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allaboutthedrama · 3 months

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I know that I'm pretty late to the conversation, but I've just reread all of Vampire Academy and Bloodlines (possibly for The Untitled Jill Project) and it's the first time I've reread the VA series in years.

I'm just thinking about how, in my opinion, the quality of the VA series improved as we got into the last few books, and with Bloodlines, I think the reverse sort of happened. Spoilers for both series ahead. (Yeah, the last book came out nine years ago, but you never know.)

I think I hadn't realized how cohesive the ending of Last Sacrifice was. Details from as far back as the first book came up and were very relevant. The political plotline came together in a really tight way, Sonya Karp turned out the be Chekov's spirit user, we got more world-building details, the antagonists had complex and convoluted motivations, and even when there were plot threads left dangling, those actually served a purpose. I loved the part where Adrian pointed out to Rose that her actions had consequences and even though she had gotten what she wanted, not everything else was resolved, so people like Eddie and Sydney and Jill were left in bad situations, and she was partly responsible. It created a little more moral ambiguity, which I really enjoyed, especially since YA tends to like the very neat endings where everything winds up happily ever after.

The Vampire Academy books improved the deeper into the series you got. And, although I love Bloodlines, I do think that the first three books are much stronger than the last three. Which is a shame, because the series has so much potential.

I think Mead is at her best when she's writing something of a mystery. Last Sacrifice obviously comes to mind (they're solving a murder mystery, after all). Bloodlines had that, with the tattoos, Lee, and Keith being shady all building up to a really exciting climax. The Golden Lily wasn't quite as much of one, but the clues leading up to the reveal of the Warriors were well-placed. Indigo Spell went straight back into mystery territory, trying to find Jackie's sister. And then The Fiery Heart is where, in my opinion, things start to falter. There's a lot of interesting worldbuilding information introduced, with the new details about spirit and magic coming up, and it was fun to get into Adrian's head, but it definitely felt like this supernatural romance was shifting to become a lot more romance and a lot less concerned with the supernatural. But that's not such a big deal. It's the middle of the series, we're building tension, Re-Education has been a threat hanging over Sydney since page one of Bloodlines and we're finally seeing that fear pay off.

But then we get to Silver Shadows, and while I guess figuring out where Sydney is could be a mystery, it doesn't really resonate the way 'who killed the queen' does, in my opinion. Sydney's arc in Re-Education is great, and I do like the way the books deal with Adrian's mental health issues, but some of Adrian's chapters felt more like filler. And a bigger issue, imo, was that this was when we really started to lose the side characters. Some of my favorite parts of the first few books were characters like Jill, Eddie, Trey, and Angeline, and then the ensemble atmosphere was largely gone, because Sydney was in Re-Education and Adrian left Palm Springs. The final fight and flight sequence was really good, though, so I had high hopes going into The Ruby Circle.

The Ruby Circle is probably my least favorite of the books between both of the series, and I think that's a shame, since it's the finale. We'd just had a 'kidnapped character' arc, so I think there was less emphasis on describing everyone's reactions. We saw the biggest reaction from Eddie, but as a result, he got kind of flattened out from the really well-rounded character he'd been from the back half of the VA books and the first part of Bloodlines.

The Ruby Circle could have been a really good mystery, with lots of twists that tied up a lot of the lingering questions from the series. Except that a lot of threads from the rest of the series were dropped and didn't resurface. They never caught whoever was behind the assassination attempt on Jill. I don't think we even got an official resolution on whether Lissa managed to change the quorum law. The political plots that were integral to VA weren't significant in Bloodlines, despite it all starting because of a politically motivated assassination. We also never got a resolution on the rogue spirit user who turned Lee back from being Strigoi, or the spirit users who had been sent to the psychiatric facility in Tarasov (the prison from Spirit Bound). We never found Robert Duro. The bond itself was somewhat discarded, too, whenever it wasn't immediately useful for a plot point. Instead, we just got a scavenger hunt across the country, a few fight scenes where the protagonists were pretty much guaranteed to win, and a final showdown with a magic barrier that, as we learn after, would have dropped down on its own in a few hours for them to bring Jill food, anyways.

I obviously still like the series, since I'm rereading it and talking about it nine years after the fact. But I think that there were a lot of opportunities to continue plots from VA that were lost, even when they should have been brought back into the story.

If anyone has made it this far, I suppose I should throw in a pitch for The Untitled Jill Project, which will be my attempt to rewrite the Bloodlines series from Jill's perspective, because I think there's still a lot more story to be told. I haven't got it all mapped out, but I intend to at least tie up some of the narrative loose ends I mentioned that bothered me about the series in that story. I might write up another post here soon about how Jill's characterization also suffered as Bloodlines went on, if anyone's interested.

Anyways, if anyone has any strong opinions on what I said (agreeing or disagreeing) please let me know! I'd love to talk about the series with people, since no one in my real life has read it, and I'm curious to know what the rest of the fandom thinks about how the narrative progressed in Bloodlines.

#Vampire Academy #Vampire Academy books #Bloodlines (Richelle Mead)#Eddie Castile #Sydney Sage #Adrian Ivashkov #Jill Dragomir #Jillian Dragomir #Jill Mastrano #The Untitled Jill Project #Rose Hathaway

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nightcrawlerzincorporated · 6 months

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I'm curious about what your opinion on dtamhd is?

I talked about it a bit when the episode first came out, but I'll summarize my thoughts for the new folk. This is all just my personal opinion/interpretation, feel free to disagree, etc etc

I really like DTAMHD! Dennis is my favorite boy and I enjoy being with him for 20 minutes and watching him bop around trying to keep his cool and be kind to people while he slowly loses his mind. I fuck very heavily with the idea that Dennis actually does try to be calm and kind most of the time, he just gets overwhelmed by his own emotions and lashes out because he has no healthy outlit or healthy coping mechanisms. And he refuses to accept help from others because he doesn't trust anyone but himself with his mind and body because growing up every adult in his life that we know of abused him in some way. So when he has a problem, like high blood pressure, he keeps it all inside and tries to deal with it himself, which just makes him more stressed and miserable. I really like all the little things in his fantasy that actually do highlight parts is his real life, like him having to be on Frank's family plan, forever tied to him and relying on him even as an adult, or him crying "nightmare nightmare please somebody help me". We love to see a man suffer on this blog. But that's the aspect of the episode people usually don't have a problem with. Let's get more controversial

My interpretation of the ending is that Dennis did not actually lower his own blood pressure, he's just so stuck in this fantasy version of his life where he has control and where things can't hurt him that he blocks out the negative information and replaces it with positive. I don't see it as a "win" for Dennis because I don't think he succeeded at all in actually changing anything. I think the fact that the gang's phone call at the end is the exact same one that's explicitly a fantasy is supposed to clue us in that this is fake too, the difference is Dennis isn't aware that it's still a fantasy because he's so wrapped up in his own idea of himself as someone who CAN lower his own blood pressure and someone who the gang needs and relies on. So he has these purposeful fantasies to help him cope, but those fantasies still bleed in to real life and color his perception of himself and the world even though he thinks to himself that he's in control of the fantasy. But much like how he can't actually control his physical health, he can't control his mental health either, and this constant fantasizing that he can do all these things has led him to see a distorted version of reality where he doesn't have to change or grow or learn. Which is kind of the core of the whole show if you think about it. I do agree completely with the criticism that Dennis actually having the ability to lower his own blood pressure is stupid, so I get hating the end if you see it as him returning to reality and being successful in his endeavors, but that's not how I see it, so it's not an issue for me.

I can also understand why people could see the heart eating scene as a serial killer Dennis thing and dislike it because of that, but that's not how I saw it at all. It's really goofy and cartoony and obviously not real when he rips the guy's heart out and eats it; it's not about killing someone (the guy doesn't even look hurt at all, he just stands there watching Dennis—I think a real murder fantasy would focus on the pain and dying but it’s not about that, it’s about defeating a metaphorical evil, not a literal man) it's about oversimplifying the world. There’s so many fun different ways you can interpret the CEO, like that he represents Dennis’ relationship with himself or with the world or with his parents, etc. I think if you detach yourself from the literal image and look at things in a more abstract, metaphorical way it makes the scene and the episode as a whole more enjoyable—but I understand that’s not something everyone is interested in doing.

That’s why it doesn’t just feel like a retelling of Glenn’s real life experience to me—I think there’s a lot of Dennis-specific ideas and systems (lol) throughout the episode that give it more symbolism and weight and makes it into a good (imo) narrative.

And I get why, if you’re the type of person who feels a Sunny season should end with a story about the entire gang, or about the gang helping one of them do something big, or something similar, DTAMHD would be disappointing, but I personally have no expectations for what a Sunny finale “should” be, so I wasn’t bothered by the fact that Dennis never opened up to anyone or had any real growth. I was just along for the ride.

I really enjoy the fact that the episode has a lot you can read into and a lot that’s open to interpretation, but that’s also the exact reason different people came away with such different views of the episode. I love when Sunny takes risks and makes unique episodes like this. And I like watching Glenn Howerton smear blood all over his mouth

#dtamhd #dennis takes a mental health day #ask #anonymous

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ngaatee · 7 months

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For the People Academia Breaks

Hey so I am going to get something off of my chest. Last year I got a postgraduate degree in philosophy and it was actually one of the most devastating experiences of my entire life.

I have always been someone with big ideas, and my favourite aspect of philosophy has always been the way that I can blend different ideas to address current issues, especially if something about those ideas sometimes veer into using my imagination. So when we got to choose our thesis topics, I jumped to do something ambitious, something impressive, something grand. And it was. I posed the following question: What would an African feminist ethic say about posthumanism and transhumanism as it pertains to the right to bodily integrity?

This question meant the world to me. It means the world to me. There was so much to get into, so many ideas, and so little published philosophical work on each section of the question. It was quintessentially me.

