#bees and suicidal ideation into your homes :

[inlovewithpandora]

Hey love💕 I was wondering if you could write a oneshot where neteyam finds out reader harms herself?

Thank for this request anon💗! I hope it meets your expectations!

If anyone has any requests leave them in my asks!

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Part 1 (here) || Part 2 || Part 3

This story was inspired by the song above^

- I'm tired -

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem! Omatikaya gf! reader

Both characters are 19!

Warnings: self harm ( very descriptive) suicide ideation, attempt, extreme angst, slight physical/ emotional abuse

If your not comfortable with this type of writing please click off

Word count: 1,645

You and Neteyam just recently started dating a few weeks ago. The first time you saw him it made a feeling that was foreign to you course through your veins. When you meet him and got to know him he made you feel an emotion you've never felt before, Happiness.

Every time he came by your pod to whisk you away to somewhere special in the forest you felt nothing but pure bliss.

But when you weren't around you him you felt melancholic, lonely, depressed, and every other negative feeling under the sun. The environment you lived in was toxic and it was ripping a piece of you away every day.

You were trying to ignore the pain and heartache but it wasn't working. you were trying to find healthy ways to cope like weaving or hunting but it wasn't working. The only thing that would help is cutting, making small slits into your navy blue skin that would release crimson-colored liquid. Watching the blood drip down your arm is the only thing that would help you feel better and would make the pain stop.

You lived at home with your father and he was an alcoholic. When you were born your mother died while giving birth to you and that was the last day your father showed any positive emotion. He abhorred you for taking the love of his life away and he made sure you knew it every single day.

You were sitting in your part of the pod trying to avoid your father's alcoholic rage but you couldn't because he decided to come find you and spew his hatred all over you.

He came and pulled the curtain back which revealed you sitting on your woven mat. As he was towering over your small frame you could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, "What are doing in here?!"

"N-nothing father I'm just making a necklace for someone", A couple of days ago you and Neteyam were sitting by a pond and he told you how he needed a new necklace because he lost his other one so you decided to make him one.

"Who is it for?! Is it for that boy you've been running around with?!" He yelled which startled you. You hated when he yelled because it always made you cry. Instead of responding you just sat there silently looking down at the floor which told your father he was correct about his assumption.

He let out a dark chuckle before continuing to yell at you, "He is only using you for your body, do you think someone could really like you?! That someone would want to actually mate with you one day?! You have to be the dumbest na'vi around to think that. Look at you, you're pitiful. Always crying and sulking around this house. You're always cutting your arm like some deranged freak! What boy would ever want someone like that?!" He yelled with venom coming out of his mouth with each word that escaped his lips

All you could do is break down into a crying fit. You felt like your father was right, why would someone want to be with someone who felt like their only escape was harming themselves? You felt like whatever you had going on inside of you could rub off on Neteyam and you didn't want to corrupt him with this sickness.

Your father saw drops of water flowing down your face and it only made him angrier, "WHAT ARE YOU CRYING FOR? HUH? THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOU TO BE SHEDDING ANY TEARS! IF ANYTHING I SHOULD BE THE ONE CRYING, YOU TOOK MY MATE FROM ME! EVER SINCE YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE IT HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT HELL!" He shouted at you furiously

He crouched down to your level and harshly grabbed your bicep, yanking you up so you could stand on your feet. He then extended your arm, looking at all the scars that ran down your skin. He began to speak but this time he wasn't yelling, he was calm but you could still hear the maliciousness in his tone.

"I wish you were the one that died that day, not your mother. Next time you decided to cut yourself make sure you finished the job and go live among Eywa. I can't stand to have you living in my house and making me live in despair." He let go of your arm and threw it to your side. He lifted his alcoholic beverage to his lips and began imbibing enormous amounts of it before walking outside the pod.

As you stood there with sobs emerging from your throat you decided that you were tired. You were tired of your father's emotional and sometimes physical abuse, you looked down at your arm and could see a purple outline on your arm from his tight grip.

You were tired of feeling like this, you need the pain and heartache to stop. You needed this feeling of sorrow to go away. You looked around your pod and grabbed your knife and put it in its sheath and grabbed your shawl and wrapped it around your arms and began walking to Neteyam's Family pod.

You wanted to talk to him and tell him how you felt about him before you went to see the Great Mother.

As you walked you heard a group of girls talking about you as you walked by, "Look at her, She looks awful" one of the girls said while laughing

"Yeah I'm surprised she even came out of her pod, she's been locked up in there for almost a week" one of the other girls chimed in

They continued saying all these nasty things about you and it made you feel even worse than before. Neteyam was in the tree above, looking down at the event that was unfolding. He watched you run away to a deeper part of the forest. He immediately climbed down the tree and began to follow you to see if you were okay.

He hasn't seen you in almost a week and he's been worried about you. He came by your pod to try and talk to you but every time he came your father sent him away.

As you were running you didn't know where you going until you found yourself in front of a small pond. You sat down and looked at your reflection in the water, as you looked at yourself you couldn't even recognize the person you saw anymore. It was like you changed into a totally different person. You looked at yourself and felt disgusted, you felt like you looked repulsive. As you looked at your puffy eyes and the dark circles around them you felt so much pain and agony.

You pulled your knife out of its sheath and pressed it again your skin. You knew by doing this it would make you feel so much better, you would finally be at peace. You could finally see your mother and live among your ancestors.

As you were about to penetrate your skin and create a gash so deep that it would bleed out until you took your last breath, you heard someone call out your name.

"Y/N!" Neteyam called out. You turned and saw so many emotions on his face, he looked at you horrified by what he saw you doing to your body.

As you looked at him all you could is cry even harder, "Neteyam please leave"

You didn't want him to see you in this state, you didn't want him to see you so broken.

"Y/N what's wrong? What's going on?" Neteyam asked you as he sat down next to you. As he looked at your arm he saw multiple old scars on your arm and a bruise on your bicep, as you followed his gaze all you could do was apologize to him even though you didn't know why you were doing it.

"I-I’m sorry Neteyam I just can't handle the pain anymore, I'm tired of feeling so miserable. I'm always crying and I'm so weak. Nobody likes me not even my own father, the person who's supposed to love me the most. I feel like I'm going crazy, I feel like I'm a freak" you told him  as you let out sobs in between every few words

"I don't want to live Neteyam. I want to be with Eywa where I can feel peace, I need to feel peace."

As you rambled without properly thinking clearly, Neteyam was horrified by your words. "Baby, why would you say that?" Neteyam asked you as his voice broke a little. He hated hearing you speak about yourself so harshly and it broke his heart to hear that you wanted to end your life

"Because it's true! Every single thing I said was true"

"Y/N you are not a freak, you are beautiful and I love you with every fiber in my body. Whatever is going on with your father I will help you figure it out. I will be there for you and help you through these feelings until they have faded away. I will be here for you always, but you can't leave me. I want you to stay here with me so we can grow old together, Okay?" he talked to you with so much conviction in his voice some tears slowly streamed down his face

"Okay, Neteyam" is all you could muster up and say. You wrapped your arms around his body and clung to him. He embraced you and kissed you on the cheek " These feelings won't last forever, we'll get through this together" As you laid your head on his shoulder for the first time you felt like someone cared about you. As you laid in his embrace you felt a feeling you'd been longing for, something you wanted for a long time.

Love & Peace

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I hope you enjoyed💗!

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated💗!

©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#❖ — 🌳: 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻.! #❖ — 🪸: 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺.! #tw alchoholism #tw sucidal ideation #tw: sucidal thoughts #angst #neteyam fanfiction #triggering stuff #neytiri #avatar james cameron #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #jake sully #avatar 2009 #neteyam sully #neteyam angst #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam atwow #avatar the way of water #atwow neteyam #tsu’tey #aonung #loak sully #new writer #avatar angst #atwow angst #tw

[tr4umaborn]

** IMPORTANT INFO RE: TJ HAMMOND

a study in. drug abuse / addiction,  self harm,  suicidal ideation / attempts,  over dosing,    bipolar I disorder  (  which includes mania episodes,  heavy depressive episodes,  anxiety,  and minor psychosis breaks  ),  bdsm / submissive behaviors,  sex as a coping mechanism,  in being the bad twin,  the nature of growing up addicted,  undiagnosed mental illness, the golden gay, an opposite role model, making music until your fingers bleed, the minor chord, living fast dying young

full name. thomas james hammond also known as. tj, teej, golden boy date of birth. 02 / 19 / 1984 age. 38 zodiac. pisces sun / libra moon / leo rising gender. male (ish) pronouns. he / they romantic orientation. homoromantic sexual orientation. homosexual occupation. pianist / influencer / model species. human birthplace. raleigh, north carolina, united states current home. new york city, ny, us nationality. he's never asked beyond being american ethnicity. just another dumbass white boy language(s). english parents. president elain barrish, former president bud hammond siblings. twin brother - douglas hammond other family members. lydia martin - basically a sister thanks significant other + children.  canon: mieczyslaw stilinski-hammond (husband) @mieczlw jason stilinski-hammond (son) @jasnstilnski the bee and jenna cinematic universe: antonio dominico marcus rizzotti marvel au: bucky barnes @whtwclf faceclaim. thomas doherty hair. brown + short eyes. baby blues height. 6 ft build. as an addict: too skinny for his own good when sober: muscular from getting addicted to the gym dominant hand. left scars. one of his left arm from the singular time he shot up, plenty of scars on his chest and back for boys who were too rough both in the bedroom and in the bar tattoo. many small pieces in easily coverable places piercings. one on his right ear, many on his left ear, had an eyebrow piercing decided against it, nose stud and septum vurrent positive traits. sensitive, whimsical, romantic, charming, artistic, gentle, love of beauty and harmony negative traits. gullible, gregarious, dependent, cagey likes. giving and receiving gifts, sweets, coffee, massages, cocaine (unfortunately), fuck boys (even more unfortunately) dislike. being wrong, being proven wrong, fears & phobias. disappointment, drowning wishes & dreams. to not be in the spotlight because of his family, but instead because of himself. mbit. ESFP - The Entertainer moral alignment. neutral evil enneagram type. type 3 - the achiever

biography.

 THE GOLDEN SON  𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. now imagine the feeling of floating away into the nether reaches of space. imagine the way slipping up into the air would make you feel – do you feel the air around you at all? is there enough oxygen to make the trip sliding up through the sky and into the unknown worth it? or will the whole experience just leave you clawing at your own skin because it’s burning from the inside out without the attentive oxygen filling up your pores?

the headline read : 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 but there’s nothing golden about the downward decent into enveloping madness. he was not born mad ( and really is anyone? ) but had the madness set upon him by the events that took place. born ninety seconds before his twin brother douglas, thomas james hammond was smiling when he came out into the world. it may be hard to tell now, but from that first moment he has always known that he wanted to experience all that life had to offer. the happiness didn’t end much at all in the first ten years of his life ( except for when it did, but according to doctors he was simply a growing boy with a growing mind ). even through the first campaign and moving into the white house ( seven year olds still in awe that they have this much space to play in ) his smile stayed so strong. there were things that made it even brighter : his brother, his mama, telling stories with a flashlight under the blanket long past their bedtime. but there was one thing that kept him happy, kept the madness at bay when it threatened to show its burning head.

music never wanted to kill him. while it may be an artist’s curse to feel everything so fucking fully, it isn’t the art form that grabbed him with sharp jaws. he picked up his first piece of sheet music at three years old, and everyone in the family broke out the camcorders. 𝐨𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 they’d say as he banged tiny fingers on keys. those tiny fingers grew into the keys. passion and music weaved together, only those within his most inner circle allowed to see what really showed. books upon books begin to get filled through the years. music notes that look like water as they swim across the pages of score sheets. his happiness isn’t dependent on his music, but his music has always and will always provide him with natural serotonin that he chases after in the powder of small bags.

fear and loathing keep him from doing well in school. doug is the favorite twin with grades and extra curriculars that fill out the resume how every college wishes it would. he’ll go to princeton or yale or harvard or wherever the fuck he wants and tj instead knows exactly where he’s headed ( 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ) but his steps to get there are the difficult part. first he must survive high school : where his best friends are snow and addie. they provide the blanket of protection he needs when he finds himself on the wrong side of his first tmz article.

the first son is a fag? it didn’t say that, but when he read it it really may as well have. the world plucked him from the closet just before y2k ; a fifteen year old boy with a life sentence. first came tmz, then the times article, and then before he knew it he’s suddenly the country’s most famous gaybie. to america that makes him their sweetheart, but the world never knows what sweethearts do when they’re craving sweet tarts.

the same year he found himself on the wrong side of a conversation. while the world doesn’t know it, having your father be the 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚 really makes these trying times much easier to keep undisclosed, he knows the truth of it all. the good ole boy’s private school couldn’t have a drug addicted slut making a bad name for their school, so they banished him to the other realm. or you know. . . expelled him. he finds himself in the countryside of france for the next two years where catholicism is the ruling decree and drug addicts rule the halls. it’s here he rules the school with charlotte arnold by his side, and cross my heart and hope to die those two are a dangerous duo.

college isn’t for everyone, but for a hammond it is an expectation. he’ll start his education one place, and eventually end it in another. the location doesn’t matter : after all there are phones on cameras and street corners now. his antics can destroy his life no matter what he ends up. wherever he is, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 COCAINE DREAMS  and what about the snow? playing in the white confection as the world keeps spinning around you. it’s comfortable, holding you and keeping you warm when the world outside is desperately freezing. why wouldn’t you jump into it’s open arms that widen more for you? it doesn’t feel good to leave it’s grasp so you stay there. where you are wanted. where you are needed. 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

he feels everything so fully that even empathy doesn’t cover it. with elders describing his symptoms as a side effect of drug abuse, tj knows the symptoms came first. 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 ( and if only when he screamed it was outside of his mind ) they wouldn’t feel the pain of every time he runs. snow opens her beautiful arms for him and through out his twenties he jumped too far into her arms. some moments were easy – someone at a party helped him sleep it off or his few friends gave him the space to grieve the loss of his sanity. other moments hurt more – nearly dying in a crackhouse in canada just over the border line from buffalo. or the time he thought a bottle of downers was a bottle of uppers and sent himself spiraling more when trying to fix his own problems. he’ll hurt those he loves with every gram that goes up his nose.

after tj and doug turned 24, elaine barrish hammond began her first campaign for president. in a never shocking turn of events, people seemed more interested in a third term of bud ( even though they knew the scandals he locked in his closet ) instead of elaine. he doesn’t care ; after all, a tour de usa means he can find a fuck in all 50 states. they want to use him as a puppet like always? not a person, not a son, but a 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞.

she ends up secretary of state, and tj ends up with a forced residency in dc once again. at 25 years old he is beginning to 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. no one notices when republican senator sean reeves of ohio begins to steal glances at the ex first son. what’s worse is the reciprocation. tj on the wrong end of those glances turns into allowing someone to devour him whole while knowing he’ll spit him up and throw him out. the details of his sobriety, and his happiness, are unfortunately unimportant ( after all, they come at the hands of a false idol ) and instead the focus shifts to the inevitable ending. our sweetheart feels the false love ooze from every pore ; it leaves him as the tears spill from his red rimmed eyes. there’s a car, and a garage, and it’s all he can think to do in a split second. how might a mother, who loves her children with all of her heart despite how she hurts them so, feel when she finds her son no longer inhaling fumes because he’s passed out? ask elaine barrish.

no one knows for over a year, names and pseudonyms being confused and dispersed. forced sobriety normally didn’t work for tj, but this time rehab seemed to get through to him. he can maintain a sense of sobriety, nothing that’s considered illegal or prescribed to others, until 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. the puppet is now a pawn, an article being published on the suicide attempt of america’s sweetheart. he watches the story unfold on the news while sharing a straw to soak up snow on his dealer’s couch.

the rest of his life will never look the same. he realizes that sobriety is a privilege he has to work for. feeling everything makes the lows lower and the highs higher. when no one will name it ( maybe one day a doctor will say the word bipolar to him outloud ) how can you treat it? mania gives him excitement, but with it comes his chest being ripped to shreds by his own mind. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭?

#** about: tj. #** headcanons: tj. #uh.... all of the things to avoid are in the top there LOL #i wrote this bio in 2022 and it's just a very good tj bio #anyway i develop a LOT of ships for tj hehe #90% of the time i write him in his addict phase from 20-27

[vetriemstuck]

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you know of any fics that have John at the Surgery in them? It wasn't really explored in the show so... it can be just like one scene within a larger fic, but I haven't been able to find any fics with this. TIA

Hey Lovely!

Ahhhh you know, I have a lot of fics where he’s at the surgery, but I’ll be damned if I can remember them all!!! Here’re the ones I do remember! <3 Please add your own fics, my friends, if your fic is in the Surgery!

