#but aside from the practical I just am fucking sick of seeing people dying every day cause of russia launching attacks on civilians

[redhawtriot]

IM DYING for some domestic things, can I please have small request about it? What if Bakugo, Kirishima, Shigaraki and Dabi (seperated, obviously) coming home and bringing one cutie plusiu for their unborn child? Sorry for wxtra fluff I just need more cute things in our lifes 😭 YOU R AWESOME HAPPY ONE MONTH LUV YA

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I had to do this one right away! Sorry if some of these are very narrow-minded views on expecting children! I know surrogacy and adoption are also options! Let me know in the comments if those are things you guys would like to see as well!

But I got too excited when I saw this! lol The mucus filled disaster where my heart is supposed to be jumped for joy when I read this prompt!

HnM💕

💖Dabi:

When you first met Dabi, one of your very first presumptions about the man was that he should never have offspring. 

That’s not to say that you were not immediately drawn to his physical looks and demeanor, rather you just couldn’t picture such a stoic man ever having the visceral capacity in his cold heart to care much about anyone besides himself. 

It wouldn’t be until much later than your initial meeting where these feelings would be fully swayed– passed when you got to know him better and saw his standoffish mask fade away, revealing a loyal, surprisingly warm man– passed becoming romantically involved with him and finding him putting aside his own slight needs at times to fulfill yours– passed even your first pregnancy together. 

It was the day of your child’s birth that you knew just how much of a kind-hearted creature your partner could be. 

You already knew that he wouldn’t be able to attend the birth. He was a known “terrorist” after all. The sight of him in a hospital would only end in havoc.

Those people— always quick to label anyone who won’t conform under their oppression with such othering terms.

You gave a quick glance to your sleeping daughter, immediately feeling a heaviness in your heart. The picture just wasn’t complete without Dabi.

Yes, it hurt to be alone but you reminded yourself that you would soon return from the hospital to reunite your little untypical family.

But for the moment, you could only sleep and let your body heal from child birth.

A familiar sound suddenly chipped away at your peaceful unconscious, “You are so beautiful. Just like your mom, huh?”

Was that Dabi?

You tried to pry your heavy eye lids open and call out to him but only a slight tired groan came out.

“Go back to sleep, Y/N,” you felt a warm hand rub your cheek, “You did a good job. Rest up,” you tried to fight against your sleepiness but the soothing nature of his touch eventually dragged you back to sleep.

“You are perfect. I… I didn’t know I could feel so much for one person. God, I am going to spend every moment of my life protecting you until the day I die, baby girl.”

“Dabi!!” You gasped. You finally snapped your body up, and ignored the searing pain in your lower abdomen and you crazily searched the room for the father of your child.

Your heart sagged at his absence.

However on the visitors chair next to your daughters plastic crib was a large array of pink stuff animals and hearts.

You dragged yourself off of the bed and scuttled to the display of rosy penguins and pigs and bears and saw a card with a lone pink balloon on the front.

Curiously, you slowly opened the card,

I hope this doesn’t gross you out, me being all soft and everything, but as soon as I saw her I wanted to give her absolutely everything. My baby girl is the most precious thing I have ever seen.

I’m so proud of you. You did a good job, babe. Heal up and come home soon, kay?

I can’t wait to hold my girls again.  

🐊Kirishima:

He was beyond happy to become the father to your children. Words wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the pure and overwhelming feelings of joy that he felt as he bounced out of the doors of the drug store near your house.

He glanced down to a torn piece of a magazine the two of you had lying around the house, checking the small list he made one more time before he left the stores premises: 

Vitamin B6

 A plush crocodile

flowers 

Left Twix

pregnancy test

Yep! All accounted for! He had practically no trouble at all finding most things on the list, but the plush crocodile was a bit harder than he expected.

He had asked an associate about the plush toy in hopes of finding it, but they only had alligators.

“But this is a stuffed alligator. See?” As Kirishima pointed to the stuffed animals face, the associate only became confused, so Kiri explained further, “The nose shape is all wrong. It has to be a crocodile? Are you sure this all you have?”

It was indeed all they had. Kirishima let out a small sigh, but honestly not even the drug store’s reptile discrimination could bring his day down!

“My wife is pregnant!” He exclaimed with an extremely proud smile to a couple he passsed as he made his way into his car. One of the strangers immediately cheered him on with a loud “whoop whoop!” before his boyfriend smacked him on the shoulder for the wild display.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t believe how long it was taking your husband to return home from the store. You bounced your leg uncomfortably as you waited on your living room couch.

He was only supposed to be picking up one thing! The longer you sat and waited for him to return, the more your nerves stacked upon each other.

You’re heart flipped in your chest as your front door suddenly opened. You quickly stood from the couch, “You got it?”

He hurried up to you, “Yep! Here, go take the test!” He pressed a kiss on your cheek and frantically handed you an already opened pregnancy test like a baton in a race.

You raised an eyebrow to him, before pausing as you caught a glance at the flowers in his other hand. You shook your head in disbelief, “Eiji look, I told you not to get too excited,” you pointed an accusing finger as you walked away toward to bathroom, “The test we took was old. It might have been a fake positive,” you hollered from the bathroom after shutting the door.

He followed you to the bathroom, but remained fidgety on the other side, “Well I know for a fact that it wasn’t a fake positive,” he replied with a slightly smug tone as he tried to mask his own nervousness.

“Oh yeah?” You laughed at his smugness, “Well… would that be such a bad thing?” You tried to sound lighthearted as you stared at the stick in front of you and waited for the second line to appear.

The two of you hadn’t really been planning for a child. You hadn’t ever really even talked about having children much, so when you missed your period last week and became sick this morning, this response from Kirishima was very unexpected.

He was way happier than you would have thought he would be. Just when you thought your beam of light couldn’t get any happier….

God, you didn’t want to let him down.

Suddenly Kirishima heard you scream on the other side of the door.

The man immediately burst through the door accidentally busting a portion of the frame, “Oh man, S-sorry. But WHAT IS IT!?”

“Happy face!” A smile split your face as you threw yourself at him for a hug.

“T-that means pregnant!?” He frantically stuttered, frozen in place.

“That means pregnant!” You hopped up and down.

He wasted no time at all as you scooped you up into his arms. The both of you laughed in unbelievable glee as he carried you to the living room and sat you down on the couch. He swiftly handed you the flowers, “Here you go, baby mama.” You laughed at his phrasing as he reach somewhere behind him to grab his drug store plastic bag.

“And these,” he smiled up at you, “for your stomach.”

Chocolate and…. B6?? What even is that? You threw him a confused glance, so he immediately explained.

“I was talking to a lady by the pharmacy about your morning sickness,” no wonder he took so long, you laughed at his diligence as he continued, “She said B6 can help. So the vitamins will do good for your stomach, and the chocolate will taste good for your stomach.”

Your face almost hurt from how hard your were smiling, “God, you really went all out! You really are hard headed you know that?”

“Only the best for my girls,” he argued as he pulled the stuffed alligator from behind his back.

“Oh my goodness!!” You explained with a laugh, the two of you always got each other crocodile things. The first thing you ever said to him in high school was a mocking joke about his choice in footwear—crocs. You laughed, “You think its a little girl, huh? Well, I think it’s a hard headed little boy just like his dad.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he said as he pecked you on the lips.

“I guess we will.” You smiled back at him.

🐻Shigaraki:

The two of you weren’t exactly on the greatest of terms. What was meant to be a drunken fling ended up turning into, in your opinion, a long, drawn out train-wreck of a relationship– if you could even call it that. 

You swear that that man has the mentality of a child, and it seemed like every time he would take a step toward the grand goal of maturity, something would come by and knock him two steps back again. 

So it was obviously not a shock to you that the overgrown baby was no where near prepared to raise a baby of his own. You almost expected him to storm off sooner than he did when you told him you were pregnant.

But he just stared at you.

“What? Would you stop staring at me like I’m some alien now?” you had thrown your hands on your hips as if to undermine any overwhelming feelings he had, “You did this to me!!” you had foolishly screamed at him, causing him paused in shock before storming away as you feared he would.

How could you say that to him? Then again, you knew you had your faults as well. After all you were the one who hid the pregnancy until you had begun to show. 

It was just too much for you to bare– the thought of being left alone to raise a snotty little thing, the thought of him staying and you being forced into a failing relationship, the thought of what kind of fucked up hero society you would raise the thing in. All of these thoughts festering in your mind over the past few months boiled into a harden crust and weighed down upon your mind. 

“Shit…” you sighed under your breath, finally releasing the flood of emotions that you had been holding back for all of these months in a wave of tears.

“Y/N,” Shigaraki’s voice suddenly snapped you out of your despairing trance, “Here,” he harshly shoved a soft object into your face much like a student would an unseemly note to his classmate. 

You looked down at the object and was completely surprised by what you saw, “A bear…?” you gawked at the plush object. He hadn’t ever bought you any gifts before.

“I wasn’t planning on staying with you,” he said very simply, his words sending a sharp pain through your heart.

Your still teary eyes blinked a few times as you tried to hold back your inevitable crying, “O-okay? I-“ he suddenly cut you off,

“I’m not as stupid as you might think. I can see that you are unhappy with me, so I was gonna just drop this… us,” he trailed off as if he were carefully preparing his next set of words, so you sat in silence and waited for them,

He finally spoke, “but knowing that we are expecting a child makes me really happy. Because it’s with you. I will… try to make you happier.”

You immediately wrapped your arms around him and held him closer to you than you ever had before, as if you were finally becoming one with him. You honestly didn’t know if the two of you would work out, but hearing those words come from him would make all of the difference in the possibility.

💥Bakugou:

“GOD DAMMIT! THE BRAT’S ON FIRE AGAIN, Y/N!!” You heard your husband screech from the other side of the house.

“WHAT?! ALREADY!?” You gave a groan in annoyance as you walked down the hall. You could already see light from the flames your son was probably swallowed up in in your living room. You shook your head in exasperation.

As soon as Bakugou spotted you coming, he threw you and expectant look, causing you to throw you hands on your hips as you chastised him, “Well, don’t just stand there looking at me! Grab the extinguisher!”

He immediately became defensive, “What do you think I am trying to do, you idiot! I can’t find it!” He roared back over your sons terrified screams.

“What do you mean you can’t find it?! We have one in every room now!” You screamed back as you picked up your son and hugged him close. The boy dropped something from his hand as you did so.

It was a blessing that you had just come back from work and had your fireproof hero costume on. You already had a full store of clothes that your young toddler had burned through. You patted him on his flaming back in a feeble attempt to soothe him. He continued wailing still.

Your poor baby! You knew he had your fire proof cells, but he was still terrified.

“Babe! Where’s that damn extinguisher!?” You called out.

“You must have moved it earlier this morning when he scorched your shirt!” He accused angrily.

“Oh crap. Well, grab the one from the kitchen, or playroom! And that was more than a scorch and you know it! My favorite blouse looked like a teenage bonfire,” You tried to defend yourself.

“Put me out mommy! Put me out!” Your son sobbed, clinging tightly to your chest as the flames raged around him, “we need ‘wata’!” Your heart broke a little at his hiccups and gasps,

“We can’t use water, baby,” your fire breathing quirk along side Bakugou’s oily nitroglycerin sweat resulted in a pretty terrifying combination for a small child who had a habit of setting himself on fire. The oily fire would only surge if you used water to extinguish it. That’s why you had special extinguishers made just for these occasions, “if DADDY FINDS AN EXTINGUISHER you’ll be okay! Remember? It doesn’t hurt.”

Bakugou suddenly burst back into the room, “I FOUND IT!” He screeched like a battle cry as you held your son an arms length away. Much like you often practiced, Bakugou flipped the nozzle of the red container and released the foamy continents as they sprayed all over your son.

You quickly calmed him down and cleaned him off as Bakugou ran to grab him some more clothes. The two of you worked like a well oiled machine as you swiftly dressed him and consoled him out of his sobs.

Your son eventually cried himself into a nap, meaning you’d have at least 2 hours to prepare for the next inevitable incident. You sighed as you slumped down onto the couch next to an already sprawled Bakugou, “What are we gonna do with this boy,” you shook your head.

“Train him how to use his damn quirk,” he huffed.

You sat up defensively, “We do!”

“Yeah, a few minutes a day,” he spat back.

“He’s a toddler, Katsuki, Jesus!” your face upturned.

“Tell him that! He’s the one spontaneously combusting!” he loudly argued, “Besides, he’ll be four in like a month.” 

It was a rare occurrence that he obtained his quirk so early. The two of you hadn’t expected it for years. 

But doctors theorized that quirks would soon come earlier in age as their power grew— your son might just be among the first of a new era. Different things like diet, stress, activity could all also trigger the quirks to come sooner.

“Well the doctors said his outbursts could be stress related!” Your face shriveled. You weren’t so ignorant to think that yours and Katsuki’s interactions weren’t stressful for a small child. It’s not that you guys weren’t happy together. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Loud and passionate was just the dynamic that the two of you shared, but your son was gentle and nervous somehow. Much like your brother. You shook your head as guilt ate away at your heart, “God, only three years in and we are messing him up already.”

“He’s not fucking messed up!” Your husband argued “He’s perfect!” He announced proudly. This sent a wave of happiness into your heart.

You never really expected Bakugou to be the doting father type, but he had pleasantly surprised you the past few years at how passionate he was about raising your son. Of course there were times where you would question his harsher parenting methods, but all in all, he was a very good, supportive, present father.

You looked up at him proudly, “Yeah,” you agreed with a soft smile.

“Plus, I fixed our plush toy issue,” your husband huffed, “that probably why he was easier to calm the hell down than usual.”

“Our… what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You really didn’t notice? Are you fucking serious?” He sounded almost hurt, “You said he get’s even more worked up when he’s upset about melting or destroying his toys during his tantrums. So I fixed that problem,” he pointed to the scorched carpet in front of you and that’s when you noticed a small, unscathed plush doll.

Your heart melted. It was a little cute Ground Zero doll! “Oh! Wow! How long has he had that?!” You excitedly exclaimed as you bent down to pick up the fluffy Bakugou.

“I just had the agency brand them yesterday. It’s a fireproof prototype,” he gruffly explained nonchalantly. You immediately leaned over to him to give your thoughtfulness sweetheart of a man a kiss but he harshly threw his face away from you so you only caught his cheek.

All these years, and he still hated affection, “Whatever,” you huffed,  “I have a new man anyway,” you teased, causing him to angrily whip his head back towards you, only to see you placing a kiss on the small plushie.

“YOU ARE SO FUCKING WEIRD, YOU KNOW THAT!?!”

Suddenly you heard an explosion coming from your sons room, followed by familiar terrified wails, “MOMMYYY! PUT. ME. OUUUUUUT!”

Both you and Bakugou sighed before you angrily punched him on the arm for his loud mouth.

#bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #kirishima x reader #mha imagines #mha imagine #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima imagine #bakugou x reader #shigaraki imagine #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #pregancy #plush doll

[sundaywonder]

the lost song : yoonmin

Getting ready to start fresh in life, physical education professor Park Jimin is just waiting to migrate to Australia with his daughter and girlfriend. Everything gets topsy-turvy when world-class music producer Min Yoongi—and also his secret ex-boyfriend—comes back home to South Korea to marry his it-girl fiancé. If that wasn’t bad enough for Jimin, Yoongi invites him to the wedding. It gets worse; it leaves him no choice but accept it to avoid spilling the beans.

Although the worst happened back then, it’s not enough for their forsaken what-ifs and unsaid feelings from making itself clear. The situation makes Jimin realize how jaded he was without Yoongi all the years they were apart—and vice versa. As they slowly pick up the broken pieces of the past, reality hits hard back at them again. There are two choices: to give up on love and live in the present or to run away and never look back.

Genre: Romance, Adult Fiction, Melodrama, Erotica

Fandom: BTS, BLACKPINK, Red Velvet, IU

Pairing: Suga & Jimin, Jimin & Rosé, Suga & Jennie, IU & Jungkook, Wendy & j-hope

Rating: M or R-18 — contains sensitive themes, strong language and graphic depiction of sexual activity

Status: Ongoing — 6/12

Link: Wattpad, ao3

Excerpt: The Flower Bloomed — 10 Years Ago

Yoongi, 20

I hurriedly go down the stairs while vigorously drying my head with a towel. I knew I would oversleep. Aside from being a deep sleeper, I’m also not used to waking up as early as 7 a.m. Nine is still pretty early if you’d ask me. The cool air last night made everything even worse. I shouldn’t have opened the windows.

Good thing my grandma heard Aunt Hyeja yelling outside our house. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have even noticed that her and our other neighbors’ missed calls and text messages.

“Make sure none of the kids get injured, okay? We don’t have money for their hospital bills if ever,” reminds grandma as she followed me down. I don’t hear and comprehend what she said until five seconds later.

“Got it. Bye.” When I get out of our gate, I immediately see Aunt Hyeja who was waiting for me outside.

“We’ll get going, Auntie Dooshim!” exclaims Aunt Hyeja.

“Alright, have a safe trip!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I really am.” She walks so briskly that I have a hard time catching up with her. Regardless, I feel like that’s how should it be; I must walk maybe two or three steps behind her after what I’ve done.

“Don’t think about it anymore. The kids are already in there. You know our numbers so contact us immediately if anything goes wrong. There’s a ton of food on the table so feed yourselves when you get hungry. Don’t leave at least one of them unattended. Never attend to the gate if it’s a stranger and refrain from telling them that an adult is not present—oh, how old are you again?”

“Twenty.”

“My bad. It slipped my mind that you’re already an adult. Anyway, did you understand everything clearly?” I just nod. Aunt Hyeja doesn’t seem to be mad but it’s fairly obvious that she’s already dying to leave. I discreetly peek at her watch which says 7:15 a.m. I can’t help but shake my head. I reminded myself endless times to do well in this babysitting gig but I still ended up ruining the first thing about it. There must be something really wrong with me.

After arriving in front of the home of my best friends, brothers Seokjin and Taehyung, she tells me, “Also, your Aunt Misun told me that Jimin won’t be able to attend the excursion because he’s sick. He’s going to be home alone today so I told him that he can contact you if he needs anything.”

I gulped as soon as I heard Jimin’s name and forced myself to act nonchalant. “W-what happened to him?” It was definitely hard to do so.

“He has fever,” she replied. “Don’t you guys get more written projects in lieu of not attending out-of-the-classroom activities?”

“Yes.”

“So, does it mean you like completing paperworks instead of attending trips and such?” I just let out a fake chuckle and nodded. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit with her when I say that I don’t like socializing and going to places with a lot of people. Aunt Hyeja is a social butterfly and—I don’t want to sound like I’m judging her (but maybe I am)—she’s not exactly the type of person to bother understand things deeper if it doesn’t concern her. Besides, it’s lengthy and we’re not that close for me to open up to her. An awkward giggle is probably better than an explanation.

The Kims already left when I entered and all the four kids were sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not even noticing my entrance. I decide to just sit on the floor and watch TV in low volume. My body is asking for me to sleep so badly that pinching myself isn’t working anymore. A faint regret is starting to form in my chest but I cut it out immediately.

After getting bored of the morning makjang drama that I forced myself to watch, I turn around to check on them. Jingoo—a cousin of Seokjin and Taehyung, as well as Namjoon who is also a cousin of the two—is already up but still lying on his stomach while silently watching the drama with me. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t say a word and just shifts his eyes back at the screen.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I ask. Jingoo just nods. “What did you eat?”

“Seaweed rice balls and jeon.”

“Tell me when you’re hungry.” He just nods once again.

Our conversation awakens Taejoon, Chanbin and Yeongyu. Unlike Jingoo, they wanted to eat so I prepared the food that was left for us. Being alone with these kids who I barely know suddenly makes me feel weird for some reason. It’s probably because I don’t have any experience in babysitting. So far, it’s an alright deal. The money is good and you practically get paid to stay at home.

I leave them and go back to the living room, sitting beside Jingoo’s feet who hasn’t moved an inch ever since he woke up. “Where did they go?” He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“A trip.”

“Event aunt and uncle? I thought it was a school trip.”

I let out a sigh and close my eyes. Some sort of hot energy constantly forms in my head the longer I talk to this kid.  “I don’t know why. Ask them when they come back later.”

It got rowdy when they started to play. This is way worse than I imagined. Toy cars and guns are all over the place and I need to remind them every two to three minutes that they shouldn’t be shooting bullets on the TV screen, as well as the vases and figurines. None of my words seem to get to their tiny heads.

I take back what I said. I don’t want to this ever again. I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Even my friends. We weren’t anything like this. Not even close. We were well-liked by the neighborhood in general because of that.

Out of the blue, my phone suddenly vibrated. My heart almost dropped on the floor when I read Jimin’s name on the screen.

[JIMIN :)

1 NEW MESSAGE]

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound like it wanted to get out of my chest. I took a deep breath before flipping my phone and pressing View.

[JIMIN :)

Hey, can I go there? It’s getting a little boring here.]

[ME (draft)

Of course! Bring what you need!]

I delete it before I could even think twice. I cringed at what I just typed.

[ME (draft)

Okay, but it’s a little loud here]

Maybe not. He might end up not going if I say that.

[ME

Sure]

[JIMIN :)

I’ll bring ramen]

[ME (draft)

Okay]

I press the end call button and just fold my phone instead. I immediately go to the bathroom and wash my face with soap and water. I run my wet hands through my hair as well. Just as I got out, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t shoot on anything!” I yell before walking out the door.

“Hey,” greets Jimin as soon as I open the gate. Unlike his usual self, the gloomy aura surrounding him can be clearly felt. His face and shoulders seem wretched as well.

“Are you alright? You look so pale.”

“Trying to be.”

“Stay in Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s room if you want to get some rest. It’s a little rowdy in the living room.”

“Thanks. I’ll go text him.”

