had a couple things that made this an option for me that may be barriers for others - i was over 18, and they do not offer informed consent to minors. i also had a job that allowed me to pay for the visit and the prescription. lastly i forced myself to learn how to drive so i could get to the planned parenthood and the pharmacy.

for cost, i recommend checking beforehand if planned parenthood accepts your insurance. They did not accept mine so i had to pay out of pocket for the appointment. Luckily they have a sliding scale system that charges based on your monthly income. The amount changes (and this may vary by region as well), so you can call them for a cost estimate. As someone going for testosterone, my visits have cost between $39 and $63 out of pocket.

For me getting HRT occurred in 2 phases: A telehealth call where they told me about the effects of HRT and then had me digitally sign an informed consent form. And then an in-person visit to my local PP office to get my blood pressure and hemoglobin (finger prick) checked. I then walked out with a T prescription.

For bloodwork, planned parenthood offers this service as well but it was a “strongly recommended but not required” option for me. I did eventually get my levels tested through PP but it cost me ~$40 because of lack of insurance. i later learned i could get my bloodwork done for free at quest diagnostics, for which PP sent in an order that automatically went into quest’s system and all i had to do was make an appointment online filed under “all other tests” … in my area quest can be found in grocery stores. I recommend looking into quest for bloodwork if your insurance would cover it.

Estrogen and progesterone are not controlled substances (often used in birth control), but testosterone is since it can be abused as a steroid. so if you are pursuing T this may present challenges - in my experience it makes it hard for me to change pharmacies without calling planned parenthood first, and you need to present ID when picking it up.

At first i swore by gel and not injectable because i was afraid of accessing needles, and i used goodrx coupons to get gel at a reasonable price. I do not recommend this as it is not sustainable, goodrx coupons are great but always changing. Unfortunately if you do diy hrt you are probably going to be doing injections. i tried for several months to get gel in a sustainable way but the only way i was able to do this was when i had insurance that would cover it (which i since lost access to).

You can get needles and syringes in bulk (100 for like $10) on amazon. Your prescription will probably include an order of needles and syringes but pharmacies are generally not awesome to get them through, because they tend to cost more and be out of stock…. for subq i use 25g 5/8” needles to INJECT, and 18g 1.5” needles to DRAW. i use 1 ml syringes with a LUER LOCK. make sure the needles and syringes have the same locking mechanism so they can connect to each other. the alternative to a luer lock is a slip tip, which you do not want.

Even though on the bottle it says INTRAMUSCULAR USE ONLY, i and many other trans people do subcutaneous as the needles are smaller and less painful. “subq” injects into the layer of fat beneath the skin and releases the hormones slower over time. I personally inject into my stomach in the area below my belly button - i pinch the fat and inject at a 90° angle. there are detailed videos on how to do a subcutaneous self injection on youtube, and here is planned parenthood's guide.

if you are scared of needles, i am too - i used to black out when i had to get a shot. i can say that subcutaneous rarely hurts and its definitely tolerable to me. i know its freaky to inject into your stomach but the fat layers there make it pretty painless. if you pinch your fat your nerves focus on the pressure your fingers are making, and as long as you hold the needle like a dart and inject quickly you barely notice it.

For questions i recommend looking on reddit. there are many subreddits dedicated to DIY hrt as well as logistical questions in the context of navigating pharmacies and doctors. And, i am always happy to offer what help i can.

[papyrus-in-practice]

Hey, y’all! I wanted to give an update on Papyrus in Practice and other related stuff.

“It’s been about a year, where’s the next page!?”

Wow, when I saw it’s actually been a year, I kind of blanched a bit. I didn’t mean for the hiatus to last that long. Next page is actually done. In fact, a couple of pages are either done or close to done. I’m trying to build up a big buffer so that, hopefully, there will be a smaller gap between updates in the future. My plan is to have eight pages completed, line art for four pages done, have the script for the next scene done, and have a couple of pages worth of sketches ready. As I’m typing this, six of the eight next pages are done with the remaining ones in various stages of completion and two of the four next pages have finished line art. I’ve been working and reworking and re-reworking the script for the final scene for the past twenty months and honestly frustrated in how to wrap up the chapter in a satisfying way that won’t make me stuck on chapter 4 for another two years because the climax and conclusion is so long. So, that’s where I’m at now.

“I wrote something in the ask blog and didn’t get a response.”