JOHN AT THE SURGERY

See Also: 

Hospital Fics

Hospitals Pt 2

Doctor / Caretaker John 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 2 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 3 

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 4

Excerpts from Purgatory by reapersun, what_alchemy (E, 5,829 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Doctor John, Reunion Fic, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Bottomlock, Fic with Pics)  – John serves community service in homeless shelters for chinning the superintendent. Unbeknownst to him, the Homeless Network has his back.

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong... Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

The Acronym by DancingGrimm (T, 15,057 w., 12 Ch. || Humour) – "'Bee Ay Em Eff'. Hm, that's a new one on me. Do you know what it means, Sherlock?" John might not know what it means, but there are many little ways in which he proves the acronym suits him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w., 58 Ch. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – "Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

MARKED FOR LATER (tagged with “Surgery”)

Milk, the Flu, and Harry by Inactive Account (sassybleu) (M, 1,609 w., 1 Ch. || Insecure Sherlock, Understanding John, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock’s Called ‘Freak’) – John leaves Sherlock for a few days (angsty) John says things he doesn’t mean (“you’re a freak”) Sherlock thinks he deserves it (he’s insecure) and packs John’s bags for him while he’s gone. John is to blame (bad day at surgery-Sherlock being Sherlock; he’s frustrated and snaps)

Inhale With Ease by Vulpesmellifera (E, 25,989 w., 8 Ch. || S4 Divergence, Covid-19/Quarantine, Jealous John, Love Letters, Victor Trevor, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending) – In the years after Vivian Norbury's capture, life seems to work out just as John planned. He's got that respectable job at the surgery and goes home to his wife and child. He joins Sherlock on cases a couple times per week. It's a rhythm he can live with - just enough adrenaline highs to balance out the drudgery of a normal bloke's life. Until a pandemic, and Victor Trevor, arrive in London.

Turned - Part I : Queen and Country by saintscully (E, 76,008 w., 20 Ch. || HLV Divergence / No TAB, Graphic Sherlock/OC, Spy Sherlock, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Army Homophobia, Emotional Infidelity, Physical Infidelity, Slow Burn, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Johnlock) – Moriarty’s message never gets broadcasted. The airplane taking Sherlock away never returns.As rumours begin to swirl about a British POW found alive in Gaza ten months later, Mycroft shows up at John’s surgery with some good news: Sherlock is alive, and he’s coming back. In this story, inspired by ‘Homeland’ and ‘Prisoners of War’, John and Sherlock are left with no choice but to re-examine everything about their relationship since Sherlock’s fall. Part 1 of the Turned series

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 937,347+ w. across 22 Stories || Series WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Autism Spectrum, Anaesthetist John / Neurosurgeon Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity, Additional Tags Under Link) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson and Holmes. (I haven’t read this one, but JUDGING by the topic of these stories, I imagine there’s a lot of surgery scenes lol)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #doctor john #help steph find fics #john at the surgery #cateye-glasses

[shutupanakin]

Wasting Your Time ch.2

tw for suicidal ideation

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

...

Tommy goes back to the station. Wilbur makes him think about his relationship with Tubbo and Ranboo.

first chapter here crossposted on ao3 here

Tommy is a fucking idiot.

No, no, no, it went beyond that, beyond that plain idiocy, Tommy was a fucking moron.

He desperately wanted to just forget about the deal he made. It sat in the back of his mind, collecting dust and forming cobwebs. Whenever he began to think about it, whenever he opened that door and the sun would hit it with its light; Tommy promptly closed it.

But it would always just creek back open, whenever Tommy was sitting in a lecture and he felt like tearing his hair out. When Tommy had managed to hang around Tubbo and Ranboo, and he felt like screaming , throwing a fit, wanting to make his existence known. When he had come home and Tommy would make himself dinner and sit at that stupid empty table alone because Sam was working or studying.

The light would hit it, and Tommy remembered he had a bet of wills to win. Against fucking Wilbur Soot. That pretentious prick.

Tommy is a fucking idiot because he came back. The 11:25 train was coming in, Tommy was alone on this stupid platform. No old lady to distract him, to make him hesitate, no one was here this time to make him reconsider against just—

He could—

He could just—

No.

He had a bet to win.

Tommy glared at the lights, the train skidding to a perfect stop in front of him. Tommy entered swiftly when the doors opened, grabbing the same spot at the back as he did last time. There were two other people at the front. Not together, he would imagine.

He threw his leg up on the plastic seat, ignoring the nauseating feeling that was settling in his stomach. What if Wilbur was just screwing with him? What if he didn’t show up?

Why would he? There was nothing that he personally gained by showing up. It was a bet of wills. Maybe he made this deal to give himself some peace of mind, a pity play. To keep the random kid he met in the middle of the night alive, to give the man a heroic ticket. Look! It’s Wilbur Soot! He saved a child from his own stupidity! A self-righteous savior play.

What a dick.

Tommy wondered if Wilbur was thinking that way about Tommy, too. If he was waiting for the tube to come, debating whether or not he showed up. Whether or not Tommy truly didn’t make it to the end of the week, or if he thought Tommy decided he had better things to do with his time.

Tommy was determined to prove him wrong.

They were slowing. Tommy screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to glance out the window, he didn’t want to be disappointed at the lack of that stupid mess of brown hair. The doors hissed open and Tommy didn’t open them.

Tommy counted his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

“You look stupid,”

The doors whizzed shut, Tommy's eyes snapped open.

There was Wilbur Soot, with his stupid glasses and dumb-looking Bush and Reagan jumper and Tommy was wishing that he was less relieved to see the man.

“I win,” Tommy blurted. Wilbur took his place, sitting opposite to Tommy. “I made it to the end of the week.” I proved you wrong.

“Think you can do one more?” What?

“I said nothing about that big man,” Tommy objected. “if you wanna do this again we’re gonna have to put money on it.”

Wilbur rubbed his face, exasperated. “I am not gambling with a child. I had a buddy for that.”

“I am seventeen,” Tommy objected. “Where’s your buddy now?” He sneered.

Wilbur shrugged. “Unavailable. I can not talk to him anymore.”

Tommy picked at the thread, resisting the urge to pull it. “Why is that a fucking pattern with you? Can’t talk to this person, can’t talk to that person— do you just get into the habit of making people dislike you?”

“Do you dislike me?” Wilbur pushed.

“I’m trying to,” Tommy told truthfully. “it is kinda a shit thing to do, though— to drop friends. Act like they don’t exist anymore.”

The train stopped. No one got on. Tommy found himself grateful for that.

“Why did you get the bee pin?” Wilbur asked, Tommy's eyes fell down to said pin, resting easily in the fabric of his jacket. He had forgotten about it, truth be told. No one had pointed it out or asked about it. Not even Sam, who he got the jacket from , when Tommy saw him had pointed it out.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “The bee. Uhm.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Reminds me of my friend. Tubbo. I guess. He has this thing, yeah? For them. Since we were kids.”

Tommy remembered, when they were kids, when Tommy’s parents were still alive and Tubbo’s hadn’t split yet. They were in his yard, Tommy was throwing around a baseball. He was getting better at throwing, he couldn’t wait to show Sam— when Tubbo had yelled for him to look. He thrust his cupped hands into Tommy’s face, showing him the bee he had captured.

Tommy had been around Tubbo in person twice this week. If he saw the bee pin he didn’t say anything

“Why are you not hanging around him then?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the answer to that. He just didn’t like it.

“I don’t think he wants me around anymore,” Tommy admitted.

Another station. One of the stragglers at the front left.

“Why do you think that?”

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy snapped. “Psychoanalyze me? Am I your fucking psychology research project or something?!”

“I am trying to help, you irrational child,” Wilbur stressed.

Tommy relaxed, the glare that had grown on his face only dropping a bit. “I… I— there’s this guy, Ranboo, and I like him, alright? Like he’s cool. He’s from America— living with his cousin, yeah? One of my brother's friends. That’s how we met. I introduced him to Tubbo and—“

“They got along better than you thought,” Wilbur finished.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” He was picking at the thread again. “it’s not like… they completely ignore me. They still invite me to stuff. And ask me if I want to play Minecraft. But it’s third-wheeling, right? Like nothing, I say lands with them. I don’t think they do it on purpose, because Ranboo is such a people pleaser; the biggest one I know, and Tubbo's so fucking clingy. He’s a pushover, too. But they have fun together, whether I’m there or not, it doesn’t matter. So why— why bother getting into the voice call, just to sit there talking to myself while they enjoy each other?”

“So you are feeling left out,” Wilbur concluded. Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s why I like talking to you.” Tommy admitted. “Because you listen to me, the things I say have a bigger impact than a pebble on the pavement. With you it’s— it’s like a crater. But I don’t need to be a world-destroying asteroid when I’m talking to you. I can just be a pebble and still get my point across. You listen to what I say and you respond.”

With them, it was like he was a ghost. Like in Phasmophobia , or something. They’re trying to communicate with him, but are only hearing every other word. Incoherent babbling. With Wilbur, they’re both ghosts— making fun of the idiots with their magic boxes trying to communicate with them.

“Aw, Tommy,” Wilbur cooed. Tommy threw his hands up.

“And you ruined it, you’ve ruined it, Wilbur Soot. You are terrible, downright awful. I’m never saying anything positive about you again.”

Wilbur grinned mockingly. “Oh, Tommy— it is alright that you like talking to me!”

“Fuck you!” Tommy retorted. “You’re a fucking wrongen!”

“I like talking to you too,” Wilbur offered.

They stopped again, someone had gotten. They spared a mere glance at Tommy before sitting in the midsection.

Tommy crossed his arms. “You’re okay I guess,”

“You should probably get on that though,” Wilbur said, Tommy looking at him questionably. “talking to your friends, I mean. Figure things out. I mean, they are doing it on purpose, they are shit friends.”

“They are not!” Tommy hissed. “They’re not doing it on purpose. They wouldn’t.”

And he was right, they wouldn’t. He’s known Tubbo forever , they’ve been stuck together since Tommy could count— so what if Tubbo might have gotten sick of him, just a little? It’s not on purpose, he knew that! But he had someone new to hang around, someone else to laugh with, someone to tell the same jokes he told Tommy and they would laugh because they would be new. Tommy gets it. He does! That doesn’t mean Tubbo was—

That didn’t mean Tubbo was a bad friend. It’s not on purpose. It’s not.

Ranboo was well, Ranboo. That guy couldn’t hurt a fly, even if he wanted to. He had been in the UK for a few months at this point, Tommy did his job of being the placeholder friend— he showed him around, he was his friend when he didn’t have any; now he did. He still cared about Tommy. Tommy knew that! The— the stupid fucking good morning texts, the ridiculous little signs he’d leave in Tommy’s house in Minecraft, the checkups. Ranboo was a good person.

And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t. But he tried.

So if he was jealous of that, of that relationship, of that quick forming bond— he kept his mouth fucking shut.

“They’re not,” Tommy repeated. “I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

“But you are not having fun,” Wilbur pointed out. “and if they are your friends they should care about that.”

“And what am I supposed to do then?” Tommy cried. “They’re all I got! If I— if I lose them then have nothing. I’d rather sit and deal with it than just lose them.”

Tommy meant it, in the most literal way possible, that he would rather die than lose them. He’d rather have died knowing they still cared about him even just a little bit than live not having them in his life.

Another station and Tommy glared at the doors, daring anyone to enter.

No one did.

“You are scared,” Wilbur said.

“I don’t like being alone,” Tommy admitted. He shook his head. “Nope, I’m done talking about this. I’m done.” Topic change, topic change… “Why are you wearing that stupid jumper again?”

Wilbur looked down, pulling at said jumper. “It is… my Tuesday jumper?”

“That’s lame.” Tommy deadpanned. “Of course you correlate your outfits with days of the week.”

“You are literally wearing a varsity jacket, you do not play a sport.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaimed. “It’s my brothers! And— and why the fuck do you have a Reagan and Bush sweater, anyway?! You’re fucking British!”

“It is cool ,” Wilbur dejected. “A friend and I used to go on eBay and buy American President jumpers.”

“Nerd.” Tommy yawned. It was late. “Lemme guess— you don’t talk to this guy anymore either?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the p. “After I left he got divorced, or something, I think. Bad luck.”

“It’s because he buys U.S President jumpers off of eBay.” Tommy pitched his voice lower. “Sorry, can’t pay the bills this month Sandra! I just couldn’t resist this two hundred pound Obama sweater.”

Wilbur stood up, and Tommy realized that the train was slowing. Oh. Were they going back to that shop then?

“Come on,” Wilbur gestured. “you can get another pin or something.”

“I’m going to get scammed again,” Tommy grumbled, bouncing his legs as he waited for the doors to click open.

“You are helping a small business,”

“‘You are helping a small business’, shut up.” Tommy drawled. Someone who was on the platform entered the front, not sparing a glance at Tommy.

Tommy walked alongside Wilbur, exiting the station. They passed a woman who was standing outside a pub, smoking. Tommy only nodded at her.

“Can you tell me what got you banned now?”

“I do not think I will,”

He groaned. “Oh, you cryptic bastard— what if I do the same thing you did and get banned too? Who am I supposed to go to in the middle of the night to get pins?”

“You are gonna get pins again?” Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded his head.

“I think so. I kinda like the bee, and nothing else in there has really interested me, ya know? Could use more of them on this,” He gestured to the front of his jacket.

The blinking sign came up, Tommy standing underneath it. “I will be here,” Wilbur said.

“This is ridiculous,” Tommy complained. “what happens if you go in? Can’t bygones just be— bygones? Is that how ya say it? Jack seems nice. I’m sure he’s not as much of a prick that you’re making him out to be.”

“Nope,” Wilbur shook his head. “No can do, Toms.”

“Ugh,” The bell rang, the door shutting behind him with a thud. Jack Manifold sat at the counter, face leaning on his hands. His eyes met Tommy’s as he entered.

“You again?” He greeted, rather rudely. Tommy gave a small wave, approaching the bowl of pins, looking through it.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tommy joked, picking up a circular white pin. An empty smiley face stared back at him.

“We have to stop meeting in the middle of the night,” Jack corrected. “what are you doing out this late anyway?”

“Work?” Tommy said it more like a question, pulling out his wallet. “Late night shift, that. Yeah.” Tommy cringed. Jack didn’t question it, taking the two pounds Tommy had placed on the counter. Tommy turned the pin in his hand, clipping it into his jacket. “Thank’s Jack!”

“See ya kid!” He called, Tommy swiftly exiting. Wilbur stood waiting for him.

“What did you get this time?” He asked, Tommy held out his jacket. Wilbur squinted at the smiley face. “That is ironic.”

Tommy punched him in the shoulder, lightly, keeping his pace with Wilbur. “It’s not for me dipshit,” Tommy explained. “Sam—my brother— has this friend, Ranboos cousin actually. He’s got this stupid fucking hoodie. Ugliest shit I’ve ever seen man, bright green. He’s like a walking traffic light. Has this giant smile on it. Reminded me of him. Everything about that guy. Fucking weirdo.”

“Because he wears a smiley face?”

“No,” Tommy said. “Because he is American .” He emphasized.

“Ah,” Wilbur realized. “That explains it. Perfectly reasonable explanation. You ever been there?”

“No, but Sam has. He studied abroad there for a few years before—“ Nope. Tommy’s night was picking up. Nope . “Anyway, he came back. Friends with a bunch of them too.”

“I have been,” Wilbur hummed, reminiscing. “California. La Jolla. Sometimes I wish that I stayed.

“That sounds made up,” The cool nighttime air disappeared as they entered the underground again, descending the stairs.

“It could have been. It was nice, sunny. More than here. Cleaner.”

“Why don’t you go back then?” Tommy pushed. “If it’s so much nicer there than here. If I had the chance I’d get the fuck out of here too.”

Tommy did not want to go to the states, fuck that. But oh, what he would do to be able to just leave. Travel. Not have to stay in one spot. That sounded nice, being able to pick up and leave whenever he felt claustrophobic. He couldn’t though, because he had Sam and school and Tubbo and Ranboo and he’s standing in quicksand and he’s sinking and he can't get out —

He’d go to Rome first maybe, if he could pull himself out of the quicksand. Berlin? Paris? Ugh, the French. No. Vienna would be nice. Tubbo’s mom lived there. Tommy remembered that he would visit her there during the summers. He’d always excitedly show pictures he had taken to Tommy when he had returned.

“I can not leave,” Wilbur answered, Tommy’s attention snapping back to him.“Stuck here for a bit, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Tommy frowned. “Well, that’s something we have in common I guess.”

When the train arrived, they boarded. This time, there was a group at the front, engaging in an incoherent conversation. Tommy didn’t bother eavesdropping, snatching his spot at the back.

“You want to make another deal?” Wilbur asked, sitting down.