Ambitious, important and interesting. And I did fucking do it. I didn't get the high grade that I had hoped for, but I got a high enough average should I pursue further higher education, I had gotten a high grade for a concept I essentially invented and built from the ground up, and I had yet another fucking degree after a year plagued by illness, piss poor mental health, worse financial management and not a damn clue what I would do next.

I had also excelled in my other classes and so I was going to take the win and move on. I was in a space where what mattered to me was that I had what I needed for the next steps. Academia career, and somehow reforming education, those have been my goals forever, So I had my grades and set out to get reference letters and one person I asked was my supervisor. And that, dear reader, was when it all went to shit and my mental health sunk to a new low.

My supervisor and I had not had major conflict but I was ready to move on for a variety of reasons. I had tutored one of her classes and had reservations about her methodology and when opportunities for feedback came, I was as honest but diplomatic as possible. I was not the lecturer. When she became my supervisor I had looked in the guide and I had thought that she was going to be the right fit. But in some ways I always felt that my work was not my own, and often times my work became a site of ego. But it could have been worse so I was going to move on and take those lessons to do things differently next time.

So I emailed her, was happy to have the grades for a future in academia and asked for the referral. She emailed me and gave me unsolicited feedback and then openly stated that a section of my work "surprised her, and not in a good way". I will be frank, it disgusted me. I read it and my skin crawled because she had been a less than stellar supervisor, including being angered when I got an extension after my hospitalization, threatening to not even give me a grade, when the HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT granted me one.

I was a star pupil, with the exploratory ideas to back it up, and consistently she undermined me and I forgave her every time because of how badly I wanted it. And then in the last moment, after I toiled on a thesis and made it through with a high GPA, she could not let me be happy. She could not let me rejoice that every single day last year felt like I was taking my dying breath, And she could not be the kind of supervisor that deserved my bright ideas, my desire to learn, my ambition. I was told that I should prep a version of my paper for a conference and she never had the time to help me, everyday there was an excuse, and I still made it, and she could not just let us be cordial and move on.

That thesis I did is my first child. I laboured, I read, and I thought it through, and I was willing to accept the imperfections that came in my crafting of it because it was powerful and meaningful. I am an African woman, concerned with how we understand our autonomy and our bodies and what that means in a greater philosophical context. I chose a thesis that meant something to me, and I used whatever philosophical building blocks I could to bring it together, and achieved a feat that people thought might be impossible for me. And I am damn proud of it. And in that email, my supervisor didn't care because she felt embarrassed or something.

I have spent a year being angry. How dare she? Especially since academia puts certain kinds of constraints on work and even with those constraints, I made lemonade out of lemons. In fact, I made lemonade out of rocks. And I have grieved and been sad and it has broken my spirit remembering the disdain in that email. And then the later email with the reference letter where I discover that after all this time, my supervisor knows nothing about me.

She doesn't know my worth, she doesn't know how much her class benefitted from having me as a tutor, and my fellow tutor too. She doesn't know anything that other institutions would love about me. Her colleagues do though. They gave me beautiful letters that reflected my passion, honesty, and integrity, and I felt seen. I wish that I had gotten one of them to be my supervisor, I just didn't know any better, it was a new university, a new city, with new people. But my thesis, my baby, would have been so much safer and cared for in their hands.

But I am not ending it like that. I have started to embark on a multimedia art project revisiting and expanding my thesis and I am explaining different philosophical and sociological concepts that are relevant to it as I go along. Because my thesis belongs to me. My ideas belong to me. And the projections of my supervisor, and the painful memories that are attached to it for me will not under any circumstances, end with her defining my thesis for me.

My thesis is my baby, my child and I am proud of it. Its words live in me, its ideas still are a fixation in my mind, and now I have what it takes to really bring it to the next level. And so I will. I do not just love my thesis as a cute baby that people admire and call beautiful. I love my thesis as a petulant older child that sometimes struggles to string ideas that are linked but in ways that are not obvious. I love my thesis as a teenager lost in despair trying to reconcile how a society functions and the philosophies and ideologies that underpin it, the teenager reading social and political thought for the first time. I love my thesis as the young adult that has more questions than answers. I love my thesis as all of the people I have been and whom I will be.

Academia broke my heart. and it devastated many people befor me. But many ideas are worth exploring. Many ideas are worth cradling in a warm blanket and developing over time. Your ideas and mine, are worth so much more than the egos and power of people around us, and they do not get to rob our work of its dignity. And we do not have to leave the brilliance of our thoughts with the memories of people who never cared to understand them. And so I am coming back for my child, I am returning for my thesis. Because I am willing to spend time with it, and nurture it, and develop it. I am ready for it to one day be in the world and standing on its own.

The words of my thesis live in me, but the words of my thesis will live beyond me. And so as I drawm paint, photograph and write for this multimedia art project. As the young mother of this thesis and this combination of ideas, I will be raw and approach it with care, consideration and thoughtfulness. and hopefully, my thesis will find the right people who are interested in philosophy, sociology and the arts. Because this thesis will always be my baby, and I hope it meets people that love it and see it for what it is, the way that I do.

I dedicate this multimedia art project to the people whose first heartbreak was being alienated from their ideas in service of other people's desires. May you always find your way back to that child who wondered so much about the world, and was eager to learn more.

#philosophy #african n ethics #feminist ethics #academia #academic validation #higher education #burn out #thesis #multimedia art project #posthumanism #transhumanism #sociology #social sciences #I feel free now

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tenderyellowbluefics · 2 years

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Hmm Eddie's girlfriend being nervous to open up to him about her mental health issues (maybe depression or bipolar)

♥️

Forever // E.M

I loved writing this so much, I hope you like it! Thank you for the request.

Summary: With your mental health at an all-time low, you find yourself at Eddie's doorstep.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of depression, angst kinda?

You had no clue how you got here. But you were standing outside of Eddie’s trailer in the middle of the pouring rain at midnight.

You felt like you were losing your mind, you didn’t know if it was some sort of breakdown or what, but all you knew was you needed comfort. Not just from anyone, but from Eddie.

You raised your trembling hand to knock on the door of Eddie's trailer. Slowly gaining awareness of just how cold it was outside. You started to feel embarrassed for coming here, what were you going to tell him, you seemed crazy.

"Y/n?" Eddie's groggy voice immediately warmed your heart as his trailer door slowly opened.

"What the hell? Are you okay? Get in here!" He reached his arms out to pull you into his trailer, out of the rain, closing the door behind you. "Are you hurt?" He asked frantically searching your body to make sure there were no wounds.

"No, Eddie, I'm okay." You sniffled.

"Then what the hell are you doing here sweetheart?" He pulled you into his arms, stroking your soaked hair.

"I don't know." You merely whispered into his chest.

"You don't know? Here, let's sit down." He said pulling you over to the couch and sitting you down so he can kneel in front of you. He reached for the blanket sitting on the back of the couch to drape around your trembling body.

"Did something happen?" He questioned with his voice slightly breaking as he hated seeing you like this, so damaged and he didn't know why.

You couldn't respond, too embarrassed to even look him in the face, you looked everywhere in his trailer but the brunette sitting in front of you.

"C'mon baby, you can talk to me." He lifted a hand to guide your face back to his.

"I just feel like I'm going crazy." The tears you were trying so hard to conceal came spilling out.

"Hey, shh, it's okay baby." He wrapped one hand around you while the other held onto the back of your head while it was buried in his chest.

"I feel so stupid." You muttered.

"Don't say that." He said pulling back to look you in the eyes. "You have no reason to feel that way."

"I've always been this way, self-critical, pessimistic." You sniffled, "I've been in and out of half the counselors in this state, and the only thing they all can agree on is I'm fucked. I can't ever seem to be truly happy, and when I am, I'm in this strange state of mania where I don't quite trust what I'm feeling."

"Sweetheart," He whispered, tilting his head to the side with a pained look on his face.

"I never wanted you to see me like this, broken, and fragile. I don't want you to see me differently "

"How else could I see you?" He almost looked as if he was tearing up himself. "How could I see anything else but the most beautiful soul ever created." He placed his hands on either side of your face, with his face only inches from yours.

"You mean everything to me, and for whatever it's worth, I'll always be here." He placed a light kiss on your forehead, "Always."

"Always?" You repeated in the form of confirmation.

"Forever."

You couldn't say anything else, all you could do was wonder how you got so lucky, and about how much you loved him. Your heart felt like it was swelling ten times its normal size, but no longer from pain, but from love.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, your gonna catch a cold." He stood up placing his hand in yours to lead you back to his bedroom.

You sat on his bed while he rummaged through his drawers to find something for you to put on.

"Here, lift your arms." He told you, placing the clothes he'd picked out onto the bed next to you.

As he undressed you, he was as gentle as he'd ever been, looking at you with such love. Not lust, but love, something you'd never seen before.

As you curled up onto him in his bed, you realized, this wasn't puppy love, this was love. You felt as happy and free as you'd ever felt when you laid beside him.

"You okay?" He questioned, noticing you hadn't tried sleeping yet.

"I love you, Eddie." You blurted, not paying any mind to his original question.

"I love you too Y/n." He placed a kiss on your head. "Now go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."

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olderthannetfic · 7 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/730245265731223553/people-spend-shittons-of-money-on-this-hobby-so

I used to read a lot of detransition blogs including some of the ones by people who are commonly cited in the popular articles about them and tbh — and a popular one of those bloggers who later left the movement, came out again as trans and is now exposing the movement, has basically backed this up — a lot of them clearly are in fact trans people who are still suffering from a lot of dysphoria, but who had some bad experiences with trans communities and people (often an abusive trans ex) and this movement came along that gave them a convenient, simple excuse for why that happened to them and also everything else wrong in their lives, and they just glommed on to it. TERFs often target vulnerable people especially sexual assault survivors and that includes the trans people they target to encourage them to detransition and see their transition as a mistake. They’re also frequently people who have histories of uncritically jumping between extreme ideologies: like they’ll talk about the “trans ideology” they experienced that made them think that just being gnc meant they had to transition or whatever and it’s like… the kind of nonsense you will see sometimes in the kinds of college queer groups we’ve been talking about, or bad tumblr discourse, but like, you don’t need a lot of critical thinking skills to recognize that that’s a problem with “college activism/Tumblr discourse” and not “trans people,” who mostly don’t believe those things. But yeah if you thought some weirdo like monetizeyourcat who thinks trans people are inherently superior to cis people is the voice of all trans people then I guess I could see why you’d think it was a “cult”… but why did you think she was the voice of all trans people, there’s abundant evidence that she isn’t.