I read every comment and every ask sent to me and, most likely, have at least attempted to write a script to answer it. But, I gotta weigh my options. Do I answer it at risk of delaying Papyrus in Practice for another month or focus on the comic? Depending on how elaborate the answer is, it might take a while to make a response. There are also things I just don’t know how to answer to and, believe me, I’ve tried coming up with a good answer, but I’m also still learning about life myself and I’ve found that, sometimes, my answer to a question has changed a lot over time. Sometimes, I’m afraid of saying something that’s ultimately harmful. It’s a tricky balance. At the end of the day, I've never guaranteed a response to any ask and never will guarantee a response. There are still some asks that I'd like to get around to, maybe if chapter 4 finishes or I get burnt out while making it and need a change of pace.

“Are you actually a therapist?”

Yup. I just graduated this past May with a masters in art therapy counseling. My title right now is a qualified mental health professional or QMHP. I’m waiting to take the National Counselor’s Exam to obtain my LPC but government paperwork is a looooong process(seriously, some of my colleagues have been waiting in the queue for over a year to get their LCPC). In the meantime, I can still practice as a therapist as long as I check in with a supervisor and have been practicing and slowly building my caseload for the past couple of months.

“Can you be my therapist/give therapy to this person?”

The short answer is no. The long answer is that there are a lot of ethical concerns when it comes to providing mental healthcare and breaching ethical guidelines could impede therapy progress, bring potential harm to the client, myself, or I could get in big legal trouble. I can also only practice if the client is located in my home state and goes through the company I work for since I need supervision to practice. However, I’d be happy to provide resources like websites that help you find a therapist, even for a reduced price, or self-help sites that can help you learn skills and develop tools to use that can boost your mental well-being. I cannot, however, provide mental health services.

“Will (insert character’s name) meet with Papyrus?”

Maybe. I’ve got ideas for characters in mind, but it’s more a question of how much longer I want to be doing this for. I’ll be honest with y’all, I’m getting burnt out. I want to do different projects or even revisit older projects, but I tell myself I can’t do that until I finish Papyrus in Practice or, at the very least, finish chapter 4. I didn’t think this chapter would go on for as long as it has, but it also makes sense. We’ve already hit page 25 which is almost as long as the entirety of chapter 3 and I don’t even know if we’re halfway done with the chapter yet. The way it’s looking, chapter 4 may easily hit at least 50 pages.

“So, when will you be posting again?”

Soon! Hopefully, before the end of the year. When I start updating again, I’ll be posting one page every other week which gives at least a few months of content for y’all.

That being said, I’ll see you soon!

-Meemie

#papyrus in practice #update

[awesomehoggirl]

Here's a rant i have wanted to post since january. 😊 content warnings for this post i am going to be raving about how the nhs treats eating disorder patients. LOL

i am so grateful for the existence of the NHS and so grateful that my experience has actually been a GOOD experience as far as seeking help for mental health problems goes in this dam cuntry. but god this process has been fucking soul crushing and it scares me so bad because i got lucky and hung on and so many others cannot. i was lucky that when i went to my gp in january and did the scariest thing i could possibly imagine and ask for help for my anorexia, i was taken seriously - most likely because i am a young white woman who was already at a severely low weight and therefore fit the 'profile' for restrictive eating disorders. i was lucky to get accepted for treatment at a local outpatient clinic and lucky for it to only take four months to get my first therapy appointment (tomorrow, and actually exactly four months to the day since i first asked for help). and it hurts that four months is lucky because without a shadow of a doubt these four months have been the worst period of my life. worse than when i wasnt set on getting better and was fully lapsed in anorexia. worse because i was strung along waiting for each appointment date and was essentially instructed to 'stay put' - don't get more disordered, per se, but don't get better. worse because every appointment was incredibly triggering and would set me back so far and by the time i did get to the outpatient clinic i was medically unstable enough to be hospitalised (but wasn't). my body was fucking shutting down, and i am one of the lucky ones. every day was absolute fucking torture and i was a complete shell terrified of doing 'too well', getting dropped from the process, and being sent back to square one - more than i was afraid of the way things were getting worse.

and things didnt improve for me when i was admitted there. not that i was expecting them to wave a wand and cure my anorexia but essentially i was given a formal diagnosis, the minimum meal plan with the promise i would have one tailored for my needs asap (has still not appeared - it has been a month) and the promise of regular therapy (ditto) and more details on my treatment to come (ditto). things didnt even marginally improve until i went home for a month and basically let my parents take over and teach me how to take care of myself again. they didnt improve until i picked up books on the biological basics of anorexia and taught myself what the fuck i was even going through. i could have died from refeeding syndrome during the months i was waiting and i would have had no idea what was happening! it makes me insane to think i am one of the lucky ones.