As soon as I hear Seokjin’s bedroom door close, I make an announcement to the kids. “Jimin’s sick. Don’t make any loud noises from now on.” It did subside but only for a short while. “You kids, anyone who makes loud noises will not get to eat lunch.” They stop playing tok look at me with a weird expression on their faces, as if they’ve never heard someone say such a thing to them before. A hint of fear can also be seen. I fucked up again, didn’t I?

Unlike what I said, I started to prepare lunch when the clock hit noon. The kids gathered at the table and chowed down as soon as the food was ready. Meanwhile, I got my own food and ate in the living room.

[ME (draft)

Hey, lunch is ready. Can you go down here?]

[ME

Lunch is ready, feel free to eat here.]

[JIMIN :)

What’s for lunch?]

[ME

Pork belly, barbecue, dumplings, rice and kimchi]

[JIMIN :)

Damn, will go there ASAP]

I wipe the droplets of sweat on my forehead. My breath keeps on running as if they are trying to get away from something… or someone. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about this. It only makes me go crazier and crazier. Even my well-trained emotional suppression skills are barely working. Helpless, hopeless—that’s what I am.

“Hey!”

“Shit!” I hold to my chest in shock and turn around. “I-it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You okay? You’re deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice me pass in front of you,” asks Jimin.

I shake my head. “I just zoned out.”

“Shit!” Taejoon mimicks while the other three laugh.

“Shit!” Chanbin and Yeongyu repeat in unison which makes them laugh even harder.

“Are you kids an adult to say that?” I ask.

“Shit!” The three exclaim, not even bothering to answer me.

Suddenly, I hear Jimin giggle softly—making me look back at him. “So, you can already laugh. Feeling better now?”

He just nods with a faint smile and takes a spoonful of kimchi stew. “Mmm, delicious. Did you cook?”

“Nope, one their parents probably.”

Neither of us talked after that; I just pretended the focus on my food while his eyes wandered around the place. Even though it feels like I need to say something, not a single word’s coming to my mind. My mouth is left agape from the urge to speak but not knowing what to say. For some reason, it seems to me that he’s feeling the same way. But how can I know for sure?

The kids come back to the living room not long after they have finished eating. I couldn’t thank the heavens enough; this is the only time today that I’ve actually become happy about their presence. Before they can even settle on their seats, I stand up to play the first Disney DVD my hand landed on: The Incredibles.

Jimin passes behind me so I look at him. He’s bringing my dirty plate with him to the kitchen. “Hey, s-sorry. You didn’t have to.”

He looks back and says, “Huh?”

“The plate.”

“Psh. It’s nothing.”

I follow him to the sink where he’s silently washing the dishes. He almost looks like he’s zoned out and submerged in his deep thoughts.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell from his back.

“Sh—!” He accidentally loses his grip on the plate he’s holding. It falls back to the sink, causing a small chip on the edge. “Oh, no…”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I try to catch my breath. The plate looks expensive with all those blue Chinese prints. It most definitely came from an expensive dinnerware collection and Mrs. Kim would kill me if she sees this. I might have to babysit for nine or ten more times just to pay for the damage.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

“But it looks expensive!”

“I was the one who lost grip on it, what are you being so worried about?” Jimin says with a faint giggle. I’m not buying it; he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Also, wanna watch?” He nonchalantly asks.

“This?” I ask back, pointing at the TV.

He just shakes his head. “Seokjin has a big collection up there.” I just looked blankly at him, deliberately making it obvious that I need more details to get what he’s saying. “Sola Aoi, Asami Yuma, Haruna Hana and so much more. We have everything we need up there!” I feel my whole body suddenly heat up upon hearing what he just said and my legs seem like they want to give up on me. “Hey, you okay?”

“Th-the kids…”

He takes a peek at them. “They’re already asleep.”

I look back at the kids and close my eyes in panic. Images of him being half-naked while beating off instantly flash in my mind. I vigorously shake my head along those thoughts. I can’t count how many times I saw him naked in the past. We even used to take a bath together along with the other guys when were younger. But this time everything’s different, especially to me, and it sucks big time. “Okay, then…”

He opens the dish dryer and puts all the now-squeaky clean plates, glasses, spoons and forks. “Don’t be so nervous. They’ll probably stay asleep until twilight or something.”

“Maybe,” I replied to him even if his words just seemed to bounce against my head. Naked. Naked. Naked. My mind just doesn’t seem to get tired about this goddamn word and keeps asking for more. Now, even the way he looks and smiles at me is starting to mean something else.

Jimin grabs my arm and pulls me until we reach Seokjin’s room. Before I could even react, the door was already locked and his pants and underwear were on the floor. My manhood starts to throb and harden as soon as my eyes lands on his half-naked body. He’s grown much bigger and thicker ever since I last saw him. That was a few years ago—same situation as now but with Hoseok and Taehyung, minus the feelings. To stop myself from completely breaking down out of panic and ruining everything for good, including our friendship, I just turn my head at a random teddy bear on Seokjin’s bed.

I sit beside him on the carpet and before also taking off my short pants and underwear. A strange kind of electricity seemed to charge on my body when I saw him look at my manhood. His mouth slightly gaped but he immediately closed it and focused on operating the DVD player. Since the tapes weren’t labeled, we don’t know what those contained. Jimin chooses just whatever. The video begins, and we see Sola Aoi who was wearing a provocative nurse uniform enter the hospital room where the middle-aged male patient was in.

I lean on the bed to relax and force myself to focus on the film. Jimin’s already starting to touch himself. He looks back at me with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. It’s been a while since I did this with them but I’m sure we didn’t look at each other while beating off, or maybe I’m just forcing weird meanings. At this point, I can’t even trust myself anymore.

I couldn’t help but start to actually beat off as soon as Sola started to moan. All of us in our group likes her the most for how irresistible she sounds when she’s getting fucked. It makes the film feel like 5D.

The film already ended but neither of us reached climax yet. When I was almost there, I stopped. I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to do so. As I try to catch my breath, I watch him while he did his business.

To my surprise, Jimin also stops and joins me in leaning on the bed, panting hard. He looked at me straight in the eyes, then his gaze dropped on my lips. “They look dry…”

Before I even knew it, our lips were all over each other and his tongue has successfully penetrated my mouth. Jimin’s hands start to explore inside my shirt before pulling it off of me. He removes his own next. My hands are frozen on his groin in disbelief. Everything seems like a dream but all of these are a hundred percent real.

“Jimin…” I mindlessly say.

“Do whatever you want to do to me.” He grabs my hand and places it on top of his manhood. “Don’t hold back.”

I pull his head and kiss him hard before pushing him down. Only God and I know how much he looks good with nothing on but his golden rolo chain necklace. “As long as you let me, I won’t.”

—

If you’re reading until here, thank you so much! The Wattpad and ao3 links where you can read the whole story are available above.

#yoonmin #yoongi #jimin #bts fic #bts smut #professor!jimin #producer!yoongi #yoonmin fic #btspink #btsvelvet #iukook #wenhope #jirose #yoonnie #blackpink #red velvet #model!jennie #artist!rose #namjoon #j-hope #hoseok #rm #suga #v #taehyung #jin #seokjin #jungkook #lee jieun #bts fanfic

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Twenty Eight

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex, mentions of miscarriage, hanging.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

—

Absolution

“You’re a God damn idiot.”

Clenching her jaw, Ada raised her eyes to the woman whose life she was trying to save.

“Excuse me?”

Shaking her head, Sadie raised her eyebrows, practically wheezing out her breaths. “You’re an idiot. You’re not gonna go with ‘em? Gonna stay here with the sick and dyin’?”

“You’re not dying,” Ada muttered, the words cutting at her again as she pressed the scarf hard against the wound.

Sadie hissed out a sound that was a jumble of a curse and a prayer, having to take a few breaths before she spoke again. “Well, I’m gonna go.”

Christ, she’s even more stubborn than Millie.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am. Was gunna go even if you hadn’t’ve stayed. Just thought it’d get y’all off my back if I agreed with ya.”

The hand Sadie pushed her away with was gentle, but she also used the grip to help herself up, inhaling a sharp breath. Ada’s mouth dropped open as she looked at her, releasing an exasperated breath. Meeting Charles’s gaze incredulously, she raised her eyebrows.

“Charles, please help me here.”

The wounded man, leaning against a rock and sat in the snow, just shrugged his good shoulder as he shook his head. “You know we can’t stop her.”

She looked to Sadie again and found her smiling faintly as she reloaded her guns.

He was right and Ada hated it.

Licking her lips, she released another breath, this one resigned. “Fine, all right. But please just let me tie this around you.”

“Fine.” Sadie raised her arms to give Ada space as she rose up on her knees, winding the scarf around her torso and tying it tightly.

Once she was satisfied, Ada stood, wiping the blood from her gloves onto her coat. She hoped Abigail wouldn’t mind too much, all things considered, and, well, if she even survived. Glancing at Sadie, she didn’t know how the other woman was still standing. She was leaning against the rock, but the determination and fury she could see on her features must have been what was keeping her going. Ada wished she felt even a small drop of that. She still just felt nothing. Even when she’d watched Arthur and John go ahead, no emotion had overwhelmed her, no fear, no anxiousness. She knew she was pushing it all away, that at some point she’d break, if she didn’t die.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that, too, as they’d made the journey to the mountain and up it.

I could die at any moment.

The thought of something so final, so shattering to those that she loved, happening just... it was just a possibility. Not something that she would endeavour to avoid, just... something that might happen. And she didn’t know why. Numbness just overwhelmed her.

“You comin’?”

Sadie’s voice brought her back to the mountain, her eyes darting up to her. Her friend’s eyebrows were raised but concern was starting to seep into her gaze. Ada didn’t want to see it. Nodding, she cleared her throat as she looked to the path ahead.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re making their way through.”

Shots echoed up from wherever the men were, a small comfort to them.

“That it does. Charles?”

Ada turned just in time to see Charles nod as he got to his feet with a jagged breath. “Yeah, I’m comin’. Don’t know what good I’ll do, though.”

“Just watch our backs,” Sadie said with a small smile, gun gripped firmly in one hand. “Now let’s go.”

They came across the three dead men in the snow, uncomfortably close to where they’d been, and moved over them, Charles hanging back for a couple of moments to take what ammunition he could find. Bodies littered the way as they followed John and Arthur’s boot prints in the snow, crimson blood staining the white, though they were still cautious, glancing up at the cliffs every few moments; Ada wouldn’t put it past any of Micah’s men to be lurking around, waiting. They could still hear the faint sound of gunshots, too, though they were growing closer.

Sadie stumbled, her boot falling further than she thought it was going to in the snow, and she cursed as the movement pulled at her side. She waved Ada off, however, as she approached to help. “I’m fine, I’m fine...”

They continued on, making their way through a narrow pass, and from the sounds of the shooting, Ada knew they had to be close now—

An explosion erupted, making the mountain shake.

“Fuck...” Ada gasped as she leaned against the rock, gripping onto it.

Sadie and Charles were doing the same, desperately hoping no fragments would break off and rain down on them. It held, though, and as the land settled, they glanced at one another.

They quickened their pace. Sadie moved surprisingly quickly ahead of her, but Ada hated the sound of her breaths, laboured and pained.

She hated more that the mountain was now quiet. They couldn’t be dead. They wouldn’t be dead.

They’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, they’ll be fine.

It wasn’t until, as they moved up a hill to an empty camp, they heard John’s voice that she felt herself take a proper breath, her shoulders dropping. He was calling for Micah, and as they came over the main peak of the camp and saw the watchtower, she saw the two men approaching it, alive and well, John continuing to call out.

“Ada.”

Tearing her gaze away, she looked to Sadie who was pointing to something in front of her. Following the direction, she found a sniper rifle propped against a crate. Shouldering her Repeater, she grabbed it, swiftly checking the condition and if it needed reloading.

“All right, good,” she murmured once she was satisfied, licking her lips and glancing up at Sadie. “You two stay...”

She trailed off at finding Sadie’s and Charles’s backs to her, their bodies rigid. Moving closer, her heart stuttering, she followed their staring gaze down towards the watchtower, and saw him.

Micah Bell stood before a firepit, arms lifted as he spoke though they were unable to hear his words.

“Oh, God,” Ada breathed, her grip tightening on the rifle. “He’s really here.”

“Yeah, he is,” Sadie murmured, a bite to her tone. “And he’s all alone.”

Ada’s gaze darted about the small camp down below and oh my God, he is.

She could feel a strange excitement starting to radiate off of Sadie as she shifted her stance.

“We could take ‘im alive,” she murmured to them, nodding. “We could take ‘im alive and let people see ‘im swing for his crimes. Get us all a decent reward, too.”

Ada glanced at Charles, who although he looked like he very much needed to sit down seemed to still be alert as he met her gaze, and she realised they could. They had the advantage here; it was five against one, no matter the state two of them were in, and there was no way Micah wouldn’t have sent his men out to face Arthur and John before he did... they could see him brought to justice and so could many others.

Nodding slowly, Ada licked her lips again. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I have an idea.” Turning to them, she held the rifle out. “You two stay here and keep an eye out with this, I’ll go down and—”

“Nah, lady, I’m goin’,” Sadie cut in, one side of her mouth lifting. “You’re stayin’ up here and keepin’ us safe.”

“Sadie, you can’t—”

“You got the steadiest hands here, Ada.”

Ada opened her mouth, then closed it as her gaze darted down to theirs. She wasn’t wrong there. Sadie’s were shaking slightly and Charles could barely hold his own gun now.

“Right, fine, I—”

Gunshots suddenly broke out down below and they flinched, their eyes darting to the men. They were firing at one another, John and Arthur taking for cover as Micah moved backwards, firing relentlessly at them.

“Shit...” Sadie hissed as their eyes fixed on their friends. “Ada, we don’t got time to argue about this, I’m goin’ down there now so you watch our backs, all right?” She continued even before Ada nodded, “If you need to take a shot and kill ‘im, do it, but we can take ‘im alive.”

“Okay, please be careful.”

“Oh, I will.”

Ada and Charles watched her duck low and move swiftly down the hill towards them, heading to the edge of the cliff. Gritting her teeth, Ada lowered to the snow, settling on her stomach, and aimed the rifle, peering through the scope at Micah.

Exhaling a long, slow breath, she settled her finger over the trigger.

—

Arthur’s heart, which he thought had stopped moments ago, was now racing.

Dutch was here. Alive. And with Micah.

He hadn’t changed, except for now having a full beard, and he, too, had a thick coat on. The large rings Arthur could have drawn from memory were still adorning his fingers, and his guns, one pointed at him and John, the other at Sadie, were the ones he had always had and prized. Arthur didn’t know to say, what the hell to do, but he didn’t have the chance to think anyway.

It happened so fast.

Micah spun, knocking Sadie’s arm aside and grabbing her. They grunted as they wrestled with one another, but Arthur would have been ashamed to have admitted later, if he’d had the chance, that he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from Dutch to see how she was doing. He felt John beside him, tense and hissing out curses as he watched, but Arthur just looked at Dutch, and Dutch looked at him.

The older man must have heard Micah greet them, must have had a few, private minutes as they’d shot at one another to process that he alive, so Arthur hated that his own feelings must have been playing out on his features now for all the world to see. His lips were parted, his eyes were wider and his gun wasn’t even raised. 

Dutch’s own features were expressionless.

Arthur had convinced himself, about a year or so ago, maybe even before, when Millie had been born, in a moment of pure happiness and contentment, that he’d forgiven Dutch, that, yes, he’d fucked everything, not handled it well at all, but he’d been doing what he’d thought was best for everyone around him.

Time had a fucking awful way of softening memories.

He saw now, despite everything that had happened, he’d still been trying to justify Dutch’s actions, to give him the benefit of the doubt... yet here he was, with Micah the rat still, and pointing a gun at him.

Dutch was the first to look away when Sadie released a yell through gritted teeth as Micah hauled her up from the snow where they’d been grappling and held her tight against him, his gun pointed at her head.

John was aiming his own gun at them, furious energy crackling through him as he just about managed to stop himself from lunging forward.

Micah knew this, a smile pulling at his lips as he gestured his gun at them. “Now, boys... Now... What were you sayin’?”

John swallowed hard, not knowing what the hell to do. Glancing briefly at Arthur, he found the other man frozen still, his fucking gun not even pointed at either of them, and not saying a damn word, just staring at Dutch. Looking himself towards the older man, John jerked his chin at him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here, Dutch?”

He just had one gun raised now, at him and Arthur. “Same as you, I suppose.”

He sounded so... unlike Dutch. Weary, John would have even said, like none of this mattered.

Micah, on the other hand, was drinking in every single moment. “Dutch and I are teamin’ up once more... We got money... We got dreams...” Glancing at Dutch, his gaze returned to John, his smile widening. “... Join us, boys... Join us.”

Arthur still wasn’t saying a fucking thing and John’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. He was aiming at Micah, the man’s arm still tight around Sadie, but he didn’t trust that Dutch wouldn’t fire at any moment and just kill him, end what he’d tried to let happen in those last few days. Licking his cracked lips, he exhaled a short breath.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

— 

Ada could hear her own breathing as she stared through the sniper-scope, her blood running cold, body frozen, and it wasn’t because she was lying in the snow.

“Is that...” Charles breathed beside her, “... What the hell is Dutch doing here?”

“I don’t know...” she heard herself whisper, “... I don’t know... I don’t know...”

This changed everything.

The fact he was still with Micah, after everything... She’d watched him walk away from Micah on that mountain, that was the one thing he’d done right in those last few days, the one thing that had given him a shred of redemption in her eyes over the years, yet here he fucking was... and he was aiming at Arthur.

She looked at her husband, saw how rigid he was and knew it wasn’t from the cold. There had been some dark days after the mountain, when he’d been recovering both physically and mentally. Days when he’d convinced himself he could have saved Dutch, that it had been his fault for not noticing the change in him sooner and the terrible things it had led to. She’d had to hold him, tears in her eyes and on his cheeks, and tell him over and over that he’d done all he could and it wasn’t his fault. It had taken some time, years, even, but on a quiet night soon after Millie was born, as they sat on their porch watching the sun set, he’d told her he'd forgiven Dutch. She hadn’t understood why or how he could, but she saw how at peace he was then at having done so, how relieved he was... and now that had been completely undone.

She didn’t think it was possible, but she’d never hated Dutch van der Linde more than she did right now.

Charles’s jagged gasp tore her from her thoughts and she watched as Micah drove Sadie into the snow, trying to wrestle the gun out of her hand. 

Lifting her head suddenly, Ada shoved the sniper rifle towards Charles, her heart racing.

“Stay here,” she murmured as she pushed herself up, “Don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

—

He wished he was just a few inches closer to Arthur so he could elbow him out of whatever had overtaken him without it being obvious. If he’d had time to think about it, he would have thought Arthur would have been enraged at the sight of Dutch, would have been demanding to know what the hell was going on, would have at least been aiming his gun at him, finger on the trigger.

But no, his brother was still silent.

Adjusting his grip on his gun, John kept it fixed on Micah. “Let her go.”

Sadie was staring at the ground, and probably wouldn’t have been upright if it hadn’t been for Micah’s grip, and the man just continued to smile.

“Now, I can’t do that, John.”

John could feel himself growing desperate and that was the last thing he wanted to show right now. “Dutch... Dutch, c’mon now!”

Dutch gazed at him, still expressionless. “You shot at me, son.”

“You shot at us first.”

All their eyes darted to Arthur as he finally spoke, his jaw clenched, voice tight.

Here was the anger now, and it seemed it had instantly provoked it in Dutch, too, his words bursting out of him.

“You betrayed me!”

“I could say the same thing. You left John for dead, me for dead. Didn’t even look back, after all them years.” Arthur’s tone was as cold as the silent air around them, though his gun remained by his side.

Dutch pressed his lips together, taking a few moments before he spoke. “I was tryin’ to do my best... you... you just cared for yourselves.”

“I think differently. All I ever did was care about you. I gave you my life, twenty years of it. Nearly died tryin’ to save you from this rat, yet here you are.”

The two men gazed at one another, silent as Arthur’s words lingered between them. It was Micah who broke the quiet.

“Join us, boys, c’mon... It doesn’t have to be like this...”

His arm was slightly higher around Sadie now, practically choking her, and she released a stuttered groan, trying to pull at it.

“Let her go!” John demanded, trying so hard to not take a step forward. “She ain’t well!”

“Do as he says.”

Micah’s barked laugh died on his tongue, and John felt relief wash over him as Ada appeared a short distance from his side, her Repeater raised.

Her gaze darted from the blond man to Dutch, and she saw nothing cross his features as he stared at her. 

And then a muscle in his jaw twitched and he raised his other gun to her.

“You—”

Arthur’s revolver ‘clicked’ as he aimed it at Dutch, the older man stilling instantly as his gaze shifted from the gun to him.

“I see,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” was all Arthur said, gaze fixed on him.

Micah’s laugh returned, long and exuberant. “Ooh, well, well, well, if it ain’t her majesty herself, still alive and kickin’!”

“Let her go.” Ada ignored him, echoing John’s words.

He sighed, grinning. “C’mon, now, I don’t wanna kill any of ya when we’ve just reunited. Join us! You can come, too, Miss Prissy Missy! If you’re good...” He tilted his head, leaning it against Sadie’s, the blonde woman gritting her teeth as she snarled. “Or are we just gonna stand around glarin’ at each other?”

“Dutch...” John’s voice silenced them all, even Micah falling quiet. He shook his head slightly as the older man met his gaze. “... Dutch, we all did our best for you. Ain’t our fault things turned out the way they did.”

He was silent.

“Killin’ us won’t solve anythin’, Dutch,” Arthur murmured, pulling Dutch’s gaze back to him. “John’s right, we did our best, and... Well, we came here for Micah, not you.”

Micah chuckled lowly, holding Ada’s gaze as he tightened his arm around Sadie. Ada grit her teeth, her finger hovering over the trigger.

Dutch looked between his two former gang members, former sons. It felt like a lifetime before he spoke.