A lot of it also seems to be about being mad that transition didn’t solve all of their mental health problems, and then, ofc, using that as an excuse to jump into a community that makes them even more depressed.

It would be really sad if the ideology they’re using as self-harm didn’t also hurt so many others when they disseminate it.

In ye olden days, a lot of it was people joining Scientology and the like too. Kate Bornstein has an anecdote about that in one of her books where someone came in fretting because they'd transitioned and now their new cult had issues with medical procedures or whatever. It made Bornstein feel weird and was part of her finally catching a clue about her own identity, as I recall.

And yes, it's both sad and dangerous.

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dark-twist-fairytales · 10 months

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Okay, Bizzaro boys rambling time:

All of this information and headcanon formation comes from a lot for different sources. Primarily late-night Ao3 readings and one image set that I can't get out of my head but have NO CLUE where it is or who made it.

I'm putting it under a cut, this shit will get lengthy.

So, in terms of HOW the Bizzaros are and came to be, this goes heavily on an AU that I don't remember who created it, but pretty much the Bizzaros are a counter-universe to the Ninja. (Credit due, it was a Tumblr user)

I'm taking in on that, but also adding a few things: -They have their own memories and past life. -They have their own family and relations to each other. -They're almost the exact opposite of the ninjas.

Now, here's it laid out in terms of each character: We'll go from A to Z:

Bizzaro Cole starts off as much as Cole is but more: Very cocky, very stubborn, and very destructive. As time goes on, away from the ninja, he becomes less of a follower and more of a leader. Turning stoic, easily annoyed, but very stratigic and smart. He keeps a monitor on his fellow Bizzaros' health (physical), goes headfirst into combat strategy, and knows how to push buttons to get on people's nerves. In other words: A humanized bastard cat. Him and Cole would not get along too well, given for how protective B!Cole is and how laid back Cole is, they're two bulls ready to butt heads at times.

Bizzaro Jay starts off very flirty and very destructive craving, with hints of emotional instability. With time passing, a lot comes out about Jay. Primarily, a large regard of health issues. Muscle spasms, absence seizures, POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome)- This comes with a large regard of worry for Jay's health, despite how many times he'll dismiss it. He turns very closed off and calculated, barely giving any emotional regard. Jay and him would NOT get along. With Jay's excitable nature mixing with B!Jay's Not Impressed nature, they'd struggle.

B!Kai starts with a very leadership, very protective nature towards the others, cocky about their abilities. With time, however, Kai practically caves in on himself. Emotional, anxiety ridden, and a people pleaser. It doesn't matter who it is or what they want, he'll do it. But, with the twist of a dime, with the right buttons pushed, he turns into a pyromatic and destructive being with fire abilities. This is where Cole's button pushing comes in handy, being able to get Kai to that destructive point and beyond. This does lead to an overcharged burnout afterwards. Him and Kai.. Oddly work together. Given that B!Kai is very quiet and will listen to what other's say, Kai doesn't find him a bother. Still, Kai would get jumpscared by how quiet B!Kai is.

Bizzaro Zane is.. Well, he starts off crazy and reckless, and that only amps up the less his spent and compared to Zane. One of his catchphrases being "Logic? What's the point in logic?!". Yes, Cole has a child leash. Yes, Zane is more often the one to have it on. Yes, Zane is very irritated by this. To put it lightly: Zane goes headfirst into battle without knowing what the battle is. He is a nindroid, yes, but treats himself like he's a human being rather than a killer robot. Him and Zane, they.. Uh.. Well, it's not the worst friendship ever? I mean, if you ask B!Zane, you'd get a bit of chaotic high praise. If you Zane, you're met with the most annoyed and exhausted expression that could be displayed on any living thing.

Their powers are darkened/purple versions, aside from Cole, his still being rocks and whatnot, but more of gems and geodes rather than pure earth.

Asking about a Bizzaro Nya is met with a lot of stilled silence and a solid threat of 'Never mention her', along with Kai stowing away for a couple of hours.

They tend to listen more to Sensei Gamardon more than Sensei Wu.

When I tell you that these boys can and will be traumatized by living in good Ninjago AND from a made-up past, they are.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #bizzaro ninja #bizzaro kai #bizzaro cole #bizzaro zane #bizzaro jay #jay walker #kai smith #zane julien #cole brookstone #sensei garmadon #sensei wu #nya smith #whosh alright thats that uh.. havs fun with it!#if you cant tell i love the bizzaro boys because they were a missed opportunity #bizzaro verse #ninjago au

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cloud-somersault · 2 months

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Hey, how are you doing? I hope you’re alright. 💕 I’ve been reading your status updates on Constellations and the Epilogue, and I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re amazing. Your writing is incredible and I love it. Your stories are so well thought out and the characters are ✨on point✨, and the plot is complex and detailed and aaahhh! It has me hooked! 🤩

And I understand how it hurts when you put so much effort and love into a story, only to post it and not see others be anywhere near as excited or invested as you are. I know how discouraging it can be. And it may be a little silly, but I do want to apologize for not commenting lately—life took some difficult turns for me healthwise around the end of last year and I haven’t been able to catch up! I’m still on Chapter 4 of Constellations! 😭 BUT Chapter 5 is open on my phone, and I am READY to read it as soon as I have the time (and mental energy, but that’s a whole ‘nother issue 😩). Don’t worry that your writing isn’t enough, or be discouraged if some readers don’t catch hints while others are figuring it all out seemingly too easily. Everybody reads and comprehends stuff differently, and it’s not a sign that your writing is bad if they don’t catch it! Honestly, I’m pretty bad at catching hints the first time I read a story unless they’re pretty darn obvious. I don’t usually notice subtle hints until the second, or third, or even seventh read-through, haha! (on the bright side, rereading stories and rewatching TV shows is always fun!) 😅

I guess what I really wanted to say is… don’t give up hope. Don’t lose your love and enthusiasm for your works, or feel like they aren’t worth writing because others don’t seem interested in them. At the heart of it all… at the end of the day… write because you love to. Because it makes you happy. And know that it doesn’t have to be “perfect”—the main goal should be that you enjoy it. That’s something I’m trying to teach myself, too. 💕

Thank you for taking the time to write this message and send it. I appreciate you're very kind words 💕I'm doing okay, I just had to take a step back for a bit from socials and stuff. I'm gonna keep that up for a while.

Please don't apologize for not commenting or taking your time reading. Your health always comes first, and I'm sorry if I came off as childish or needy, that wasn't my intention. Two things just happened that set me off and the timing of it was incredibly poor 😓

Please take your time reading; none of it is going anywhere, and don't feel obligated to leave comments either. i'm realizing that, even if chapters are short or long, finding the time to finish things is difficult, and everyone lives different lives. And I'm sorry about all the spoilers on this blog, I'll tag that better from now on.

But I really do think I got confused or disjointed in my perceptions; everyone here knows so much because i've been asked questions and given answers and people have interacted, so people following me here have more context than the average ao3 user. But I've kinda been expecting everyone to be on the same page, which will never be true.

I'm also the same way where it takes me a while to pick up on hints. I actually changed my writing style to prevent this. I got tired of reading books in college where you had to dive into every little thing. the hints and clues weren't obvious to me. I decided then that, when I wrote, I wanted things to be bold, obvious, but beautiful. I didn't want to make readers feel like they're missing something. I wanted them to trust that every answer, every clue would be answered in time. I made that promise to myself a decade ago, and being reminded of how different people interpret things just...made me remember.

I take writing really seriously, probably too seriously, but I've been doing it for so long and I love doing it. I want to be good at it. When it feels like I've gone back on that promise to myself, I get frustrated. I think of ways I could've fixed things. But I also remember that those books and those writing styles just weren't for me. I wasn't the target audience.

Sorry to go off on a tangent, but I wanted to explain why I got upset. I still love Constellations and I'm posting it on ao3 out of convenience, really. It's easier to reference and search there in one "Entire Work" than to have 5 documents open. The fact that others can see and read and have fun is a bonus. But I'm committed to telling this story, and I'm gonna finish with a bang.

Thank you, I won't forget why I'm doing this and that my thoughts/feelings come first! 😤I hope your health concerns are taken care of soon. Take it easy, and thanks again! 💕

#ask #this is very kind i'm sorry i worried people i was just REAL upset/mad #but i'm better now. i just needed to take a minute and refocus and remind myself of a few things #we're still chugging along #but seriously thank you for sending this. i'm really glad you like constellations! that means a lot to me #but seriously--health comes first. and DON'T FEEL PRESSURED TO COMMENT!!! 😤#okay love you bye~ 💕

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lunaprincipessa · 3 months

Text

ENTRY SEVENTY-FOUR

Despite having a wide range in music taste, there's only a handful of bands that have really stuck with me through the years, getting me through the bad and helping me celebrate the good.

My top three of this handful are Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and Type O Negative.

A couple of days ago, I came across a comment section discussing Peter Steele's death. Something that was said, that was agreed with and emphasized on by multiple people, has been bothering me to my core since I read it.

Many people feel that Peter Steele would still be alive today had he "been with someone who gave a shit."

We might still have him around today "if he had someone who cared enough to get him to the hospital on time."

My heart sank and my stomach dropped after reading this. I immediately logged off. That didn't sit well with me at all.

I then tried looking it up. I felt discouraged and silly, giving up rather quickly. I thought I didn't know how or what, in specific, to search for anyway. I also thought there's a chance that it might not be true, that it's just talk, rumors, that kind of thing.