“Like, we do this again? Do you still think I’m gonna jump?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur admitted. “You sounded like you wanted to earlier.” Tommy knew what he was referring to, to his word dump about Tubbo and Ranboo. Tommy was hoping that he would forget that. “I want to add something to it though.”

Tommy's eyes glinted. “Money?”

Wilbur glared. “No. I am not giving you money.”

“ Ughhhh—” Tommy leaned back. “Come on, I’ll stay alive for money, okay? I’ll do that. I’ll take that bet!”

“I want you to talk to your friends. Tell them what you told me.”

No thank you , he was not doing that. The train stopped. No one got on, the group didn’t leave.

“Now that bet I’m not taking. You can keep your money.”

“Tommy.”

“No— no you don’t get it! That will ruin everything!” Tommy expressed. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I’m not going to ruin it for them.” He affirmed.

“It is being ruined for you though,” Wilbur hummed.

“Fuck you,”

They stopped, the group got off. A man entered.

“Listen to me,” Wilbur said. “They are not going to hate you. They are not going to hate each other either. You tell them—“ He pitched his voice. “‘Hey guys, I am feeling ignored and like I am third wheedling but I have been avoiding telling you that because I think it will ruin your fun’ mememememe—“

“I do not go mememememe !” Tommy argued. Completely inaccurate imitation.

“Do that,” Wilbur continued. “If it goes well, come back, right? If it fixes your fucking communication issues, come back here.”

“That’s your bet?”

“Mm-hm.”

Tommy was going to develop a gambling addiction, or something. If that was how that worked. He didn’t— he didn’t want to tell them, he couldn’t! Why should he ruin everything just to prove to this asshole that he was wrong?!

“And if I don’t show up, I’m right. I proved you wrong.”

“I am not wrong though,” He teased.

“Oh get your head out of your ass!” Tommy scolded. “You’re so full of yourself aren’t you?!”

“I am not full of myself,” Wilbur tapped. “I just know when I am right.”

“You’re a bitch.”

Wilbur didn’t hesitate. “You are a gremlin.”

Another station and the man had gotten off, glaring in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resisted the urge to flip him off. It was just them now.

“You’re going to be proven wrong by a gremlin, then I’ll never have to—“ Oh. “I won’t ever see you again.”

“We better hope I’m right then!” Wilbur laughed, clapping his hands together. “That would be unfortunate.”

It would suck, Tommy agreed. Because man, was Wilbur Soot fucking irritating; but if he lost Tubbo and Ranboo this week, he— he wouldn’t show up. Because he won. Wilbur would enter and there would be an empty seat, and he would know he lost.

Maybe, maybe Tommy could fib. If that happened. Act like they went okay. It was up in the air, Tommy was already building the lie that he would tell to Wilbur in case that happened.

“Alright, Wilbur. I’ll take that bet.” Tommy decided.

“We need to find a different word for that,” Wilbur said. “Bet. That is morbid—“

“You’re morbid.”

“It is morbid,” Wilbur continued. “Placing bets on human life. It lessens the value, takes it— and makes it hollow, and if we are hollow, what are we then? We are no better than the people that glare at you when you laugh, or the ones that complain about a delayed train.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy said, slowly. “It’s a word.”

Wilburs shoulders fell. “Words are powerful, Toms.”

“I think calling it a bet is okay. Right? Because it’s a bet on me.” Tommy explained, carefully. “It’s at my own expense. Nothing is being placed on it, it’s... it’s more of a test of wills if anything.”

“A test,” Wilbur repeated.

“I hate tests.” Tommy rambled. “We both have a thesis, opposites of each other, and we’re both trying to prove the other wrong. Like a science experiment or something.”

“I could work with that,” Wilbur calmed. The train stopped again. It was Wilbur's stop. Another night, ended by a train station. Wilbur stood up, standing at the doors, waiting for them to open. “Farewell, my fellow science experiment.” Wilbur joked, Tommy groaned, he didn’t agree to being called that. “See you next week!”

“You hope!” Tommy called. Tommy hoped, but he wouldn’t say that either. A man brushed past Wilbur as he exited, not sparing him or Tommy a glance as he sat in the midsection.

That heavy feeling returned, settling in Tommy’s stomach. He would have to face Tubbo and Ranboo, this week. Probably a conversation that would be easier to do in person, so he would have to wait a few days. It wasn’t just his friendship with them on the line now, anymore. He had the curse that was Wilbur Soot and being bad at lying. His poor, poor unfortunate luck.

Tommy, for the first time all night, pulled out his phone. A few from Ranboo, but nothing concerning. No indication that Sam had caught him. Thank god.

Tommy got off at his stop, not giving the man a glance. The possible things he could say to them running through his head as he ascended the stairs, he needed to word it out carefully. Maybe write like a notes app vent, or something. He needed to think this through carefully. He would do that tomorrow, though.

Right now, he wanted to go home, and collapse on his bed and pretend the last to Tuesday didn’t happen. He could live with that. He would be perfectly contempt with that!

But he couldn’t, unfortunately. He was cursed with the miserable existence of Wilbur Soot.

#tommy #tommyinnit #sbi #sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois inc #wilbur #wilbur soot #crime bois #crimeboys #dream #dream smp #dsmp #wyt shutupanakin #shutupanakin posts

[hermits-that-craft]

Marionette Roulette - Chapter One

TW: graphic descriptions of death, referenced child abuse, suicidal ideation, graphic descriptions of ways to attempt suicide.

link to ao3 in the first reblog

“We will be dead before we get to the portal.” Tubbo says softly. “We can’t go that way, we don’t have pickaxes. Eh, it’s fine.” Tommy turns away, dread settling in his chest, an old friend. “We had some - oh well, there goes our lift out.”

Dream had shot the button to the lift, and the two teenagers watched in resigned horror as the only plausible escape slowly lifted itself up. 

“And yeah, that was the only other option. I-yeah. It’s over.” Tubbo stares at the roof, Tommy watching him with grief filled eyes. “We had some laughs. It was fun, you know? All good things must come to an end eventually.”

“No but-” Tommy pleads with Tubbo, grief filling his lungs, drowning him as though it were a sea.

“I just didn’t think this would be my coming to an end.” Tubbo’s eyes are filled with resignation, looking far older than any seventeen year old should have to do. Desperation makes air in Tommy’s lungs as he looks at his best friend.

“What am I without you?” The question falls from Tommy’s mouth without Tommy meaning to let it slip.

“Yourself.” Tubbo says, a sad smile on his face. Tommy has to look away, away from the kind boy with the bees who helped him with maths questions when they were younger. Away from the boy in the meadow who would sit with him when home was too much. Away from the teen who came and distracted Wilbur when he got violent in Pogtopia. Away from the teen who protected him from his brothers when they were mad. Tommy can’t break down now, not while Dream watches, not when Tubbo might die. Tommy has to stay strong for Tubbo. Tubbo needs him now.

“So are you really-” Tommy swallows, looking back at Tubbo with a heavy heart. “Are you accepting this?”

“Yeah, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Tubbo stops talking to Tommy, almost as though he was talking to himself.  

“Are you going to be okay?”

“It was fun, we said our goodbyes already, at the start.” Tubbo reminds Tommy, though its painfully obvious that this isn’t a conversation that Tubbo thought he would have. 

“Yeah but we were optimistic!” Tommy protests, and Tubbo laughs. “This isn’t- this isn’t what-”

“Well, you know, you get backed into a corner. This is-” Tubbo cuts himself off. “He describes me as a pawn. This is checkmate. This is it. This is the end, I suggest you resign.”

Tommy stares at Tubbo with hurt in his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the glint of Dream’s enchanted axe. He can’t - he won’t accept this.

“Tubbo.” Tommy swallows. “Even though for this entire server, I have always regarded you as- as my, as my sidekick and the character- Really Tubbo, I was- I was your sidekick. Please don’t go.” His voice wavers as tears begin to well up in his eyes.

“No, it’s fine.” Tubbo walks towards Dream, and Tommy collapses to his knees, holding his arms. 

“No, no, no.” Tommy pleads, barely containing his desperation. 

“It’s about time, anyway.” Tubbo smiles at Tommy. 

“Say your goodbyes.” Dream says, and Tommy gets up on shaking legs, running towards his best friend. They hug, a long moment where tears and mumbled comfort is all that is exchanged. Then, Tubbo pulls himself out of Tommy’s grasp, walking over to Dream.

Tommy stares at the nether portal, begging it to let someone through. Someone, anyone. Everyone on the server, or even just Punz. Someone to save them, to rescue Tubbo and let Tommy have his best friend again.

But nobody came.

Not as the axe made it’s home in Tubbo’s chest. Not as Tommy wails, screaming for his best friend to wake up. Not as Dream laughs as Tommy tries desperately to save the teen. Not as Tubbo smiles and uses his last moments to brush some tears from Tommy’s eyes.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Tubbo promises Tommy. “I don’t feel any pain. Nothing can hurt me now, Tommy. Don’t worry. I love you man, you’re my best friend.”

“I love you too, Tubbo. Don’t go.” Tommy sobs into his best friend's chest. “Please don’t go.” Tubbo smiles at Tommy, exhaling a shaky breath as he shuts his eyes.

And he doesn’t inhale again. 

Tommy screams, wailing as though his heart was torn from his chest. Dream walks towards him, trying to pull Tommy away, but Tommy doesn’t let Tubbo go. As though he can’t let Tubbo go, as though the dead teen is a part of him.

“No! No Tubbo!” Tommy yells, struggling in Dream's arms. “Tubbo wake up! Tubbo wake up this isn’t funny! Wake up!”

Tommy barely notices Dream’s sigh as he’s let go, still wailing. He’s barely paying attention as Dream walks behind him, holding the bloodied axe in his hands. He doesn’t care as it’s lifted above his head. 

However, he notices the pain that blooms in his head as he is hit, and the world goes black.

----

Tommy wakes up, bleary eyed and tired, sleep still singing its siren call to him. He can’t fall back asleep, as much as he may long to. A deep sadness sets in his heart, though Tommy can’t quite remember why it’s there. All he wants to do is sleep, to be warm in his dreams again. Why is it so cold here? Where even is ‘here’?

He looks around, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. An obsidian room, with a toilet, basin, chest and a lectern with a book in it. He sits on a bed, but gets the feeling that it was not originally supposed to be in the room. The items are bolted to the ground, except for the bed. A clock ticks on the wall, telling Tommy that it’s evening - though not the date.

Lava bubbles, and Tommy realises with growing horror that he cannot get out of this place. Wherever this place is. Nothing in this room has let him know where he is. More questions grow in his head, but he doesn’t voice them. What happened, how did he get here?

Tommy shuts his eyes and leans against the wall, trying to remember what happened. The threat to his discs. Seeing everyone along the prime path. Talking to everyone, trying not to let them know what Tubbo and he were doing. The trip. The goodbyes, jokingly exchanged. The fight. The surrender. Tubbo’s final death.

Tubbo’s final death.

Tommy wails again, a haunting melody of grief and anger. Tubbo is dead. Not coming back. Never coming back. Stuck with Wilbur and Schlatt in the afterlife - unless heaven truly does exist, in which case Tubbo is the only person on the server worthy of that place.

Sleep gives her sirens call to the lava, and Tommy watches it bubble in fascination. It’s as though he’s in exile again, however he knows that Tubbo won’t be waiting for him outside. Tommy doesn’t stand, but he reaches out to the lava. His hand doesn’t get close to the lava, but the heat from the molten rock hits his hand, a comforting hand that pulls him towards it.

He’d be with Tubbo if he enters the lava.

“Tommy, don’t you dare take a step towards that lava.” Dream’s voice echoes in Tommy’s small room, and a netherite wall is pushed up before he can move towards it. “It’s not your time to die.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything in response. He can’t talk, all that will happen is a wail if he tries. Tubbo is gone. Tommy doesn’t say anything as Dream steps out from the lava, orange potion particles floating off him. Fire resistance.

“Now, Tommy, I need to establish some rules.” Dream says, and Tommy just stares at the lava blankly. Why should he care about the rules? Tubbo is dead. There's no point in following the rules if he will only see Tubbo in death.

Tommy’s head jerks to the side as pain blooms in his cheek. Dream stands between him and the lava, and his hand rests in the air. Tommy blinks a few times, his hand moving to his cheek slowly. Dream sighs, forcing Tommy to look up at him. 

“We have to go over the rules, Toms.” Dream’s voice is falsely sweet, poisoned honey dripping from his tongue. “I’m your friend, I need to make sure that you don’t hurt yourself.”

Tommy just stares fearfully at the man who killed his best friend - his brother. The only person in the world that cared about Tommy. The only person that Tommy has been able to rely on forever.

“Rule number one: No talking back.” Tommy nods, knowing deep down that he isn’t able to talk. Not now at least. Maybe not ever again. “Rule two: don’t go near the lava. No matter what the reason is. Rule three: If I tell you to do something you do it.”

Tommy doesn’t want to follow those rules, but he nods anyways. Dream wouldn’t be able to watch him all the time, and Dream should be far enough away if Tommy decides to jump into the lava. Tommy could even follow Dream out. The prison is massive - surely something in here will kill him.

If not, starving himself is always an option. Or drowning himself. He has ways to end it all. Suffocation, burning, drowning, starvation. None are particularly pretty, nor are they quick, but there's nothing to attach his bed sheets to. So he can’t hang himself.

“Tommy, are you listening to me?” Dream asks, and Tommy flinches away. He shakes his head, his body tensing, preparing for the next hit.

Dream doesn’t hit him, but the man pulls him into a hug. Tommy freezes, panic and guilt eating at his insides. What is Dream playing at? Why has he done this to him, to Tubbo and Fundy and Wilbur and Techno and Niki and Ranboo and Eret and Philza. Tommy deserves this, but did Tubbo deserve to die?

No. Tubbo didn’t deserve to die. Tommy should have. Tommy should have been the one to die in his place.

“You’re so quiet.” Dream says, wiping the tears from Tommy’s eyes. “So weak. You’re pathetic, I can’t believe anyone ever saw you as a threat, rather than something to pity. Tubbo would have at least yelled at me for killing you.”

Tommy, to his own credit, doesn’t flinch at the harsh words. No, he keeps the words in his chest, letting them settle down into a hum that echoes in his mind. Tommy doesn’t need voices like Technoblade has to make him want to die, he has his own brain.

And Dream, a traitorous part of his brain supplies, Dream is why you’re like this.

Wilbur, Techno, Phil and everyone else helped him. Tommy argues back weakly. Dream is right. Tommy’s pathetic, he doesn’t have friends. Just people who pity him.

“Tommy, can you look at me.” Dream demands, his voice harsh and leaving no room for arguments. Tommy turns his eyes to Dream, and something must be wrong because Dream sighs again. “God, you’re so pathetic. If I had known that all it took to break you was Tubbo’s death, I would have had him killed when you were exiled.”

‘Break you’? Am I really that broken? Tommy ponders, though he knows deep down that this isn’t something that he can come back from. 

“Just wait in there Tommy.” Dream says, walking towards the lava. “I’ll work out a way to mold you into a weapon that only I can use. Then you’ll finally stop being pathetic, and other people might actually like you.”

Dream steps backwards into the lava, and Tommy watches with awe as the man disappears. If only he could follow Dream into the lava’s warm embrace! But the netherite barrier quickly pushes upwards, and Tommy knows that he can’t get through that. Maybe is he crawled he could, but he isn’t that low yet.

Starvation, it seems, is the best option for the present.

So Tommy pulls himself under the covers of his bed, ignoring the world, and he falls back asleep. Perhaps in his dreams, he will see Tubbo again.

#Marionette Roulette #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit #tubbo #dreamwastaken #my writing

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

#tua #the umbrella academy #mean girls #i don't even like that movie #i kinda hate it actually #i know i know i'm sorry #anyway #kliego #ralluther #klaus &x ben #vanya x sissy #five &x dolores #eudorla #the crack ship of allison x natalie portman because i'm tired okay #hazel x agnes #hazel & cha cha #the hargreeves #the hargreeves & friends #i don't know what this is #fuck you reginald #trans boy lila because i said so #trans five because it's canon #enjoy this mess fuckers #i have no idea what i'm doing #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves

[roboticchibitan]

(I"m on hiatus but I've been thinking about this for a while. Will check the notes on this post only til I'm back.)

I'm going to talk about why I love bees so much. It's gonna be heavy, but hopeful. TWs for suicidal ideation, psychosis (in detail), abusive home (mention), uh, I don't know what else to put TWs for but my life SUCKED there for a while. This post will be long. If you've ever wondered what psychosis is like, at least for me, please read this.

Bees. Bees helped me become hopeful for the future in a powerful way. I have so much hope. This story has a happy ending.