“Do you remember the last time we were up in the mountains, all of us together... How long ago that was...”

John shifted slightly, unease weighing heavily on him like a rock. What was the point in this?

Arthur shifted, too, resting his weight on one foot as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, long time ago. Lot of things have changed since then, though, huh. Now John and I, we got families. He’s got Abigail and Jack, and Ada and I... we got a kid of our own, Dutch, and we wanna get home to her.”

Dutch gazed at him.

Micah barked out a laugh, raising his eyebrows at Ada. “You let cowpoke over there reproduce? Hell, the Lord save us all. What’s her name? Oh, go on, tell me,” he prompted at her silence.

Ada felt her lip curl as she stared at him, not knowing how she wasn’t pulling the trigger. 

"Amelia.” Arthur answered Micah, though his eyes remained on Dutch. “We call her Millie.”

Dutch still didn’t say a word.

“Ooh, well, congratulations on little Millie. Can’t wait to be introduced...” 

Micah laughed as Ada tried to take a step towards him, but John had swiftly reached out and grabbed her arm, keeping her in place.

"You fucking son of a bitch...” she hissed, her grip so tight on the Repeater her hands were almost shaking.

“You there when he killed that little girl, Dutch?” Arthur asked quietly, like it was just the two of them on that mountain.

Silence.

Ada and Micah weren’t looking away from one another, and Sadie was staring at her, too, wheezing out her breaths. John had released Ada’s arm but kept his hand slightly raised, just in case she went to lunge again, though he had half a mind to not stop her, while his other hand kept his gun trained on Micah, too. Arthur was still to the other side of him, so still... and Dutch... Dutch was silent still.

It enraged John, how passive he was, how unfeeling, and that he was here with Micah. He just couldn’t believe it. After all these years, after what Arthur and Ada had told him happened on that mountain...

“Say somethin’, Dutch!” he snapped suddenly, tired of the older man just standing there, like he hadn’t chosen this. “Say somethin’!”

Dutch glanced at him. “I ain’t got too much to say no more...”

They barely had time to take a breath.

Raising his other hand, Dutch aimed the gun held in it at Micah and fired.

The bullet tore through his torso as Sadie lunged out of his grip, falling to her knees. They should have gone to help her, but Ada, who had inhaled a sharp breath, and John and Arthur were frozen in their positions, eyes wide, lips parted.

Yet no one was more shocked than Micah. He stared at Dutch, watching the man holster his guns as he swayed slightly. Touching his gloved fingers against the hole in his chest, as if he couldn’t believe it was real, he marvelled, “You shot me.”

Then, he laughed, the sound horrible and low. Sucking in a breath, he nodded, teeth dragging over his lower lip.

“You shot me pretty good.”

His head rolled to the side, his eyes fixing on her, and Ada knew it was going to happen. Micah swiftly raised both of his beloved guns and aimed them at her and John. She didn’t hesitate. He was fast, but she and John were faster.

The sound of their bullets echoed across the snow, and not one of them was Micah’s. They buried into him and a spluttered, stunned groan slipped from his lips. He suddenly pressed them together tightly, confining strange sounds to the back of his throat as his arms dropped to his sides, his guns clattering on the rocky ground as they fell from his grasp. He gazed at them and his body turned a few moments later in a strange, jerking motion. His back to them, he took a few steps forward as he nodded again, raising his hands slightly, questioningly, and then his legs gave out. Collapsing forwards, Micah Bell died a second before he hit the ground.

Swallowing hard, it was several moments before Ada lowered her gun, her hands shaking.

She couldn’t believe it... she just...

“Thank you...” John said suddenly, stumbling over his words, no one else knowing what to say, the gesture awkward, but... Dutch had saved them. “I... I, uh...”

Her eyes darted to Dutch, who was gazing at John, then to the two men. They looked so utterly lost. They were boys again, for the briefest of moments, looking to their leader, father and friend in where to go from here. Arthur’s gun was by his side, as was John’s, and neither of them knew what to say. Was there anything to say?

Dutch didn’t seem to think so.

As John tried to find words, Dutch started to walk. When he passed the men, something akin to... disappointment shrouded his features, or maybe even faint contempt, anger. Or all three.

“Dutch.”

The older man paused at Arthur’s voice while John holstered his gun and hurried over to Sadie who was trying to get on her feet with a grunt. As Dutch turned to him, Arthur held the gaze of the man he’d have once died for, weariness overtaking him.

“We’re doin’ you a mercy here.”

Dutch didn’t react to the gentle warning, and for a few moments Arthur thought he wasn’t going to reply. 

“Maybe it is I who is doing the mercy.”

The warning had been reciprocated.

He turned away again as Arthur wet his dry lips, his heart pounding. He watched the man continue on, not looking back once.

Ada watched him, too, stepping to the side slightly so he could pass her. He paused before her, though, his eyes meeting hers. She didn’t look away and didn’t react, even though she had no idea what he was searching her gaze for. She didn’t know what possessed her to say it, either, as the silence went on. Perhaps it was the manners her mother had drummed into her.

Licking her lips, she cleared her throat. “I hope you can find happiness.”

She could have yelled at him, could have demanded justice for the death of her father but... what good would it have done? What would have been the point? Dutch was leaving without a fight, and he’d done them a favour. It would almost have been cruel to challenge him then, to execute him. She’d come to terms with the events of her life anyway, and killing this man wouldn’t bring her father back. Part of her told her she was just trying to be superior.

He gazed at her, mouth in a thin line, and she thought she saw a shine to his eyes.

She thought it was regret.

It was too late when she saw the rage that flooded his features.

Dutch lunged. 

He drew one of his guns in the same moment that he reached out and gripped the front of her coat, yanking her forward against him as yells erupted behind him. Her eyes were wide as she gasped, the Repeater falling from her hand, and she couldn’t look away from his furious gaze as he pressed the barrel of the gun against her chest.

A gunshot rang out and she flinched with a sharp gasp.

Dutch stared down at her, face inches from hers, exhaling short, harsh breaths. Tears slipped from his eyes as he blinked.

And then he choked as blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth.

He used his grip on her to steady himself now as he turned his head to look behind him, a quiet, strained sound coming from the back of his throat. 

Arthur didn’t move, his gun still raised, his breaths, visible in the cold air, coming slow and long.

Dutch released another strange sound, and his legs gave out. His gun fell from his hand as he dropped down to his knees, and he now gripped at the bottom of Ada’s coat. Wheezing his exhaled breaths, his other hand went to the hole in his stomach, as if, like Micah, he couldn’t quite believe it was real yet. He made another faint sound at feeling it. His hand resting over it, he gazed at the white snow behind her, his breathing jagged. His eyes moved after a few moments, trailing their way up towards the sky. A bird flew across the grey vastness of it, and when he blinked again, following it, tears dripped down his cheeks. The sun was trying to break through the thick clouds, a few shafts of light illuminating the dark feathers of the bird, before they were gone, vanishing as soon as they had come. His hand slid from her coat as he grunted, his body hunching over slightly, and his eyes fell shut. 

It was another moment or so before Dutch van der Linde collapsed onto the snow, dead.

Arthur stared at the body, finally lowering his gun. He exhaled a shaking breath, his shoulders dropping. Glancing at John, he found the younger man looking at him as he held Sadie up, eyes wide, but not shocked or saddened. He just nodded, and Arthur returned it, relieved beyond words that the guilt he had expected wasn’t coming. He returned his gaze to Dutch’s body, and he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in a very, very long time.

It was Ada’s heaving sob that finally made them all tear their eyes away from the body.

Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as another sob escaped her, her hand pressed against her left side, just above her hip.

Blood was spilling through her fingers.

“Oh, shit...” he heard Sadie gasp.

Arthur felt like a knife had pierced his heart as he swiftly holstered his gun and strode towards her. “Ada... Awh, shit, oh, sweetheart...”

Reaching her, one hand gripped her shoulder as the other pulled hers away from her side, and he froze, staring at the wound that was bleeding profusely. Pressing both their hands firmly over it, his eyes darted up to meet hers, his chest twisting unbearably.

She was crying so hard she was barely able to take a breath but she was mumbling over and over in between her sobs something he couldn’t make out.

“What’s that, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Fuck, shit, here, take this...”

He watched her try to take a breath as John suddenly appeared at his side, holding out a strip of material he must have torn from his shirt. Arthur took it with blood stained fingers and nudged her hand away before pressing it over the wound. 

She hissed as her features crumbled, and managed to take in enough of a breath to say clearly, “... it’s over, it’s over... it’s over...”

Her gaze dropped to Dutch’s body beside her as she sobbed, every feeling she’d suppressed in the last several hours overwhelming her.

It was over, it was truly, truly all over.

Arthur’s hand went from her shoulder to her cheek, cupping it and stroking it gently with his thumb as he tried to meet her gaze. “Yeah, they’re both dead, sweetheart, it’s okay...” He swallowed hard as he felt the blood against his fingers. “... Oh, my darlin’, shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, I thought with the angle you were at— Woah, hey, hey...”

Her legs had buckled and he caught her. Murmuring low, soft words, he swept her up into his arms, holding her against him.

The motion had pained her, he had seen it, and she gazed up at him, tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks. He swallowed again, having to blink to clear his vision.

“I’m so sorry, Ada, you’re gonna be okay, though, all righ’? We’re gonna get you some help.”

Her lower lip was trembling. “I’m fine... It hurts but...”

“All righ’, okay, we gotta get you to a doctor, though, all righ’? You, Sadie and Charles, okay?”

She nodded, one hand gripping at his coat as the other pressed the strip of John’s shirt against the wound. “I’m fine...”

He knew she was lying.

“Money...”

Blinking again, the voice almost startling him, he looked over at Sadie who was leaning against the wooden shack, looking so drained.

“What?”

She nodded at the watchtower, raising her eyebrows as she coughed. “Money from Blackwater should be in there...”

Arthur’s gaze darted to John’s before back to Sadie. “Really?”

She tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “You think I’d say somethin’ like that if it weren’t true?”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Arthur exhaled a breath. “We gotta get off this mountain and find a doctor.”

Sadie chuckled, standing upright. “I ain’t leavin’ without it, we deserve somethin’, don’t we?”

Arthur glanced at John again, watching him already heading towards the tower. Adjusting his grip on Ada, he shook his head.

“You can do all the searchin’ you want, I’m gonna get back to the horses and you should be righ’ behind me.”

Sadie waved her hand, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, right behind ya.” Taking a breath, she looked to Ada before back at him. “She okay?”

He nodded as he turned, heading for the hill. “She’s gonna be fine.”

His heart was thumping against his ribcage. Strawberry was miles away and he wasn’t familiar enough with the land anymore to know what ranches were around and if they would have a doctor, so that just left—

“Arthur.”

He paused at Sadie’s voice and turned back to her, having to bite back a snapped retort as he raised his eyebrows.

Her lips were pressed together, the weariness having returned, and sympathy with it. “Closest town is Valentine.”

His jaw moved. “I know.”

He continued on up the hill, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the snow. Had enough time passed? Would they have forgotten about him and the gang? Would a new sheriff have taken over?

Truthfully, he didn’t fucking care.

Gazing down at his wife, his chest tightened as he found her eyes closed.

“Sweetheart...”

Mercifully, they opened at his voice, though not fully.

He managed a smile, his thumb stroking against her arm. “You keep those beautiful eyes open, okay?”

Her tongue drifted across her dry lips. “It’s so cold.”

“Yeah, you gave your scarf to Charles, you remember, to keep ‘im warm? Then I gave mine to Sadie to help her, and John doesn’t have one but he gave you some of his shirt. Looks like we’ve all been swappin’.”

 “You haven’t got anything.”

He smiled again, feeling his eyes sting. “Oh, I get to have you for a few more decades, all righ’? You gonna give me that?”

He thought he saw the faintest of smiles on her lips as she nodded.

“Well, you keep those eyes open, then.”

“Okay.”

Reaching the top of the hill, he found Charles sat on a crate, a rifle in his hands, staring at the snow. Lifting his head, he suddenly rose to his feet at the sight of them and was shaking his head before Arthur could open his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find a safe shot, I tried to but I just couldn’t find it—”

“It’s okay, Charles, it’s all righ’.” He didn’t stop walking. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you both to a doctor.”

Charles followed by his side, gripping at his shoulder again. “Ada, are you okay?”

She hummed out a sound as her reply, and glancing down at her again Arthur found her eyes still open and fixed on the sky. Tears were trailing down her cheeks, and he knew she was trying to breathe steadily.

He hated the memory it dug up from the furthest corner of his mind.

Holding her tighter, he broke into a jog, fucking grateful that it was just downhill from here. Charles kept level with him, most likely grateful that it was just declines, too.

“Where are Sadie and John?”

“Back there. She said the money from Blackwater’s in the tower.”

“What?”

“I know.”

“How the hell did Micah and Dutch get it?”

“I don’t know.”

Charles fell silent, knowing his mind was elsewhere and there would be time for questions later... he hoped. His gaze dropped to Ada, watching her stare up at the sky. He had watched through the scope as Dutch had done the same, taking in his last few moments of life. He wanted to ask Arthur how he was feeling, if he himself was all right, but... questions later. 

They were silent the rest of the way down the mountain, barely glancing at the bodies they passed. Charles stumbled once or twice on the descent, but Arthur didn’t see, having taken the lead. Charles didn’t call out to him to slow down either, knowing he wouldn’t, and Charles didn’t want him to.

They found their horses grazing near the trees they’d left them at, their heads lifting instantly at the sound of them. Charles fumbled for something in his saddlebag as Arthur strode for Titan. Noka approached idly at scenting her mistress, but Arthur wanted to hold her as they rode because he didn’t trust that she’d stay upright. Even thinking that practical thought frightened him. Valentine was closer than Strawberry, but it was still quite a ride.

“There you go...” he murmured as he raised her in his arms, settling her on Titan as he gritted his teeth.

She gasped, her lips swiftly pressing together cutting it off.

The hand that had clutched his coat now gripped the pommel, her knuckles whitening, and he glanced up at her as he took Titan’s reins in one hand and prepared to mount and sit behind her.

His heart shattered.

She looked terrified.

—

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[not-poignant]

Hi Pia, I hope you’re well. Please feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal... but how do you deal with death as a concept when you have the chronic illnesses that you do? Are you afraid to die, and if you are, how do you keep from constantly thinking about how you could die early (so to speak) if your health takes a turn? I’ve had a lot of health scares recently and it’s getting harder and harder to just live without feeling constantly afraid. Thank you for everything you do.

Hi anon!

Firstly, I am very sorry to hear about your health scares. They suuuuuck. They really suck. I’m replying partly out of solidarity, but I don’t know if I have anything that will really work for you, because sometimes I really struggle to find things that work for me, but I’m happy to share what I’ve picked up along the way. <3 And I hope in the meantime that things pick up for you.

The timing of this is pretty spot on, in that I’m going through pretty serious scanxiety at the moment (what we call ‘anxiety around getting scans for cancer’ in my cancer support group that I’m a member of). I had a full body PET scan two weeks ago (no results yet), and I have a head/neck MRI on Friday, for which I can hopefully get the results Mon/Tuesday. But I don’t have my follow up with my Endocrinologist until late July, so I won’t know for about 6 weeks if I have any new tumours in my abdomen.

I definitely don’t want to die from this disease, and it will probably be the thing that kills me. Not any time soon, that’s less likely, but it’s just...likely overall. A lot of the statistics are stacked against me, I have three primary tumours in my head/neck, and there’s no indication that my body is going to stop growing them, and there’s no cure and likely to be no cure in my lifetime.

So yeah, I get anxious. I am afraid to die (I mean in general, unless I’m suicidal, but also specifically the way this disease is likely to kill me: progressively taking my hearing, my ability to swallow and talk, my ability to move my arms and my head and my neck, my sense of balance and ability to walk upright without collapsing, and more - which doesn’t even count metastatic disease - is a horrible way to die). And I live with the knowledge that like, it literally takes one scan result to change my entire life all over again (hence, scanxiety).

BUT, living in constant fear is just...not helpful. It’s understandable, it is an understandable emotional response, but it’s not a helpful response. Because what matters most in these scenarios is quality of life; and you get quality of life (in chronic illness and acute disease) by managing emotional outcomes as vigilantly and with as much self-compassion (and patience) as possible. So these are the things that work for me, if they don’t work for you, that’s fine, some might even feel completely wrong for you, that’s also fine and normal. The things we tell ourselves to cope in this are deeply personal. I hate the phrase ‘fuck cancer’ for example, other people who have cancer use it as a battle cry and feel strong because of it.

***

* ‘Can I literally do anything more than I’m doing to change the outcomes of my illness without hurting myself? No? Then admit you have no control over this and let it go.’ This is something I tell myself when I start panicking. ‘But what if I get this result what if this happens what if this tumour starts growing again what if.’ I just look at myself sternly and say: ‘HOW is this helpful?’ It’s NOT. Knowing the answers to any of those what ifs changes nothing in the moment except my anxiety, distress and fear levels. And then I say ‘so WHAT would be helpful? What do you have control over?’ And then I might wait and think... ‘well...I really like that Youtube channel One Meal A Day I might watch one of those videos’ or ‘well...I might journal about my feelings and give them some space (see further down) and then try and let them go because just cycling around them isn’t productive.’ Sometimes we hang onto anxiety because our brain convinces us it will somehow be helpful. With this stuff it rarely is.

* WORRY TIME. Yay worry time! Set aside 5-20 minutes a day (or every three days, or once a week, but you might need to start with once a day when things are really bad) to write down ALL of your worries about your illnesses. All the irrational things, the logical things, ALL of it, no matter how embarrassing. And omg, chase those worries down. Really sit and be with your worry. Give it space. Let it speak! But do it with the intention that once those 5-20 minutes are over, that’s it. You’re done. If your worries start up again, say gently to yourself: ‘You told me all of this during Worry Time, but if this is new, please save it for tomorrow, I will give you space to share with me then!’ Treat your worry like a little animal that doesn’t know any better, and has to be taught some boundaries. Worry Time becomes the boundary. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel anxious the rest of the time, just if you do, it’s easier to step back mindfully and go ‘huh, I’m anxious right now, that’s really interesting, but I’m going to do something about that tomorrow, and so for now I’m just going to acknowledge it but I’m going to try not to let it ruin my day.’

* ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be.’ This is Taoism, and some people hate it. I use this most often when I’m in excruciating pain, or terrified, or literally in a panic attack. I don’t know why it helps so much, but it does. And I think it’s because it works like this: ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be. Terrible things are happening all over the world. Other people are feeling pain like I am. Animals and plants go on living and dying. Right now everything in this moment is perfect messy imperfection and I am a part of that, a small cog in a huge ecosystem. I am a part of something, I belong in this, and I hate it - I really hate it - but even that is part of that messy imperfection. It just is. And therefore, I can release any attachment or urgency to change the things that I cannot change.’ And then...I will still be in pain, or having a panic attack, or terrified, but it will feel integrated and connected to me. It will feel like it’s a part of something. Still, ultimately, sometimes useless but...even useless excesses of terror are a part of the messy imperfection of life.

This leads onto the second:

* ‘In this moment, I am okay.’ Not like, literally 100% healthy. I’ll never be that. But I’m okay. I’m okay as a person and a human being who deserves love and comfort, and I’m okay to just grab another minute to feel okay. You can pair this with mindfulness meditation, and Smiling Mind has a great free app, and most of the meditations are between 5-8 minutes long. Sometimes ‘I’m okay’ doesn’t mean ‘I feel okay’ - and that’s okay too! I’m not trying to erase my emotions, I’m not trying to make myself never feel afraid of dying, that is an appropriate response to something that literally threatens my life but isn’t doing it urgently right this second. And because it’s not doing it right this second, well, right this second, I’m okay.

* Goals that have nothing to do with your health. For me, probably pretty obviously, it’s my writing and my art and similar. I have responsibilities towards my loved ones and my animal companions. Sometimes just...putting my head down and getting stuff done helps take my mind off things, and that also makes me feel productive and like I’m more than my illnesses. Socialising is a part of this. You are so much more than your illnesses, but you have to live that way too, that’s your responsibility to yourself, to remember that you are more, and then to embrace that in your actions (I mean, keeping in mind spoons/energy levels), even when you’re not always feeling it.

* Look at the things you can control and shore them up where you can. Like, consider writing a will. One of the things I’ve had to do is consider what I’ll do if I get sick so quickly I can never finish Fae Tales or never write anything again. These practical steps can be distressing, but sometimes they can answer background anxieties you didn’t know you had, and put them to bed. ‘I don’t need to worry about this, I’ve already done this part.’ Sometimes it’s just knowing that every time you see a specialist, you’re going to write down your questions, so you no longer need to worry about forgetting them. Things like that seem little, but they add up as background anxieties we do have control over.

* If you can afford it; Therapy. Depending on your illness/es, there may be support groups. Some are dodgy as shit (Fibromyalgia groups have categorically been the worst spaces I’ve ever encountered for genuine support), but generally speaking for serious illnesses, there are support groups. They can be an incredible resource. I help moderate the Australian/New Zealand Para/Pheo Support Group (there’s only one, lol), and like sometimes it’s depressing (people I care about do, on occasion, die), but knowing I’m not alone, knowing I can get advice about what to ask my surgeons or my Endocrinologists or Oncologists, especially for a rare disease? Fuck that’s so invaluable. And being able to help other people advocate for themselves has been really empowering for me.

* Don’t expect to get rid of your fear or anxiety entirely. If you’re alive and you’re human and you like life, you just can’t do that. So remember that when you’re feeling those things, you’re being a normal human being, and you are not alone (even when you feel like the loneliest person in the world, even that’s a part of it). It won’t fix those things, sometimes you can’t. Some days I just give as like, shit days, it happens. June I’ve given up as kind of a shit month honestly. Am I having good moments? Yes. Am I stressed every day about this disease? YES! Fun times. (I won’t be stressed every day if the scan results show that everything is the same tbh, like, then I’ll go back to ‘normal’ where I rarely think about it).