"Maybe people were just saying that because they don't like her. I have no clue!" Now I'm starting to question myself. I log back on to look for the comment section but everything refreshed and I didn't catch the name of the page that made the post.

True or untrue, the thought alone really fuckin disturbed me. I mean, it really did. He deserved someone to care for who he was outside of the celebrity. I hope to the Gods that those comments weren't true.

Peter Steele, aside from "musical genius" and "one of the most influential," was described to be kind, generous, helpful, supportive, inventive, and a hard worker.

When I'd see interviews with him on TV back in the day, and seeing interviews today when venturing around on YouTube, I found him to be very interesting, intelligent, and insightful. His dark humor was always fun too. And, of course, he was drop dead gorgeous. 🥰😌 The man was a living god, just saying.

Needless to mention the passion in the music he wrote and in the performances he gave (thank you TV and YouTube for letting me experience that by the way, I never got to see Type O Negative live).

He believed showing the world his heart would draw people to the band, and he was right. He said he wanted to be remembered as someone who helped people through hard times, and he is. It makes me sad to know he was sobered up, excited to make more music, and hopeful for the future just before his passing. Gut-wrenching when you think about it, and when you think about all the things he went through before that as well.

Being misunderstood, struggling with addiction, and the mental health issues involving Bipolar disorder, grief, depression, dealing with the aftermath of lockup, and feeling betrayed by his family. He also said himself he had huge problems with abandonment and loss, probably because he experienced those things more than we know.

In addition, being unlucky in love still blows my mind to this day. Especially knowing how he was worshipped by women all over this country, including me. How many of us out here would've worshipped the ground he walked on? And you mean to tell me some of the women that actually had a chance, screwed it up? Considering things like taking the breakups hard and being cheated on, he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, wasn't he? Some souls are just too good for this world, I swear. And his was one of them.

But that's what terrifies me... He was unlucky in love, so what if the comments are true? Literally makes me sick to think about, especially since the band, his childhood friends, tried to reach out to him when he was sick but was only able to speak with her. There's a dark aura all over that.

Someone please tell me it's a rumor, that he had a good woman at his side in those final days. Hearing about toxic exes shows where a person was lost and hurting, and he deserved better. He deserved peace and quiet and comfort. He deserved protection.

Men like this, regardless of how big and tall and strong they are, need to be protected. Their bodies are hard but their hearts are fragile. People that are kind-hearted will often suffer the most in life. The way he loved his women and the way he loved his animals showed he felt everything so, so deeply. He needed to be protected. Yes, men are biologically stronger than we women are, but they need us to protect them too, just in a different way.

My guess is that Peter's spirit is still with us, silently urging us all to never forget about Type O Negative. And we never will. RIP 💔

More thoughts later.

#Peter Steele #We Lost a Legend #We Lost a Pure Soul #Type O Negative #Green Man #RIP #We Will Remember You Peter #We Will Remember Type O #Gone but Never Forgotten #Timeless Music for All Generations

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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can i get a #1 angst prompt for professor x belle where maybe he’s having a bad day and isn’t taking care of himself upsetting belle for the 1k gala please 🙏🏻

tender loving care

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t pairing: elvis presley ( professor big daddy ) x female reader ( nicknamed belle ) wordcount: 1776 warnings: no use of y/n. talk of health issues. mentions of elvis's temper. brief mention of pregnancy due to where i set this in their timeline. minor fight. talk of dying. author’s note: thank you for this anon! i wasn't too sure where exactly i wanted to go with this but i still like what i came up with just the same. hope you enjoy! this is done for my 1k gala, based on the line “can’t save who doesn’t want to be saved.” this is the professor presley universe, i'm assuming if you're reading this, you've already read the previous bits and bobs. if not, click the tag and join us along for their ride. y'all know the drill, real elvis or austin elvis works fine for this despite the moodboard.

The Mafia gives you a list of things to watch out for when it comes to Elvis. Joe was too scared to give it to you and George had danced around it and while Jerry tried to foist it onto Billy- he got stuck telling you. Telling you this required him to actually set you down like you were in one of his classes and had him telling you to take notes because if you're- if you're the one for Elvis you'll need to know these things. You need to know everything Priscilla knew and the things Linda had known and that the other girls never knew. You need to know the clues for when Elvis was going to be down for the count. You needed to know when Elvis wouldn't take care of himself and would let things run their course. You needed to know when things were going to get bad for him.

It felt a little mocking at the time, a little condescending that they thought you wouldn't be able to to tell. That they thought you wouldn't be able to tell that your boyfriend, your partner, your lover would be having a rough go of it. It takes one singular time to realize it was more a warning than anything else. It takes one singular time for you to realize just how much you needed that list.

It starts like any other rough day, with him groaning next to you as he attempts to get out of bed. He's spry enough despite everything normally so you know this is the first sign. This is the sign it's not a day he can push through, this is a day he needs to rest. This is a day he needs to stay in bed except to use the bathroom and perhaps swim in the pool to ease his muscles. He doesn't though, despite your hushed whispers of telling him to stay in bed while you make the pair of you breakfast he doesn't listen. He shouts something about extra bacon and you hear a string of curses and a thump implying that something happened.

"Elvis! I thought I told you to stay in bed!" You shout as you flip your eggs in the pan. There's a long pause where you consider the idea of running to check on him before he finally shouts something back.

"'m fine! Just banged m' knee on the bed. Food almost done?"

Your eyes flick to the bacon that's practically burnt and you're about to answer him when you see him walking into the kitchen and sitting down at the table, setting his cane near him and wincing at the sunlight shining on his face. Your head tilts just a little as you try and run through the checklist in your mind. Body ache and headache. He's hungry so it's not a stomach issue. It's just his eyes and head acting up and his muscles rebelling. That warranted a break from him teaching today. You could still go to class, you had to still go to class because you were so close to graduating that just one missed class would be problematic to say the least.

"Just got the bacon." Your answer is short and to the point as you pour a cup of coffee and glasses of orange juice, making sure to take a sip of your own to quell the slight nausea you feel. Normally Elvis would come behind you to steal his cup and his glass while running his hand over your stomach. He'd normally kiss your neck and remind you how much he loves you and ask how his twins are doing despite you firmly saying it's just one big baby. Today he just sits at the table rubbing at his eyes.

Breakfast is quiet with you pulling your chair close to him and the two of you feeding each other with him rubbing your stomach as he does. It's a little rushed as you know you've got to get to class but when you finally stand up and Elvis makes moves to follow you into the shower you push him away and point to the bed. "Tonight. You are going right back into bed."

"Like hell I am. Move over, gonna take our shower so we can head to campus." He grumbles as he moves to step into the shower, earning a glare from you.

"You can barely keep your eyes open from the light, Elvis. And I saw how long you took to get up. You're going back to bed." You want to push him out of the shower but you know when he's like this he's a little unsteady so you stop yourself, instead making sure a shower that's usually filled with touches and talking is silent. When Elvis tries to wash your belly- tries to touch it you take his hand and take it off as you take the soap from him. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

The silence continues as you get dressed and as he does despite your clear aggravation. You've learned it's better to not argue in certain circumstances and this might be one of them. You tried to stop him, tried to still his hands as they buttoned up his shirt but after the answering growl you realize it's a lost cause. A part of you thinks the shower helped, thinks maybe it was just a rough morning until you see him lean a little more on his cane and until you see his eyes shut so tight at the full brunt of the sun when you walk out.

"El-" You start once you're in the car only to have him turn to you with a bit of a snarl on his features.

"Had worse days when I was teachin' ya. Ain't the only one who's stubborn, Belle. Stop tryin' to goddamn baby me. Ain't a goddamn invalid."

You want to argue, want to tell him that you're not trying to do any of that but it's not worth it. Not after he's already started the car and is pulling out the driveway. Let him be an idiot, let him push himself, let him reap the consequences of his own actions. "Fine."

Normally there's talking between the two of you in the car, normally you'll make lunch plans but today the only noise in the car is the roar of the engine and the noises filtering in from outside the car. When you arrive you're out of the car in a flash, not pausing to give Elvis a kiss knowing fully well you're so angry with him that all the kiss would do is anger you more.

"Belle!" You can hear him call after you but you ignore it, beginning your trek to your first class.

Around lunch time you're met outside your class by Jerry and George who share a look before you roll your eyes. "Oh. Let me guess, he's-"

George is the one who beats Jerry to speaking only to be cut off by you. "He shouldn't have come and you-"

"I tried. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Can't force them to be healthy. I can't-" It's then that you look past Jerry and see your boyfriend walking up behind him shaking his head. "Jesus- Elvis-"

"No, keep goin' keep puttin' our business out there. How ya think I need savin' from my own self." Elvis's face is twisted into something you only remember seeing when you first- when the incident between the two of you had happened and it sends a chill down your spine.

"Not until I'm in your office." Your reply is said as you step past Jerry and George to be right in front of Elvis with a puffed out chest and looking as strong and as stubborn as you ever do as you do it. "Not until we're in private."

His answer comes out as a hiss as he turns to walk to it. "Fine."

The second you're inside his office you see him sway just a little and you move to catch him if need be only for him to shake off your arm and support and move to lean on his desk. "Go on, lay it all out. Tell the ol' man how ya really feel 'bout this."

You take a breath to steady yourself and shut your eyes so you don't cry before you move over to him and touch his cheek. "I think you're being an idiot. I think I need you to be healthy for our twins. I think you need to get your head out from your generous behind and take care of yourself like you promised you would. You're not going to get me pregnant and stick me alone with our babies. That's just rude and incredibly unchristian of you."

Elvis doesn't speak for a moment, doesn't say anything or do anything other than breathe with his eyes shut before he reaches out to touch your barely there bump. Your instinctual reaction is to back away so he can't, to not give him the pleasure but you've missed him today and you're so worried it threatens to make you sick. "You called them our twins."