I spent basically all of my time suicidal to some degree from 11 yrs old to 23 years old. I cried oh my eighteen birthday because I never thought I would live that long and I didn't know what to do now that I had to have a future.

But I made my plans. I was gonna learn Japanese, and do the JET program, live in Japan, perhaps get a masters at a Japanese university after my contract with JET was up. I was gonna run as far away from my abusive home as I could get and I was gonna stay there and be happy!

My first year of college as an adult (I did two years of college in high school), the voices started.

I had always been called by my middle name (Darlene, which is no longer any part of my name, I changed it legally in May) but when I went away I wanted a new start. And going by my first name meant I didn't have to explain to every professor and school professional to call me by a different name.

But soooooooometimes. I'd hear whispers, calling me. "Darlene, Darlene Darlene." No one called me that there. At first I attributed them to mishearing something someone said around me.

But my brain was also getting weirder. I started having the intense feeling that I had seen the faces of people around me before but their faces were... Hmm a mixture of "wrong" and "different" I think is how I would explain it. As I searched for the basis of this feeling, I reached true paranoia.

My brain decided that the reason I was seeing people I had seen before, was because my entire life was a social experiment. And when I moved from Washington to Massachusetts, they had to reuse actors for the experiment so they had given the actors facial surgery to keep up this facade.

I often wondered if my parents were really my parents. Maybe outside the experiment, no one had parents. Maybe I could escape the experiment if I just ran. Fast enough and far enough to find out the truth.

My breaking point was the visual hallucinations. When I realized part of my paranoia was running away, I came back to Washington and started attending Portland State University. I came back so if I did run away, my family had a better chance of finding me than if I disappeared 3,000 mile away. But I hadn't accepted that anything was wrong. Until. The clown.

It was just a flash, really. I saw a clown in a corner and thought "that's weird" and then realized there was no clown. So I immediately went to the campus clinic and got in with someone who could prescribe me meds. The meds didn't work very well. Not the first ones, anyway.

My life became living hell for several years. I had auditory, tactile, and visual hallucinations on a regular basis and I fought every day against the voices saying "come with us, come with us. Run away. Don't you want the truth?" I don't remember a lot of that time, nor do I remember much from before I developed psychosis. I call it "the psychosis wall." Because psychosis messes with your memory. (Depression and anxiety do too, not trying to take away from people with those experiences).

I am now legally disabled due to psychosis. I absolutely cannot work. The stress of having a job sends me into episodes. I'm on much better meds now, no paranoia anymore, my hallucinations are, usually, much less distressing. I just got used to it I guess. Like "Oh the air conditioner is talking to me and the voice of the air conditioner is the number 147 speaking to me. Okay, time to put some music on and maybe turn off the AC." I get synesthesia with my hallucinations on rare occasions. One time I herd voices that were orange. No I can't explain. They just were.

Okay, that's all great, but you're here about bees, right? I'm getting to that. I've always felt like psychosis robbed me of my dreams. I try to get over this feeling but mainly it just is quieter sometimes. Disability rights in Japan are a MESS. It's not safe for me there even if I could handle the stress of college to finish my degree (the JET program requires a bachelor's). And I mourn that to this day. I was in third year of studying Japanese when I flunked out cuz I was too paranoid and hallucinating too often to drive anymore. So I just stopped going to school.

For the last 7 years, it has been extremely difficult to want, truly want, something. Because I feel like my dreams were stolen once and it almost destroyed me. How could I ever truly hope for something that made me happy again? Would I even survive if I had a new set of dreams ripped from me?

This is where the bees come in. I know, finally. One of the biggest things that changed my life... No it is absolutely the biggest thing that changed my life, was when I decided "I can't really feel joy about big things, but I still am happy when I drink out of my favorite teacup, or when my cat does something cute. I can feel small joys, so I'm going to squeeze every last drop of joy out of the little things, and focus on it and celebrate it" for me this looked like a journal where I wrote things like "5 things that made me happy today" and "one thing I am looking forward to" I had a list of prompts.

To this day, if I'm having a depression day, or life just sucks in general, I just start writing a list of things that bring me joy. It can be on a grocery receipt; it doesn't matter. What mattered to me was keeping those small joys in my mind

Bees were one of those small joys. I'd see pictures of bumblebees covered in pollen and be like "cute, look at that little lady." I've been reblogging photos of bees for a long time. And then I started learning more about them. And then I decided I wanted some.

This was incredibly scary for me. Because bees are a responsibility. And I wanted bees so bad. I hadn't truly wanted anything like this for as long as my impaired memory stretches back. But the idea was so exciting!

You can't just get bees though. You have to buy or build a hive. You have to buy the bees. You have to buy the equipment. I attended classes with my local beekeeper's association and the old lady who was teaching the class said "yeah it's about a $1,200 investment starting off."

I'm disabled, remember? I can't ever have more than $2000 in the bank. So for the first time since I was 19, I started planning. I was planning for the future! For a dream I had! I know the local laws about how far bees have to be kept from the property line, I know who the president of the local beekeeper's association is. It was amazing. I felt... Alive. Excited. Happy. And then I realized, what I was feeling was hope.

And thus, bees taught me to hope in a way I hadn't been able to before. Bees are important to me because for me, they are hope. And I have so much hope for the future now. Breaking past that barrier allowed me to feel hope in a new way. A way I had forgotten, behind the psychosis wall.

I am so fucking happy when I see a bee. Or see a picture of a bee. Or someone gives me the vaguest hint that they'll listen to me talk about bees because I absolutely will infodump about bees at the slightest excuse. Or someone sends me bee themed things. Or bee memes.

For 25 years, I couldn't think about the future. I couldn't imagine growing old. I couldn't image life past the next few years. I was afraid to. But now I wonder things like "will I still dye my hair purple when I'm old and my hair is white?" Or "will my current relationship last into my 40s?"

Those are things that I fundamentally couldn't think before. I just couldn't go there. And now I can. And it's because I worked hard on those small joys and then, after one cute bee picture too many, I figured out how to hope again. I know I'm the one who put in the work. I know I probably wouldn't be here without the meds I'm currently on. I know that I worked hard to be here. But bees will always be special to me because they were the first thing I was hopeful about after a lot of years of misery.

I'm so fucking happy you guys.

#actuallyschizoaffective #okay to reblog #tw psychosis #tw paranoia #tw suicidal ideation #tw hallucinations

[aftgficrec]

Hi!! Welcome back!! 🙂🙂 I was hoping you could rec some of the best fics centred/focused on Andrew and Bee's relationship, please? Like ones about the progress of their relationship, ones that show how important Bee is to Andrew and his improving mental health, and maybe also any aus where Bee is his adopted mother or something? Thank you guys so much, you're absolutely wonderful!!! ❤❤

Bee and Andrew have such an interesting relationship, and she’s so obviously a vital part of his work towards recovery.  We have several amazing fics below (dealing mostly with the first half of your ask), including a couple of personal favorites. For the second bit, you may want to check this previous ask in which the twins are adopted by Bee.  -F

Canon-Compliant:

‘Trust Fall (and Welcoming Arms)’ previously recommended here 

going to war by evizyt [Rated M, 2770 words, Incomplete, Updated December 2018]

The first time they meet it is like going to war. He walks into her office, hackles raised, his mind mercifully still his own despite the drugs (Andrew doesn’t believe in mercy as a rule but his mind is his last true stronghold, somehow undefiled after all these years, and he can’t, he can’t—) and her eyes reflect through her glasses like stained glass windows, and her smile when it comes is shattering, glass breaking in shards that slide down her face and come to rest in the deep lines that carve out chasms around her mouth. And he didn’t think that there was anything left in this universe that could stun him, but he is stunned, at her arrogance, at the office, at the truth beneath those hard-won wrinkles. In anyone else — from frowning. In Dr. Dobson — the opposite.

NB: though incomplete, this fic reads as a complete pre-canon work

(tw: references to past abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced self-harm, tw: implied/referenced suicidal ideation)

Bee Is A Safe Place series by AgapantoBlu

Therapy session [Rated T, 7753 words, Complete 2017]

High on his meds, Andrew didn’t hate Betsy Dobson, nor he liked her. She fleeted in his mind like a burst of yellow that sometimes caught his attention for no reason at all, like the sudden reflection of sunlight on a shiny little thing, following whatever association his drugged up brain made. But she was also fast forgotten, a useless shard of glass on the beach.

(Andrew and Bee and their sessions with time.)

(tw: homophobia, tw: implied/reference csa, tw: references to past abuse, tw: implied/referenced past rape/noncon)

My brother under the sun  [Rated M, 12230 words, Complete 2018]

Bee took one look at them and Andrew knew she knew. She smiled, though, and picked up two mugs of hot chocolate that she placed on the table in front of the couch.

Andrew claimed the right corner, Aaron the left. They could have fitted Nicky in between them. And why not? Let’s invite him along too! A big family reunion in Bee’s study, and what could possibly ever go wrong? The last one went oh so well.

(Andrew and Aaron's joint sessions with Bee, an all but easy trip.)

(tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced conversion therapy, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa)

Checklists by IvyCoveredWalls [Rated T, 371 words, Complete 2019]

Andrew is working on healthy coping mechanisms when he's going through depressive episodes.

(tw: depression)

Scripta manent by ElephantLoveMedley [Not Rated, 1161 words, Complete 2019]

Andrew learns to draw so that he can put all his favourite memories of Neil on paper.

AU:

Fox and Friends by JostenlovesMinyard [Rated T, 19277 words, Incomplete, Updated August 2020]

Andrew Minyard never thought he would have a normal life. he was thrown from Foster home to Foster home, forgotten and alone. He learnt to forget hope, forget wanting things, forget feeling all together.

Suddenly he's sat in a room with his apparent cousin and another person who looks exactly like him and they're offering him a home. A family. They own a bookstore with an apartment above and Andrew agrees to go with them. He finally feels like he can make a life somewhere. He even starts a book club.

One of the sign-ups for the book club is Neil Josten, he has no hope, no family and he's full of secrets. Can Andrew help someone else heal whilst still reeling from his own past trauma? Perhaps his new life won't be as quiet as he thought.

(tw: references to past abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa)

#fic #betsy dobson & andrew minyard #neil josten/andrew minyard #aaron minyard & andrew minyard #nicky hemmick & aaron minyard & andrew minyard #universe: pre-canon #universe: canon compliant #universe: post-canon #universe: au #au: bookstore #theme: therapy #theme: recovery #theme: fluff & angst #theme: twinyards bonding #theme: found families #theme: withdrawal #theme: mental health issues #theme: character study #theme: coming out #tw: implied/referenced csa #tw: implied/referenced child abuse #tw: drugs #tw: implied/referenced self-harm #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: implied/referenced conversion therapy #tw: homophobia #tw: implied/referenced suicidal ideation #tw: implied/referenced abuse

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Just leave it up to you

Summary: McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

Ships: Gavries 

Word Count: 3,789

Not until some time after the incident with Jan & his mother did Peter McVries attempt another conversation with Garraty. But when the sky bled from blue to black, the boy had drifted his way back to Ray’s side. Nights on the walk were lonely & scary, it did one well to have a buddy. And Ray didn’t prefer anyone above McVries. 

“I’m jealous, Ray.” Pete--McVries slanted his grin to the right as he spoke, looking like a boy trapped inside an oil painted night sky. His eyes seemed gravely distant, glazed over & being hung out to dry. The promise Abraham mentioned burned deep in Ray like an internal bee-sting. ‘Number 61 coming up the road is lookin’ about ready to pop, wouldn’t you say?’

Garraty swallowed a thick ball of mucus. “Of what?” He whispered with hesitation. No one was all that close to them but something about what was coming seemed personal. 

“Jan.” A guttural sort of chuckle broke up his throat. 

That answer shocked Garraty some...maybe a lot. McVries hadn’t ever seemed interested in talk of Jan let alone...the girl herself. “Well, I’m sure a lot of guys here would’ve loved to grab onto a chick like her-”

McVries shook his head, the hair which wasn’t plastered down by sweat flayed out and sprinkled. “You’ve misunderstood me, my dear.” Turning then, his eyes were fully alive again. They once more reflected the hot inside Pete’s internal organs like a Jack-O-Lantern. “I wish I was your girl back home, Ray.” The cynical joke was hard to find under the tender voice but Garraty was almost sure that it had to be there. 

“Don’t know if you’d look as good in a skirt, Pete.” He chuckled, unwavering but nervous at the same time. 

“Oh, I would.” Pete shook a finger under his chin, smirking proudly. “These legs love to tease, Ray-Baby.”

Garraty blushed hard. “Why do you say shit like that?”

McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

“If it wasn’t for you, Garraty, I’d want to die a whole lot more than how badly I actually want to live right now.” Earnest & hoarse emotion sang in his voice. So much it began to frighten Ray to a shocked silence. 

“You could win this damn thing. Though, I’m still a bit of victim to cynicism for thinking Stebbins might just run us all down...Ray, you have a real chance.” Pete looked like he might just stop to shake him by the shoulders which turned Ray’s stomach. “If I was your girl back home...”

Garraty waited for the big joke from the cynically insane. Something like ‘Then I could jerk you off’ because it would validate everything McVries had said was bullshit. All of it. That would be ok...Ray might be able to live with that. 

“Then you could come home and hold me when this hell was over.” 

That....That was what he couldn’t live with. Thoughts of Jimmy Owens danced through his panicked mind. “Pete, are you ok?” A damn insult of a question. 

Pete’s eyes blazed with anger. “What? I express an attraction to a guy so that must mean the walk is starting to get to me?” He challenged but gave no time for argument. “Priscilla and I had a threesome once.” Was added onto the end of his statement but not to brag...

Ray didn’t really know what it was for. That sticky-dryness began to coat the pink of his throat again. A hot blush crept over his ‘innocent’ face but something like anger beat hard in his chest. “What did he look like?” It was the dumbest question to possibly ask but it’s what he vomited out. Even Pete looked a little dumbfounded. 

He took in some air. “A bit like Stebbins.” He tilted his chin to the blonde, much closer than he’d been at the beginning to their conversation. “If I’m being honest.” He shrugged, keeping a neutral expression and pace. “The point is that I found them both attractive, Ray.” 

“Who? The guy and Stebbins?” 

Pete laughed again, not harshly but with amusement. “The guy and Pris, dear-one.” He melted with some exaggeration. “You though...” He looked Ray up and down. “You, I could eat with a spoon.” 

“Could you be serious for once?” 

McVries pulled away, looking almost insulted. “I’m not asking you to confess something back to me.” His voice hitched. “You got a girl back home, I know that. Just meeting you and being your friend’s been enough for me.” He closed his eyes like a sharp pain had cut through him. “So if you’re looking for the punchline, there isn’t one. This ain’t a joke.” Pete smiled, miserable & soft, shoved his hands into his pockets and left. 

Ray was the most confused he’d ever been in his entire life. 

Stebbins quickened his pace to join his side with something like joyful vigor. He very well could’ve started skipping. He hated the boy for it. “The masochism continues. McVries claims his love before succumbing to his suicidal ideations.” His laugh was manic yet calm. 

“Fuck off.” Ray growled with anger yet barely paid him any mind. His eyes stayed focused on the back of McVries. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stebbins had been walking in pace with Ray ever since Abraham had gotten his ticket from Scramm’s contagious cold. Garraty missed him. Five more boys had lost their lives & the weirdo kept busy.

“Another one down.” Stebbins whistled casually, talking up at Ray like they were the best of friends. It annoyed him to no end but at least it was better than silence. That was until he glanced at Garraty with an eager-push. “How’s the bittersweet love story, huh?” 

Frustration pumped into his body as it so often did when interacting with the headache of a person. But a part of his head drowned in the thoughts of actually missing the boy when the time came to win or die. Ray silently hoped for death before having to ever witness McVries’s come to pass. He looked at the sad remains of his feet. “What do I do Stebbins?”

The blonde’s stare grew cold like an old dinner, astonished and nothing short of it. Ray guessed Stebbins wasn’t expecting such a show of vulnerability now from him now. In all honesty, he’d shocked himself with that one too. Boiling tears attempted to pour down his cheeks as he stared ahead at Baker and McVries. Poor, poor Baker covered in his ‘rain’ being accompanied by a haunted friendly escort. For a maddening moment, Raymond Garraty felt the flood of ‘rain’ break from his nose & waterfall down his clothes, warm & wet. 

He panicked, organs twisting deep in his gut as he gasped for a breath that didn't gurgle. 

Stebbins cold hand on his shoulder woke him up from his bloody hallucinations. "Hey, what are you doing old boy?" 

Ray spit up plain clear mucus (no blood) onto the road and coughed into his fist. McVries had turned to watch in subtle alarm. He walked backwards, still next to Baker, with adoring eyes for the boy with spit running down his chin. 