* Don’t write off the day until the day is over. I used to have this habit (and still can sometimes) of writing off the day as being ‘a bad day’ because of a terrible morning. I actually started this habit as a child, because of trauma and abuse, and it was something I kept doing because of mental illness. So this is something I was doing long before cancer came along and additionally kicked my ass. These days, even though I feel so bad sometimes I feel like hell, my entire life is a write off, I try and keep in mind that one thing can change the tone of the day and make it better. And that ‘thing’ can be me and my choices. And the fact is, even if I try some Youtube videos, or to pet my cats, or talk to friends, or whatever and it doesn’t work, at least I can look back and reassure myself: ‘You’re trying so hard, you’re really trying your best’ and also ‘you know this never lasts, it never has, you still have moments where you feel good, which means you’ll have a moment where you’ll feel good again. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

* Dark humour can be a saviour. Oh boy, can it ever. But be careful who you share it with.

* Gratitude for what you have now, and not what you might not in the future, because the future is an illusion, it’s not here now. But you are. I have a journal where I write down something I’m grateful for every day. Even if I’m feeling cynical and hateful and anxious and bitter. And then I might just say ‘I’m grateful for chips’ or ‘I’m grateful for that nice leaf I saw but nothing else’ lol. Just something. I’m grateful I can still hear, I might not hear one day, but I’m listening to a song right now. That matters. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can read this post. I’m grateful I can still write my books despite the mild cognitive brain damage I got from radiation. My gratitude doesn’t always feel warm or nice, but I am still, somewhere, deep down, glad I haven’t lost those things.

***

It’s hard, and many of these things take time to learn, and repetition, and getting back on the wagon when you forget. Some days they won’t help, and some days you’ll be so glad of one 5 minute mindfulness meditation it saves the whole rest of the day for you. Sometimes sleeping is a really good reset tool for the brain.

Some people find Buddhism helpful (all life is suffering can become pretty zen when you’re suffering), I found the philosophy of Taoism helpful on top of my regular paganism.

ANYWAY this post is now...2,200 words long fuck that’s longer than some of my university essays I’M SO SORRY so I’m going to stop. Just, please anon, from the bottom of my heart, be gentle with yourself. It’s hard. This stuff is hard. It requires an unfair amount of effort to make it less hard, but that’s all life gives us, because life never promised to be fair or just or compassionate to us. So we must be fair and just and compassionate to ourselves. And that, in its messy imperfection, is all we can do to be a perfect part of this world. <3

#asks and answers #personal #dodgy advice #i have made so many dark cancer jokes with glen #the rule with dark humour is that you can make tasteless jokes about your own condition #but other people who *don't* have it #can't #but they can laugh with you #lol #anyway yeah also just... #get a really good list of things that make you feel better #sad or happy or whatever #youtube vids or fics or novels or art #collect the things and the people #that bring some light into your life #curate your existence with hope and compassion to the parts of you that are so so afraid #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue #Anonymous

[samgwrites]

Locked Doors

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Chapter 2 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what.  

Read on AO3

Michael didn’t want to go to a hospital, and Jon agreed that it  would probably be best to not deal with doctors obsessing over someone who had been presumed dead for seven years. Luckily, Tim apparently knew a good amount of wilderness first aid, so after a slightly hectic few minutes trying to find the emergency kit, the current assistant was setting the former assistant’s hand in gauze while Jon had run off to inform the rest of the staff about the current situation. Couldn’t have someone accost the stranger wandering the institute, not again, even if Michael insisted that he would prefer to be out of everyone’s hair as soon as possible. 

He would prefer to just be done with the Magnus Institute. 

He peered down at Tim as the other man wrapped his hand. Tim was frowning, but the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished from his expression, replaced with a stern focus. Not exactly an approachable look, but that had never stopped Michael before.

“Can I ask you a question?” He said, leaning forward and hiss slightly as Tim tugged a bit too hard on his hand. 

“What?” Tim responded, not looking up. Michael sighed. 

“It’s sort of a weird request but… can you tell me what I look like?” This did catch Tim’s attention, and he looked up at Michael quizzically. 

“What?” Michael glanced aware under the gaze, grinning nervously.

“I haven’t exactly been able to use a proper mirror in a while… it’s been awhile since I’ve seen myself without the distortion ruining the image,” He thought for a moment. “I can’t even remember what it looked like to be honest. I mostly just remember enough neon to be nauseating,” Tim hummed, before dropping Michael’s hand and standing up. Michael frowned, realizing he might be asking too much. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, I know it’s weird-” Tim waved his own hand, running the other one over his face and through his hair. 

“It’s… it’s fine. I can tell you. You’re pretty average looking, I guess? You got this blond mop of hair, you’re pretty pale, greyish eyes. I knew about ten guys that could practically be your double from when I was at uni. The weirdest bit is that you don’t even look that different? 

“Your hand’s normal, far as I can tell, and your voice doesn’t give me a migraine anymore. You just look like a normal guy. The sweater is a little weird, but it’s not as flashy as I think it was,” Michael looked down at what he was wearing. They were the same clothes from his journey into the mountains, but they were definitely different. They did look older, to start. His jeans were ripped where they hadn’t been. His sweater was worn at the wrists and he figured the coat he’d attempted to lend Gertrude was frozen on a cliff somewhere. He looked back at Tim, and was startled to find the assistant staring intently at him with an odd look that he couldn’t place. Tim turned away.

“Your hand should be fine for now, it’s not a bad break. Try not to use it for awhile if you can.”

“Thank you,”

“Are you really Michael?” 

“What?”

“Are you really Michael Shelley? Or is this just some weird trick to lure us into a false sense of security. Those fucking clowns are up to something, woudn’t be that surprised if you were working together,

“The circus? No, I hate the circus-” He cut himself off. Did he hate the circus? He hadn’t actually known about the unknowing before Gertrude decided to feed him to delusion incarnate. Did he hate the Stranger, or was it simply remnants of a thing lodged into him?

No. No he hated it. He could remember that much. The distortion had wanted him to interfere, but so had he. It was a ritual, like the ones Gertrude had been after. If he could throw a wrench in its workings, then perhaps no one else would receive his fate. But that isn’t exactly how that small thought buried in his mind had been realized. His face hardened. 

“I hate the Stranger and the Spiral and every other so-called god. My name is Michael Shelley, and if that isn’t who I am then I would prefer someone to let me know now before I get any hope back. Now,” He stood, moving towards the door, “thank you so much for the first aid, but I’d really like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tim said, voice unsure, glancing between Michael and the door.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Michael ground out, and left the room. He did not slam the door behind him, but the thought crossed his mind. He had never been one for slamming doors. Perhaps now was the time to start.

Seeing Elias Bouchard in the Hallway before the elevator back up to the library was a bit of a shock.

Well, not a shock. It wasn’t that surprising to see the head of an institute standing in a commonly walked area of said institute.  But Michael was not prepared for it in the least. He stumbled and felt himself pale slightly at the sight of the man standing so nonchalantly. This man was a murderer. A direct conduit of the eye.

Michael had met Elias when he’d first started at the institute. The older man had been alright, if a little bit unpleasant to be around. He was intimidating but only in the way that a university student who drinks and parties on weekends is intimidating to someone in secondary school. Which is to say, not that intimidating once you realize how much of an idiot the man is. 

The Elias standing in front of him wasn’t an idiot. He’d grown a lot around the time he became the head of the institute. He looked sharp despite his age, and his eyes bore into Michael. After a moment he smiled, and his grin was nearly reflective. 

“Mr.Shelley! How wonderful of you come back to us! We’ve missed you,” Michael had seen a hunter before. The distortion had enjoyed trapping one or two in its mazes, giggling as they would chase each other or his other prey around, not noticing that they were being devoured themselves. The expression on the other man was far more predatory than any he’d ever seen on those animalistic creatures. Michael felt his mouth go dry, but it shifted into his usual friendly workplace smile anyway. 

“Hello Mr.Bouchard,” He said, “I was actually just leaving. Wouldn’t want to be in your way,” But neither of them moved. The hallway was small, and while Michael was lanky enough that he could have definitely fit on either side of Elias, it felt as if any attempt would end poorly for him. Though he was probably just paranoid. When Elias just continued to look at him, he continued. “Actually, I did want to talk to Jon before I left, have you seen him?” 

“Oh, yes, he’s talking to Martin right now. Explaining everything so the poor man doesn’t jump out of his skin when he sees you. Wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened with Tim no would we?” The man’s tone was far too light for how sick Michael was starting to feel. “Especially now that you’ll be working together,” 

“What?” 

“Oh, well of course! I don’t blame you for not thinking of work, I’m sure your head’s still a little fuzzy, but you never actually resigned. And you’ll need work anyway to get back on your feet. The archival assistant position has actually gotten a higher salary since you’ve been gone. Now, if you could just come up to my office and sign some paperwork…” His voice turned to static in Michael’s ears. What a cruel joke. To still be trapped somewhere after finally escaping hell… but the more he thought about it, the more he sensed a lie. 

He remembered thinking about quitting back before Gertrude had started pretending to value him. He had thought a lot about finding a less high stress archiving job, maybe with more people his age, but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. The spiral had known how the eye trapped people, not terribly unlike how it trapped people in their own broken minds. He didn’t feel that now. There was no reluctance, no hesitation. The sick feeling in his stomach was simply because this man had far too much blood on his hands for anyone to be comfortable talking to him. The eye didn’t have hold on him anymore.

Perhaps he could thank Gertrude for something after all. He grinned back.

“Actually, I’m afraid I won’t be returning to work. Seven years is quite the long vacation, and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what my position entailed aside from being condescended to, and I don’t miss it. Besides, you wouldn’t want any lingering distortion to mix up your carefully organized files, right?” He leveled a stare at Elias, trying to ignore the slight way his unbandaged hand was twitching. “I’d like to find Jon now, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Try the kitchen,” And then Elias walked away, leaving Michael alone once more.

Jon was not in the kitchen. There was, however, a woman that he’d never seen before making tea, who jumped slightly when he opened the door. She seemed a bit younger than him, or maybe just much smaller, with brightly dyed hair wearing a graphic tea. He’d say the spiral had influenced her fashion choices, but she looked far too serious for that to be the case. 

“Ah, um, hello,” She started, “Uh… who are you? I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here,” She spoke with an unsure amount of authority. 

“I’m Michael. Michael Shelley,” He waited for the flinch or gasp of some sort, but it didn’t come. She just continued to look at him with a sort of sneering disinterest. There was something in her eye that almost seemed familiar, but he chose to ignore it. So Jon hadn’t gotten to explain things to her yet. Well. He’d love a conversation with someone who wasn’t familiar with the monster, and it wasn’t like he was lying. Not completely.

“I know Jon,” He said, trying to sound appeasing, “I needed his help with something so I thought I’d stop by,” She didn’t look convinced. 

“Not to be rude mate, but you look like you just got hit by a bus,” Michael laughed in response. 

“Honestly I feel like I might have been. I uh, had a bit of an accident this morning,” He held up his wrapped hand, “A regular one of your institute scary stories I think,” Michael could see when she closed off. They stood in silence for a moment, him smiling nervously while moving on the balls of his feet, and her holding her fresh cup of tea looking like she’d lash out if he made any sudden movements. In the end she just shook her head and sighed. 

“I think there’s a cot in the store room if you need a place to crash for a bit. Doubt anyone would try to stop you.” She said finally, before taking a long sip of tea and walking out. She might’ve mumbled something rude under her breath, but Michael just nodded absently and stood there for a minute, before turning. 

Michael didn’t care about talking to Jon now. He really needed to get out of this institute. 

Two days later, they sat across from each other at a coffee shop, both of their reflections looking perfectly natural in the well cleaned window. They had gotten chances to talk in the past couple of days, mainly right outside the institute, so it was nice to just sit in a peaceful environment. Jon had gotten himself the blackest tea that Michael had personally ever seen, and he’d gotten Michael a hot chocolate and a sandwich. Michael stared at the spiral shape of the whipped cream before breaking it with his spoon. They talked for a while, mainly pleasantries, both obviously unsure where to start the serious conversation. Jon broke the peace first. 

“Elias is sending me abroad,” Jon said and a small part of Michael panicked. 

“I’m not coming,” The words burst out of him before he could think about any other reason Jon might be telling him this.

“What? No, I didn’t mean… I wouldn’t ask you to come. I’m not that dense, I don’t expect you to come, of course not. I just…” Jon trailed off for a moment “I know you’ve been sleeping outside these past few nights.” It wasn’t Michael’s fault he didn’t have enough cash for anything more than a park bench. At least it’s spring, he’d thought. But it wasn’t like he wanted Jon to know that, even if the knowing was unavoidable. 

“I-”

“Michael,” The blond man sighed and looked down. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” 

“I didn’t want to push you, because I know this is hard,” Michael couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that escaped him. Jon smiled at him softly and continued. “You are probably going to have to reenter society eventually? Basira still has some pull with the police, I really don’t think you’ll experience too much trouble in that department. What I wanted to talk to you about is if you’d want to stay at my flat for awhile?”

“It’s fine if you don’t, I know you’re not exactly comfortable with… me… yet,” Jon held up a hand when Michael began to protest and continued, “but I’ll probably be out of the house for a month or so anyway and I’d really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on things,” They both knew that wasn’t the reason. Michael could tell that Jon simply wanted him somewhere safe and to be able to check in, and for him to feel like he was at least somewhat in control of his new normal. Perhaps not all archivists were good liars after all. “And Michael?” Jon reached over and gently touched Michael’s injured hand with his own recently scarred one. “I’d like to be friends,” Michael froze. Those words sounded so familiar. Like they were his in a distant, broken way. They felt safe. They felt true. Michael smiled, perhaps the first purely genuine smile he’d shown in the past few days. In the past few years. And he knew his answer wasn’t a lie. 

“I’d love to.”

#the magnus archives #Michael Shelley #michael tma #tma #jonathan sims #my writing #my fanfiction

[nr0r]

I am literally copying and pasting from Discord heck

You ever just wake up and get a lot of stuff to write down so you jump on that immediately before sleeping again? Like, jump on your computer to type it easier and all that? yeah. ok so I'm gonna honestly sit and hammer out why ZaDr is so shipped, despite the controversial status. Maybe put some logic/reasoning on this extremely old ship, prolly post this up on Tumblr or Twitter. Cause I'm extra about yesterday, and want to at least give people some form of clarity, cause that's nice to have. Ok uh. aHEM ANYWAY blabbing away aside:

ZaDr is extremely popular, and the biggest thing I hear most outta people other than moral out cries of 'age disputes' (we don't know ZIM's real age at all, and it's very possible he very well could still be a kid. There's stuff that supports this, but I'm not here to post my proofs for my very vanilla 'ZIM is actually a kid' AU. Maybe some other time. Whatever, moving on) and 'they hate each other/are enemies disputes' (enemies -> friends, as well as enemies -> romance is an age old trope and everywhere. Seriously. This is in every fandom just about and is inescapable. It even happens in canon in a lot of them.) So here's some clarity on why this gets shipped to hell and back:

The two have a LOT of common, in fact, a LOT more than the rest of the cast do. Their chemistry is prime for shipping compared to everyone else, despite the 'moral issues': -ZIM and Dib are both EXTREMELY passion/overly zealous about their goals, ambitions and beliefs to the point of ludicrousy and mockery. -People don't believe them and do not believe in them. At all. -They crave acceptance in their beliefs and ability to succeed in their goals. -They also crave acceptance/being commended/acknowledged by their superiors, who regularly put them down/mock them over their goals/ambitions/beliefs -They are so so so stubborn about this, despite the clear odds stacked against them -Both have no friends. Both are incredibly lonely and can only, realistically, confide in each other at this point. This has even happened in canon, tho that episode was never finished and aired (Mopiness of Doom) -This is the only ship with an episode like Mopiness of Doom -They fuel each other's ambitions and would be nothing without each other

These are the primary reasons why this gets shipped like crazy. Other ships exist, and boy howdy do I ship some of them too as I am shipping trash, but I'm willing to admit and accept there's very little in the way of 'proof' or chemistry for them. Some ships I ship that have no hope compared to ZaDr honestly:

RaZr: -A common trope. SuperiorxUnderling. But they got nothing going really -Seriously. RED fucking hates ZIM, and while this argument is used against ZaDr, Mopiness still happened. -RED actually regularly tries to get ZIM killed. Same with PURPLE. Both sent him to a part of the universe they thought would yield nothing in the hopes of ZIM dying off from the long travel/never returning/getting lost -All they have going for them is: 1. That trope and 2. They uh grew up together -ZIM will probably someday kill him and PURPLE tbh

TaGr. This is a VERY popular ship... but like: -What... what have they done together in screen time -Or transcripts -Or comics? -No seriously. What? Hardly anything at all. People just ship them cause they're both grumpy and girls tbh.

RaPr is ACTUALLY the only other ship that's very viable and has canon support that I can think of: -I don't have to explain this  -Just look at them -They're like. Married, dude! -MARRIED!!!

Gonna get into ships that I see are done to spite ZaDr, which... makes no... sense...Like... why do people ship ships to spite other ships...It's like me going up to a buffet of cakes, seeing people eating chocolate cakes mostly so I pick vanilla just to spite the chocolate cake fans and I'm all " -ZIM LAUGHTER- FOOLS!!! YOU INSOLENT EARTH-PIGS!!!! COWER AND TREMBLE AND CRY FOR I HAVE CHOSEN CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" like... what are they seriously gonna do....? Drop their cake and cry? No dude they're gonna keep eating lmao

anyway. anyway. salt aside, let's get into this:

GaDr (Gretchen and Dib romance): -Why? -They never... really... maybe a couple times in the comics and once in the show. But that's literally it. -All the people I have personally interacted with who ship this ship proudly proclaim it's to spite ZaDr like. Good for you?  -Like dawg it's ok if Shadow is my favorite Sonic character man. You don't... you don't gotta stan Cream the Rabbit just because so many people stan Shadow the Hedgehog. Like it's ok. It's ok. It's ok.

ZaSr (ZIM and Skoodge romance): -I actually enjoy this ship. It can be done cutely, but like... -Dawg, ZIM is AWFUL to Skoodge -Fucks him over -Mocks him -Nearly gets him killed a number of times -They got nothing going for them other than being short, being unfortunate and the same species

ZaTr: -The only straight ship I ship lmao -Ummmm -Again. Why. A lot of these 'spite ships' actually contain the problems people complain about most, but ignore in spite ships or when TAK is in the equation (DaTr) which I don't get, but like hey, I said what I needed to earlier already. -No seriously, WHY? I don't... because... enemies->romance, right? They just don't have enough material. It would be like if ZIM and Dib only had Nightmare Begins are their material, and that's it. If that were so, I too would be saying WHY?

I think this concludes my brain vomit, and I can finally get back to bed, but yeah idk. 

Disclaimer: It is fine to like ships, it is fine to dislike ships, but don't be a bully over it. I've seen tireless arguments against ZaDr that are honestly? Easily broken down through a couple google searches. This doesn't invalidate disliking something, but this doesn't mean it's 'right' either. All in all, we're all watching IZ 'wrong' by shipping these characters. Hell, we're watching it 'wrong' by even liking them enough or thinking any of them are cute. Seriously. At the end of the day, Jhonen hates how we're all going about fandom participation, and practically has since day one, even if there was nothing shipped ever (which is impossible tbh.) That's why he stirs the pot. That's why he likes to make crude/random statements just to get easy people riled up, and that's classic 'don't take the bait/feed the trolls' internet 101 at play.

And double Disclaimer: You simply cannot make noise against ZaDr over the joke of ZIM being ‘OLT AF’, and then continue on with TaGr and DaTr. You just cannot. You also cannot make noise against ZaDr for ‘moral’ reasons and then ignore... DaGr (Dib and Gaz). Seriously. That one has absolutely no fucking defense. None. That’s disgusting, that’s incest, that’s sick, that’s   I’m getting off topic but. Still bro.

#ZaDr #Discourse #shut up Lilith #long post

[engagedtobefree]

It’s been probably over a year since I posted anything about my personal life on here, aside from a few little one- or two-liner posts. A lot has happened, some of which I will hopefully be posting about soon, but there have been a lot of other things weighing on me lately.

I guess I can continue where I started in therapy yesterday, but didn’t get to finish. I have felt for the past few weeks so sick of so much. I am sick of politics and politicians, first and foremost. I’m sick of living in a country where the child of Narcissus and the devil is running our country. I feel so much anger towards him at times, and then I try to feel myself back in, calm myself, but his complete disdain for anyone other than himself is just so infuriating, and then it fuels my anger even more to see people defending him like he’s some sort of god. It’s disgusting. I’m sick of Biden. I was okay with him as VP but haven’t cared for him at all since he started campaigning. He is just a lesser evil Trump; but evil is still evil. I don’t know if I can bring myself to vote for this man, but then I know if I don’t, we might get Trump for another 4 years, and to me that is much worse. I don’t know what to do. Right now I’ve just put it aside. I have until November to make a decision. Which brings me around to my anger at Bernie. I placed all of my hope in him, as many others did, and he dropped out so soon. I can, to a certain degree, understand why he did it, but he could’ve stayed in the running. He still had a chance. And I’m mad at him for giving up way too soon and leaving us with Biden. He knew he was our only hope, and he dropped the ball.

I’m sick of my mother. Her narcissism also angers me at times. Every conversation we have, every interaction, always revolves around her, and if we aren’t talking about her, she will somehow bring the conversation around to her and her life. It’s predictable and I’m so tired of dealing with it, even more so now being stuck in with her all the time. She goes from being nice one second to tearing me down the next, calling me names, being controlling, gaslighting me, blaming me for anything she can think of. It’s exhausting. I just want a house of my own, but thanks to covid, the housing market is slower than ever. Another frustration. I daydream about living alone again, about not having to emotionally support my emotionally unsupportive mother, about not hearing my name called 50 times a day about something, about not having to deal with someone who is always angry, negative, miserable, and blaming everyone but themselves for how they are.