As if that's the important part of everything you said. In spite of yourself you feel yourself tearing up a little. "Yeah. I did. Elvis-"

He sighs and continues to just rub your stomach as he speaks, almost as if to center himself and calm himself. "My generous behind isn't used to someone takin' care o' me. Been a while darlin'. They- ya know my boys ain't the best at helpin'."

"I'm not your nurse." You respond rolling your eyes before moving to pull him into a hug. "You promised you'd take care of yourself. I don't want to wake up one morning to you not with me. Not for a very long time."

Elvis opens his eyes, wincing a little as he does before he cups your cheek. "Don't plan on it. Jus' gotta be reminded I ain't Captain Marvel sometimes. 'm sorry, Belle."

"I know you are." You frown and nuzzle a little against his hand before kissing the palm. "I'm sorry too. Shouldn't have- I should have been a little kinder this morning. Even if I thought you were being the biggest idiot in the world." Elvis lets out a chuckle at that before you continue. "Can we go home though? Can I take you home now?"

Elvis opens his mouth once, then twice before nodding and pushing himself off from his leaning perch on his desk. "Yeah."

taglist: i'm going to set up a proper one for everything eventually. but @thatbanditqueen and @softsatnin

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #professor presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley angst #ally's 1k gala #ally writes #austin butler elvis #austin elvis

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insignificant457 · 9 months

Text

Assorted light bringer predictions, just to see how wrong I am later

Pax has the minds eye (or some version of it). He is simply Too Smart, and he fought the obsidians with his eyes closed just like Lysander does in the desert. The secret to the minds eye is probably in Octavias vault, which we know Virginia has access to, and this would fit with her saying she raised him to be as much an ally as a son

Alternatively: the minds eye is somehow related to the figment parasite. Either the parasite is attempting to recreate the minds eye, or Lysander has a parasite himself and doesn’t know it

Oculus is an attempt to create a utopia outside of color—this is where Mickey has been for the last two books, creating an entire new species. By the end of red god, volga, lyria, and kavax will rule over it, fulfilling this line of ozgards prophecy:

Diomedes and his pink lover are working with Cassius/the reformers/possible sons of ares remnant. Honestly this is so widely theorized that it almost feels like it’s already canon

Diomedes’ lover is Evey. I remember seeing a theory about this years ago, shortly after iron gold came out, but I don’t remember where anymore. It was very compelling and it wormed its way into my psyche like the figment forcing itself up lyrias nose.

Lysander kills atalantia for killing his parents. Yes I know he’s awful and he needs to lose, but everyone deserves to kill the person that groomed them as a child so he gets to have this one win as a treat

Related: lysanders mommy issues and oedipus complex continue to get an uncomfortable amount of page time

Sevro comes back with his brain all scrambled. Ideally, for comedy purposes, he comes back a total Normie, and everyone’s just like eww put him back and it causes zero conflict. More realistically, this is the most heart shattering thing to happen in the whole series and part of the reason people with arcs are crying

A Big 5 (Darrow, mustang, sevro, Cassius, victra) death. It’s a miracle these OGs have made it this far, one of them has to be toast. My money would be on Cassius or sevro. Could also be the reason people with arcs are crying.

Volga Lyria lesbianism

Mustang and Darrow are kept apart for ANOTHER book because Pierce hates us and wants us to suffer

Victras mental health is at an all time low (I’m worried about her, can she please have an easy time just this once?) and it becomes a liability

Volsung fa reaps the consequences of eating the heart of his daughter who was suffering from a dna specific poison and dies without Volga having to face him (pls? She’s too sweet don’t make her be in the same room as that freak)

Alternatively, volsung fa faces no consequences from the above and this is our clue that he’s not actually sefi and ragnars father and is in fact some carved monstrosity

The ascomanni continue to give me the heebie jeebies

Rim politics that make Darrow want to rip his hair out (I’m with you buddy)

Darrow Cassius side quest? Pls?

The abomination runs rampant on Luna but it’s like in the background? Mustangs like yeah we’ll get to it eventually there’s other shit happening

And lastly: I am emotionally destroyed for 5-10 business days after finishing

#red rising #light bringer #light bringer speculation #this started off with some theories of mine that are well thought out and that I have evidence for and then very quickly devolved #may add more to this later if I come up with more

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xxiamtiebrousxx · 1 year

Note

Tf2 Mercs with a S/O who used to be a Chornobyl Liquidator? They even have a medal from the soviet government as proof yet S/O still has a few major health issues due to the radiation, they were allowed to keep a replica of their gear which they got to upgrade, the liquidators were either Soldiers, Veterans, helpers, older people, or maybe even people who lived in pripyat during the event, S/O could of been a soldier who chose to expose themselves to high amounts of radiation during their time shoveling debri off the roof of the power plant, they also helped in spraying down areas with "Borda"(A molasses like liquid that trapped radioactive particles which hardened and soldiers had to peel off and bury) if you've ever seen pictures you have probably seen the liquidators with this outfit on (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/670895675731078322/)

Anyway, I just was wondering how you'd think the tf2 mercs would react to finding out S/O helped in theclean up of the event even knowing they could die or develop cancer in their later life, you can ignore this if you don't want to write it, I'm just currently doing research on Chernobyl and was imagining the tf2 group with a tenth class called the "Liquidator"

P.S ik that chernobyl happened after 1970 but I was thinking maybe the react fic could of been in modern time like early 2000's and S/O is put in their team

A/n: Sorry this took so long! As always, sorry if it seems I'm stereotyping, I'm not. I did a little bit of research on the internet. If there's anything incorrect, please let me know so I can correct it!

Scout:

Scout opened the door to your room. For a while, you had been experiencing some pain in your back. You were breathing a bit harder than usual. Medic claimed it was just some health problems, that’s all, and that you would be back on your feet in no time. But Scout wasn’t too sure about that. He grabbed Demoman and Soldier to help him uncover secrets you were possibly hiding from the team. You were away right now. Scout snuck in easily. Your room was small and neat compared to Scout’s. His room was a complete mess. He scoffed.

“Yeah, let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” he said. He checked your closet, floorboards, and under your bed. There was nothing secretive. Unless pennies in shoes were considered suspicious, Scout was at a dead end. He sighed. Your uniform was laid out on the bed. There was a small medal attached to the chest pocket. “Hmm, never seen that before,” Scout mumbled to himself, grabbing it. The words were written in foreign language. He took the medal to Heavy and had him translate. You came back from a medical checkup when Scout confronted you.

“Oh, hey,” you tiredly said. He had a frustrated expression on his face. He wasn’t trying to seem mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a Chernobyl liquidator!” Scout exclaimed. “It took me a while to figure it out! The first clue shoulda been your class name.” You breathily laughed.

“Vy tse zrozumily (You figured it out),” you replied. “Let me guess, Heavy read the medal for you.” He nodded. “Do you have any questions?” Oh boy, he was excited. He rapidly asked questions so fast, you didn’t have time to answer. Some of his questions were very easy to answer, like where you were when the disaster happened. Some were asking about myths that didn’t exist, like if it was Godzilla who caused the power plant to explode. He was very giggly like a child. But aside from all this, he was worried about your health problems. They weren’t severe yet. You had a long life ahead of you and Scout was with you every step of the way. He never boasted to anyone that his significant other helped cleanup more debris than a robot. He did rant about it to his mother though. Scout created fundraisers to raise money for doctor checkups. You were very lucky to have someone like Scout.

Soldier:

Soldier never thought you were a soldier too. What did you do before you were a mercenary? To put it simply, help clean up much of Chernobyl. You were a veteran living in Pripyat who volunteered to clean up Chernobyl, though you kept that part of your life hidden from Soldier. On the battlefield, you were known as the Liquidator, trapping your enemies in a gooey trap then scraping their dried remains off. He didn’t know, but your weapon was a modified version of the contraption you used to spray down the power plant. You were dressed in a gas mask all the time with goggles and a strange suit.

“I’m home,” you called out, closing the door. You sighed heavily. Today’s battle was hard. You needed a break after your small walk you had returned from. Soldier popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Hey cupcake,” he said. You dropped your bag on the floor. “We’re having steak for dinner, if you don’t mind.” You mumbled “alright.” You sat down on the couch and turned the T.V on. Soldier had some educational videos recorded and saved. You had some memory problems and would forget things most of the time. It worried Soldier. He slipped the steak off the pan and served it onto a plate. He came out. You were watching a small video on Marie Curie’s discovery of radium. They talked about health problems that came with being radiated. Soldier changed the channel. “C’mon, it’s time to eat,” he said. You followed him quietly to the table and sat down. You were distracted by the T.V. He sighed, sitting next to you.

“Soldat, ty znayesh, shcho take Chornobylʹ (Soldier, do you know what Chernobyl was)?” you asked. That was a weird question. Of course he knew. It was a nuclear disaster from 1986.

“Why do you ask, cupcake?” he replied.

“I was a “bio-bot,” as they called us,” you answered, recalling the cleanup. Soldier turned off the T.V. “During the cleanup of Chernobyl, they sent in robots. But because of high levels of radiation, they malfunctioned. So they sent in bio-bots, or liquidators,” you explained. Soldier began to understand now. The suit you wore on the battlefield was to protect you from the radiation. You absorbed 25 rems of radiation. You were part of that 90% that cleaned off the debris. “It was a year after I returned from serving my time in the army. They needed volunteers,” you said. Soldier placed his hand on your back. He knew that he would have to help you and wouldn’t hesitate to. He got you to appointments on time, he paid off medical bills, and helped comfort whenever you had to take something nasty. You both would get through this together.

Pyro:

Was there something wrong with you? You have been acting strange lately and your health wasn’t doing too good. You laid on the couch. You were sleeping and breathing heavily. Pyro pokes your cheek gently. Maybe the answers to your ill state could be found in your room. He knocked on the door even though you were lying on the couch. He didn’t want to invade your room, but he had to know what was going on. Your uniform was lying neatly across the bed. A medal was tucked under your uniform. It sparked a small curiosity in him. He took your entire uniform and started sewing in patches he made, burning edges, painting on your mask. He had figured it out. He was watching the news when they announced what happened in Chernobyl. You knew he didn’t really understand. There were going to be problems on the way and you didn’t want Pyro to worry. You never told him about your job as a liquidator. It was hard trying to keep a calm face when he showed you your graffitied uniform.