Stebbins couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly at the idiots until Ray dribbled the mucus onto his shoes. He picked up his toes and frowned. "Aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill with the heart.” 

"-What?" Ray wiped his sleeve against his lips. 

Stebbins shrugged, pursed his lips and walked off towards the others. 

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Garraty pleaded for more time with Art Baker but that didn’t give him shit. Sobs painfully ricocheted through his body but ultimately made no change in his pace which was difficult but the art was masterful now...upsettingly. Turns out a person got good at shit like that if faced with enough practice time. 

‘Lead-lined’

Ray nearly vomited for the millionth time. “Walk a little longer, Art.” 

A glimmering sheet of tears filled Art’s eyes like a final curtain. “No--I can’t.” He shook his head, covered in rusty ‘rain’. He spoke more unrehearsed lines which broke whatever the hell was left of Ray’s heart. 

McVries found his way back to him though. That was something at the very least. The dark haired boy came upon Ray with enough leg-room in the hell-hole hint contract to press a small kiss onto Garraty’s temple. He received a warning for slowing pace but didn’t seem too concerned. 

The heat from his mouth alone caused a shutter through Ray’s body. 

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“Another time, another place.” Stebbins repeated Art Baker’s final words without even a hint of emotion. Pete & Ray intended to ignore the rabbit but the kid made it difficult. He glanced at the only other boys left in the walk, something awakening inside him. Garraty habitually darted closer to McVries. 

While Stebbins kept on mumbling to himself; words that Garraty didn’t completely understand, Pete started drifting towards the crowd. The hand Ray wasn’t even aware was grabbing his, started to fall from the grip. Skin sliding against skin as it dropped.

“Pete!” 

Helplessly he grabbed whatever he could reach and yanked him back straight. He expected Stebbins to protest--to let him alone--but the kid was still isolated in his own world. “Pete, no!”

McVries opened his eyes, squinted like an old cowboy and smiled. “No, Ray. It’s time to sit.” Horror struck Garraty so badly that it nearly knocked him onto the road first. 

He did what only he could. He blubbered. “Pete--please, walk a little longer. Please, please-” Hopelessly he grabbed onto his boy. The boy who just wanted to be held by Garraty was getting a twisted sense of his wish now. “Please, Pete. I-...I love you.” He whimpered.

McVries broke into the most delicately beautiful smile that Ray had ever seen in his life. 

“He’s right. Time to sit, Garraty.” Stebbins finally woke. Ray turned with venom but found the kid was standing lone within something gentle & true; no gross selfishness marked in his tone. He lost interest in staring at Ray and spoke into the air past the soldiers. “We are ka-tet. We are one from many...” He mumbled. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Garraty turned back to McVries, scarred and beautiful but looking ready to die. “Honestly, shut the fuck up for once, Stebbins!” 

Pete giggled at that, still walking but wilting towards the ground all the same. Stebbins ignored Garraty and spoke to their only friend left. “McVries can you wait ten more seconds?” 

Pete blinked. But his loud-mouth remained shut, feet still pounding against the road. Stebbins took that to mean yes and aligned his eyes with Garraty’s again. “I’m going to win this.” He spoke, winningly but added. “So are you two fucking assholes.” a smirk then he began to count-down quietly. 

The crowd hushed but still couldn’t manage to hear Stebbins. The soldiers drew closer but there wasn’t much to do in the case of three boys still continuing to walk in pace. 

At the number 6...Ray finally clicked on to the meaning & couldn’t believe what was happening. Never once had the idea crossed his mind and hell, maybe Stebbins was pulling a fast one on them but he found that it did not matter if he could die with Pete. This gave him an out. 

“3...2...1″

Three boys from different states & in different states of mind, dropped like falling boulders. Ass first onto the road at the exact same time. In a perfect semicircle with their backs up against each other, they let out horrendous sighs of pain-relief. 

For a long time, the only sound was their low breathing & hesitant stomping of soldier boots, up and down the road. Men so unsure of what to do that it ignited terror through Ray’s gut but he kept his eyes closed. His head leaned against Stebbins & McVries’s.

Two seconds before The Major himself came upon the group...one of many...Ray supposed, Stebbins spoke up again. “A long road, like a tall Tower, must be most be conquered one step at a time...” He took in air like a balloon. “Forgot where I heard that, Ray but we got to the end of the road--to the top of the Tower--” 

McVries hummed. 

“I knew it was time for the wheel to run Peter over. But I figured the plan. Ka is a wheel but I am a driver...Ha!” He wasn’t making a lick of sense & Garraty would’ve gladly reminded him of the other Musketeers he let die before his little ‘revelation’ but...

According to The Major, they had to decide which two of them would be sacrificing themselves. ‘Ha! What a laugh, huh?’

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They would not be celebrated. 

They were to quietly be paid off & to have their lives spared. 

It was to never happen again. 

Rules would be re-evaluated for the next go of The Long Walk.

The boys were to be treated in hospital for what was needed and no more. Garraty--Maine’s own--laid in bed hoping that Art Baker got his wish. That it wasn’t dark & that he could remember them. Too he hoped for his friend not to be mad. Their plan could’ve worked for him...though Ray excepted that Baker would’ve had to have been saved before the rainfall of blood. 

He thought that all over in the morning just before Jan--sweet & kind came to visit him for the very first time. 

“You pulled quite the stunt.” She spoke two seconds after the nurse left the room, wasting no time. Her smile was full of love that Garraty hated being on the receiving end of for the first time. 

“Stebbins did.” He clicked his tongue, grabbing her soft hand. 

“Which one was he?” 

Garraty bit into his cheek. “The blonde. Purple pants.” 

Jan nodded, looking to the TV in the corner of the room with quiet debates going on in her mind. “He’s the one with no visitors.” Turning back, her expression lost all joy. “Heard some rumors he’d gone manic.” 

Not surprising. Garraty frowned. “Hope that isn’t true. He was basically already in manicville at the start” He shrugged. He tried to think of anyone but Pete but it was just about the hardest shit to do--besides the damn walk itself. 

He blinked up at his girlfriend still sitting on the edge of the white-sheeted bed with a matching skin-tone. “The other boy’s parents & little sister have come today.” 

It was as if she knew & she most likely did. “Talked about how happy they were in the elevator up. The staff accompanying us--I think he was a male nurse--” She looked off in thought before deciding it mattered none & came back down on him with despair. “He said they ought to be ashamed. Raised a cheater, he said. Nobody likes a ‘hero’ who does only to serve himself.” Her hair fell against her chin. “97 sons--their mother’s boys--lost their lives thinking only one boy got to win. Not three queers who decided they were bigger than The Major.” 

“And what do you think, Jan?” He muttered. The girl rolled her eyes. 

“I’d be agreeing if I thought the same, wouldn’t I?” She let one tear loose. “Screw The Major.” She wiped down her cheeks and Ray vibrated from pure astonishment. “It wasn’t in the rules. And three boys were saved. They were given second chances.” 

That idea terrified Ray. He was given a second chance curtesy of Stebbins & how in the Hell could he make-up for the 97 lives gone?

“If this is the part where you break up with my because you’ve grown past me or-or grown tired of me, please just do it quickly.” More tears threatened to spill but she kept those ones in. 

Ray felt sick to his stomach. “If it helps, it’s neither of those things.” 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nurse Barnes was a bitch. 

Garraty found that out rather quickly considering she had he own opinion on the Long Walk end results. ‘But it barely effected her work, great news!!’ She just did everything expected of her extremely aggressively like petulant child. 

Ray allowed her to escort him to Pete’s room and did his best to ignore her grimaces, annoyed sighs & mutterings. It could not dampen his great sense of relief and joy to see the person he turned out to love more than anyone else in the world. 

When Barnes turned the door-handle, Ray nearly fell to the floor in a heap of nervous sweat. “Give us privacy, please.” He would’ve mumbled the request, usual of him but a new fire burned inside him since he awoke in the hospital. Barnes slammed the door shut after him. No words. 

Pete McVries was getting up from his bed with caution for feet that still ached with pain but were getting better. He’d been on Garraty’s mind like nobody had ever been in all his life & he was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

“I’ve been focusing on getting my feet stable for weeks now.” Ray spoke slowly, eyes never leaving Pete. 

“Way to show off, Ray.” He managed a laugh. 

“Meaning, I can hold you now if you want, Pete.” He opened his arms wide. “That is, if you’d still have me?” 

McVries got up like the wind, almost as if his feet weren’t bloody and basically useless just some weeks ago. Ray assumed Pete was betting a lot on his recovery because he wasted no time jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Unfortunately Garraty wasn’t quite there yet & the cute moment lasted just five seconds before they collapsed together onto the clean white floor. Their laughter blended together effortlessly in sweet harmony. Pete climbed atop Ray slowly, bumping their thighs together in the process. 

It killed most every calm nerve in Ray’s body staring up at the man he’d fallen in love with. His dark hair waved in contrast to the stark white of the ceiling as he drew closer & closer...noses touching. 

“I thought Priscilla was my great love...” he whispered, breath against Ray’s lips. “But Ray, you changed my life. I don’t want to die anymore. Every night, I kept walking just so I could see your face in the sunlight one more time.” He scrunched up his face in the cutest way. 

“Sappy shit sounds so cute coming out of your mouth.” Ray giggled, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek along the scar. 

Pete pulled back, sitting now on Garraty’s lap. Ray brought himself to a seated position. “What about Jan?” his voice was small and almost accusatory but Ray could hardly blame him. 

“I broke it off with Jan.” 

Pete tried to hide his grin, seemingly sick of letting all his emotions pour out like a broken faucet. But Ray caught a gorgeous glimpse. “I love you, Pete.” He added, brushing his hand against the boy’s hair once more. 

“I love you too.” 

:

:

:

:

:

“Can you accept the thank you or not? I’m never giving you another one.” McVries huffed, staring down at Stebbins who was merely sitting in his bed and flipping through a paperback. Garraty was sitting at the edge of the bed, knitting him a ‘Thank you’ scarf because it helped with his anxiety. Plus, he figured the blonde wasn’t much one for facing his own rewards. He might just take a lame scarf for it though if it meant no talking about his generosity. 

He looked up. “I’ll accept your compliment of a good plan because I’m a fucking genius for it.” He smiled, crooked yet nice. “But no, I won’t accept a thank you for saving your asses. I couldn’t have been in my right mind for that one.” He chuckled. 

Pete groaned. “Great. Good.” His eyes rolled as he gently scooched Ray over to sit next to him on the bed at Stebbins feet. Pete watched his boy knit with adoration that almost sickened Stebbins. “You gonna let him talk to us like that, Ray?” He poked him. 

Garraty held up what he had of the scarf so far and smirked when Stebbins just nodded. “Do you remember what you said?”

Stebbins looked off towards the wall and shrugged. 

Ray ignored his clear indication that he was done talking about it. “You called us a Ka-tet? What did you mean by that?” 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter McVries vowed to keep Ray safe & happy. 

Once out of the hospital & freshly encouraged to keep as far from the public as possible, he moved his boy into his boyhood home until they could get on their own feet. It was strange but the McVries family was warm and welcoming. Garraty enjoyed this stage in his life immensely. 

After that, came a cabin-style home nestled deep in Boulder, Colorado. Far from Maine but Ray’s mother was welcome to visit all she wanted, same with Pete’s parents and wonderful little sister--who had never looked so happy before as she did that first day in the hospital. Her big brother was alive and could still hug her.  

Stebbins had gone off on his own but was likely to pop by for visits, Garraty was almost sure of it. McVries felt he owed the strange boy something for what he’d done no matter how many times he rejected the idea. So he hoped to see him again. But for now...

Pete’s ebony hair dripped water down in a slinky path against his dewy skin, tired droplets paused and waited as flybys sped down to collide against them. Smoke breezed from Pete’s mouth and settled into the air. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed with satisfaction as the heat in his chest returned. 

He brought his legs down to stretch as his back straightened, making his body a true reflection of his current state. Tiny pins and needles poked from under the bottoms of his feet, He wiggled his toes. But after a few seconds, he let them be. Sometimes it was a little euphoric to feel that little vibration of sleeping limbs. 

Ray carefully came into the bedroom looking tired from a long day of his new little life & slipped the cigarette from Pete’s fingers, taking his own drag. He coughed as he handed it back. "Cute.” McVries mumbled happily. 

Ray hummed, neck hot from a lingering blush and life truly felt amazing. 

#gavries #i dont even know #my fanfiction #The Long Walk #stephen king #Richard Bachman #Ray Garraty #peter mcvries #stebbins

[ofvindictc]

tagging:  @ofisolaticn & @ofprinciples location:  levi’s  apartment. description:  the  game  comes  to  an  end.  there’s  defeat,  there’s  victory,  and  a  few  twists  you  might  not  have  seen  coming.  

levi stone / daniel warren

when  disaster  strikes,  there  are  always  warning  signs.   alarm  bells  before  a  hurricane,  or  little  shocks  before  a  devastating  earthquake.   little  signals,  little  hints,  that  your  world  is  about  to  turn  upside  down.   he'd  always  thought  he'd  see  the  end  coming  when  it  inevitably came,  would  see  the  threads  of  his  plan  start  to  unravel  before  they  went  nuclear.    none  of  that  happens  though.     he  doesn't  see  the  bracelet  on  henrik's  wrist  (  after  months  together,  he's  never  worn  one  before;   so  of  course,  he  stopped  looking  )   and  doesn't  notice  the  confusion  on  his  face  when  the  compulsion  doesn't  connect.    he's  distracted,  thoughts  on  amelia,  or  the  horseman's  insatiable  hunger  that  throbs  like  a  migraine  you  can't  kick,  so  he  misses  it. (  do  you  want  to  talk  about  your  day?  henrik  asks,  twice,  though  levi's  told  him  to  leave  it  alone.  no,  he  bites  back,  eyes  flashing  golden  with  irritation  before  he  realizes  the  error  of  his  ways.   forget  you  saw  that.   it  was  a  trick  of  the  light.  i'm  just  a  vampire.  ) if  he  was  thinking  as  logically  as  he  once  had,  before  amelia,  maybe  he  would  have  seen  henrik  pulling  away;   would  have  suspected  that  something  was  up.   he  never  does  though,  too  caught  up  in  the  never-ending   fight  to  keep  famine  nourished,  covering  up  his  murders,  and  ensuring  his  wife,  his  family,  will  make  it  through  the  horrors  that  they've  suffered.   the  divide  between  levi  and  daniel  is  so  wide,  so  blatant,  that  sometimes  when  he  looks  in  the  mirror  he  isn't  sure  who's  staring  back.   (  it's  a  problem.   he  knows  this.  )    it's  because  his  guard  is  down,  defences  lowered,  that  he  doesn't  see  the  attack  coming  before  it's  too  late.(edited)

henrik mikaelson 

it was a blissful ignorance, henrik realized later. with little signs, little breaks in the perfect image, ones that he saw and made the choice to ignore. it was easier to ignore. a amazing boyfriend, someone who loved him fully for who he was, someone who he put his heart in the hands of. someone who made him feel loved. someone so perfect they couldn't possibly be anything other than a manipulated figment of a dream. he'd just been a fool. thinking everything is going to be okay. pure fool. the bracelet was something he appreciated. he liked arlo. it was nice making friends, even if he was a bit on the younger side. henrik didn't feel the need to console him like he did his students, arlo was an old soul. someone who understood him in a way henrik was a bit shocked at, if he were being honest. he underestimated the younger man, completely. and then, when offered a small charm of a bracelet, he appreciated it. he said yes because it was NICE and there was no reason for a no. he asked levi about his day, twice. because he wanted to know, because he felt a distance, because he loved and he cared and maybe that'd been wrong. because levi's eyes flashed GOLDEN in anger ( he angered him that much?? ) and he looked him in the eyes like a vampire did and he tried to compel. and henrik was too starstruck to say a damn thing. he'd spoken to arlo and asked, nee, begged. for the compulsion to be erased, to be undone. and then--- it was. it was an agony, and it was heartbreak and henrik hated it for making him feel like a fool. and then, he also didn't. because as foolish as he felt, that kind of love was something he cherished. he'd never felt it before and despite the fury... there was gratefulness. it was arlo's idea to orb them and henrik couldn't help but agree. orb them in and watch the spell unfold. "hey," he greeted, awkwardly.

finn mikaelson

always  and  forever  is  a  pesky  mantra.   it  means  standing  by  the  sides  of  your  siblings  when   they  needed  you,  even  if  it  risked  exposure.  he'd  planned  on  just  keeping  an  eye  on  his  more  vulnerable  siblings,  make  sure  they  were  safe,  but  it  had  turned  out  that  his  youngest  brother  was  anything  but.    the  compelled  memories  tell  a  story  that  mystified  even  him  but  he's  not  in  a  position  to  give  henrik  grief,  only  solutions.   it's  why  they've  orbed  into  the  man's  living  room,  magical  binds  summoned  with  a  spell  to  knock  the  man  (  no,  the  hybrid  )   to  his  knees.