I am sick of Scott. Something shifted for the better the past several months before lockdown happened, but then of course like everything else, this got flipped upside down. I was reaching out to him almost every day, then once a week, and a majority of the time I was just not well-received. So now it’s been almost 2 weeks and I just can’t bring myself to message him. On top of everything else I’m dealing with, facing the almost constant feeling of rejection day after day was too much, so I stopped putting myself in that situation. He hasn’t reached out and who knows if he will. The only reason we ever talked 99% of the time anyway was because of me initiating it. Normally, I didn’t care too much, but now I do. I’m just tired of being treated like I’m not worth the effort to talk to. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now and my tolerance for people’s behavior toward me has dropped very, very low. But then, in another sense, I don’t think it’s Scott I’m really sick of. I think of him and can feel the warmth and light immediately, the kind I always get, and I think maybe it’s not him I’m sick of, but the situation, the not knowing, and the way I am perceiving his current behavior toward me. It’s a mixed bag, and I just want to stop carrying the weight of it for a while.

I am very much sick of my IBS. I have been having more flare-ups than usual since I’ve been stuck home, despite taking my usual supplements, drinking peppermint tea daily, and avoiding my known trigger foods as much as I can. I guess it’s my current stress levels and mental health that are probably triggering flare-ups, which is more annoying because those, to me, are harder to control than food. And flare-ups make me so tired, then I don’t have energy to do things I want to be doing. I know that my IBS formed by bacteria from a virus, and in most cases it tends to go away after 6-10 years, but it’s of no consolation to me currently as I am only about 2 ½ years into it and there’s no guarantee my gut will ever return to normal. Recently, I have seen my distorted, bloated belly more than I’ve seen my normal, healthy one. It’s disheartening.

I started my yoga teacher training via zoom, and I guess because of my constant fluctuating mental health, I fell behind on homework. I turned in my first assignment on time, but I need to catch up on readings and practicing teaching. I’m worried about getting hands-on experience too. I know my teacher wants us to have that, but my biggest fear in all of this is that I won’t get it. I am trying to now remember the feeling I got several times that this was the program for me, so I am trying to rewire my brain to remember that this was divinely orchestrated and that it’ll be okay.

But it’s hard. It’s all so fucking hard. And I know there are people dealing with much worse right now, but there are just some wounds I’m dealing with right now and I’m tired of feeling like all I’m doing is pouring salt on them. I see so much, observe so much, I think so much, and all it does is well up inside of me like an overflowing sink, a faucet that is rusted open and won’t shut off. I miss my friends, I miss doing things, I miss going out, I miss having hope, I miss the people I work with, I miss talking to Scott, I miss people I have never even met, I miss the life I am not living, I miss the life I never had. There is so much going on inside of me right now, it is overwhelming. Everything I stated above isn’t even half of it. I don’t know how to put it all into words. I don’t know how to express the simultaneous life and death I am feeling happening at all times. It’s like I can feel every cell within me dying every second and the new ones coming to life at the same moment. That is just the one constant thing I am feeling at all times and it is such a strange feeling to have.

I am trying to look for the silver linings in all of this. For everything, I ask myself questions. What can I learn here? What is this trying to teach me? Is this trying to propel me towards something else? I am trying to make hope from the seemingly hopeless. What can I do? I can throw myself in. Embrace this messiness and ugliness for all it is. Don’t try to make it pretty cuz it isn’t. I can get off my phone. Deletedeletedelete. Stop looking at other people’s lives and look at my own more. Get up earlier. Move more. Let go. Focus on the yoga and the meditation and the breath. Throw myself into the hurt and the healing. Allow it to swallow me whole. Cry. Write. Cry some more. Dance. Shake. Unpeel all the layers. Love. Then love some more.

This overall is such a strange time. I hope that maybe, for me, this is just my cocooning. Maybe I’ll come out alright.

#personal #i will probably make separate posts for certain topics #in the upcoming weeks #i got a lot of shit to sort through #i cried during yin yoga tonight during our hip opener #it's been quite some time since i cried #which is unusual for me #it was very much needed #and long overdue #what i cried about tho i didn't even put in this post #it needs it's own post

[likeshipsonthesea]

If you're doing prompts, 19 and 24 for nurseydex

for au mash up 19. Summer Camp AU and 24. Soulmate AU

okay so in this universe, as per any soulmate universe, soulmates are A Big Thing. the way that soulmates work–let’s have some fun here– when you touch your soulmate for the first time, they leave a color in the spot they touched you. it has to be skin-to-skin. this will become important later.

so in this world, since soulmates are such a big thing–almost everyone finds their soulmate, the only typical cases that don’t are people that die young or people who are aro, though there are platonic soulmates and poly and such, bc we’re inclusive here boyos– but because they’re so big and common and everything, there are a lot of industries around them

psychics and palm readers have specialized skills to tell you what your soulmate is like, bio-medical companies sell drugs that tell you how long it will be until you find your soulmate (sketchy, but people are desperate) and the weirdest one, imo, is the send-away summer camps for children to find their soulmates young.

yeah. weird.

there’s science to back it up, saying kids who kind their soulmates at younger ages live longer, healthier lives, and the matches between those soulmates is much stronger and, now, with the advent of social media, kid soulmate findings always go viral

so now onto our story; nursey’s parents all have very big work summers coming up (his parents are one of the few poly soulmates in the world, his dad is aro and platonically bonded to nursey’s mom and mama, who are v gay and v in love, and they all live together happily in a beautiful brownstone) so they ask him what he wants to do for the summer and he shows them the brochure for the Summer Soulmate Camp in the rural part of maine.

why did nursey choose this one? he’s a romantic and thinks the greenery is the perfect place to fall in love, it won’t be too hot for the summer, he can go swimming, and they have a hockey rink. it’s perfect.

(also, sidenote, i imagine he’s about ten or eleven here, dex is the same)

so though nursey’s parents are a little hesitant, they also want their son to be happy, so they buy him all the gear he’ll need, drive him up to maine, and kiss him goodbye on the first day of camp.

nursey takes to the camp immediately–the food isn’t great, very bland, but the people are so nice and there’s so much to do and he can’t wait to find friends, even if he doesn’t end up finding his soulmate. his roommate is a great guy–named chris, but goes by chowder– and he’s so enthusiastic and he tells nursey he plays goalie in hockey so when the day comes to join the hockey group on campus, they both head down to the rink, bouncing and excited.

this is, of course, where dex comes in.

dex, a sullen, tiny, perpetually frowning little dude gets matched up with nursey for d-man. despite nursey’s initial hesitation at such a little guy being a d-man, dex soon shows his worth by checking the opposing forward hard.

“will, buddy, we’re not checking in this league, okay?” the coach, a well-meaning woman with smile crinkles next to her eyes.

dex stares up at her. “if i’m not checking anyone why am i even here.”

there may or may not have been an expletive in there somewhere. we’re not going to mention it if you won’t.

and you might be wondering, “hey why is dex being such a dick” or maybe you’re just like “mm in character” (ur wrong but whatever) but here’s the story. these summer camps are usually reserved for people who have the money–there’s only so many spaces and aside from the soulmate thing, they still have a bunch of amenities and it’s for the whole summer. by all rights, dex shouldn’t be here.

but then last winter happened, and he fell down during hockey practice, and the doctor explained to the poindexters–little mama p standing tall, resolute, her husband holding onto her waist in support, dex’s older brother j, finally not wearing an asshole’s smirk– that dex was sick. badly.

and see, dex is fine. like, the chemo sucked and his hair falling out sucked and everyone looking at him like he’s a weak little useless fucking– it sucks. but that was months ago, and it’s sort of in remission now, and though the doctor says it’s probably going to come back and they’ll have to do another round of chemo– dex is fine okay. the buzzed hair doesn’t look too bad and he’s stronger now, he can play hockey again.

but the cancer scared his parents, and his extended family, and though they all believe in the natural meeting of your soulmate, they all silently agreed that dex didn’t have the time to wait. the only thing sadder than dying young was dying without a soulmate.

so they scrounged up the cash through all the branches of their family tree and sent dex to Summer Soulmate Camp, and now here he is, angry and isolated and ready to check any rich prep kid that looks at him funny on the ice.

as you can imagine, nursey and dex don’t get along well at the start.

dex isn’t much into soulmates and doesn’t keep his opinion to himself, and nursey is so wholeheartedly romantic that he can’t imagine not thinking about your soulmate every day. “they’re the one person who can make you the best you can be,” nursey says, one day after practice, and dex scoffs.

“if you’re not good enough on your own, how the hell is your soulmate being chained to you gonna make it any better?”

they also argue about money things, but mostly brand names that dex doesn’t know, or international trips nursey doesn’t realize is a luxury. to be fair, none of the other kids know this either–nursey at least tries to listen

(he’s too young, really, to understand how his blackness has affected him in a similar, possibly more visible way. later on, he’ll read books about slaves “given permission” to marry their soulmates from masters, the interracial couples that ended in mobs driving the black man out of town–or worse– and the history of black soulmates being restricted and demeaned and made to feel less than. now, now he only notices being the only mixed boy in the room some of the time. now, at least, is a calm before the bliss is broken.)

but the thing that comes along with all of nursey and dex’s arguments is that they come to know each other better than anyone else at the camp. even chowder, who tags along with them all the time when he isn’t following after the girls’ volleyball team (he hasn’t touched farmer yet, so he can’t know, but he really likes her smile and she’s the best at doing handstands), even he doesn’t know how nursey feels about books the way dex does, after the late-night talk around the bonfire when nursey got rambly and giddy and dex just.. listened

and it takes a while before dex talks about the cancer. back home, everyone knows, but here he could pretend. nursey doesn’t tell everyone–dex almost expected that he would, but that was more on him than nursey– but he listens and nods and doesn’t pity dex, respects him maybe, cares, but no pity.

and that night, sitting on the end of the dock in a rare unsupervised moment, nursey nearly reaches out to hold dex’s hand in comfort, and dex nearly hugs nursey when he says, “fuck cancer” in the most emphatic, simple, comprehending way dex has ever heard, but neither does. they’ve learned, in this culture, the importance of touch, and both boys are too scared to find out, to break that last barrier. this could be enough. this should be enough.

the rest of the summer is spent in a haze of friendships and salt water and trees and scraped knees and laughter, and all of them swear that they’re gonna text, call, facetime, whatever. they’re going to keep this up. they’re going to be friends forever

they’re not allowed phones at the camp, so they write down each other’s numbers– just dex’s, actually, because he’s the only one who can remember his home phone number– and nursey and chowder swear to call when they get home and give dex their number (chowder also has farmer’s number, now, and her mark–smudgy and bluish purple on his shoulder from where she tackled him trying to spike the ball in a game on the beach last week. his, teal, is on her palm almost in the shape of a heart)

on the day of pick up, dex’s family shows up first–closer– and he and nursey are forced to say goodbye. “i guess this is it,” dex says, hefting his duffle bag strap onto his shoulder.

“no it’s not,” nursey insists. “i’ll call you. i will.”

“yeah right,” dex says, but he’s smiling anyway, and something about the moment–two boys, from such different worlds, somehow so similar in all the important ways, stand in front of each other, having never touched but knowing every little thing– something about the moment makes it so, suddenly, being soulmates doesn’t matter.

they’re friends. no matter what their colors say, that can be the most profound relationship they ever have.

“see you, nursey,” dex says, impulsive, and reaches his arms up to hug nursey close. nursey, startled, wraps his arms around dex. the hug is so unexpected, so quick, that neither of them feels dex’s forearm brush against nursey’s neck, neither of them notice the spread of green–on dex’s arm– or orange– nursey’s neck

later, after dex’s dad pulls in the driveway of their house, dex shoves open the door he’d slumped against when he got in the car and absentmindedly goes to wipe off the mossy-green stuff on his arm only to see it and freak

nursey, since his is behind his head, isn’t the one to notice his mark. it’s only when he’s going up the stairs in front of his mama that she yells something about “papito why didn’t you tell us you found your soulmate?” and nursey drops all of his bags and races up the stairs to the bathroom to try to use a hand mirror and the bathroom vanity to see the sunset dex left on his neck

but here’s the drama, right, nursey goes for his bag to find dex’s number and call–and he can’t find the paper it was written on. he scours his stuff to no avail. his parents call the summer camp, but they legally can’t give out information, and nursey doesn’t know the name of dex’s town and– you get where i’m going. they can’t find each other. they lose touch.

and both boy wonders what could have been, dex wonders why nursey didn’t call (probably develops a complex, whatever) and nursey wonders why dex never tried to look him up, and nursey hopes that dex’s cancer didn’t come back and dex hopes that nursey is still the romantic he’s always been, but they don’t see each other for another seven years.

what happens then? well, these hockey nerds go to take a tour of this cool college called samwell and, well. the rest i’m sure you can figure out from there.

(excerpt from the aftermath; a frequent fight

“i can’t believe you lost my number”

“i can’t believe you gave me a mark i can’t even see”

“i can’t believe you wanted to go to a summer camp to find your soulmate when you were ten”

“i can’t believe you didn’t–”

“nursey, dex, please can we just pick a place to eat and go?” poor baby chow

boys; “well, i had cancer, so i think i should get to pick–” “hey, you can’t pull the cancer card every time you want to eat at the grill, it’s not fair!” “i lost my hair, derek!” “so? you shave it all the damn time–”

chowder’s stomach rumbles. he texts chowder frowny faces and she sends back a cry-laugh and a wink. he gets no sympathy for his plight.)

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #nursey #derek nurse #dex #william poindexter #my writing #sort of fic #this was fun #the ending is a bit meh #but i liked the story

[thedreadgay]

better than alone

series: gwenoden, roslin, ishnah original publish date: jul 5 2018 word count: 1720 warning for: familial death, canon-typical violence author’s notes: ur local jewish fantasy nerd is here 2 remind u that dragon age elves are jewish (among other minorities lol) and roslin hawke is half elven and i was thinkin abt her gf merrill supporting her and bethy in mourning leandra and im Emotional. also, all elvish that isn’t from canon i thought of myself, though the only other word that really comes up is mirlin, which means sibling. shiva is an actual jewish mourning practice that i thought sounded elvish enough. the canon-typical violence warning is just cause roslin describes leandra’s death but we all played the game, just a heads up tho!

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan." Merrill stepped into their bedroom, but Roslin couldn't find the will to look up at her; she could only stare into the fire.

"There's nothing to say right now." Roslin hated how small she sounded.

"Oh." Merrill paused, and Roslin's heart plunged further down. Curse her abrasiveness. "Okay. I'll just... go then."

Roslin hung her head, and she hoped it hid the crumbling of her expression. Why push Merrill away? With her eyes screwed shut and her head in a cloud of death, she didn't hear Merrill's footsteps stop, nor turn back to her. Her breath hitched when Merrill threw her arms around her.

"Oh, vhenan." Merrill tucked Roslin's hair behind her ear, and she wanted to hide, but something in her heart screamed for Merrill, for Bethany, for her mother. "I can go if you want me to." Merrill was so gentle it hurt. "But I can stay, too."

Roslin's lip trembled, and she pressed her hands over her eyes. She hated this. She hated anyone seeing her like this, but the thought of being alone made her want to collapse like wreckage.

"Do you want me to stay?" Merrill held her tight, strong and grounding. Roslin nodded. "Then I will."

A small sob escaped her, and then tears were trailing past her hands, and she couldn't stop—she simply cried, hunched like a dying woman. Merrill drew her love to her chest, stroking red hair while Roslin whimpered.

"I know it hurts," Merrill whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's okay to hurt. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Roslin wrapped her arms around Merrill's waist and bawled.

"Damned templars. Wish they'd hurry it up already," Gamlen grumbled. For once, Roslin found herself agreeing with him. She stood against the wall opposite a wrought iron gate in the Gallows, arms crossed. Beside her, Merrill bounced on the balls of her feet, a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. The dog sat patiently while Gamlen paced, watching him go back and forth. Roslin was sure she looked positively murderous waiting there, and she was; it wasn't easy to visit a mage in the Circle on your own, let alone with two others and a warhound, but she would knife the next templar to deny her shiva with Bethany.

Her eye caught the scrap of black fabric tied around her wrist. Tearing it apart had been satisfying, and she found... something profound in sharing the shreds with her uncle, wrapped about his own wrist. Bethy had ripped up her own. Roslin's heart hurt, thinking of her little sister all alone in her grief, but at least she wasn't there to see Leandra go. The memory of her mother's head on a patchwork body haunted her every moment.

She felt Merrill's slender hand on her shoulder, and she sighed, reaching up and twining their fingers together. Her mabari whined worriedly at her feet.

Finally, a door to the side opened, and she looked up to see Knight-Captain Cullen striding towards her. Roslin glared.

"Serah Hawke," Cullen greeted curtly.

"Your templars won't let me see my sister," she snapped back.

"Right, straight to business, then..." Cullen sighed, and rubbed his forehead. Roslin was ready to wring his neck til that ugly little head popped off. "I would just tell you the same thing, but it seems you won't take no for an answer."

Roslin sneered. "You're right, I won't."

"Look, nobility and coin can only bring you so far. A single visitor once in a blue moon is already more than most get. I can't reasonably—"

"You can, and you will." Roslin got in his face, and her lip curled back.

Cullen frowned in distaste. "To let three of you—" The dog growled menacingly behind her. "Four of you in for some heathen ritual—"

"It's not some blood magic bullshit, it's a mourning practice for my mother!" She shouted, and Cullen stepped back in alarm. "I found her head sewn to parts of other women like she was a rag doll! She shambled into my arms and died there!"

"Oh Maker," she heard Gamlen murmur in horror.

"I want to grieve with my sister, and some little runt won't stand in my way!"

Cullen looked a tad sick, but recovered quickly. "I am—sorry for your loss, I am." His look darkened in a way that made Roslin want to spit at him. "But I will not stand threats, serah."

"Neither will I," she seethed.

The two stared off, Roslin boiling with anger. She would not be turned aside by some fucking templar who thinks her family less than people.

Finally, Cullen relented. "Fine," he huffed, and marched up to the gate. "Open it up," Cullen called, and turned back to Roslin as the chains clanked. "You have one hour."

"An hour and a half."

"Maker," Cullen muttered. "Very well, but any longer and I'll have you all dragged off."

"I'd like to see you try," Roslin said under her breath, shouldering him none too gently as she passed. She didn't look back at his noise of protest, storming off as the gate opened.

"Nice work, girl." Gamlen caught up, with Merrill on her other side and the dog at their heels. "But I really didn't have to hear that."

"... Sorry." She glanced over, and rolled her eyes at Gamlen's shocked expression. "Yes, I apologized, you lout. Don't get used to it," she snapped, and continued on.

Merrill's hand slipped into hers, and the anger under her skin died down.

"Ros!" Bethany cried as they entered the chamber. Roslin met her halfway as they rushed to each other's arms, and she felt her shirt dampen with her sister's tears. Roslin held her tight and blinked hard. "I'm glad you're here, mirlin."

Roslin didn't trust her voice, so she said nothing, only squeezed her sister before letting go. The mabari nudged Bethany's leg pitifully, and she knelt to give him a big hug and a good scratch; her tears were lovingly licked away, even as more fell. Bethany even embraced Gamlen, who awkwardly patted her back, though the soft sadness in his face was telling. Merrill's hand rested at Roslin's waist, and she leaned into the touch, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She knew her sister didn't exactly like Merrill, but Bethy's watery expression wasn't hostile as she turned to her. Merrill held out her hands in sympathy. "Ir abelas, Bethany."

Bethany hesitated for just a moment, before taking Merrill's hands. It eased Roslin's pained heart: her two favourite girls in the world.

"Ma serannas." Bethany sniffed.

Merrill smiled, sweet and sad. "Of course, lethallan. Someone has to take care of you all so you can grieve." She pulled away to set her basket on a nearby table. "I have everything here—I hope the tea and vegetables haven't gone cold. I won't be long with the mourner's prayer."

Roslin knew shiva all too well. She remembered the first time: barely a woman, holding the twins in both arms as they cried for their father, gone to Falon'Din for guidance. At least they had neighbours in Lothering to care for them, then; even if they were mostly shemlen, a number knew how to be a friend to a grieving family. They didn't have that for Carver, waiting until they had a roof over their heads in Kirkwall to sit for him, and hardly a soul in the city who cared. Somehow... Roslin felt they had even less, now. She sat heavily on the dusty ground, weighted by her sorrow.

Bethany followed, and if Gamlen was confused the first time he witnessed this, he was utterly lost taking part. "So, uh... do I... sit?" He shifted, unsure. Even her mabari slumped down, whining with his head in Bethany's lap.

"Sit." Bethany gestured to the floor next to her, and Gamlen slowly got to the ground. "I didn't think you would want to sit shiva with us, uncle," she admitted softly.

"Yes, well..." Gamlen sucked in a breath though his teeth, and swallowed. Despite being—well, Gamlen—something still twisted deep in her stomach at the sight of him trying not to cry. "Elf thing or not, you two—you're the only family I have left. May as well... I don't know... take part, if I'm welcome."

Bethany reached over and patted his hand with a small smile. He tried somewhat to wrangle a sad smile in return, but he mostly looked constipated.

"It's better to be here than alone, even if we only have a short time," Merrill agreed, fetching a stool and sitting. "Shiva... it's meant to provide space for us to mourn; not only to honour the dead, but honour ourselves, by feeling our grief without restraint. Death is a trying thing to process, but together—with family, and community—it can be easier to bear. And that's where I come in." She smiled. "I’m touched to be here with you all. Ma serannas, for allowing me in."

Roslin wiped her eyes. You are my family too, Merrill, she wanted to say, but decided to save it for private.