“Um, that’s nice,” you hesitantly said. He placed the sleeve with the Balloonicorn stickers in your hand. The one that caught your eye was the nuclear bomb sticker. Pyro noticed you eyeing it.

“Mmph (what’s up)?” he asked. You gently took the edge of your uniform’s collar. Your medal was hidden under there. “Mmph mmph mmph (Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about that).” You softly smiled and put your uniform down.

“Tse dovha istoriya, pozhezhnyk (It’s a long story, firebug),” you answered.

“Mmmph mmph (Aw, c’mon),” Pyro whined. “Mmmph mmph (Tell me, please)?” He placed both his hands on the sides of his mask. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” you answered. Pyro cheered and sat with his legs crossed. You had been living in Pripyat a year after it had been founded. You lived there for the longest time. Until the Chernobyl accident. You were one of the many volunteers who cleaned up debris. Not only did you shovel off debris and spray down areas, you were a janitor who disposed of people’s food in their homes. You were given your medal as a sign of your bravery and help. Pyro was very happy to know his loved one was a hero. He swore on his balloonicorn that if your health started to decline, he would take care of you. And not with his toy doctor’s kit. On the battlefield, he would stay by your side and watch you take down enemies. He would just watch. He was waiting for you to collapse so he could catch you. But Pyro quickly learned that even if your health was shaky now, you would make it through. This didn’t stop Pyro from taking your uniform and drawing all over it after watching it.

Demoman:

It was snowing outside. Demoman was watching TV while you were on the roof shoveling snow off. Why you would be doing that now, he didn’t know. Demo just knew that you were good at shoveling stuff off. It brought back some memories from your days of peeling off dried Borda and shoveling radiated debris. Demoman didn’t know you helped back in the Chernobyl incident even though you had told him several times. He never could remember, since he was drunk most of the time. There was a loud crash outside that snapped Demoman out of his drunken haze. You had almost slipped off the roof and were hanging off the edge. He rushed outside and carefully brought you back down.

“What were you doing up there?” he asked, bringing you inside. You closed the door behind you.

“Padav snih (It was snowing),” you replied. Demo turned around.

“If you want to shovel something, shovel the driveway and not the roof,” he said. You sat the shovel against the wall.

“Sorry, it’s a habit,” you answered. Demoman turned around, curious. What did you mean by “it’s a habit”? He watched you sit down and turn on the T.V. Demo snuck off into your room. There had to be more to this story. He was suddenly intrigued. What did you say you were before you were a mercenary? A liquidator? There was a medal that you had talked about all the time. He eventually found it in your drawer. It was gifted to you by the Soviet Union. It was proof that you helped clean up Chernobyl. Demoman returned to the living room. He understood now. He remembered all those times you told him about your past. You had recently moved to Pripyat when the accident happened. You sprayed and shoveled off areas. You thought with your uniform, you would end up being okay. You were exposed to radiation and developed health issues. That was one thing Demoman didn’t know. You didn’t want to worry him.

“Aye, Y/n, you were a liquidator, right?” he asked. “Would it be alright if I asked some more about it?” You thought about it. Eventually, you would have to tell Demoman the whole truth now. It seemed he remembered everything you told him.

“Zvychayno (Sure),” you answered. You patted the seat next to you. “Now, would you like to know how borda worked?”

Heavy:

The suit you always wore, which had been upgraded when you joined the team, looked very familiar to something Heavy had heard of. You were part of the team for some time now. He had seen a Soviet government medal sitting on top of your drawer. You were a liquidator. You kept most of your life secret from everyone. Heavy started piecing the clues together. You had photos of your life before your mercenary job. The background was always the same. It was the same city, just at different angles and different times. He didn’t think too much of it. But he did start to think about it when he found out you had acute radiation syndrome. You were hematopoietic. Medic was doing his best to keep the number of blood cells in you up. It was starting to show.

“Y/n, why are you so leetle?” Heavy asked. You knew what he meant by that. He never wanted to ask why you were constantly sick, or weak, as he was trying to say. You didn’t want to tell him you had been diagnosed with ARS a few years after Chernobyl and its clean up. You were there as a liquidator. Not only did you scrape off the dried radioactive particles and bury them, but you worked to make sure radioactive material didn’t enter the aquifer of Chernobyl’s reactor. Your class name and uniform gave it away. Heavy eventually came to the conclusion you were a Chernobyl liquidator. That’s how you got sick, exposure to radiation.

“Oh, hey Heavy,” you said. He sat down next to you, with a worried look on his face. He put down your medal on the table.

“Y/n, Pochemu ty ne skazal mne ran'she (why didn’t you tell me sooner)?” he asked. You softly smiled and took Heavy’s hand.

“YA ne khotiv, shchob ty khvylyuvavsya (I didn’t want you to worry),” you answered. “It was my duty. I wanted to help.” Heavy gave a sigh. He understood. On the battlefield, you constantly helped the others. You’d spray down the enemies as a distraction so your teammate could get away. He leaned over and kissed your forehead. Heavy knew you would survive whatever life threw your way.

“Ne volnuysya, moy malen'kiy geroy, ya budu zdes', chtoby pomoch', yesli ya tebe kogda-nibud' ponadoblyus' (Don't worry my little hero, I'll be here to help if you ever need me),” he said.

Engineer:

You had told him you were an engineer as well. He asked what you majored in. You never answered Engie. It wasn’t a total lie. You were an engineer in search of a job when you came to Pripyat. You were originally going to take a job as one of Chernobyl’s engineers, but you decided to hold off. It was a good thing you did. You ended up volunteering as a liquidator to help clean up after the accident. That was one thing the Engineer didn’t believe when he found out. You dealt with thyroid cancer. That’s why he refused to accept the truth. He didn’t want to see his sweetheart struggle because of your choice. You willingly volunteered to clean up Chernobyl, even if you knew you risked getting sick. This strained your relationship with Engie. But you weren’t going to let your past ruin it completely.

“Hey, ne hanyaytesʹ za shpyhunamy bez mene (Hey, don't go chasing after spies without me)!” you called out. You were dressed in your uniform, which had been modified for the battlefield. Engy was setting up his nest when you called out for him. He looked up. You were smiling brightly. You were a bit more cheerful than most days.

“Howdy,” he replied, slightly surprised by your sudden mood change. Were you keeping a secret? Was your cancer getting worse? Engineer followed you like a hawk during the battle. You sprayed down enemies, froze them, then shattered them like glass. “Darlin’, is there something wrong?” Engineer asked during the second round.

“Ni, chomu (No, why)?” you asked. Engineer removed his helmet.

“Well, you’ve been actin’ a bit weird and Ah’m starting to worry,” he said. You smiled.

“Nothing bad is happening,” you answered. You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I was waiting to tell you at dinner, but my cancer has gone into remission.” Engy looked up, this time, truly surprised. You had gone to an appointment the other day for a checkup. Your doctor called you this morning with the good news. Engineer almost cried. He apologized for everything. You accepted his apology. To celebrate, he cooked his famous bacon meal.

Medic:

You? A Chernobyl liquidator? Medic found out as soon as he got a good look at your medal. He might’ve also broken into Pauling’s office and stolen your file. He was debating whether to be ecstatic that you were a Chenobyl liquidator and that meant that there was possible experimenting on you, or if he should have had a different feeling about all this. Even though you were exposed to radiation, there were no signs of major health problems. You had tiny problems. If there were any major problems, Medic would just fix them easily. You were a little uncertain about having a crazy doctor watch over you. Medic kept his word and didn’t experiment on you. He was interested in your history. You two would sit at the table and Medic would ask questions.

“Vhy clean up Chernobyl?” he asked.

“Tomu shcho Pryp'yatʹ bula moyim domom (Because Pripyat was my home),” you answered, sipping your drink. “Got any other questions?” Medic smiled.

“Ja, what did you have for lunch breaks?” It was simple nights like that you enjoyed. Just sipping coffee, or tea, with Medic under the cheap, dining room chandelier. Something you enjoyed besides talking with Medic was using your old equipment out on the battlefield. You sprayed down enemies, freezing them, and then either peeled or smashed them to bits. They always kept coming back. Even if they tried to ignore you, you simply redid the whole process again. Medic may have taken some body parts for experimentation. You had a replica of your old uniform. It was slightly worn but it worked perfectly. Medic actually helped upgrade your suit. He changed the style just slightly so it matched his uniform. You didn’t let him upgrade the mask though.

Sniper:

When he first met you, you were dressed in your gear. It scared Sniper, but he started less scared about your uniform the more he learned about you.You two had been together for a while. He knew you were a liquidator who cleaned up Chernobyl. Your medical file had a long list of issues you had since 1986. Your cancer was in remission and you were recovering from hair loss. You still went to your doctor for checkups. You were doing fine so far. Sniper kept a close eye on you. You weren’t dealing with anything else. He was grateful for that. He worried day and night that you were going to suffer. He was scared he couldn’t do anything. You didn’t want him to worry so hard that his hair would turn gray. So the first thing you did after requesting time off was research how to deal with cancer, including emotionally.

“Pryvit, Snayps! Yak spravy sʹohodni (Hey Snipes! How are you)?” you happily said one morning. It surprised Sniper slightly.

“Morning Roo,” he hesitantly answered. You tried to keep your lifestyle the same. You kept enthusiastic, trying to give Sniper hope that you would be fine. He also did research on how to deal with cancer as your loved one. You both would share each other’s thoughts and feelings. Another way you both got through this was relaxing. You’d take Sniper out on picnics or he’d drive you out at night to gaze up at the stars. It was nice. Unfortunately, Scout knew a lot of lies about cancer. For a while, he would ask if you were contagious or if you were fit to work. Sniper would get mad. He scolded poor Scout, calling him a couple of names. Spy eventually had to pull Sniper away before he started pulling on Scout’s ear. It was a bit hilarious to watch the scene play out. Scout apologized and didn’t talk to you for a while. “Hmpf, that oughta teach him.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Klasychnyy Snayper (Classic Sniper),” you said.