"  someone's  been  naughty. "   his  words  are  dry,  a  vial  of  truth  serum,  home  brewed,  gripped  in  his  free  hand.    the  man  struggles  against  the  restraints  as  he  approaches,  the  vial  poured  down  his  throat  once  he's  close  enough  to  keep  him  still.     the  restraints  might  not  hold  him  forever,  but  the  aneurysm  inducing  spell  that  can  split  a  vampire's  head  wide  open  with  a  powerful  migraine  will  be  equally  as  effective.

the  hybrid's  chest  is  heaving,  fangs  distended  as  his  eyes  glow  golden.    he's  exposed  himself  for  what  he  really  is  now;   there'll  be  no  denying  it  now.    "  who  the  hell  are  you ?"    this  is  directed  at  finn,   smirking  in  the  body  of  arlo  park.    "  henrik,  what  the  hell  is  this?   don't  let  him  do  this. "    the  original  considers  intervening,  telling  him  to  shut  up,  but  this  isn't  his  place;   this  is  henrik's  fight,  he's  just  here  to  ensure  it's  a  fair  one.

henrik mikaelson 

the memories were both like a romantic comedy and a horror movie played out through his eyes. they picked apples, they had romantic evenings, and henrik fell in love. and as much as it was fake, it also wasn't. not all of it. being aware of the facade didn't take back those whole feelings of love he felt. it didn't erase every wanting moment. every kiss, hug, comfort. what it did was on a level, worse. leaving a dark poisoned shroud over them. it was funny thing, when the thing you love most was a detriment. he remembered all those compulsions, every single one. from the ones to tell him to shut up, to go away, to not care when levi took bites out of him. god, he'd been a human blood bag for so so long and he thought it was OKAY. so yes, as much as there was love remaining there was also fire building. or maybe gasoline. the fire had yet to ignite. he'd spoken to arlo more then he planned to. confessed all the emotions that hurt so fucking much. he'd bee surprised at the man's sympathy as henrik went on and on and on. he considered a lot of things. telling a friend, boarding himself up at magic school, even telling his family, begging klaus to rip him to shreds. that idea had been appealing until he realized how much it would hurt. because his seething betrayal didn't shatter his LOVE. henrik sort of fucking hated that bit, admittedly. it'd be easier if he could straight up hate levi. he remembered the utter terror of running from the man, of him killing his own neighbor and compelling henrik that dreaded night. that... wasn't easy ( he kept flinching at loud noises now and he'd defeated THAT response at 19. he would need to defeat again, he would. )

. but, as much as he knew he didn't want to see levi die. some things did change. he used to be one of them, one of the most important people, one of the people henrik would do most anything for. from ignoring the wrongness of something, to helping commit atrocities if it meant keeping them safe and happy. that didn't apply anymore. he couldn't erase his feelings but he could erase that. he couldn't choose to not love, but he could choose not to care. he'd never heard arlo speak with such dryness. not that henrik could blame him all too much. golden eyes glow and henrik is... unsurprised. he knows what he knows, and he feels TIRED. he wants this over with, but he knows it's not that simple. the truth serum, arlo guaranteed it would work. which was why it was easy to ask such blunt questions. "do you love me?" he asked the words gently--- weakly, both dreading and expecting the answer all too well. "and..." better to rip off the band aid, right? "whats your name?"

levi stone / daniel warren 

tw: suicidal ideation

he  doesn't  bother  pulling  at  the  restraints  once  his  knees  hit  the  floor.   he  squirms  away  from  the  witch  that's  prying  his  mouth  open,  tries  to  growl  but  simply  ends  up  choking  on  whatever  they  pour  down  his  throat.    the  restraints  burn  his  wrists,  likely  some  kind  of  vervain  derivative  cooked  up  to  keep  him  down.    he  thinks  maybe  he  could  break  them  but  not  without  great  sacrifice.   (  famine's  already  weak.   he  hasn't  fed  today,   he  won't  be  able  to  help;    he  has  no  get  out  of  jail  free  card.  ) there's  a quiet  desperation  in  his  voice  as  he  pleads  for  henrik  to  stop  this,   for  him  to  free  him,  but  when  he  starts  asking  questions  —  that  mask  slips.    he  knows  now;   henrik  knows  the  truth.    there's  no  sense  arguing,  or  begging  for  mercy  --  for  compassion.     he's  been  found  out,   there's  no  absolution  here.    "  no. "    the  words  come  out  through  clenched  teeth,   one  last  attempt  at  keeping  this  charade  from  imploding.   he  fails,    like  maybe  he  always  knew  he  would,  and  hammers  the  final  nail  into  his  coffin.  "  i  never  did.   i've  only  loved  one  person   and  she's  not  you. "   it's  not  said  maliciously,  just  honestly.    maybe  the  most  honest  he's  ever  been  with  him. the  second  question  is  more  complicated.   it  draws  a  laugh,  wrists  tugging  against  the  restraints  and  inhaling  sharply  when  they  burn.   (  he  tugs  again  —  maybe  he  deserves  this  )    "  that  depends.   it's  getting  a  little  crowded  in  here  these  days. "    he  feels  compelled  to  tell  the  truth  but  he's  been  running  from  it  for  so  long  ...   it  feels  like  he's  poking  something  fractured;   something  damaged.   "  my  name  was  daniel.   then,  it  was  levi.    oh,  and   famine.   it's  a  regular  party  in  here. "(edited)

henrik mikaelson

despite it all, despite every single thing levi had done. from gaslighting him, to sinking his teeth into his skin, it still pained henrik to see him in this state. to see him held down with chains, his jaw pried open, he had too look away as arlo poured the truth serum down his throat. he felt guilt, guilt he knew was unwarranted considering the situation but still, horribly, there.  he never heard his boyfrie--- no he couldn't call him that. calling him that would only make him feel even more of a fool then he already did. henrik had too much self respect for that. a slip, he could manage. but he wouldn't willingly say the words or think them. there it goes. expression changing so easily, it broke henrik's heart to watch the man he loved dying right before his eyes. a metaphorical death, but death nonetheless. lips pressed together because it was easier then letting out the shaky raw breath gathering in his throat from the confirmation of such a thing. he was so sure, that levi was the first person who loved him. no obligation, no strings tying them together beyond their hearts. and now? it was all a lie. and yeah, it hurt like hell. henrik knew the man would be able to see it all over his face, levi obviously knew him well by now. even if the man himself was a stranger to henrik. he hadn't been the one with the mask on the whole time, after all. he nodded his head, expression betraying him. it was irrational heartbreak, he knew. rationality and emotions ran parallels, lines that never met. "you didn't even care, not for a moment." it was silly threads he was holding onto, but he wanted to hear it from levi. maybe then, it would be easier.

. the laugh sent shivers down his spine. so unlike the man he thought he had known. his face brittles with confusion because DANIEL he remembered from his memories. but famine? "like the horseman?" yeah, he knew some mythology. not all of it, but enough. it was practically courses in magic school, henrik did pick up some things.March 24, 2020

levi stone / daniel warren 

maybe  he's  not  a  complete  monster.  maybe  somewhere,  buried  deep  under  layers  of  anger,  or  resentment,  of  hate,  he  can  find  an  inch  of  compassion  for  this  person  he's  hurt;   he's  wrecked.   maybe  he's  capable,  but  even  in  the  end,  in  the  revelations  of  his  own  failures,  he  doesn't  regret  his  choices.  his  plan  was  good,  it  was  flawless  even  —  and  maybe  if  he'd  been  less  human,  more  monster,  it  would  have  worked.   (  he's  not  sure  if  he's  angry  or  relieved  about  that.   maybe  some  mix  of  the  two.   it's  complicated.  ) "  i  didn't. "   he  agrees,  mostly  because  he  has  to.   whatever  they've  given  him,  it  won't  let  him  say  anything  but  the  truth.  (  ironic,  given,  he's  not  sure  even  he  knew  some  of  these  truths.  )  "  you  weren't  a  person  to  me.  you  were  a  chess  piece.   the  mikaelsons  are  a  fortress  and  i  needed  an  in. "   henrik,  human  henrik,  was  an  easy  mark  and  he'd  exploited  that.   "  —  but  don't  take  it  personally,  i  didn't  care  about  anyone.  i  just  wanted  revenge. "   he  still  does,   he  still  feels  that  undercurrent  of  anger  that  runs  through  him,  but  it's  diluted;   he  feels  other  things,  too.   has,  ever  since  amelia  came  back.   "  my  switch  was  flipped.   mostly,  anyway. "   it's  —  not  something  he  considered,  not  really.   he  felt  anger,   felt  vindictive,  but  never  considered  a  world  where  you  could  blot  out  half  and  focus  on  the  others.   it  was  ...  a  surprise,  even  to  him.

* "  yeah,  him. "   his  smile  dies  on  his  lips,  feels  the  horseman  restless  in  his  head.  like  a  siren's  song,  mere  mention  of  him  has  him  stirring.   "  i  was  out  on  patrol  when  a  mysterious  fog  rolled  in.   it  was  him,  and  he  needed  help. "  his  visage  cracks,  exhaustion  bleeding  through.   "  he  said  we  needed  each  other. "    maybe  they  had,  maybe  he  wouldn't  have  gotten  this  far  without  him,  but  right  now  he  just  feels  tired.    tired,  angry,  and  caged.    (  he  pulls  hard  on  the  restraints  again,  just  to  feel  something  else  ) 

henrik mikaelson 

he felt used. and it hurt. he was so sure everything was going so well. he had his family, he had his friends, he had his boyfriend. it'd been so perfect, so flawless. henrik should have known better. a life of hardship didn't seamlessly disappear like that in favor of being happy. and now here he was. broken hearted for so many things, so many losses. the loss of love, the loss of trust, the loss of faith in his very self. the loss of the person that made him so so happy... it hurt. a nod of his head, glassy eyes and fragile expression. "i... i figured that." still needed to hear, still painful to hear, to know. but then levi--- daniel, he went on. and oh. henrik didn't know it could get worse but then there it was. getting worse. daniel hadn't felt a thing for him, because you can't feel things for pawns. and that's all henrik had been to him. all those late night movies, apple picking, candle lit dinners, the way he made him feel--- none of it was real. and fuck. there was a desire to ask arlo to change the plan. hold him down while henrik got out a piece of wood. he could stab levi right in the heart, the same place levi stabbed him. watch the man fall apart before henrik's eyes, like henrik was falling apart in front of his. but no. because it'd be a second later in which he'd realize what he'd done. and that love he felt for levi stone would become even more of a burden then it already was. and trust him, it was plenty of a burden. "that's sad." he didn't say it with judgement, with empathy or sympathy. there was sorrow in his tone, not for levi. but for himself. for his hopes, his dreams, his future which was now something he never expected or would have dreamed of. finally, his eyes met levi's and henrik spoke. words he hadn't expected to admit, let alone feel. "i almost feel sorry for you. you spent so much time on revenge, so much time using me and... and it was a waste." it wasn't even gloating. just a melancholy statement.

. there was no interest in his life story or even why levi wanted revenge. henrik couldn't bring himself to care. what's done was done and what scarred him would never be erased. well, it could be. but he wouldn't want it to. as much as it hurt, it'd remain as a reminder. a reminder to be smarter, a reminder to be stronger, a reminder of how much he loved his family, a reminder of how stupid he had been. and to never be so stupid again. at least, not anytime soon. he bit his lip, because the horseman did change things. the plan had been simple enough but this was a new factor. he had planned not to tell his siblings of what happened, not have them condemn him or pity him. it would have been easier that way. but what if his plan wasn't enough? this was a horseman. and if not telling his family could put them in danger--- he couldn't do that. fuck. "and he wants to help you with your vengeance." the confirmation was needed, if only purely for henrik himself.

finn mikaelson

there's  an  amount  of  pride  that  finn  feels  as  henrik  stares  down  the  hybrid.   he  didn't  know  him  very  long,  or  very  well,  in  the  short  period  of  time  he'd  been  back  but  his  restraint  is  remarkable.   by  mikaelson  standards.    his  other  siblings,  save  maybe  freya,  would  have  painted  the  walls  with  this  creature's  blood  if  they'd  have  deigned  to  be  played  as  such.   (  this  speaks  to  his  humanity.  something  the  whole  family  is  sorely  lacking.  )

he  only  intervenes  when  the  hybrid  snaps  forward,  the  restraints  pulling  and  crackling.   they're  powerful;  he  figures,  if  push  ever  came  to  shove,  they  could  even  hold  one  of  his  siblings.    all  the  same,  he  tightens  his  hand  into  a  fist.  hybrids  might  have  accelerated  healing  but  those  pesky  little  blood  vessels  popping  in  his  head  ?  it'll  hurt  like  a  bitch.    "  don't  interrupt. "   he  says  simply,   eyes  on  levi.   "  let  him  speak. "   after  all,  doesn't  henrik  deserve  his  moment  in  the  sun  ?   he  sure  thinks  so.

levi stone / daniel warren 

* the  pain  rocks  through  levi's  skull,  forcing  his  eyes  shut  as  he  growls.  his  eyes  are  blown  wide,  pupils  bright  yellow  as  he  snaps  at  nothing.   he's  unable  to  break  free,  to  do  anything  but  fight,  and  what  was  once  apathy  is  now  pure  rage.    (  he  thinks  this  is  famine's  doing;   he  has  the  reigns  now,  is  pushing  daniel  down.   so  far  down,  all  he  can  feel,  all  he  knows,  is  the  horseman's  anger.  ) "  tha fios agam dè a th 'annad. no an àite, cò. "   the  horseman  spits  the  words  at  the  witch,  using  gaelic  to  mask  his  words.   "  tha thu a ’coimhead nas fheàrr na nuair a chunnaic mi mu dheireadh thu. "  he  knows  the  witch  understands,  sees  the  recognition  and  the  fury  pass  over  his  features.    i  know  you,  i  know  what  you  are.   you  look  better  than  when  i  last  saw  you.   (  he  wonders,  idly,  if  the  youngest  mikaelson  knows  about  the  imposter  masquerading  as  this  witch.   he  bets  no,  but  decides  to  keep  that  to  himself;   a  bargaining  chip.  ) "  you'll  have  to  forgive  your  boyfriend. "   famine's  eyes  flutter  back  to  their  natural  hues,  look  up  at  henrik  with  interest.  "  he  can't  come  out  and  play right  now.   i'll  let  him  know  you  feel  pity  for  him  though.  * GREAT*  stuff. "   lips  twitch,  a  hint  of  a  smirk  at  play.    he  doesn't  bother  tugging  at  the  restraints;   he  knows  he's  too  weak  to  break  through  them.   he's  a  pragmatist.   "  when  his  interests  and  mine  aligned,  yes,  i  helped  him. "   which  is  true,  for  the  record.   "  —  but  he's proven his  WEAKNESS.    he  deviated  from  his  plan,  got  sloppy  and  that's  not  really  how  i  play  the  game. "   the  horseman  shrugs,  cavalier  twist  in  his tone.    "   just  consider  me  a  silent  partner.   or  a  gatekeeper,  if  need  be. "

henrik mikaelson 

the hybrid snapped forward and henrik didn't even flinch. he didn't know where such bravery came from, or if it was bravery at all even. perhaps, it was foolishness. regardless of what it was, he didn't back down. eyes connected to daniel's, and staring him down with strength henrik needed to dig into. ( he didn't typically have it, only stored on behalf of other's. this was the first time, in a long time, he was using that streangth on behalf of himself ). "thank you arlo." he spoke, tone even but kind nonetheless. watching levi, daniel was something of an experience. in his memories held few times with those golden hues faced at him. but to see him and be aware, not be running or on the verge of being compelled, it was something else entirely. there was chanting, and henrik was lost. he didn't enjoy the feeling, not after all that had happened. he lacked so much control for so long without having known it. he wasn't keen on staying locked out of the loop for so long. "he's not my boyfriend anymore." and he said the words so fast without hesitation because if not for famine's sake, but his own, he needed to remember that. " a gatekeeper." henrik echoed, not quite convinced. he read about the horseman with a student once. they were having troubles with their studies and henrik volunteered to give a helping hand. he read about the horseman bringing forth the end of days, each bearing a ring upon their finger. a source of their power. famine, not the most powerful but powerful nonetheless. no, henrik couldn't take the risk of a changed mind and such power in the hand's of a man who hated his family. brazen, he crossed forward and wasted no time in sliding the ring off daniel's hand. eyes set on him, seeing how such a loss would effect him and hoping it'd be the right response.March 30, 2020

levi stone / daniel warren

it's  as  the  ring's  twisted  from  his  finger  that  levi  feels  one  last  surge  of  overwhelming  anger  from  his  passenger  as  its  ripped  from  him.   it  feels  like  someone's  sliced  open  his  sternum,  reckless  fingers  ripping  famine  from  his  psyche  as  he  screams.   (  he  has  a  high  pain  threshold.  he  thought  he'd  known  pain,  thought  he'd  known  suffering,  but  this  is  somehow  WORSE.  ) he  loses  consciousness  at  some  point,  likely  his  body's  way  of  protecting  the  fragility  of  his  mind  from  the  abrupt  splintering.   the  last  thing  he  feels  is  anguish  mixed  with  revulsion  as  the  black  seeps  in  and  sucks  him  under.