how can a gp look at someone who is dying and tell them to keep doing the thing that is killing them until theyre off a waitlist? i swear to god if any of them had to walk a single day in the shoes of someone suffering anorexia we would have an entire system rehaul because it is actual living hell. and god i haven't even touched on inpatient facilities - i haven't experienced one but the countless stories i've heard from people i've talked to are enough. the idea that shoving meals at someone with a severe mental health problem and discharging them the minute they're 'weight restored' (which is such a wavy idea anyway, and nobody can decide what someone's healthy set point is apart from their own fucking body) is such an insane misunderstanding of the disorder it seems actually stupid. with no work to neurally rewire the fear response to food or body changes they are setting people up for relapse and then deem patients 'treatment resistant' when they do. if i went into the way they look at binge eating and treat patients at higher weights this post would be a million miles long i can't even start lol

when i was on the bus to one of the appointments i was googling the outpatient clinic id been referred to and found the case of a girl previously in her care who went to the same uni as me, did the same course as me, was the same age as me, and unfortunately passed in her dorm room due to complications of her disorder which were not flagged because of negligence. she 'seemed fine' one week and was gone the next. i sat there on the bus and didnt even cry because i was too exhausted and sick, but i've cried over her since. i just think people with eating disorders are so misunderstood and the treatment is so wrong and needs to be rehauled so badly. i'm angry for that girl who died across the street from the doctor's office where i sat and was told to stay put in my disorder, wait it out, wait for help which just doesn't seem like it's coming at this point.

if any positive has come from my drive to fight for myself has never been stronger. all i want in the world is to go to america in august and even if my family and gp don't believe i'll be well in time, i believe in myself. i am proud of myself and scared for myself and angry for myself. for all the awfulness i have grown so much as a person and learned a lot about myself. it feels surreal to post about anorexia on my blog because it is so deeply shameful to me and something i have struggled with on and off quietly for years, but i am going to fucking get out of this and go to america and have the most awesome time. also tomorrow i am going to have a pastry at a cafe with my mum and yes i am terrified but i am also excited because it will be yummy. fuck eating disorders and fuck ummmm waitlists or whatever

#tw ed #tw eating disorders

[multiplicity-positivity]

we recently told our therapist about ourselves and we was quite understanding. She has a focus on trauma reprocessing so I think she has a background in this in some way.

Anyway, she sent us some information on Internal Family Systems. it was out first time hearing about this and as a general framework this makes a fair amount of sense for us.

We brought it up to our partner system who shared reservations about IFS and after reading more about it, we see where they're coming from.

Have you encountered IFS before? If so, is there any literature you've that you recommend? We're generally curious for the opinions of other systems, as we see the value in it as a framework for understanding ourselves and also the problems with it for what feels like reducing the experiences of other systems, particularly those with DID/OSDD.

hey, we have a little bit of experience with ifs through therapy and reading about it online. online, we have seen how it has been used in the past to dismiss and discredit dissociative disorders (some say that the parts mentioned through ifs disprove did systems being parts themselves). we have also seen it used to prove and affirm plurality, even plurality without trauma (some say that the parts that make them up through ifs do in fact make them plural).

our own host (hi) greatly benefits from ifs, and has been trying to understand the different parts of himself (not parts as in headmates, but parts as in parts through the ifs model) in order to show himself more kindness and self compassion. treating the different aspects of himself as separate individuals in need of care and attention has really been helping him, and we’re trying to support him in this however we can. we hope to be able to share this mindset with some other members in our system who similarly struggle with self hatred.

we think that recognizing each individual alter as their own multi-faceted person, each made up of their own parts with wants, needs, and desires, has really helped to humanize those of us in our system who were so dehumanized in our youth. each alter, each part, is complex and is capable of having their own parts that come together and make them up. does that make sense?

as far as literature, most of what we know about ifs we’ve learned through therapy. however, we currently have the book no bad parts: healing trauma and restoring wholeness with the internal family systems model (<- amazon link) on our reading list. we haven’t read it yet, so we can’t say for sure how helpful it is, but it looks like it’s going to be a good read.