"I can't begin to imagine the pain you all must be feeling." Merrill's voice was just above a whisper. "And it's hard to see the good things in the world through that. It can make you feel like..." She chewed her lip. "Like a ghost." It was said knowingly. Roslin has been a ghost, hasn't she? Guilt ached in her for Merrill to see that, yet her lover continued, brave and tender as always. "But death is part of the cycle of life. Leandra is guided to another place, but not gone—not really. Death isn’t an end, but a change, like the turning of seasons. So are we changed, but we can use that for good while we still walk this realm. Our memories of her will be a blessing upon the world." Merrill's eyes glimmered with hope and unshed tears, and she smiled through it, genuine and brighter than the sun. "Even through something as sad as death, life continues, and grows anew upon bones of the past. So with the mourner's prayer, we celebrate Leandra's life."

The familiar words washed over her, both in Elvish and Common, and Roslin's tears were bittersweet.

#dragon age #da2 #merrihawke #fmerrihawke #merrill sabrae #bethany hawke #femhawke #red hawke #some others in here too but lol #death -/ #parental death -/ #roslin #SERIES: gwenoden roslin ishnah #writing #da fic

[strad-214]

I am reading right now that psychologists are saying that it would be an incredible relief to us all if we forget the recent and "normal" lives we once knew and just accepted our current situation as the new normal because there is not yet an end in sight and I read this on CNN.

The article goes on to say that we will not be happy or content unless we let go of the belief that this will all be over soon or else we will drive ourselves crazy. It says that we must let go of the way of life we knew and accept our current predicament as our new way of life because there is no end in sight, so don'tgo searching for that end because that is also going to drive us crazy...

No, this pandemic isn't going to end tomorrow, or next week, or next month, maybe not even next year. Yes, we have to accept our current situation such as it is whether we like it or not because whether we believe it or not, it all is ultimately out of our control... but the pandemic will also not go on forever, and not all of our new conditions of living are entirely justified. Every day, new information comes out that contradicts the policies that where placed the day before: in New Jersey, USA, the Governor disallowed any and all indoor activity but forced schools to open with a government approved plan for sterility in the classrooms. The teachers, understandably, revolted saying that it was too dangerous and they did not wish to risk theirs and their students' lives so needlessly when they had already found ways to teach from home. They also made the argument that everything else was still needed to be done outdoors, so why open the schools? You know what the Governor did? Immediately announced that indoor activities where safe again to a certain degree and restaurants and theaters and the like opened back up. So too, did the schools, for they now had no argument.

This pandemic has been used as a platform for politics to exercise their control over the population. This is not an extreme left wing agenda, it is not an extreme right one either. Neither side is working in tandum to exercise this control, in fact, I'm not sure which is worse anymore. The pendulum of a a clock need not be wound so tight that the hammer slams into the walls of its casing and breaks the clock. Yet here we are, swinging so far one way and the other that the whole thing is crashing down and we just keep winding it up. Proof lies in this article alone, telling you the reader to give up hope for a better future, one where we are free of this plague-- political or viral-- and accept the lives we now must face.

Well, I for one will never give up hope of a better life. Things are terrible right now, but those of us that survive can do something to make it better. Don't riot, don't needlessly posture out of pride, don't give anybody a reason to call you a radical. Ask for the support of those in authority who are being muffled by the extreme wings of politics, they WANT to help us. Get the police to protest WITH YOU, talk to them, give them a reason to WANT TO SUPPORT YOU, and they will, they have done that before! They did it in Newark NJ when all these other protests and riots went violent, they knew Newark was going to have one, so they just decided "We'll march with you, protect you from those who would harm you and protect you from yourselves." -- there are a lot of rioters who are picking random targets and justifying it later, even amongst themselves.

What I'm trying to say is this: yes, it was the American way to take up arms and overthrow our government... keyword is WAS... we are not there yet. Can we please start finding better ways than just shooting the first cop we see? Or by literally trying to spread this plague as if it isn't real? Otherwise, we will get there. Do we really want that? Do we really want to destroy this nation? If we do, the entire world will come donw on us to claim its share, and we will have no say about it: we will be carved like fat ham, those of us who would survive the peocess will lose their homes, will lose their families, their husbands and wives, their children, their identities, their treasures... possibly our lives in the process. The carvers would call it a mercy for us, say they are giving us a new home and life, but we would be outsiders in lands we don't want to go live in. Or,, even if we think we want to go live there, we couldn'tive there the way we live here. Thas got to be a better way people, don't let go of those bettwr paths or we will lose everything!

I'm a straight, white man. I have lived on this Earth for 26 years. I was never presented the opportunities of success because I lived in a town of people who couldn't give a shit about anything but themselves and their interests. I am poor, I drive a 2007 Forester that is falling apart. I have enough college debt to insist that I'm pursuing a masters degree, but I still am an undergrad. I live in the living room of my future inlaws and sleep in a bed that is too small for my fiancee and I. Every night I try to sleep with direct eyesight to the front door of the house. I'm supposed to be student teaching right now, but that's difficult to do right now because of the pandemic and my college is having difficulty finding me a school willing to take me, not to mention the school they did find for me actually isn't cooperating with me and at this point, there isn't enough time in the semester to complete my requirements due to the slowly turning wheels of a system that again, doesn't seem to give a shit about me. I'm due to get married in two weeks time come this Friday (10/02/2020) the plans of which got turned upside down again due to the pandemic. All I want to do is teach music, love my wife, have a modest home on the edge of a forest that I can walk in with what I hope to be a daughter who sings and a son who fights Isshin-ryū like his mother, and ultimately teach the next generation to stick up for themselves and be their own men and women someday-- whether they were born men and women or not. That's it, that's all I want. Everything I have done in life was to allow myself and people like me to do just those things.... Why is that so hard? WE ARE MAKING IT HARD.... and I swear to God, if I have to take up arms and defend what little of my goals I have achieved against savages who hide behind walls of self-righteousness-- no matter their skin color or class-- my wrath will be equal to that of the God I believe in. For they will have taken everything from me at that point just because they can because they think it's right even though I have done nothing wrong to them....

BUT. I. WILL. NOT. GIVE. UP. NOT UNTO MY DYING BREATH WILL I EVER GIVE UP ON THE HOPE OF A BETTER FUTURE FOR EVERYONE ON THIS EARTH NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE OR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN!!! AND IN STRIVING FOR MY GOALS OF A PEACFUL FUTURE WHERE I LIVE IN HARMONY WITH ALL THOSE AROUND ME, I AM ALLOWING THAT GOAL TO EMINATE TO ALL THOSE I WOULD LIVE IN HARMONY WITH!!! AND I SPIT ON ANY SICK FUCK WHO WOULD TELL ME OR ANYBODY THAT IT IS BETTER TO JUST GIVE UP HOPE AND ACCEPT A FATE THAT I DID NOT CHOOSE!!! FUCK YOU!!! TURN IN YOUR LICENCE TO PRACTICE MEDICINE BECAUSE YOU ARE RUINING LIVES WITH THAT BULLSHIT!!! THE SPIRIT OF A TRUE AMERICAN LIVES ON IN THE HOPE OF A BETTER FUTURE! THAT IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A TRUE AMERICAN!!! NOT A REBEL, NOT A CONQUOR, NOT A RACIST, BUT A BEACON OF HOPE FOR ALL PEOPLES OF THIS EARTH!!!!!

........ you know, I never write these things because when I share my views here, I get labeled as a biggot, a racist-- I've even been called a neo-nazi once... for believing that all people can live together in harmony without causing harm to one another, can you believe that? .... well, you people don't know me and your opinions don't scare me anymore. I have ourgrown mindless spite. I say what I do in the spirit of humility and devotion to secret vows which I have taken to try and unite peoples of all walks of life through music and help foster a kindred spirit between myself and my neighbors. It is the same vow that a man named Fred Rogers made once upon a time, I would know, he is a member of my order. If anyone has watched his shows, you'll see what I mean.

I am exhausted now... more than I ever have been. I feel far older than I am and I feel worse all the time. Please, I beg of you all... don't give in to this rhetoric, don't let this political mire get the best of you. Don't love Biden because he isn't Trump, love him because he has an idea or goal you like. Love Trump for the same reasons... and then tweet back that he needs to stop getting in his own way if he is to be a real leader. Think of the impacts of this pandemic and be thankful for all that you have, even if it's only a little, because someone else has it worse than you, and then try to help those people if you can. But above all else, be your own people, don't give in to hatred, be a positive influence, make a pact of peace and trust and set aside pride and spitefulness... be an American the way an American was meant to be.

#america #politics #covidー19 #a cry out for peace #help #psychology #2020 cnn #fall 2020 #fred rogers #sinfonia

[dickshardblog]

Resistance is Futile

The virus is real. The virus is here. It is highly contagious and potentially deadly. I think we can debate about the severity and the origins of the virus later, or, we could debate it now, but while staying the hell away from each other and cutting off this thing's lifeline.

Okay, so, it's easy for me to have that opinion. I'm lucky. Kind of. Ish. I've kept my job. Kind of. Ish. My pay has actually been slashed pretty badly. Commission has been cancelled for April and May so I'm going to be getting base pay only. Okay, yeah, I know a lot of people only get base pay and I was one of them for a very long time, and I’m lucky to have gotten anything above and beyond that. But I have been getting paid above and beyond my base pay and I've grown accustomed to a new comfort level. The stimulus covers that for this month, so I’m not feeling it yet.  But I'm lucky to have kept my job and gained the flexibility to do it from home, which is something I've been lobbying for to management for the past four years, anyway.

But the immediate lifestyle adjustments? Fuck, man. This is heaven. Sequestration is magical. I have a valid reason now for telling people to stay the fuck away from me when before I was just an asshole. I never had any desire to go anywhere anyway — and now I have the perfect excuse, and zero guilt. It's fucking fantastic.

Okay, so, I like the lockdown. It's not hard for me. I'm working from home, which is perfection. I want my commission pay back, my performance-based earnings, but aside from that, we can keep this lockdown going for everyone capable of working remotely for just as long as … well, forever. We can just keep this up forever.  

I don't miss anything.  I don't miss eating out. I don't miss going out. In fact, I just had to go out, and it was sheer hell. I needed a VGA cable immediately, so I ordered one from Best Buy for curbside pickup. Traffic is fucking stupid. Fucking assholes everywhere. Nobody at Best Buy was wearing a mask or gloves, and they're walking up to customers' cars handing them merchandise, talking to each other in close quarters.  The guy who handed me my purchase weighed at least four hundred pounds. If he gets this virus, he's pretty likely dead. This thing isn't kind to the morbidly obese. Unfortunately, most of central Indiana is morbidly obese.

Okay, so, all cards on the table, I have ulterior motives. I like things shut down. So, of course I'm going to champion this course of action. But I also just think it's the right thing … nay, the ONLY thing to do right now. The death toll will likely be at or very near 45,000 by the time I post this, and it is climbing steeply on a daily basis. And that's with all of the extreme social distancing most of us are practicing right now. If we hadn't done this, if we hadn't shut down, we'd be over 200,000 deaths, easy, and it would be fucking chaos out there. Hospitals would be beyond capacity, mayhem would ensue. I have no proof of that, it's just what I think. I can't prove something that I think would have happened under different circumstances.

I'm not terrified of this thing. I'm being respectfully cautious. This is a formidable enemy. My goal is to not get it, to avoid it completely. That way I don't roll the immune system dice on this disease at all, and I maintain a zero fault status in the spread of the virus. If I can pull that off, that will be a perfect game, I win. But this thing is highly contagious, and it is in my city, and it is inside far more people than the daily news numbers show because hardly anyone is being tested. Also, a lot of people get it, and they are just fine. If I get it, I will likely be okay. But, that's not a guarantee. There is a risk. People say the mainstream media is collectively sensationalizing this. Well, of course they are, in their way. Of course they're playing it up for ratings, that's what they do.  

But I don't think they are making it sound worse than it is. I was watching a news broadcast and they said that eighty-six percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 had an underlying health condition such as an autoimmune disorder, obesity, diabetes, high-blood pressure, asthma, or being a smoker. First of all, those are all pretty common. That's a lot of at-risk people. But second, that's what they did say. Eighty-six percent of those under fifty who died had an underlying health condition. But what they didn't say, and what I heard was this: Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 did NOT have an underlying health condition. That sounds fucking scary.  Yes, that is still a small number. Most of the people who die from COVID-19 are over eighty years of age. So, the percentage of people who died who are under fifty is low, and it's fourteen percent of that number … but still. That's otherwise healthy young people with no underlying health conditions who are dying. Greater risk for the elderly doesn't equal zero risk for the young. That's not how math or statistics work.  

I've watched videos online from real people. Nurses on the front lines in the hardest hit cities describing chaotic and dangerous conditions in hospitals. People who got the disease pretty badly, but recovered, recounting their terrifying near-death experiences. Yes, a lot of people have a sniffle and a cough. Yes, some people remain asymptomatic throughout the life of their infection, remaining symptom free, but still allowing the virus to replicate in their bodies so they can spread it. But this thing just slaps the fuck out of some people, and sometimes kills them, for no reason. Not because they're old, or sick, or have an otherwise compromised immune system, but they’re just simply unlucky. I mean, maybe there’s something we don’t know. Perhaps they all have something in common, some underlying factor that hasn’t been identified as a risk. That’s surely possible. But still — do you have it, this factor? Do I? 

But fear of getting infected isn't the main reason to distance and hunker down.

We should stay locked down and we should try our best not to spread it because it's extremely contagious, and there is a pretty large section of our society, who, for various reasons, really shouldn't be put into battle with this virus. A lot of them don't have a chance, and we, as a society, need to do the right fucking thing and keep this bug as far away from them as we can. And if caring about the sick and elderly is outside of your capacity, just know that you aren't safe, either. It could kill you, too. Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died from COVID-19 did not have an underlying medical condition or compromised immune system. I'm sure they all thought they would be fine.

I have learned the following by reading articles written by experts in the field.

There are eight strains of SARS-CoV-2 circulating the globe right now that cause the disease COVID-19. No one strain is deadlier than another, they are all very similar to each other. SARS-CoV-2 is not likely to rapidly mutate and go airborne or get into the water supply. Its current method of transmission from human to human is so effective it has no immediate need to try to adapt or evolve. If and when it does need to evolve to try to bypass our eventual vaccine, it will take it a while. Coronavirus evolves, or mutates, at a slow rate, about four times slower than influenza.

I should be citing this stuff, but this is a blog, not a peer-reviewed paper. This isn't shit I've discovered through testing and examination,  and I’m not trying to formulate my own hypothesis. I’m no expert in any of this, I'm just repeating shit I've found from articles that were well-sourced, and anyone can find them by Googling this stuff and seeing where I found it. But I digress, as I am wont to do.  Anyway, more science facts.

SARS-CoV-2 spreads from human to human in both large droplets and aerosol that exit the body during a cough, sneeze, panting, heavy breathing, etc. Any method that would allow moisture to escape the mouth on the breath. The virus can hang suspended in mist for up to three hours and remain active. The virus can live on paper and cardboard for up to 24 hours, and can live for up to 72 hours on plastic, stainless steel, and other smooth shiny surfaces.

So, on a relatively humid day, and, I know, how many of those are we going to see in mid-Spring, right? On a relatively humid day, an infected person sneezes. That infected aerosol can join with the water already in the air, and just float around ready to be breathed in for up to three hours. So, sure, stay six feet away, but if you move into a space someone else was just standing, you're now breathing in what they just breathed out.

I don't care who says what about masks.  I don't need someone to explain to me how and why masks work. I get that the virus is small and can pass through very small openings and to be fully effective a mask would have to be rated to work against particles as small as the virus, which in this case is N-95. But I also understand that if you're sick and you cough and you're wearing a piece of cloth over your face, you're going to greatly decrease the chances that you're going to spread the virus. Yes, small aerosols will make it through, but a lot of the germs will be caught and never enter the atmosphere. So, yeah, masks are prudent. Any of us could have it, and we should try not to spread it in case we do.

I am lucky and I get to stay in my house. I don’t know what lies I’d be telling myself if I had to go out in the world every day like nothing has changed and do a thankless job. Everyone still out in the world and not practicing social distancing will probably get this. I may get this, despite my best efforts. Most of us will be okay. Some of us won’t. 

#COVID19 #sars-cov-2 #coronavirus #social distancing #quarantine #shutdown

[bthenoise]

Here’s The Best of 2019 As Picked By Members Of The Used, Periphery, Counterparts, Killswitch Engage, Grayscale & More

Well everyone, we did it. Somehow someway we all survived yet another 365 gloriously trying days on this place we call earth. In about two more weeks, we will officially begin a brand new decade with hopes of starting something beautiful and life-changing for the human race. Until then, we’d like to take a second to look back on some of the finer things that came out of 2019 – you know, like the best album, best song, best movie, etc.

Like we’ve done in years past, we’ve completely turned our year-end best-of list over to the artists we cover on a daily basis because let’s face it, their opinions are the ones we all really care about, right?

Right.

To check out what bands like The Used, Counterparts, Periphery, Killswitch Engage, Fit For A King, Grayscale, Atreyu, Wage War, Boston Manor and more have all been obsessing over for the past year or so, be sure to see below. We hope you enjoy this final list as much as we do and wish you all the most peaceful and positive holiday season ever.

Enjoy!

Jeph Howard and Dan Whitesides - The Used

JEPH HOWARD

Best Album of 2019: Sampa the Great - The Return And Knocked Loose - A Different Shade Of Blue

Best Song of 2019: “Blow Me” - from The Used and yes I’m biased.

Best Music Video of 2019: Wendall - “The Power of Wings”

Most Underrated Album of 2019: Sampa the Great - The Return. Her vibe reminds me of my favorite era of hip hop.

Best Movie of 2019: Dr. Sleep, great book too. Must have been tough rewriting the story just enough to mix both the book The Shining and the film adaptation Kubrick made and then making a movie based on both origins.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: The OA season 3. So unfair that never happened.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Epstein was an inside job and also the cat playing the cell phone ring tone 😂

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: HodgePodge Superfest 2019 Indonesia, mostly because I got to hang with a couple family friends I haven’t seen in years.  

2020 New Year's Resolution: For 2020 I want to worry less about things I have no control over.

DAN WHITESIDES

Best Album: The Knocked Loose album A Different Shade Of Blue is great and so fuckin heavy! On the other side of things, the Billie Eilish album is really good front to back. Saw her live in Salt Lake and it was pretty sick.

Best Song: Honestly, it’s “Blow Me” by my band The Used. I’m not just saying that because it’s my band. It’s a great fucking song and it has all of my favorite elements in it.

Best Music Video: Blink 182’s “Darkside.” Love the stick tricks and the dancing kids.

Most Underrated Album: All the albums I liked in 2019, I rated them pretty high.

Best Movie: Dumb and Dumber has been the best movie every year since it came out. All the kids movies that came out in 2019 were good. I see them all. I didn’t really like The Addams Family though.  

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Atypical and Fuller House and I’m not fucking with you. I laugh out loud at Fernando every time!

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): When the deaf baby hears for the first time. I almost cried but I couldn’t because I’m a man and men don’t cry. Just playin! I did tear up a weeee bit.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Saw Rob Zombie and damn he puts on a great show. Back To The Beach was my favorite show I played in 2019. We did a cover of Linkin Park’s “Shadow Of The Day” at that show and it started raining. People were crying. It was nuts!

2020 New Year's Resolution:  I don’t really do resolutions but I wish people could just get along despite their beliefs. Life is too short.

Misha Mansoor - Periphery

Best Album of 2019: Mordial by Carbomb Best Song of 2019: “F it Up” by Louis Cole Best Music Video of 2019: “Genesis” by Devin Townsend Most Underrated Album of 2019: Forever, A Fast Life by Infinity Shred Best Movie of 2019: Jojo Rabbit Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Barry Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Gamer Girl Bath Water Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019:  Attended - Deadmau5 Cube V3.  Played - Sold Out London headliner at O2 Kentish Town 2020 New Year's Resolution: Drive more cars

Brendan Murphy - Counterparts

Best Album of 2019: Better Off - Reap What You Sow. Luke is probably the best songwriter I know personally. The album is an absolute fucking hit. I literally begged him to send me the masters before the album came out and I’ve listened to it non-stop since. Was hard to keep that album a secret. 

Best Song of 2019: Gotta go with what my Spotify wrapped tells me and aside from the 1975’s discography, my most listened to song of 2019 was “Slingshot” by Better Off. The song is amazing, the lyrics rock, chorus is fucking huge. Like I said, Luke can’t write a bad song. 

Best Music Video of 2019: I’ll be honest, it’s rare for me to watch any music video that doesn’t have the 1975 in it so I’m gonna go ahead and pick their video for “Frail State of Mind” because... I mean look at him, he’s so cool. If we could get away with making videos like that I might actually not dread shooting them haha. 

Most Underrated Album of 2019: BETTER OFF, YET AGAIN. ARE YOU SURPRISED? I don’t understand how they aren’t the biggest band on earth. 

Best Movie of 2019: Midsommar. I’m a total A24/Ari Aster fanboy and I love movies about freaky cults and this movie ticks all the boxes. It’s not as much of a “deep dive” as Hereditary, very surface level, but I mean it’s creepy and it’s shot beautifully and there’s flowers everywhere and in case you forgot I sing for Counterparts so it’s right up my fuckin alley haha. 

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Barry without question. Blake made me watch an episode when we were recording NLTL and I binged watched the show so hard I’d be up all night watching when I was supposed to be writing lyrics. Last time I was physically unable to stop watching a show was Lost, so that should say something. 

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): My own twitter hun xox 😘

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: I mean it’s hard to remember our shows because not only are they all fun, I’ve usually had a few chardonnays by the time we go on stage BUT one that stands out is the last day of Private Room 2.0 in Worcester... simply because for all of “Love Me” I didn’t have to say a fucking word, the crowd did the whole damn thing. I think there’s a video where I get so stoked I start screaming “YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT” and jumping. It’s fun and honestly, it’s 10 fucking words don’t make me do it by myself. 