finn mikaelson

 with  more  warning,  perhaps  finn  would  have  cautioned  his  brother  from  angering  a  horseman.  it's  inevitable  that the  ring  find  its  way  back,  the  essence  of  famine  returning  to  whatever  withered  husk  it  had  left  behind  when  it  chose this  body.   he  doesn't  though,  simply  makes  one  of  those  'yikes'  faces  teenagers  constantly  make  before  turning  back  to  henrik.   "  with  the  ring  off,  he  won't  be  able  to  access  famine's  powers. "   he  smiles,  because  to  henrik  this  is  a  victory  --  even  if  it's  likely  only  temporary.    "  i  can  take  it  if  you  want,  for  safekeeping. "   this  face  looks  innocent,  looks  trustworthy.   "  we've  got  this  thing  that  traps  powerful  cursed  objects.  i  can  put  it  in  there  and  lock  it  away.  it'll  be  safe. " behind  him,  he  hears  the  hybrid  start  to  stir.   he  debates  whammying  him  again  but  knows  this  is  a  fight  henrik  needs  to  finish,  no  matter  what  he  chooses.

henrik mikaelson 

the sight of levi, daniel, before him--- bellowing in such pain and agony. henrik couldn't help but FLINCH at the sight. even now, after all he'd done. it made him feel something to see him in such pain. he felt guilty for that. he should be able to ravish his enemy's wildering pain ( enemy, the world felt wrong in his mind. unfamiliar and uncomfortable ). and yet, watching him in pain, henrik needed to look away. there was no regret. even if it made him feel some type of way to see daniel in pain, henrik didn't regret a single thing. a firm nod of his head, relieved at the loss of power's. the last thing he needed was daniel enraged and coming after his family. ( yeah, a very loud FUCK THAT in the back of his mind. ) "actually that'd b great." he wouldn't have known what to do with it anyhow, probably would have given it to niklaus or magic school. both of which options would demand explanation, which he wasn't keen to give. he didn't want klaus to know how he'd been duped, nor magic school to think he was a liability. maybe it was selfish, probably was. but he wouldn't risk it. so yes, letting arlo have the ring was his best option. "thank you." daniel begin to stir, and henrik had some words left. harsh words, that would not be easy to say. but he would do them anyway, he needed to. "after we finish how long could you keep him down?" he couldn't stay in that apartment. and he wouldn't risk getting everything in case of running into daniel or daniel finding wherever he lived next. wherever that would be. ( he'd figure it out ).

finn mikaelson

he  takes  the  ring  when  its  offered,  securely  tucking  it  into  his  pocket.  he  might  not  be  as  consumed  with  a  thirst  for  power,  for  status  as  some  of  his  siblings,  but  he  knows  not  to  underestimate  an  opportunity  when  it  falls  into  his  lap.   (  better  in  his  hands  than  someone  else's.  ) he  watches  as  the  hybrid  stirs,  glancing  over  at  henrik  when  he  asks  the  question.   "  that  depends.  i  can  keep  him   down  for  a  few  hours,  put  him  in  a  suspended  state,  or  we  can  put  him  down  for  good. "  it  certainly  wouldn't  be  any  skin  off  his  back  to  eliminate  the  hybrid  from  the  world.  it's  beyond  an  abomination;  a  bastardized  creation  from  niklaus'  bloodline  that  should  never  have  existed.     "  whichever  you'd  prefer. 

henrik mikaelson 

"we aren't putting him down for good." it was said in a more demanding tone than henrik was used to using, but he couldn't help it. the idea of it, despite everything, made him sad. for all the bad memories daniel (as levi) had given. he also had given kind ones, warm ones. it didn't make his actions lessen or null. but it did change some things. "a few hours would work, thank you." his tone switched to something far kinder, and more appreciative. arlo was doing a lot for him, after all. a deep breath as he watched levi--- no, daniel, begin to open his eyes. "i have some things to say to you," he preempted. "and you... you're gonna listen." a deep breath. "anyone else in my family would slaughter you. they would make you hurt in ways you wouldn't dream and make you regret every single thing you've ever done." he stood straighter, with more conviction. "but i'm not my family. if you'd done this to one of them... maybe. but you did this to me, your life... it's mine." he took a step forward and knelt closer. eye level with daniel. "i'm letting you keep it. no more death, no more manipulation, no more anything. i'm letting you live." he emphasized. "this time, that is." more somber, he said. "there will be no next time. what saved you, was the happiness you brought me. lies or not, compulsion or not, i still remember it." and a spiteful part of him hoped daniel would hate that. you live by the grace of my will. "but... if you so much as go near my family, go near me... i'll tell them everything. and i know my brother's reputation, i know you do too. and my older sisters, my other brothers, all of them. my family, if they know what you attempted. they'd end you. there would be no place for you to hide. and this time, i won't stand in the way." it felt like a threat. henrik didn't know if he wanted it to be one, how he wanted daniel to feel. but he felt strong. and that was all that mattered in the end, in this moment.

#( interactions ) #( henrik ) #( finn )

[recentanimenews]

An Explorer's Guide to the Wonderful World of Visual Novels

Visual novels! Once decried as a “niche” by the masses, they have slowly but surely wormed their way into video games as a whole. Persona became a visual novel, then Fire Emblem. Now Saya no Uta, Gen Urobuchi's disturbing cult “classic” (?!) is available on Steam to stumble upon. There are fewer barriers than ever before to experiencing this varied, historic and often misunderstood medium.

    But where to begin? Some visual novels are very long. Others are quite lewd. A number of them (even the ones people love) front-load their most boring material at the beginning, and save the best moments for the last hour of what can be twenty or thirty-hour games. Picking up Saya no Uta without being primed for the extremes of the medium is a recipe for despair. But don't be afraid! Many of the best visual novels being made today are only a few hours long, encompass many approaches and genres, and are acceptable for all ages. In this piece I will lay out a path that you, dear reader, may follow into the thickets. Some things to keep in mind:

1. Every one of the games featured here is legally avaliable in English. If you know Japanese and are willing to spend some money, feel free to experiment on your own!

2. The games featured here range from appropriate for teenagers, to appropriate for mature audiences. Content warnings will be marked as needed. That said, almost none of these games feature the kind of graphic sex you'd see in old-school titles like Fate/Stay Night; the exception is the final title, included for completionism, which is truly sordid and not appropriate for anybody (but I like it).

3. While I've had some experience with the medium, BL and otome games are huge blind spots of mine, so I won't embarrass myself by pretending expertise! If you're interested in exploring those fields, I've heard good things about Code: Realize (get the collector's edition with the extra content!), Hatoful Boyfriend and (if you're OK with some NSFW material) Coming Out on Top.

With that said, let us being our journey!

  SHORT AND SWEET:

  These games last about two to three hours, but will stick with you longer than that. Don't assume these are “beginner games” simply because they are short! I could argue that collectively, the three titles here are the best on this list.

    Butterfly Soup is Brianna Lei's follow-up to her cult success Pom Gets Wi-Fi. It's free! It's also one of the most acclaimed visual novels ever by the mainstream games press, scoring praise from folks like Patricia Hernandez and Steve Gaynor. As for what it's about: it's the story of four girls on their high school softball team, two of them are in love, and there are many funny jokes. I found the ending to be abrupt, but if you're looking for good vibes and some much-needed encouragement to stay true to yourself, I highly recommend this game. Plus it references Matt Mullholland's excellent “My Heart Will Go On” performance, which earns it extra points in my book.

  Content warnings: Brief depictions of parental and physical abuse (no visuals!), ableist slurs.

    We Know the Devil is “what if Kelly Link wrote Revolutionary Girl Utena?” Plenty of anime and games channel that energy (my beloved What A Beautiful visual novel series among them) but few do so as succinctly and distinctively as Aevee Bee, Mia Schwartz and their team do in this game. The result is a punk, unsettling take on magical girl stories set in a Christian summer camp, featuring sneaky world-building and some striking body horror. You'll feel for the cast and their struggles, and cheer in the True Ending when everything goes completely off the rails.

  Content warnings: Psychological and body horror, alienation of queer youth in a religious setting, freaky music.

    EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER is a game about gay antifascist folks fighting fascists across the desert while riding giant robots made of meat. It's the equivalent of a zine you'd pick up at a fair, willing to dive into messy topics most games shy away from and wholly uninterested in sanding away any rough spots. The music is great too! Play this game if you want to beat up Nazis in a giant meat machine called ROOTS AMONG ASH.

  Content warnings: Body horror, mentions of self harm and abuse, suicidal ideation, alcohol, gender dysphoria, loss of bodily autonomy, apocalyptic ideation. For mature audiences!

NICE AND MEATY:

  These games are a good bit longer, ranging from five to fifteen hours to beat. If you enjoyed the earlier entries and want more, try some of these!

  The House in Fata Morgana is a bonafide cult classic, a game made by a small studio that earned itself a legion of die-hard fans in the visual novel space. At first glance it's an entertaining genre pastiche, four tales of doomed love centering around a cursed mansion. But read past the first four chapters, and suddenly the real story comes to the fore—the tale of two ordinary people and a love that lasts for centuries. Fata Morgana takes some huge swings, tackling societal oppression, intersexuality, recovering from past trauma and learning to move on from those who have wronged you without having to forgive them. Its success at landing these swings likely depends on the reader, but I found Fata Morgana's heart to be in the right place. Couple that with one of the best soundtracks in video games, and you have an experience that is worth it even at 0% off.

  Content warnings: incest, domestic violence, racist and sexist remarks, psychological manipulation, homophobic and transphobic remarks, sexual assault, child abuse. For mature audiences!

    Heart of the Woods is, as of yet, the most ambitious game made by Studio Elan. It's a supernatural mystery where two adult women travel to a small town in the cold and dark to investigate some strange occurrences. What they find leads to unexpected romance, but also incredible danger. Heart of the Woods is sweet, it's funny (Tara is hilarious!) and as has come to be a running theme in this piece, the music is excellent, courtesy of Sarah Mancuso and Kris Flacke. Heart of the Woods is a game made by people who clearly have a lot of affection for visual novels as a medium, but had enough discretion to snip out the bits they weren't fond of. It also comes with a plethora of accessibility options, allowing you to customize everything from the text to the music to your needs.

  Content warnings: Parental abuse, alcohol, light horror elements, some sex scenes you can enable with an optional R-18 patch. For mature audiences!

    As for Seabed, it's... yuri ASMR? It's difficult to describe, as the appeal of this one for me isn't so much the story—which is intriguing, but very slow-paced—as it is the feel of it. Everything from the music, to the sound effects, to the text, contributes to a languid feeling unlike every other game in the medium I have played. Seabed won't be for everyone, but few titles match its distinctive atmosphere.

  Content warnings: alcohol, partial nudity. At least one sex scene that isn't too explicit by the standards of the medium. For mature audiences!

  THE DEEP END:

  These games range in length from fifteen hours to fifty... and beyond! If you're looking for the experience your Japanese-speaking friends fell in love with back in the days of fan translations and frantically searching online for information on Type-Moon properties, this is it! 

    Imagine that you have an idea for a great Japanese TV-drama, but you decide to make it as a visual novel instead. Wanting to produce as authentic an experience as possible, you hire actors and have them act out every scene in your script as you take multiple photographs depicting every twist and turn in the plot. Imagine the sheer amount of time and labor it would require. Then multiply it by five, let the player switch between these narratives with the ease of hitting a button on a gamepad, and tie them together into a vast meta-narrative. That's 428: Shibuya Scramble, one of the most ambitious visual novels ever created and a game that was famously awarded a score of 40 by the Japanese games rag Famitsu. Despite having an enormous and complicated script, it was localized into English just a year ago. Don't miss out on this bizarre and fascinating video game! If you're a fan of the Yakuza series, you'll be right at home with 428's brand of lunacy.

  Content warnings: Violence, drugs, alcohol, some bad language.

    Umineko: When They Cry is a lot.  A gonzo mystery story that starts as a riff on And Then There Were None, it swiftly mutates into a hundred-hour game of four-dimensional chess. It was made by a small team, scored by the music of the gods, and is fully committed throughout to its brand of sentiment, metaphysical rambling and extreme horror. Some might say that Umineko is overwrought, but that is the point: the game is memorable for its excess, not despite of it. If you're looking for a taste of the full VN experience, complete with shocking twists, a weird obsession with trivia and far too many words, this is the most authentic you can find that's appropriate for all audiences. Please play with the original art! It's charming.

  Content warnings: Parental abuse, blood and gore, people getting killed and suffering fates worse than death at the hands of witches (???). For mature audiences!

    And now we come to [NSFW] Wonderful Everyday, everything your anxious friend told you about visual novels. It's not just that Wonderful Everyday has sex scenes, it's that it takes less time to list what triggering and problematic content is not in the game than what is in it. It references Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus and Cyrano de Bergerac. The game isn't afraid to take huge, unexpected shifts in tone and aesthetic in order to scare or destabilize the player. You might be wondering: why recommend a game like this, which many would find morally abhorrent? All I can say is that Wonderful Everyday is the game that convinced your Japanese-speaking friends to read Wittgenstein. It's a cult classic, a title unavailable in English for years that came with the highest praise imaginable: that it was a profound work of art, that it would change your way of thinking forever. After finally playing through the game two years ago, my feelings were more mixed; but there's no mistaking that few games better personify the visual novel medium's eccentricities, indulgences or shoot-for-the-moon ambition than this shaggy, gross, but fascinating video game.

  Content warnings: suicide, psychological and body horror, multiple variants of sexual assault, extreme bullying, extreme violence, bestiality (thankfully cut down for release in the US!), a transgender character who is handled in a pretty specious way. Many graphic sex scenes. For very mature audiences!

  There's even more great titles out there that I couldn't fit on this list! The high stakes and interface-shattering plot twists of 999. The countless games being made in engines like Ren'Py, Choice of Games and Twine. South Korean visual novels like Nameless and Mystic Messenger. No matter what kind of person or reader you may be, there is a visual novel out there somewhere for you. I wish you luck in your endless journey of discovery!

  Are you a fan of visual novels? Do you have any (safe for work, if possible) recommendations? Please let us know in the comments!