Spy:

Spy bit his lower lip. Did you have days to live? No, you were a fighter. You were going to survive. You “told” Spy that you had medical problems. He found out snooping through your medical files. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. You had a small growth of cancer in your arm. Medic would be taking care of that sooner or later. This led to a series of investigations. He dug through files he stole from Ms. Pauling. He found your file and took it back home. He was scared as he read the first couple of pages. It turns out you were a media that documented the Chernobyl disaster. After that, you helped spray down contaminated areas and bury the radiation. Your heavy, muffled breathing scared Spy as you entered the room. He threw the file under his seat and pulled out The Dapper Cadaver magazine.

“Vechirniy shpyhun (Evening Spy),” you said, taking off your gas mask. The file under his seat caught your eye. “Shcho u vas pid nym (What do you have under there)?”

“Nothing, cherie,” he answered, kicking the file away. It was clear he was trying to hide something. You knew what it was. Sooner or later he was going to find out. You leaned against the doorway with your arms crossed.

“If you know some things about Chernobyl, then you probably figured out I was a bio-bot,” you said. “Five thousand people, including me, absorbed a lot of radiation. I joined the team because they had medical insurance.” Spy chuckled. That was not true about Mann Co. They only provided dental insurance. You took a seat next to Spy and took his hands in yours. “Shpyhun, tobi ne potribno khvylyuvatysya (Spy, you don’t need to worry),” you said. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Leave the worrying to me.” He chuckled.

“Je suppose que j'avais juste besoin de te faire confiance (I guess I just needed to trust you),” he replied. That was all Spy needed. Just a little faith that you were going to survive. And you did.

#team Fortress 2 X Reader #Tf2 X Reader #Team Fortress 2 X Reader One Shots #Tf2 X Reader One Shots #angst #Fluff #One Shots #Action #tf2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 Pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper

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staysuki · 2 years

Text

🚨 don't shoot me | masterlist

two detectives go head to head in a battle of wits and stupidity. who wins? who loses? perhaps you both do.

pairing: detective!y/n x detective!han jisung (both in their early 30s)

genre: crack, fluff, mild angst, inspired by my most favorite show in the world: Brooklyn 99. lots of character tropes are inspired from actual B99 characters

warnings: (some violence, obvi) this is a fictional portrayal of the police and will not at all reflect any real world issues. furthermore, everything here might not be completely accurate or just a blatant exaggeration of how a police station works (because i have zero clue how it goes and i'm just basing it off of tv shows). some topics of misogyny in the workforce, mental health issues, death, inaccurate mental health professional portrayal, family problems, vulgarity, etc.

note: jisung's spin-off from the SLC-HDD universe (before felix and HDD!y/n got together). still, you don't need to read the other two fics for this to make sense, could totally be read as a standalone! to make the timeline not confusing, here's how it is:

SLC (early 20s) -> HDD (early 20s) -> SLC BONUSES (mid-late 20s) -> DSM (early 30s) -> HDD ENDINGS (mid-late 30s)

episodes

teaser 1 | teaser 2

[1] THE BULLPEN

[2] DON'T SHOOT THE MESSENGER

[3] CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE

[4] NO BACKING OUT

[5] 12 DOLLARS TO MY NAME

[6] DUMB

[7] I THINK THAT'S A PYRAMID SCHEME

[8] I'M NOT IN LOVE

[9] IT WASN'T BAD

[10] SUPER MESSED UP

[11] THERE IS NO DEFENSE

[12] PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

[13] DID YOU COMMIT A CRIME

[14] DO YOU WANT ME BACK

[15] IT'S TIME TO LET GO

[16] BREAKING NEWS

[17] LIFE IN IGNORANCE

[18] MY EGO CAN'T HANDLE THAT

[19] I'M JUST SMART

[20] HAN JESUS

[21] JOKER AND HARLEY QUINN

[22] I QUIT

[23] SUPPORT GROUP

[24] I'M GETTING BETTER (finale)

[25] ALL TOGETHER NOW (universe wrap-up)

WHERE IT ALL STARTED: SWEET LIKE CANDY (hwang hyunjin)

WHAT CAME NEXT: HAPPY DEATH DAY (lee felix)

(mm/dd/yy)

date started: 4/30/22

date finished: 5/4/22

[holds staysuki's record of fastest smau finished]

#don't shoot me #dsm99 #ash's basement #skz smau #skz #stray kids smau #stray kids #stray kids social media au #skz social media au

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benkeibear · 1 year

Text

Okay so I've gotten quite a few messages and asks (some of them weren't too nice) because I keep disappearing at times and that I'm barely active anymore and I guess I address the issue here for the individuals that wanted to know.

So uhm I kinda don't know where my relationship is headed since we're going through a rough patch and tbh I don't even know if we're still a couple since we did kinda break up 2 weeks ago. We're trying to fix the issue but it's really not easy since we both don't know how to fix stuff in the past which is affecting the future.

Next to that my depression got worse and I have a hard time even being alive atm so usually I go do things I would usually enjoy on the weekends in hopes I get the spark back.

I've also came to find out that the health of my father is getting a lot worse to the point of where his family is planning his funeral as we speak because the cancer is eating him alive and he refuses treatment. I do not want empathy for this or any well wishes towards him. That man hasn't been present in my life for a majority of it and only is now because his new wife forces him to have contact with his children. I didn't speak to him really in over a year except at my brothers wedding where he told me what a horrible child I am for never reaching out. Still, this whole situation affects me surprisingly negative and I have no clue how I'm supposed to handle it. It's a fucked up feeling, grieving for a person that's still alive and I guess I'm not upset over the fact that he does not have a lot of time left but over the fact that I never got to have a real father.

So yeah. All this is keeping me from writing and being online a lot. Only a few select people knew about it until now but I hope the people who worried are at ease now. I'm alive and I will continue to kick and fight - I just need a while to focus on myself rather than tumblr.

#rhy speaks ♡#tw vent #tw death #tw cancer #tw breakup #real life Drama i guess?#I'll be okay I promise 🫶#and I really do try my best to be active but I really can't be 24/7

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fangirlwriting-stories · 9 months

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They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Chapter One

Author’s Note: Okay, the story finished with chapter eight, so this one will get fully published after all, but for now enjoy chapter five!

Chapter Five:

Logan was a frequent customer, and Remus grew to like him over time. He was apparently a rich boy starting his first year at college, and had just moved here from across the country, paid for entirely by his parents. He also clearly had a lot of anger issues, to the point that Janus had apparently tried to talk to him a couple times about how rage rooms weren’t a good replacement for therapy.

That’s where Remus had to disagree with him, however. Personally he thought breaking stuff in anger was a very cool and sexy replacement for therapy. It’s not like actual mental health professionals were ever any good at their jobs or had the slightest clue what the hell they were doing. Logan was just smart enough to not fall for their bullshit.

When Remus said all of this to Roman, however, Roman just got quiet, so Remus didn’t bring it up again. Who knows what the hell his deal was.

The point actually being, Logan was smart and sexy and since Remus already had a soulmate now he wanted to kiss Logan’s face off.

The first person to actually warn him against this, however, was surprisingly not “worry about everything” Virgil, but instead “fuck society” Janus, which confused the heck out of him.

“Didn’t take you as the normie type when it comes to romance,” Remus said, hesitantly, because his limits on this topic had gotten slightly better but he was still going to pay militant attention to his comfort levels.

“I’m not,” Janus said, giving him a look. “You know I’m not. Logan is, Remus.”

“Oh,” Remus said, scrunching up his nose. “Really? Thought he was smarter than that.”

“I thought so too,” Janus said, holding up his hands. “Granted, I don’t think he wants to meet them so they can ride off into the sunset. But he has talked about being excited to meet his soulmate before.”

Remus blew a raspberry. “Boooo.”

“I hear you,” Janus said, patting him on the shoulder.

Remus, glad for the change from the topic of his eternally doomed love life, turned to Janus with a grin. “Oh do you now? You’re telling me you and Virgil have haven’t already hid out in the break room and—”

Janus, as a testament to how little he knew Remus, shoved his hand over his mouth to stop him. A second later he jerked back in disgust and Remus grinned at him, still sticking his tongue out of his mouth.

Janus grabbed a kleenex and wiped his hand off, then dropped it in the trash can with a sigh. “Virgil wants to meet his soulmate,” he said, squeezing some hand sanitizer on his hands and rubbing it in.

Remus gave Janus a baffled look. “Virgil wants to meet his soulmate? The person who is totally chill never even mentioning the subject to me and Roman? He wants to meet his soulmate?”

Janus sighed and rested his chin on his hand. “He’s anxious about it,” Janus said. “I don’t think he knows what he wants.”

Remus snorts. “Now that I believe,” he said. “Maybe you should kiss him about it.”

Janus gave him a look and Remus cackled.

“Fine,” he said a second later with an overdramatic sigh as the bell over the door jingled. “I shall be doomed to pine from a distance. Never pursuing, only dreaming. Never saying a word.”

“Never saying a word about what?” came Logan’s sudden voice, and Remus glanced up to see him approaching the counter.

“How badly I want to kiss you,” Remus said plainly, leaning on the counter and grinning up at Logan. “You wanna meet up here outside of work hours sometime and break shit together? Or we could go rollerskating. Or dinner and a movie, if you want to be boring about it.”

Janus sighed and shook his head, muttering something about “why do I even bother” which Remus had no way to answer for him, it was really a bad move on his part.

“I appreciate the offer, Remus, but I am waiting for my soulmate,” Logan said, pulling out his credit card.

“Boring,” Remus said, but shoved the liability waiver that he was now allowed to handle since turning eighteen across the counter (not that he hadn’t handled them before, but now no one could yell at him even if they found out).