2020 New Year's Resolution: Stop accidentally calling my teacher “mom.”

Mike D'Antonio - Killswitch Engage

Best Album of 2019: He Is Legend - White Bat Best Song of 2019: He Is Legend - “Resister Resist Her” Best Music Video of 2019: Death Ray Vision “Just Let It Die” Most Underrated Album of 2019: He Is Legend - White Bat Best Movie of 2019: Joker Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: The Mandalorian Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Yoda/Toyota meme Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Field Day played in Connecticut a few months back. 2020 New Year's Resolution: Refuse the new world order

Porter McKnight - Atreyu

Best Album of 2019: Angel Du$t - Pretty Buff Best Song of 2019: “The Dead Don’t Die” - Sturgill Simpson Best Music Video of 2019: Rammstein - “Deutschland” Most Underrated Album of 2019: The Act - The Devil Wears Prada Best Movie of 2019: Midsommar Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Watchmen Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Paul Rudd “Look at us” on Hot Ones Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019:  Attended - Nothing More - New Orleans March 2019 Played - Mr’s Smalls Theatre - Millvale, PA  2020 New Year's Resolution: Establish a consistent physical art practice

Ryan Kirby - Fit For A King

Best Album of 2019: Just for the purpose of nostalgia, I am going to go with Shaped by Fire by As I Lay Dying. It doesn't re-invent the wheel but it's just some good ole metalcore that brings me back. 

Best Song of 2019: I absolutely cannot stop listening to "Masochist" by Polaris. This band is going to be huge!

Best Music Video of 2019: I feel like I have to say our own video for "When Everything Means Nothing" is the best strictly because we all almost died of hypothermia while getting sprayed by a fire hose.  

Most Underrated Album of 2019: I think The Valley by Whitechapel doesn't get talked about near as much as it should. Phil's cleans are fantastic and they keep bringing the heavy. 

Best Movie of 2019: I feel like this will be a lot of people's favorite movie but The Joker was an absolute masterpiece.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: This one is EASILY The Boys. It might be the most well-done superhero show OR movie ever made. Once you watch the first episode, you are sucked in.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): This one is really tough because at this point, I don't even know which meme is from what year. I guess I'll go with Baby Yoda since I know that’s 2019 but with a disclaimer: There are a lot of NOT funny Baby Yoda memes out there.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: The show in Cologne, Germany with As I Lay Dying was the biggest club show we had ever played, and at the same time, probably one of the best live performances I've ever seen. Amazing night.

2020 New Year's Resolution: I want to be able to run a half marathon with my dad. It’s pretty simple but he is out here running full marathons all the time and is double my age. I feel like I need to step it up.

Valentino Arteaga - Of Mice & Men

Best Album of 2019: Gideon - Out Of Control Best Song of 2019: Kublai Khan TX - “Self Destruct” Best Music Video of 2019: Ghostemane - “Bonesaw” Most Underrated Album of 2019: Ithaca - The Language of Injury Best Movie of 2019: Yesterday Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Cold Case Files Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Spotify Wrapped 2019 Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Wacken Open Air Festival 2020 New Year's Resolution: Eat less meat & make more music

Matty Mullins - Memphis May Fire

Best Album of 2019: Dermot Kennedy - Without Fear Best Song of 2019: Papa Roach - “Feel Like Home” Best Music Video of 2019: Asking Alexandria - “The Violence” Most Underrated Album of 2019: He Is Legend - White Bat Best Movie of 2019: Yesterday Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: This Is Us Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): @catatonicyouths IG Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Warped Tour in Atlantic City was LEGENDARY! 2020 New Year's Resolution: Write the best MMF record of our career

Nick Ventimiglia - Grayscale

Best Album of 2019: tryhard by The Band Camino and Fear Inoculum by Tool Best Song of 2019: "No Age" by Rich People Best Music Video of 2019: "Mantra" by Bring Me the Horizon was pretty wild Most Underrated Album of 2019: Third Eye Blind - Screamer Best Movie of 2019: Big fans of Us and The Irishman Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Peaky Blinders and Mindhunter Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Big fan of the Kawhi Leonard “Hey, hey, hey” memes. Really anything but that lady yelling at that fucking cat. Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Our headliner in Philly this past October at The TLA.  2020 New Year's Resolution: Rock harder than we did in 2019.

Cody Quistad - Wage War

Best Album of 2019: tryhard by The Band Camino Best Song of 2019: “See Through” by The Band Camino Best Music Video of 2019: “Resentment” by A Day To Remember Most Underrated Album of 2019: In Darkness by Varials Best Movie of 2019: Peanut Butter Falcon The Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: The Office, duh Favorite Internet Moment of 2019: The Epstein memes kill me Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Can’t Say I Ain’t Country Tour: Florida Georgia Line, Dan + Shay, Morgan Wallen 2020 New Year’s Resolution: Write the best songs I’ve ever written, love on more people, and be healthier 

Boston Manor

Best Album of 2019: Death Is A Warm Blanket by Microwave. This record is the best guitar music to come out in years. As our contemporaries, Microwave is constantly challenging and inspiring us to make better art.

Best Song of 2019: “The Brakeman Has Resigned” by Microwave. This song could not be more relevant to us, both instrumentally and lyrically. It’s just fuckin’ perfect.

Best Music Video of 2019: “DIAWB” by Microwave. You get the point.

Most Underrated Album of 2019: Foreign Language EP by Can’t Swim. Always love to see friends changing up their riff game.

Best Movie of 2019: The Irishmen. I’ve watched it like three times in the van now and can’t choose which Tony is my favourite.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Rick and Morty. You son of a bitch, I’m in.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Eric Egan from Heart Attack Man.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Best concert we played would have to be Download Madrid. Right off the heels of ADTR in America, the airline lost our gear so we had to cobble together a backline and ended up playing after Tool to an insane amount of people.

2020 New Year's Resolution: Continue our world domination.

Mike Foley - Varials

Best Album of 2019: Feels Like You by Whirr Best Song of 2019: "Nothing Left To Love" by Counterparts Best Music Video of 2019: Tie between "Lips Like Lemonade" by Nick Prosper & "Mistakes Like Fractures" by Knocked Loose. Most Underrated Album of 2019: Deceiver by Diiv Best Movie of 2019: Joker Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: I Think You Should Leave Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Kombucha girl Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: The best show I attended was definitely the Balance & Composure farewell show in NYC. RIP. Best played was definitely the Atlantic City Warped Tour date. Also RIP. 2020 New Year's Resolution: Tour more internationally / spend as much time traveling as possible. Really hoping we make it to 3 different continents this year.

Kory Gregory - Prince Daddy & The Hyena

Best Album of 2019: Remembering The Rockets - Strange Ranger Best Song of 2019: “Mono No Aware” - Great Grandpa Best Music Video of 2019: “Must Be Wrong” - White Reaper Most Underrated Album of 2019: Super Enthusiast - Macseal Best Movie of 2019: Parasite Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Been really enjoying Mandalorian Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Baby Yoda forever and always. No questions asked. Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Our record release show in NYC was really special! That’s my favorite one I played. As far as the ones I attended, this Culture Abuse/Tony Molina show I went to in Boston was pretty legendary. 2020 New Year's Resolution: I just wanna keep writing songs that are better than the last!

Yvette Young - Covet

Best Album of 2019: The Japanese House - Good At Falling Best Song of 2019: “Shrugging Match” - Bobbing Best Music Video of 2019: Don Broco - “Action” Most Underrated Album of 2019: Town Portal - Of Violence Best Movie of 2019: Midsommar Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: I Think You Should Leave Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Discovering bandmemes666, Chibson, catatonicyouths and allgasnobrakes on IG Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Orlando summer headliner show at The Soundbar 2020 New Year's Resolution: Make a dope full-length album

Carter Hardin - Chapel 

Best Album of 2019: Album of the year for me is KIN by Electric Guest. Every song is a bop and the production is so clean.

Best Song of 2019: I would have to say “Friends” by CHAPEL. The band is pretty cool and the song is a slapper.

Best Music Video of 2019: “Panini” by Lil Nas X is mine. It’s the most memorable one I’ve seen this year.

Most Underrated Album of 2019: Pep Talks - Judah & The Lion. Not enough people are talking about that record.

Best Movie of 2019: MARRIAGE STORY. This movie broke me & I can’t stop thinking about it.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Fleabag is amazing. you need to watch it.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Baby Yoda memes are the best memes in the world.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: I saw Cherub recently and they always put on the best show. This recent one was super inspiring.

2020 New Year's Resolution: Release more music

Alex Biro - Selfish Things

Best Album: The Act by The Devil Wears Prada. Genre-defying and innovative, this was one of my favourite albums of the last decade. I’ve been a TDWP fan since Zombie EP but the growth they’ve shown on their latest release while still staying true to their roots was sonically refreshing.  

Best Song: “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X. This speaks for itself. I’ve never been one to shy away from popular music, but it’s Lil Nas X’s “love everyone but fuck everyone” attitude that kind of impresses me most? He’s punk as hell. He breaks stereotypes. He pissed off 90% of the country music industry. I hope he continues to succeed.

Best Music Video: “bury a friend” by Billie Eilish. I mean, it’s been Billie’s year. We all know that. But the whole “monster under your bed” motif coupled with her wanting to not shy away from the dark side of things in a genre filled to the brim with bubblegum songs and visuals speaks to her innovation as a creative and an artist.

Most Underrated Album of 2019: Everyone I’ve Ever Loved by Valleyheart. This came out a week and a half before 2019 but I’m including it here. “Agnosia” is one of the best songs I’ve heard in years. This band is fucking amazing. Don’t sleep on them. They deserve better than they’ve been given.

Best Movie of 2019: Peanut Butter Falcon. Shia LaBeouf is a true artist, and he’s at the peak of his game here. If you’re a fan of Garden State, The Grand Budapest Hotel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Rocket Science or any other emotionally devastating indie films, this is a movie for you.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: The Simpsons. God bless you Disney+. I can’t even put into words how nice it is to watch all of my old favourites with my daughter. Treehouse of Horror forever.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Colton jumping the fence during The Bachelor. We admittedly got snowed in during the “snow cyclone” in Wyoming and binged this whole season. I’ve never been more disappointed. Still impressed by his agility, though.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Atlanta, GA w/ Microwave, Boston Manor and Heart Attack Man. We’ve never had that many kids over the barricade. It was one of those “wow, maybe our band isn’t totally shit” moments. We all got off stage and knew it was one to remember. I’ll never forget it. 

2020 New Year's Resolution: Learn to be happy with who I am without letting the toxicity of social media cloud my self-perception.

Ryan Donovan - Red City Radio

Best Album of 2019: Mannequin Pussy - Patience. "Who You Are" & "Drunk II" are some standout tracks on that record for me! It's just filled with melodic anthems that have killer soft harmonies and is kind of a technically ambitious record compared to their older stuff, which I also love!

Best Song of 2019: The Menzingers - "America (You're Freaking Me Out)." They fucking NAILED it with this track and our current climate in the US, socially/politically/economically etc. They seamlessly always write some killer tunes!

Best Music Video of 2019: PUP - "Free At Last." No one had heard the song yet. They posted the lyrics and chord chart to the song and took all submissions of everyone's interpretation of the song and edited that down. You just gotta watch it for yourself, IT FUCKING RULES. Most Underrated Album of 2019: Decent Criminal - BLISS. I love this band and their tunes/sound. Small indy label release and I hope they take some more strides forward and keep growing. They rip.

Best Movie of 2019: Favorite movie I have personally seen so far this year is Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. I heard it was a lot of either "love it" or "hated it" kind of reviews but I personally thought it was a killer film.

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Ah man, with so much time on the road touring this year for RCR binge-watching older shows was a lot of my downtime when I got back home so here are some favs: Admittedly I had never seen Breaking Bad, that has now been binged and completed. Game Of Thrones (hadn't seen it until this Summer, I know, I know whatever). Animal Kingdom, Succession, Punisher, Jessica Jones and I Think You Should Leave.  

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): I LOVE THIS MEME and I do love pizza.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019: Probably the last show of our short tour with Hot Water Music over in Cologne, Germany. It was the largest capacity venue show we have ever played as a band - that wasn't a festival - at 4k humans, sold out! It was also extra special because Rockpalast had a 10+ human camera crew on hand and filmed the whole thing with live edits as it was streamed for anyone to tune in and watch. The edits and camera/audio/streaming quality was A+!!!

2020 New Year's Resolution: Better self-care.

Brett Boland - Astronoid

Best Album of 2019: HEALTH - VOL. 4 :: SLAVES OF FEAR Best Song of 2019: Dinosaur Pile-Up - Thrash Metal Cassette Best Music Video of 2019: Billie Eilish - “bury a friend” Most Underrated Album of 2019: Nightmare Scenario - Beyond What is Real Best Movie of 2019: Midsommar Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Succession Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Sonic The Hedgehog Movie debacle. Best Concert You Attended: Final Slayer show in MA Best Concert You Played in 2019: Exit 111 2020 New Year's Resolution: PUT OUT MORE MUSIC

Conversation

Best Album of 2019: Copeland - Blushing. I’ve been a huge fan of this band for years and years and years; to say that they shaped my songwriting is an understatement. I was lucky enough to catch Copeland for the first time on this tour and it was a truly tectonic moment for me. Blushing was a perfect step for this band in terms of tone, emotional maturity and instrumental creativity. I was just so happy to hear every single song.

Best Song of 2019: “Make It Better” by Anderson Paak. This track just puts you in a good mood!!

Best Music Video of 2019: Our music video for “You’ve Made Yourself Perfectly Clear” where we accurately and tastefully re-created the opening scene of Wayne’s World to perfection. I know it seems like a bit of a brag to say you had the best video of the year, but truth be told, nothing else even came close.

Best Movie of 2019: Joker - I’m sure this will be a pretty common response but IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!

Most Binge-Worthy Show of 2019: Letterkenny - A hilarious show about small-town Canada. If you don’t know, now you know.

Favorite Internet Moment of 2019 (Viral Video, GIF, Meme, etc.): Jonathan Frakes Asking Questions.

Best Concert You Attended/Played in 2019:  A close tie between Arkells at Scotiabank Arena and Barr Brothers at Mod Club

2020 New Year's Resolution: To tour all of the USA and Europe for our new record. We are all so excited for the new music that we’re about to put out into the world and our undying dream is to show our live show to the entire world. SO THAT’S WHAT WE’RE DOING!!!

#Best Of #The Used #Periphery #Counterparts #Killswitch Engage #Atreyu #Fit For A King #Grayscale #Memphis May Fire #Boston Manor #Varials #prince daddy and the hyena #Chapel #Selfish Things #Red City Radio #Conversations #Wage War #Astronoid #Of Mice and Men #Covet

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

TF2 Headcanon

@camiluna27​ gave me a weird headcanon and it ended up like this. It is TRASH.

Title: For Fuck’s Sake

"Jesus christ, when I said GET A ROOM GUYS, I didn't mean it like this!" Scout shouts down the corridor, only slightly above the awkward cacophony of moans, groans, cries and... slapping sounds he didn't wanna think too hard about, really.

It'd been a hell of a long day, well, week actually. And sure, everyone was entitled to let off steam however they wanted, but this... this was ridiculous. There was a moment when Scout paused in horror, realising that somehow he'd become the fuddy old guy just trying to sleep, while all the 'kids' got freaky.

"Oh no... I'm old." he whispers, feeling sick.

Though not as unwell as the sound of his father getting it on did, and god, the bastard had to be putting on a show just to fuck with him. Wait, no, wrong phrasing!

Scout shakes his head, trying to pretend none of this was happening. None of it. They definitely didn't get louder after he shouted at them, nope...

Live in Denial. That's his new motto.

It was hard enough to look everyone in the eye after hearing them all like this in individual pairings, because people say the weirdest shit when they're banging... but this? This was overkill.

Not like he could escape, either.

Scout had realised what was going on about an hour ago, and grumblingly made his way outside towards Sniper's camper. Surely the guy would let the runner kip on his little couch, if he saw the bags under Scout's eyes, right?

Wrong. Oh so very wrong. He didn't know who else was in there (well, he did, their voice was distinctive but he wouldn't admit to the knowledge)... but it was clear that things had a 'do not disturb' scenario ongoing in there.

Well fuck... he'd tried to go back to his room and ignore it...

Heck, he questioned going to the Infirmary for some sleeping pills... but about two feet from the door he realised that SOMEONE was playing doctor in there... and he didn't wanna know at all.

At the very least, he could try Pyro, right?

The guy, uh, gal, uh... whoever under that suit, had a good grasp on ignoring reality. Might as well see if they had a solution... perhaps he could borrow one of the pyrovision masks?

...oh, oh that was a bad idea.

He'd had no idea that those two... were together, but clearly...

Defeated, and desperate for sleep, he stumbles into the common room towards the couch. He could make do. The room was far enough away from the dorms that it should be quiet enough, right?

Theoretically, yes. But in reality... wrong, oh so very wrong.

When his own footsteps had died away, and he was motionless, everything else was amplified to an obscene degree.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" he shouts, snapping up, grabbing the blanket he'd been trailing around with him, and one of the shabby couch cushions.

Somewhere, someone laughed and made a lewd comment back at him, but Scout was beyond registering words. He'd been in motion all day, and only respawned a few times; which meant the usual energy kick he got from dying near the end of the match, hadn't been thre today. It usually tided the runner over into dinner, showertime, then bed...

But all he could think right now was how much everything ached to just... stop. To lie down for a moment, and drift into nothing; and yet, his comrades all seemed to be of a different frame of mind. Where did they get the energy for this shit?

It was so late... well, no, it was like, eight o'clock... but that was late for the weary, alright?

He made it outside, blank eyes ceaselessly roving over the landscape outside, trying to find a solution. Sniper's van was out. So was the roof, because the ventilation shaft carried sounds like you wouldn't believe.

Sure, he could 'wait them out' under normal circumstances... but the need to sleep was too urgent. Which was frustrating, because the longer the noises irritated, the less chance he'd sleep... and in the past, he'd just end up passing he threshold of no sleep that left him exhausted but unable to rest without bothering Medic about it.

He just wandered around for a while, finally finding the ladder to one of Sniper's hidden nests.

Oh thank fuckin' god. Even if every rung felt like a marathon, he still crawled up, up, up, until salvation was in sight.

The blank, hard wooden walls were warped, ancient, decrepit. Some boards poked up and out, but Scout didn't fucking care. He shoves Sniper's crates aside; the ones the guy sat on, used to steady his rifle, and occasionally hold jars of jarate. There's enough space if he curls up a bit; nothing fancy but it'll do.

The cushion is scratchy, and the blanket too thin for the night air; but it was quiet. Sir Hootsalot made a loud hoo somewhere nearby, but that was about it.

"Finally..." Scout breathes, curling inwards, and letting aching eyelids fall shut. And with that... sleep looms out of the darkness, and consumes him.

- - -

The next morning began, as most usually do. Soldier woke first to do his insane series of fitness exercises at six am sharp, no matter what had gone on the night before; and the sound of him exercising often woke the rest up. He was not a quiet man, and shouted encouragement at himself and the raccoons the whole time. Occasionally someone would join him, but mostly they sent someone out to congratulate the guy and talk him into toning it down...

Soldier was up already, mid-routine. Engineer, one of those foul Morning People, would rise to brew coffee and get everyone else up if possible. Medic and Heavy would arrive, by seven, looking as prim and proper as ever. Pyro was always tagging around behind someone, and no one could even tell if they slept... but they were there, and responsive. Demo could be coaxed awake with the promise of coffee... and then deployed as a friendly, yet firm, Scottish alarm clock. He was the best at getting Spy up, and even Sniper -the latter of which  required multiple instances of encouragement of a morning. Even if the aussie had gotten used to the different timezones, he still had difficulty waking up in the morning; and sometimes fell asleep whilst walking into the base, often slouching against a wall until someone shook him.

As for Scout, well it depended. On weekdays the kid would have to be all but dragged out of bed; but on the weekends, he'd shoot out at all times, ready for morning cartoons. Spy often made a mockery of the practice, but Engineer pointed out that there ain't no harm in having something a little fun and silly to enjoy. Then tilted his head at Pyro, who would be watching the espionage agent with that cold, blank stare... daring the man to say something against cartoons.

His absence was therefore as conspicuous as Medic operating without Archimedes somewhere in the vicinity. Though no one could quite grasp onto the notion just yet. That is to say, something felt off, but no one had cottoned on to what was missing as of yet...

Mostly they were conversing over toast and tea, laughing about the night before and prodding general fun at everyone for the noise. And that's when someone realises.

"Where's the lad? I remember he was yellin' up a storm last night but I didnae see him this morning..." Demo interjects.

"Psh, he's probably just still asleep, you know how he is. Lazy." Spy responds, unconcerned.

"Mrrruh-uh, rrmp-phy." Pyro adds, which had a few eyes looking towards Engineer for clarity.

"Uh, Py said his room was empty when they passed earlier. Maybe he tried to escape the ruckus 'n slept on the lounge?" Engineer clarified, frowning.

"Is not in common area, though cushion is missing." Heavy says, looking pensive. Medic idly sips at his coffee, and offers nothing additional.

"Maybe he went out to the van. Did you see him, Snipes?" Engineer tried, mentally ruling out the Infirmary because everyone knew that was off-limits after dark on Fridays unless you were really messed up.

"Uhhhh..." the sharpshooter begins, shooting a glance towards Soldier, "If he did, he wouldn't have knocked..."

"Well, it seems we 'ave to find zhe idiot zhen..." sighs Spy, stubbing out his cigarette on the table and standing up. "Come along, zhe faster we do zhis, zhe quicker we can return to breakfast..."

No one remarked about the fact Spy obviously cared that the runner was missing, it would have spoiled the moment.