---

Adam W is a features writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't eagerly awaiting the announcement of the Girls' Work anime by Type Moon, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? Follow him on twitter at: @wendeego

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

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[fuck-customers]

FUCK MY MANAGER ( tw for emotional manipulation, ableism, and brief suicide ideation)

(Im writing this on 3/5) I had the absolute worst night ever last monday. Bear with me because this is a doozy. The friday before, our manager (ill call her L) was being super passive aggressive towards us and being rude as hell (as usual) but it was about employee sales. Employee sales were only aupposed to be done by a manager, or by a key / with permission. I had two receipts (count em; T W O) to my name from way back in November/December, meanwhile my other coworkers each had over 30. No joke. Apparently our overseer BJ had a massive issue with that, and decided to impliment a new policy that only managers, or keys with explicit permission per sale were allowed to ring employee sales out. So implimenting this apparently meant L treated us like shit and passive aggressively, and cryptically, accused us of being shitty employees. Id completely forgotten about the TWO sales I'd ever done, so I wasn't even remotely worried and said "well I know it's not me because I dont even know how to do an employee sale (which I don't)". L got pissy and left the three of us in a huff. We spent the night shit talking and expressing our frustrations about how we'd been being mistreated lately. L is always bitter and in a bad mood and doesnt give a shit about us besides being worker bees. We were all pretty upset so we did a mini strike and hardly did any work that night (we still finished what we were supoised to, it didn't do it quickly basically). I should also mention at the same time, we were supposed to be watching for a shoplifter because someone had been scoping our store recently. I noticed a kid in the store that fit the description, and a car outsude that matched the description and I went terminator mode basically and took control of the team (I'm not even a key, I'm a runt hire. ) I was going loops and making aure they were watching g the floor, and in 20 minutes I got two full body descriptions written down for L and my other manager the next morning. They left while I was on break, so I went around the store and started straightening things. I found a really weird pair of shorts on a rack that were not ours (they were boys Olaf work out shorts.... yknow, like from Frozen...) So I brought them up, asked about them, and left them for our managers to discuss. Now, fast forward to Monday. My other manager J asked me about the Olaf shorts and I showed her exactly where I found them. L came over and started accusing me, alone, of being the reason the shorts were there. She twisted a story that someone wore a pair of shorts out and left those in their place. That would've been a solid case if anyone actually fuckong walked into our store with those shorts on because admittedly I wouodve noticed and gossiped with my coworkers about it. So no, L, that didn't happen. She continue used accusing me of not watching the floor and being lazy, and I got really irritated super quick and i was so done with being solely accused, so I snapped at her "I got two full descriptions of shoplifters friday night. I WAS watching the floor" and I just walked away. She pulled me into the back room and startes talking g down to me like I was a dog. 'I'm your MANAGER, I'm your SUPERIOR, blah blah blah IM ABOVE YOU YOU HAVE TO RESPECT ME, YOURE JUST AN EMPLOYEE blah blah, and decides to fuck with my head (despite knowing about my sevwre paranoia, panic attacks and other mental illnesses) and proceeded tell me that all my coworkers hated me and were 'sick of my shit' and went on to use ONE singular time I missed a customer at register to support her argument that I was a COMPLETELY incompetent worker. I went back on the floor and she proceeded to tell at me a bout the reciepts infront of customers, and laighed when I said I didnt even want to do them (which I hadn't!!) And I told her W had said it was okay to do it. she laughed at me and blamed me for not knowing (???????????) Sent me back out on to the floor and I started dissociating almost immediately, and then the slow burn panic attack crawled in an hour later and wouldnt go away. it progressed fast. I wound up hyperventilating for three. hours. straight. I was a complete emotonal wreck, but somehow by the power of Odin and Thor I managed to keep my head on straight when talking to customers. I got home that night and I went into a full blown manic panic attack. I became hysterical. I was physically vibrating because I was shaking so bad. I was literally walking around my apartment in a daze, laighing crying and just so fuckig. out of it, and somehow got a knife I don't even remember grabbing or even having in the house. I'd alao started texting my partner and apologizing for existing. I ideated taking pills and killing myself. I went completely off the deep end because of my OCD and severe paranoia. Honestly, I should've been sent to the hospital. Instead, to calm down, I smoked weed. I'd been clean for two months straight because I've been trying so hard to find a full time job and I wanted to pass a drug test if I needed to. so now that's ruined for me. I smoked, calmed down completely and wound up blacking out from exhaustion that hadnt hit me because of adrenaline. (I'm writing this post a week later (happened on 2/26) and the effects of going through that are still hitting me today(3/5); my body hasnt been right, and sleep isn't registering properly and ive hardly eaten anything in a week) I understand this sounds very fabricated but I promise you on my life its not. This has happened only on a few occasions; I don't usually go manic in panic attacks. And I don't usually black out. This was literally so bad I should have been hospitalized. and I actually had been before back in 2016 Ffor going off the deep end. Since then ive been working on my mental health and beconing more stable. Anyways. I come to work Friday (3/2) and find out L still hadn't talked to any of my coworkers, despite having a literal nor'easter and getting 28+" of snow, that the entire store had been empty, and she had three hours to talk to my coworkers about stuff. After L left for the night I managed to get the guts to tell my coworkers W and N about the fact L said that they all hated me, and they both denied mentioning anything about me more recently than two months ago; they told me the only mentions they made were literally from last year when I was going through some heavy shit and I was super on edge (I'll give them that because I was going through heavy shit, and had been very snappy and defensive-- those complaints / mentions were completely justified) I convinced myself to believe them to avoid another manic episode. Fast forward to today (Sunday, 3/4) I find out neither one of my managers mentioned ANYTHING about the Olaf shorts or the situation in FIVE FUCKING DAYS over the entire week and they're literally trying to drop it and leave the blame entirely on me when it wasn't even my fault. TLDR; my cunt of a manager L blamed me solely for a theory she had twisted, dehumanized me, manipulated me, fucked with my head, lied, and used my mental illnesses against me and caused me to have a 7 hour long manic panic attack, and caused me to have a phsychological snap that nearly sent me to the hospital. And is now trying to ignore the situation and act like nothing ever happened while leaving all of the blame on my shoulders. FUCK MANAGERS AND FUCK RETAIL.

[stop-brunotime]

CW: I'm ranting about personal stuff, using bad language, feeling shit about myself and being a bad example, complaining about my emotionally abusive mother, etc. Proceed with caution. This is further to my post on Thursday. Thank you to everyone who reached out. It meant the world, and I'll reply individually when I'm done with this post. I'm going to list the questions that have been bugging me to the point of suicidal ideation, and if you know the answers, please help a sibling out!

Christmas

Am I the only one bothered by Christmas trees? Like, everyone knows Jesus was probably born in August/September, because that's when Judaism's 'go visit the family' holidays are and there's no way shepherds would've been hanging out in the pastures in midwinter. Christmas trees are a blind appropriation of European Paganism's customs (and, while we're at it, holiday, since it's not even Jesus's real birthday). We're all claiming to celebrate Jesus, when in reality we're just marking our homes as places the tree spirits can overwinter. How can we claim to live lives of peace and love and do ignorant, appropriative shit like that?

Santa. FFS, this one grates my carrot to the quick. Named for St Nicholas (who was an African bishop and very definitely Black, despite what the white supremacists will tell you on Twitter), Santa seems to be a combination of Scandinavian Pagan myths. Either he's a Christian appropriation of Odinn, who gave kids gifts at midwinter, or he's an erasure of Sami (native Scandinavians, traditionally marginalised) shamans (who were typically women) who apparently gave the grown-ups entheogenic mushrooms. So, we're erasing POC and Native women and getting toxic about it on socials. Nice. I totally want gifts from that guy! (I'm aware that in Spain and Germany [and probably other countries too] it's the Baby Jesus who brings the gifts. I'm not resident in one of those countries, so have to deal with all the Santa bullshit) Again, we claim to be all about the peace and love how?!

Bringing me to Christians. Now, I identify as one, so am spraying friendly fire here. Why are my choices of places to worship either the kind who preach heterosexism from the pulpit, regularly using 'the homosexuals' as our go-to example of unrepentant sinners bound for eternity in Hell, or the kind who just don't mention it, which feels like ominous silence? The church who don't actively hate on queers have asked me to play in their music group. I gave guy some bullshit reason about being too busy to do something I would actually like to do as a person of faith, because I was scared that, if I started doing it and they found out I occasionally fall for women and NBs/GNCs, they'd throw me out and publicly shame me and maybe sell me out to the cops (who are wildly heterosexist, backed up by the law, and allegedly not above a bit of corrective gang rape of queer prisoners).

And onto Trump. The man reminds me of my mother. And that makes me a terrible human, because he does so many worse things than triggering memories of her being consistently passive-aggressive and theologically inaccurate about "Christian values". He makes such rapey comments all the fucking time, and just dismisses anyone who tries to call him on it. He is the embodiment of everything that's wrong with the world, and yet I meet so many people who love him. We live in fucking Africa...what exactly are we doing supporting the guy who's defunding all the USAID healthcare programs that keep us in contraceptives? Like, sure, I've never had an abortion, and, barring medical necessity or a pregnancy from being raped again, am probably going to keep any pregnancy I achieve before menopause (which is only ten years away, and I don't exactly have the most active sex life from which to achieve a pregnancy)...but I've been the emergency contact on enough hospital admission forms to know that it's a necessary medical procedure and people need access to quick, cheap, and as-painless-as-possible abortions. We got that from USAID. Now Trump has fucked that up and we need to go private, which is a D&C under full anaesthesia, with associated risks. Sure, Trump blustered a bit about Mugabe, but didn't do anything real in the eleven months between him taking office and us having our coup-that's-not-a-coup. Tweeting doesn't count. How exactly is that asshole going to be 'the next Mordecai of Israel' and 'the one to rid the world of dictatorship'?

Speaking of pathological Machiavellian narcissists, does anyone have resources for recovering from a parent who used you to meet her needs from when you were really small? She never raped me or anything, but the long-term emotional neglect, belittling, passive-aggression, criticism, gaslighting, parental alienation (yes, for almost twenty years she had me convinced that my dad, whom I love and who I'm most like, was the angry abuser in their relationship and she was the victim) have taken their toll. My therapist says I need to adjust my expectations of her and my problems will go away. I see her point, but my mother is still mean as fuck. For example, she sent me a room diffuser that smelled like it came from a pound shop for Christmas. (It was called 'african spice'. It smelled of cinnamon. There are no African spices. Cinnamon is from Asia. She's heard me rant several times about people mis-labelling plant origins, so it's not like she doesn't know how much it bugs me.) This is after a quarter century of me saying variations on, 'Books or nothing, but please no cash or girly shit,' every Christmas and birthday. This is after coming out to her as genderqueer. She said she immediately thought of me when she saw it. Surely there's a more direct way to tell me that I or my house smell/s bad? Perhaps a way that doesn't subtly signal that she still frames me as the gender-perfect imaginary daughter she has in her head? She went to the effort of having it brought to Zimbabwe in a suitcase (what comes in suitcases isn't charged import tax). She could have spent that fiver on a second-hand book from Amazon, sent it out in a way that bypassed ZIMRA's human rights violation of a book tax, and given me the gift of freedom of information. But she chose to force her gender ideals on me in a way that says, yet again, that I need to be just a little bit better to be worthy of her love

I'm legit concerned that she's made me a horrible person. She gave me so many of her issues that I'm pretty sure everyone feels about me the way they do about her. I'm sure everyone looks at me and sees the lack of tangible results that come from being terrified of being publicly shamed as crazy and weird. I'm horribly awkward and say the wrong thing often. I've had dates end because I got awkward and up in my head and told him that wood cockroaches eat their parents' shit to replenish their gut flora after molting. I take days, sometimes months, to reply to messages. I hold opinions that are shared by a tiny minority of scientists and theologians, and everyone disagrees. And my writing output bears this out. The only time people say nice stuff about my writing is when I've written porn under a fake name that doesn't really have socials. The rest of the time, it's people calling me out or trolling me. Am I wrong? Is the internet just a toxic shit hole? Is everyone talking smack about me in DM, and I have no idea how many people are laughing at me? Should I just delete all my accounts, move to the Andes, change my name, and raise llamas for yarn and bees for mead?

What even is the right thing to do? I was raised with so much certainty, and have since found out things like the universe wasn't made in six days five thousand years ago, and nobody really knows where Mount Sinai is. It doesn't feel right to just pick the most convenient set of rules. I should be able to tell what the right choice is. Who died and bequeathed me the right to decide right from wrong? How am I supposed to help others when I don't even know the answers myself (and neither do any of the scholars, who are simply putting forward a best guess model) and will probably be wrestling with existential questions on my death bed? Put your own mask on first, sure, but how do I fit all these masks on one face?

#personal #rant #questions

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi, do you have some Johnlock shower sex fics (maybe bottomlock) ? thank you,love your blogs

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Καλημέρα (or good afternoon depending where your from😁) Would you by any chance have any fics of john and sherlock like showering together? It could be smut or not, I just think that showering with your s/o is kinda cute and they would be adorable 🥺 Thank You 🥰

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hey, I was wondering if you have any fluffy bath-sharing fics?

Hi Nonny!

Aww, thanks, I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

AHHHH Okay so I know I have a tonne of fics with Shower Sex, but I haven’t started retagging fics until recently with this because someone asked me AGES ago with them, LOL

SHOWERING / BATHING TOGETHER

Through A Glass by Mildredandbobbin (M, 2,012 w., 1 Ch. || Voyeurism, Masturbation, First Kiss) – There is an adjoining door in the bathroom at 221B that leads into Sherlock’s bedroom. The door, from the bathroom to Sherlock’s bedroom, is made of three glass, semi-opaque panels. It has suddenly come to Sherlock’s attention that if he stands in exactly the right spot in his bedroom he can see through said panels, and more to the point, can see John.

Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.

Uninhibited by 221b_hound (M, 4,293 w., 1 Ch. || Bathing/Washing, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Big Brother Mycroft, Relationship Negotiation, Massage, Sherlock Has a Low Libido, Pet Names) – Sherlock and John have been apart for the first time since Sherlock returned from the dead. Neither of them has had a good day. John's gets worse when Mycroft comes to Baker Street in Sherlock's absence to warn John Watson against disappointing his brother by expecting things to change. Mycroft has misjudged things rather badly. But finally he sods off and leaves John and Sherlock to reconnect, to give and receive comfort, and show each other that they are, indeed, perfectly matched. Part 15 of Unkissed

Linger by queenoftrivia (E, 4,879 w., 1 Ch. || Lingerie, Fluff and Smut, BJ / HJ, Switchlock, Sherlock in Lingerie, Come Play, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, Anal/Oral, Implied Shower Sex, Neck Kissing) – Sherlock decides to surprise John after a somewhat stressful day at work.

What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by  moonblossom (E, 5,051 w., 1 Ch. || Accidental Marriage, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, CSI Crossover, Fluff & Porn, Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, First Time) – When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for. Part 19 of Prompt Fills, Remixes, Works inspired by others

The Bathing Habits of Dr. John H. Watson by scullyseviltwin (T, 5,077 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Happy Endings, Domestics, Baths, Slice of Life Snippets) – The knocks come crisply—three raps and then a long span of quiet. Slumping down further, John makes every effort to ignore the intrusion and relaxes as best he can in the less-than-ideal space available. If he doesn’t move, maybe he’ll be left in peace. There’s a brief respite of silence and then, again, three more raps on the door, in faster succession this time, followed by, “John, it’s been an hour, how can you possibly—” “We agreed two, two hours.” There’s no room for argument; John’s tone makes that very clear.It sounds as though Sherlock’s mouth is pressed right to the door when he next speaks. “What if I need the toilet!?”

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Johnlock Ficlet Collection by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 11,505+ w., 16/? Ch. [WiP] | Random Ficlets, Pining, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Parentlock, AU’s, First Kiss, Character POV’s) - Just a collection of Johnlock ficlets, originally posted on my Tumblr page.

I'll Meet You in Hong Kong by alexxphoenix42 (E, 12,767 w., 5 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Phone / Shower Sex, Infidelity, Polyamory, Bit of Angst, Cuddles) – Benedict and Martin's busy, busy schedules have them grabbing a few nights together in Hong Kong during Ben's Doctor Strange junket. They both have news to share. While this does pick up after the story "Forever 1895," you don't absolutely have to read that one to dive on in here. Part 2 of Forever Freebatch

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff, Case Fic) –  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

John Watson doesn't have a Boyfriend by naughtyspirit (E, 18,932 w., 7 Ch. || UST / URT, Fluff & Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – John's date has gone very well. Sherlock requires tea. John wishes he hadn't resolved that their relationship was strictly hands off and isn't about to address it. Unless he has to. Smut, fluff and shower time for a naked John Watson.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w., 4 Ch. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn) – When John's left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she's about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasim Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w., 10 Ch. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary's betrayal and Sherlock's deceptions.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #showering #bathing #my fic recs #Anonymous

[fmdalyssia]

👀 what are your honest expectations for hotel del luna and its reception by the public? 👀 do you ever wish you’d debuted in lipstick or even wish instead of bee? 👀 what is the first thing you’d do if you woke up tomorrow and you weren’t a celebrity?

👀 what are your honest expectations for hotel del luna and its reception by the public?

“I really do hope that hotel del luna is well received by the public. Its something that I’ve put in more than a 110% effort into, because I truly love the script and the character of Jang Man-wol as a whole. Even if it isn’t, I think hotel del luna would still be the best television show that I’ve starred in throughout my career.”

 👀 do you ever wish you’d debuted in lipstick or even wish instead of bee? 

“No…Honestly, I thought to myself first when I was I was put in the lineup for bee that it was a mistake back then.” Alyssia laughs sheepishly. “Wish and Lipstick are great, there’s no doubt about that. But I wasn’t grown up enough back then to be part of a team that had people the same age as me.” She said softly, eyes gentle. “I was more of a child that needed care back then, and my unnies in bee helped me. I don’t know if I would have been right here if I had debuted in lipstick or wish. There are things…” She trailed off for a slight moment. “That I wouldn’t be able to find myself opening my mouth to share with them.” Her eyes were a tad glassy, if only for a short moment.

👀 what is the first thing you’d do if you woke up tomorrow and you weren’t a celebrity?

TRIGGER WARNING : suicide ideation

“I would kill myself.” Alyssia whispered, terrified of the notion. “Or run away. I can’t imagine not being here and away from home. Its not because I want to be an idol of course. Its just that….any option here is better than just staying home.” 

#||MEMES**♫ cross my fingers and hope to die #tw: suicide ideation