Janus turned back to Logan as he signed the papers and leaned across the counter, as apparently it was his turn.

“It seems like it’s time for me to remind you that this is the third time you’ve come here in two weeks,” Janus said. “And you should really consider talking to someone, Logan. This isn’t a replacement for professional help if you need it.”

“Aw, don’t listen to him, Logan, keep fighting the man,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively and ignoring Janus’ glare at him. “Why pay for some idiot to tell you that you had a hard childhood when instead you can slam a bat through a TV? One of those sounds redundant, and the other sounds way more fun.”

“Remus,” Janus snapped, crossing his arms.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to take all of that into account,” Logan said with a sigh. “May we get going now?”

“Sure thing!” Remus said before Janus could say anything, and he grabbed Logan by the arm to lead him towards the back, chatting happily and casually about stuff that was going on as they walked.

“And Roman is trying out for a play!” Remus said happily as Logan looked among the bats for his favorite. “An actual paying one this time! I think he’s got a shot, seeing as he’s obviously the greatest actor to have ever lived.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely, Remus,” Logan said. “If that’s all, I’ll be heading in now.”

“Hell yeah, you break that shit, Logan!” Remus called. “Have fun, see you in an hour!”

Remus headed back to the front desk, whistling as he walked, only to find Janus waiting, not looking happy.

“What?” Remus asked, sliding up in his spot next to him and hopping up to sit on the counter.

“Remus,” Janus said. “It really isn’t a good idea for someone to use this as an alternative to therapy. I would appreciate you not talking over me next time.”

“What, Logan’s fine,” Remus said, rolling his eyes as he leaned back.

“He comes here too often to be fine,” Remus,” Janus said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So what? It’s not your job to help him.”

“No, but I am concerned for him as someone I know and care about,” Janus said. “I’m surprised you’re not too.”

Remus glared at Janus through narrowed eyes. “A therapist isn’t going to help, idiot,” he snapped, and Janus’ eyes widened slightly in surprise. “They never help. They never listen to you.”

Janus didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked back at Remus like he was trying to understand him, which was a fruitless effort.

“Obviously,” Janus said finally. “Not every experience is perfect, but—”

Remus snorted and hopped off the counter. “Whatever, you don’t know anything,” he grumbled. “I’m taking my break now.”

“Hang on a second Remus,” Janus said, but Remus just kept walking.

Remus knew Janus, though. He was stubborn, and he wasn’t going to leave it there. Because for how much Remus admired Janus and his general attitudes towards things, he was apparently a bootlicker in the worst area possible. He tired to bring it up to Remus more than once across the next couple weeks, but unfortunately for Janus, Remus was just as goddamn stubborn, and he wasn’t going to let Janus win.

But unfortunately for Remus, it seemed, Janus used way more underhanded methods than Remus expected him to, which in this case meant he brought it up to Remus’ brother.

He walked in on them after his break having a close and apparently rather tense conversation.

“I’m telling you, don’t push it,” Roman was saying. “Obviously eventually he’s gonna have to— look, he just needs time, okay?”

“Who needs time?” Remus asked curiously.

Both Janus and Roman cried out in surprise and spun around, looking like deer caught in headlights.

“…okay,” Remus said. “So clearly you were talking about me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Roman said, in a fast and firm and conversation-ending way, with a glare at Janus.

“Oh fuck no,” Remus said. “You are not gonna talk about me in an obviously negative way behind my back and then not tell me what you were saying. Out with it.”

“We weren’t talking about you,” Roman said, holding his hands up. “Or— or not at first.”

“Oh, much better,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Roman said.

Janus gave Roman a look, and Roman glared at him right back.

“Roman,” Remus snapped, and Roman winced.

“Remus, seriously, please drop it, okay?” Roman said.

“Fuck no.”

“I don’t want to make you upset,” Roman said, looking almost pleadingly back at him.

“Right, right, the fragile delicate flower that I am who gets upset at the slightest of things,” Remus snapped, crossing his arms.

Janus laughed a little, clearly thinking Remus was making a joke, but Remus just glared him into surprised silence.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Remus,” Roman said, and Janus glanced curiously over at him.

“Then what? What were you talking about and why was it not about me and also about me? Out with it, asshole.”

Roman sighed, tensed up like he knew this was going to go bad, and said, “I was asking Janus if he knows a good therapist nearby.”

Remus’ heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “What? No.”

“See this is why I didn’t say anything!” Roman exclaimed, burying his head in his hands before pulling up to look at him again. “Remus—”

“No. That’s not— why? What on earth could possibly make that a good idea?”

“Remus,” Janus started.

“No,” Roman snapped, turning to him. “You, shut up. You,” he turned back to Remus and softened. He moved forward and took Remus by the arm, pulling them away from Janus and into the break room. Then he turned to face Remus again.

“Just listen,” Roman said gently.

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head. He moved forward and took Roman’s hands, trying to squeeze his desperation across. “No, Roman. I’m not gonna let them do that to you.”

“No one’s going to do anything to me,” Roman said quietly, squeezing Remus’ hands back. “I’d be going voluntarily. I could stop whenever I wanted.”

“You don’t know that,” Remus said, shaking his head. “You don’t know that, what if they make something up, what if they try and trap you, I can’t see you go through what happened to me, Roman, please.”

“Re,” Roman said, reaching out and pulling Remus into a hug. “I’ve wanted to talk to someone since middle school. You know that.”

Remus shook his head against Roman’s shoulder. “No, but you grew out of that I thought,” he said. “You grew out of it when you realized what it was actually like, didn’t you? You realized it was all bullshit.”

Roman pulled back and took Remus gently by the shoulders. “I don’t think it is, Re,” he said quietly. “I’ve been doing research for a long time, you know. What happened with you, that’s— that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“It doesn’t matter how it’s supposed to work, it happened,” Remus insisted, grabbing Roman’s hands. “I’m not going to let that happen to you, Roman. I’m not. You’re my brother.”

“I’m not in danger, Remus,” Roman said gently. “You don’t need to protect me from this. I want to do it.”

“Why? You’re fine.”

Roman flinched. “Please don’t say that,” he whispered, pulling back.

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked, reaching out for Roman again, but stopping when Roman pulled away. “Why— why not?”

Roman looked up at him, looking scared and angry— though Remus didn’t think it was directed at him.

“That’s what Mom and Dad said to me every time I asked them for help,” Roman said. “Because they couldn’t wrap their tiny fucking brains around the idea that my life wasn’t perfect. Because I had such a perfect soulmark. I was just supposed to be fine, all the time, and they wouldn’t believe me if I told them that—” he stopped suddenly, and looked away.

Remus dropped his hand back to his side, trying to push past the overwhelming fear welling up in his chest and focus on what Roman was saying.

He… he’d known Roman wasn’t okay, really. Roman had told him before that he felt worthless and small and like no one would ever want him other than Remus, that he’d never be enough no matter how hard he tried. And Remus had tried to help him with that. But Roman was saying he wasn’t enough. So what, Roman was saying he’d failed at the one thing he’d actually been able to try to do, locked up in that fucking place because no would believed him when he said he was—

Remus looked up at Roman. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”

He took a shaky breath, wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, I— I believe you, Roman. I— I’m sorry. You shouldn’t ever have to hear that crap from me.”

Roman looked up at him, and Remus met his gaze.

“I’m still scared,” Remus whispered.

“That’s okay,” Roman said, nodding lightly.

“I still don’t think this is gonna help,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I— I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Maybe,” Roman said slowly, hesitantly. “You can come with me? Not for the therapy, you could— I don’t know. Interrogate them? Sit in for the first time?”

Remus considered that for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Something like relief fell over Roman’s face, and Remus’ chest cracked just a little bit, because he knew that look, and Roman should never have to feel scared that Remus wouldn’t hear him. He reached out and pulled Roman into another hug again, and this time Roman hugged tightly back, breathing out a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said into his shoulder. “You— I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Roman mumbled. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I should be helping,” Remus said. “You always helped me.”

“It’s okay,” Roman said. “S’just… all bullshit.”

Remus laughed a little. “Yeah,” he agreed, holding Roman closer.

They both stayed there for a long moment, not saying anything.

“Roman, if you ever need me to believe you about something, just tell me,” Remus said. “Tell me and I will, I promise.”

“What, you’re just gonna decide to?”

“Fuck yes I am. You tell me your shit, and I’ll believe you. It’s your shit.”

Roman laughed a little. “Okay,” he said, and they were both quiet for a minute.

“You think I’m gonna need to talk to someone,” Remus said dully, and Roman tensed again. “That’s what you were talking about with Janus, right? That’s how it got around to me.”

“I think… it wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Roman said hesitantly. “But only once you’re ready.”

“I can’t do that,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I’m never going back there.”

“It doesn’t have to be the same,” Roman said softly. “You wouldn’t have to be an in-patient at all.”

“No, Roman, you don’t understand,” Remus said. “I can’t just let them win.”

Roman pulled back and gave him a sad look. “That’s not what it is, Remus,” he said. “That’s not what it would be.”

“Yes it is. They weren’t right to not believe me and they weren’t right to throw me in there and they weren’t right to judge my entire life based on this stupid sentence,” he waved his wrist wildly around in front of Roman. “I can’t let them be right.”

Roman shook his head, looking firm and determined. “They will never be right, Remus. Those can be two different things.”

Remus crossed his arms and looked away. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because they did it to you,” Roman said. “It’s their fault. That makes them not right.”

“It’s that simple, huh?” Remus asked, looking up.

“Probably not,” Roman admitted. “But so what? Fuck them.”

Remus smiled just a little. “I don’t think that would really help matters.”

“Gross,” Roman groaned, in the tone of voice that meant he’d known it was coming as soon as he said it. Remus cackled.

“Come on,” he said, nudging Roman’s side with his arm as he started towards the door. “We’ve got a shift to finish. And I’ve got a Janus to yell at.”

...

Chapter Six

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #platonic dukeceit #intrulogical #platonic roceit #my fic

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