we don’t believe that there’s any framework or model of viewing the self out there which is 100% good or 100% bad. not everyone is going to get something out of the ifs model, and that’s okay. if you find that ifs works for you, and that each member of your system coming to understand their own parts helps them heal and become better people, then awesome, you should definitely use it! if you find your system feels dismissed or demeaned by the ifs model, you shouldn’t be required to use it at all. not every framework is going to work for every person all the time, and that’s okay. heck, for systems, not every headmate may benefit from the same frameworks that the rest of their system uses, and that’s okay too!

sorry if this response seems frazzled or all over the place. we had completely finished responding when tumblr crashed, so we had to try and rewrite this from memory (oops). we hope that y’all can learn and grow together, with or without the ifs model. if you choose to not use it in your recovery process, hopefully your therapist will be understanding. wishing y’all the very best.

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

#ifs model #internal family systems #parts work

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

swap au shit! i was holding off on this so i could line it and color it but i take too long with that and would never finish so here's just what i have. going just on my fandom blog until (IF) i line it coz its just doodles and a textwall of thoughts rn

fucked up harry on the far left is unrelated, and some of these look Bad but its fine tbh

anyways the idea is Kim loses his memories bc of drinking bc it's been six years and he still hasn't gotten over the death of his partner Eyes (who i've named Viorel). kim's still kim, trying to be professional and trying to do his job, but bc of the drink and drug issues he's a wreck and has a hard time keeping himself emotionally together. i don't think he'd swear as much, and being given a second chance (losing his memories and being allowed to start again) would allow him to loosen up and love life again and move on from the grief and sober up. before the memory loss, he's gotten so deep into his grief that he hates revachol and hates himself and hates the world. after the memory loss, he can start to love the world again, and it starts with harry showing up and being harry

the reason he looks different here is bc after eyes's death kim has no idea how to process it and does the only thing he can think of: become eyes. that if he becomes as cool as him, eyes doesn't have to be dead. also his bomber jacket's black (for mourning, i hc he gets the black one first before the orange one), and he hasn't been promoted to lieutenant yet bc he was too fucked up. he also hasn't figured out he's gay (neither has harry figured out he's bi)

eyes for reference (right image unrelated, put it there so the left image isn't that hugelarge. that's my cat rose)

bc while harry is sober and medicated now, harry's still harry. silly. strange methodology for solving cases. can-opener. an uncanny ability to pick up on thoughts

bc Harry on the other hand, after going through that horrendous breakup with Dora, gets serious medical help for his issues and is now on meds and sober and in therapy. in this au, revachol would have mental health doctors haha. harry's been jean's partner for 4 years now and they're really tight i think. jean also had breakup issues, and harry helped him through that and now they have a promise to each other they'll stay sober. it's still almost toxic levels of codependent, but i dont think theyre romantically involved here bc the drugs didn't get that bad for the both of them to push them in that direction (i don't think jean would EVER do anything gay without drugs or alcohol, he's just that kinda' guy. phobic). harry still has all his skills bc he's had them since he was born

so basically theyre the same guys but if kim never got over eyes's death while harry got over dora leaving him. i wanna write a fiction about this but it seems like such a difficult task fr

text transcript under cut

First Image: Kim: "I'll get to the case, Officer. Just let me do my job." Harry: Sargent, the body's still in the tree.

Second Image:

Top Left Kim: You look vaguely familiar. Your face is blurry. Do you need glasses? Where are they? What's your name anyways? Viorel. No that's not it. Is it? You look like a Viorel.

Bottom Left Harry: They sent you here to check up on the guy from the 57th. You know where he is. You haven't caught him yet. God you wish Jean were here to help.

Top Right Kim: Harry POV (of Kim short and smaller than him) Kim: I don't know who the fuck you are.

Kim POV (of Harry): Large Blurry Ape

Bottom Right Kim Harry: Harry: Sargent, do you need glasses? Kim: Fuck no, Lieutenant.

Third Image:

Harry: "God, Jean, he's getting me depressed. Jean: "Oh come on, Harry don't get all fucking sad again. I went sober for your fucking ass. Harry: It could've been me in his place, man... Jean (not pictured/over radio): SIGH. You're gonna' make me start drinking again, Du Bois.

#disco elysium #c4rg0f1l3s #disco elysium swap au #idk what is the tag for that haha #doodles #my art #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #jean vicquemare #jean cameo wooo #i might post my jean horse sketches later im ngl #yeah i think thats good for now okay releases this into the wild #idk if i need to put more of the text under the cut. but yeah #marfă din elysium