And that was how the great Scout-hunt began. Searching high and low, through all nooks and crannies... seeking any sign of the missing mercenary member... they eventually wound up back in the kitchen to report an inability to locate the runner.

"Just where in the hell is Scoot hiding?"  Engie sighs in frustration, jaw tight and fists clenched. "We looked all over the damn base, even the roof and pipes... not that I think he'd go down there, not after the whole Loch Ness Monster story Demo told a while back."

"Oh aye, he was too scared to go near the place for a week straight it was bloody hilarious..." laughs Demo, beaming. The smile wavers slightly, "But if he isnae on base, then he's got to be somewhere close on the map, right?"

"Bloody hell why didn't we think of that?" Sniper exclaims, heading for the door. "I'll see if I can find his tracks and let you kno-... oh, we're all coming. Alright then."

They head to the main entrance and find the door slightly ajar, which would normally mean that the BLU Spy was somewhere in the building... but most were relatively confident it was Scout-related. Pyro could check later, anyway.

Sniper cast his gaze around, noting what looked like drag marks, but not heavy enough for a young man of Scout's size. "Looks like he went as far from everyone as he could, and I think he had some sort of sheet with him... looks like he dragged something."

"Fine, fine... just tell us where he is, bushman." Spy condescends. Sniper lets it go because the other is clearly trying not to show he's worried... Spy's already on his third cigarette since they started searching.

The further he followed it, the more Sniper was certain he knew where they were heading. Eventually, he stopped following the tracks altogether and just went straight for the nest's concealed ladder.

"You sure?" Demo asks, "I mean, it's well-hidden..."

"He knows where it is, showed him ages back... 'cause the other sniper got him in the knee and we couldn't find Doc to fix it. Had to stash him somewhere and find a healthkit..." Sniper responds, absently. "And he likes to stargaze too... but I suppose you'd already know that, Spook..."

Spy did not rise to the bait, and let the challenge rest. He arched an eyebrow behind the mask, all the same.

"Alright, I'll go get him..." Sniper says eventually, ascending the ladder with ease born of years of repetition. By the time he clears the top, and lifts the  trap door, the aussie is finally able to sigh in relief.

There he is, the idiot.

Scout was a small ball wrapped haphazardly in a thin blanket; head angled awkwardly on the couch cushion. There were dark circles under his eyes, exacerbated by the odd pallor of his skin.

Sniper climbed in and shook the runner, getting a feeble muttering in response; so he tried again. "C'mon mate, wake up..."

"Nnnnnn..." Scout whined back, shifting slightly and shivering as flesh was exposed to morning air.

Sniper frowns, then looks down through the hole to call, "Hey Doc, could you come up here a minute...?"

He can hear the Medic grumble his entire trip up the ladder, complaining about how labcoats were not made with this activity in mind. Though eventually, he emerges, alights on the precariously creaking platform and immediately moves to Scout.

"Ah, scheisse..." Medic huffs, poking, prodding, taking pulses and observations. "It certainly seems zhat he has caught something from being exposed to zhe night air..."

"Yeah, thought so. Doesn't wanna wake up... so I'm not sure how to get him down..." Sniper admits.

"Oh zhat is easy." Medic smiles, leaning towards the open trapdoor. "Herr Heavy, vould you be so kind as to catch zhe Scout vhen I throw him through zhis hole?"

There's a shuffling, some concerned voices shouting that Medic 'can't just toss the lad about', and a thick "Da." of affirmation.

"Good, danke." mutters the doctor, hefting Scout up like he weighed nothing, and positioning them over the exit.

The next thing Sniper knew, Medic had dropped the runner, and there was a split-second before Heavy confirmed he had him. "Bloody hell, steady on Doc, nearly gave me a heart-attack!"

"I vould like to see you try, zhat mega baboon heart I gave you vas an excellent specimen..." Medic mumbles to himself, and Sniper let it go. No sense asking what Medic put in them anymore... no need to worry about it.

They climbed back down without any pomp or ceremony, to find the others gathered around Heavy. Engie was trying to wrap the Scout up, Soldier was ordering the 'maggot' to 'rise and shine' in an oddly soft shout, Demo was feeling the kid's forehead for fever,  Spy was... pretending he wasn't worried. And Pyro was... uh, just staring.

Sniper could have laughed, because the runner just about disappeared in Heavy's arms like this. But on the other hand, it was worrying. Clearly, they all shared the same concerns.

Medic ushered them inside, to the infirmary and then threw everyone but Heavy out. Bustling about, trying to find a thermometer...

Scout made a cracked, sad sound, and it drew the attention of the mercenaries present. Heavy offered the disoriented runner some water, but stopped him gulping it down.

"hnn?" Scout queried, confused.

"You slept outside, you dummkopf, und now you have a cold..." Medic admonishes. "Vhy on earth didn't you just knock on a door instead? You vould be velcome by most of zhe others..."

No one needed to address the fact that Spy was automatically excluded from the statement.

"J-just wann'ed... sleep... t-tired..." croaks the runner, clearly still fairly well exhausted. "Loud... couldn't..."

"Alright, don't hurt yourself, hase... just take zhese und go back to sleep. It should knock zhis out of your system by tomorrow, if I formulated it correctly..." Medic soothes, handing over a fistful of odd little red pills, which Scout stared sceptically at for a long minute.

"Heavy has used them, they are safe, leetle Scout." assured the Russian, handing the glass of water back.

It's painful for everyone, watching the runner try to swallow each little capsule past what must be a red-raw throat... but eventually it is done. He flops back on the bed, worn out from the effort, and doesn't resist when someone tucks him in.

The minute he fell asleep, Medic looked to Heavy. "Vell, zhis could have gone better..."

"Hmmm, da. Maybe we should buy leetle Scout headphones, for next time?" grins the other.

"Oho, planning next time already are you, Misha?" Medic laughed, heading for the door. Heavy said nothing as he followed, merely made certain the curtains would not let in light to disturb the runner, and shut the door.

It was nearly evening the next day by the time Scout woke up properly. Oh there'd been momentary jerks back into consciousness, but they were fleeting. Expected.

This was different. Sure, he felt a little less energetic than usual but nothing else seemed amiss. Medic was delighted to find he'd inadvertently created a cure for the common cold; but then, if anyone on this earth was going to... it would be the Doc. Scout said so, and Medic actually blushed in flustered delight.

Heavy had laughed, and called the runner a flatterer.

It was late, but someone had saved him dinner, so he reheated it and went to town on the meal. He pauses in his room to grab some clothes, and laugh at the fluffy ballonicorn earmuffs 'someone' had secretly left for him; they were adorable, and fit nicely, but the handwritten note in crayon gave away who the 'anonymous friend' was.

Finally, the runner headed off for a much-needed shower, realising what sleeping through a day or so could make you smell like was unpleasant... only to do a u-turn when he realised the place was definitely already occupied.

Maybe he could use the Infirmary one? Dare he risk it?

"Yeah, fuck it..." Scout sighs, knocking on the door. "Hey Doc, the uh, shower's in Use if ya get me, so can I use yours?"

"Of course, Herr Scout, go right ahead..." Medic responds absently, revealed to be pouring over paperwork at his desk as the door swung open. "Shut zhe door please, I do not vant zhe birds to get loose."

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure... sorry. Thanks, too." Scout stutters, eyes fixed on the way the man was twirling a pen around idly. He zoned out for a minute, jerking back into focus when Heavy touched his shoulder, and Scout just about launched himself through the ceiling in surprise.

"Shower is free, leetle man." the other repeated, and went over to sit by Medic, as the doctor started to speak in rapid-fire german about something related to the page before him.

Scout took that as a cue to go scrub up. Really, everyone was being real polite about it, but he stunk to high heaven... The shower was possibly the best thing he'd ever experienced in his life; there was something fuckin' magical about it, really. Soap smelled pretty good too, not like the cheap stuff in the main showers; this was like, fancy or something. Left you smelling real nice even after you'd washed the suds off.

Weird thing to think about, but then, the whole weekend had been pretty fucked up from the start. Scout towelled off, double-checking his brothers' dogtags were still firmly attached on their chain, and then slipping on the clean clothes.

It was like... having a whole new physical body, and it felt amazing. Scout would have thought it was insane to think something like that seriously, and yet... it somehow described the situation perfectly.

A large gush of steam followed him out of the small, yet comfortable, bathroom. "Hey doc, thanks, feels great!" he shouts.

"Good, you vere stating to smell..." Medic says, steepling his hands. "Und how do you feel now, hase?"

"Uh, great actually. Almost like I never got sick..." he responds, watching Medic write it down.

"Wunderbar." the other whispers, underscoring something vehemently.

Scout finds Heavy is scrutinising him for hints of deceit, but seems satisfied overall that Scout was being truthful. He stands up behind the Doctor, crossing both arms, and nods.

Medic bends down to scribble something furiously on his paperwork, and for a second, Scout is struck by how utterly lewd the innocent scene before him had become. He thinks his jaw must have fallen open, because he saw Heavy grin, and lean over to whisper something in the Doctor's ear...

"Vhat? Oh, I see vhat you mean..." Medic murmurs back in a stage-whisper. He clears his throat, raising his voice, "Are you sure you're quite vell, Herr Scout?"

"I-.. uh, I'm great..." Scout manages back, mentally flashing back through some of his more scarring memories, trying to calm down. Maybe this was a side effect?

"Are you certain...? You seem... tense." Medic queried, seemingly all business, and not noticing the way Heavy was bending down to kiss at the back of his neck.

"I-...uh... you remember that thing you said the other night about knocking on doors and asking if you can be the meat in a heavy-medic sandvich?" Scout blurts, immediately covering his mouth in horror.

Heavy hides his face so as not to laugh at the runner openly; but Medic can feel the rumble of amusement vibrating in the air. The doctor fights to maintain his own nonchalance.

"Oh? I don't recall zhe exact phrasing..." he pauses, to watch the runner tensing, like he's about to run for it. "...but I do like zhe sound of it."

"...really?" Scout's incredulous expression is what breaks Medic's composure, and he laughs.

Scout turns to run, but Medic shouts, "Vait, I vas not laughing because I am joking... you just look so very eager, und I vas zhinking about how your illness could have easily been prevented had you asked back zhen..."

"Oh." Scout relaxes, taking his hand off he doorknob. "Then ya good with that, or should I go chat up Sniper?"

Everyone in the room knew the runner wasn't going to do that. Though they weren't the most romantic types, Sniper & Soldier had something, and tended to turn everyone else away...

"You can come over here, and ve vill decide vhat to do from zhere, alright little hase?" Medic advises, as Heavy moves back to make a space for the runner to occupy.

"Sure?" Scout challenges, one more time, looking at the far-too-quiet Heavy for his take on the situation.

Misha grins, "Da, will be good... as long as leetle Scout is okay with being the bread as well as the meat."

Scout lets out a tiny, "Oh my god, yes..."

Medic puts his hand on Heavy's arm, "Now, now, Misha, don't get him too excited or he'll drop dead before ve accomplish anything fun..."

Heavy's grin turns downright lecherous. "Is always respawn."

- - -

The End

- - - 

Additional:

While a handful of other mercenaries wanted to check on Scout, they all took note of the commotion going on in the Infirmary and decided to leave them be for now. Spy spent several days sending murderous looks at the trio, predominantly Heavy & Medic, but it would be hypocritical to complain about their lack of decorum. 

#tf2 #fanfiction #scout #scout/heavy/medic #accidental ship it just ended up funnier that way #triathlon #spy #demo #spy/demo #bomb voyage #heavy #medic #heavy/medic #red oktoberfest #sniper #soldier #sniper/soldier #engineer #pyro #engie/pyro #behold this shit #the basic idea was 'scout wants to sleep but the mercs are banging and nowhere is safe' #help the BOY

[punkscowardschampions]

Nancy & Rio

Nancy: You're with him right now, aren't you? Nancy: With how that convo just went you're gonna need to be Rio: Oh Rio: No, I'm actually at work but I can go back if I need to Nancy: It's me giving fair warning, it's up to you Rio: I don't know what to say Nancy: Me either Rio: This isn't how we wanted this to go down Rio: but I guess there's no speech that would prepare anyone, yeah? Nancy: Unlikely Nancy: You're the only ones who had any time to prepare and you're struggling, like Rio: It's just Rio: if it was anyone else, we wouldn't have to make this big thing of it, it feels awkward Rio: I know it isn't anyone else and that's the point but it doesn't take away from that feeling Nancy: Well, I'm glad you feel awkward too 'cause it's fucking weird Nancy: And he doesn't care at all so Rio: It's just hard for him to hear that Rio: it doesn't feel it Nancy: I literally don't understand this Nancy: You hate him Rio: Well Rio: I don't Rio: It's a headfuck, I know Nancy: Do you? Rio: Yeah Rio: This is why this is the last way we wanted this to come out Nancy: Like there's a better one Nancy: It's still Rio: You can say it, whatever you want Nancy: I've slagged him off to you so many times and the whole time you've Rio: It's not like I've been repeating it, I promise Nancy: That's not even the issue Nancy: God, this is so strange Rio: What is? Like, your main issues personally anyway Nancy: I don't have words for any of this Nancy: We grew up together, all of us, and then me and him drifted but it was okay 'cause so did you and him Nancy: You understood what he was like instead of falling under his spell like everyone else Rio: I still do Rio: I've not been fooled into thinking he's something he's not Rio: but yeah, I've seen other sides of him too Nancy: He told me why you two really stayed away from each other Nancy: So no you don't Rio: It's hard to explain Rio: it doesn't strictly mean I bought into all that Rio: and I did still see what you were saying, regardless Nancy: I don't get why you'd do this Nancy: You're so much better than it Rio: I know it's unconventional, and lots of people are going to have lots of opinions Rio: but I care less about how hard it might be because I love him more Nancy: I don't care that you're cousins, I care that he's him and you're you Rio: Like I said, I've seen different sides Rio: and you've got to admit, he's been getting better Nancy: You don't think I've seen every side? Nancy: That's how I know which one wins out Nancy: I love him too okay, but any change has come 'cause the Chloe thing scared him straight for a while Nancy: He doesn't know how not to revert to type Rio: It's just a different relationship Rio: no one is entirely themselves with any one person really Rio: he's not always been that, he wasn't before, he doesn't have to stay it Nancy: He's been a prick way longer than he wasn't and we both know it Nancy: Harsh but true Rio: He's got his reasons Rio: don't we all? Nancy: I don't want you to get hurt, alright? Rio: I know Rio: and without sounding disingenuous I am glad you care Rio: but it's too late to go back Rio: I don't want to Nancy: Gross Nancy: Don't give me any more details, like Rio: 'Course not Nancy: Did you really have to come for my parents entire relationship dynamic and repeat it with your own spin? Nancy: I'm joking but like also not Rio: I know Rio: the parallels were not lost on me Nancy: If you break up I'll have to move countries again Nancy: Lord knows what you'd have to do Rio: Yeah Rio: It is scary, not gonna lie Nancy: I literally can't and won't pick sides Rio: I'm not going to ask you to, can't promise he wouldn't but you know Rio: hoping it's not gonna come to that, call me an optimist Nancy: Okay that's cute Nancy: Don't make me a believer this fast, thanks Rio: Sorry, like Nancy: Can we like call him by a code name or something? Nancy: This is just Rio: Only 'cos I'm dying to hear your suggestions now Nancy: Don't make me laugh right now Rio: Soz again Rio: I promise I'm never going to come to you with the kinda info that'll have you wishing you were deaf Rio: Never have, 'cos ew boys, yeah? Nancy: I was literally gonna say Nancy: I'm too gay for that whoever it is Rio: Exactly Rio: I know it's going to be weird for a while for all the other reasons but aside from that, just another straight boy right Nancy: Yeah Nancy: Some of your exes have been even bigger pricks too, but don't tell him I said that Nancy: He'll take it as a trade up Rio: My lips are sealed Rio: Though if anyone's trying to deny that then they got bigger problems Nancy: I can't believe you've used those lips on him after how the first time went Nancy: I'm dead here Rio: He was like, what, 9 Rio: Again, the eternal optimist Rio: but hardly with how much he bragged on all his practice so Nancy: Don't Rio: My bad Nancy: Did you like him then? Nancy: When he was 9 I mean, not when he was bragging Rio: I mean Rio: Not to the degree we've been keeping the secret that long Rio: I guess I had a crush on him Rio: pass you the sick bucket, like Nancy: Lord Nancy: I know he did on you, he told me Nancy: Unprompted, which is another level of gross, thank you Nancy: It's like he was in the closet over this in place of me ever being Nancy: So dramatic, like Rio: I'll save my 'cute' for him, don't worry Rio: well you know, do anything for you, like Nancy: Can I come and see you? Nancy: Like I know it's gonna be so awkward in person probably and I wanna get it over with so we can just Rio: Of course Rio: I'd like that Nancy: I miss you Nancy: Even if you do have rubbish taste in boys Rio: I miss you too Rio: all of you Rio: but I don't miss being there, you know Nancy: I get it Nancy: I feel the same about London Rio: Yeah Rio: I thought you would Nancy: I know it's Drew and I really shouldn't expect him to be anything other than the worst but I can't believe he outed you like that Nancy: So fucked up Rio: Yeah, I really hoped he wouldn't but Rio: guess he had no reason not to now Nancy: But like did he ever? I don't understand why he waited Nancy: It must've given you so much false hope that he'd actually keep his mouth shut Nancy: That's cruel Rio: I guess 'cos he wanted to fuck me himself Rio: put it bluntly Rio: couldn't really be talking shit and doing it at the same time Nancy: That makes sense but why not tell everyone after the baby shower, you know Rio: Yeah, I don't know you know Rio: Buster reckoned maybe he was trying to keep Indie on-side a bit but Rio: that worked well for him Nancy: I don't want my brother to be right about anything right now but Nancy: Could be true, I guess Rio: Kinda makes sense Rio: or he just wanted to fuck with us with false hope and sense of security, like you said Rio: Idk, but I'm relieved in a way, like you said, when would ever be the 'right' moment? Nancy: I can relate, obviously not exactly Nancy: But when I finally kissed Sian after wanting to for such a long time it was like Nancy: Not the best example considering what happened after though Nancy: Try not to crash and burn, like Rio: Noted Rio: At least you had the balls to, good idea or not Rio: decidedly not but Rio: maybe we'd have never done it without being forced, idk Nancy: Buster would Nancy: It was obvious how much he wants to be with you Nancy: Gross too but Rio: Yeah Rio: I lowkey stopped him a few times but pretend I didn't admit that he'd only be annoying Nancy: Of course Nancy: I get it now, why he trashed his room that day Nancy: I never did get the real story out of him but it makes so much sense now Rio: That was more about the Chloe thing Nancy: Yeah? Nancy: Oh so he wasn't lying Rio: Don't sound too shocked Nancy: Compared to earlier I'm positively zen Rio: Ha, I have that affect Nancy: You calmed him down that day, didn't you? Nancy: Oh god Nancy: I'm gonna go ahead and repress Rio: Unless you wanna rephrase, probably for the best Nancy: I need you to tell me the safe zones of both our houses so I can exist in there only Nancy: But I also don't wanna know Rio: ... Rio: I dunno if you want me to stay silent or if that says too much Nancy: Please tell me my room was off limits Nancy: I will die Rio: Of course Rio: Not a total animal Nancy: I'm too relieved to argue the pros and cons of what you just said so Rio: 🤐 Nancy: There is one thing I HAVE to ask though Rio: Go on Rio: Slightly concerned but Nancy: Don't worry I'm rolling my eyes at myself Nancy: But be nice to him, yeah? 'Cause I can't but like he's never been in love before Rio: I promise Nancy: He acts tough but I could take him easily Nancy: Especially with things like this Rio: I know Rio: let's not start singing no stranger to heartache though, yeah? Nancy: All I'm saying is, if what happened to me happened to him there'd be nobody left alive Nancy: He's the most dramatic McKenna there is Nancy: Worse than dad and nan put together Rio: I mean, not gonna argue Rio: you are handling it really well, you know Rio: even if you still feel the same mess now as you did then, it doesn't show Nancy: You're the only person who's said anything close to that to me Nancy: So thanks Rio: This family is just shit at talking to each other Rio: not coming for them 'cos well Nancy: I feel like mum is never gonna look at me like she used to Nancy: not to come for Buster's dramatic flair but Rio: I know Rio: She will, she's pretty good Rio: Assume Buster told you she worked it out Nancy: Yeah Nancy: I'd be more shocked if she hadn't 'cause of course Nancy: It's just she's never treated me like I'm stupid before, you know, not with the dyslexia stuff or any of it, but that was before this Rio: Feelings aren't logical though Rio: I reckon she's stinging that SHE didn't know, you know Rio: not for the 'I told you so' or anything but so she could've helped you deal Nancy: I don't know whether to be flattered or horrified that I'm better at keeping secrets than you and him combined Rio: Using all that closet angst you never got to, obviously Nancy: Which reminds me, I can't help wishing Chloe knew about this 'cause of how angry she'd be Rio: I have good news Nancy: REALLY? Nancy: did everyone know but me or what, like? Rio: awks 😬 Rio: but no, her obsession worked to her advantage and she was able to piece together us being at the same place enough times Nancy: Her and mum getting jackets now Nancy: Sorry Drew you missed your chance Rio: Honestly Rio: He did not put the effort in Rio: won't tell you the full deets 'cos you won't wanna know Nancy: umm? Rio: We'll leave it at he may as well have walked in it was that blatant Nancy: OH Nancy: oh my god have you and him ever....when I was there? Rio: Gurl Rio: don't ask Nancy: RIO I KNOW THAT MEANS YES Rio: Shh Nancy: That's despicable Rio: Well that's a bit steep Rio: it's hardly a war crime Nancy: I'm calling it a hate crime Nancy: I can Nancy: I'm gay Rio: 😂 Rio: You clearly didn't hear anything so count yourself lucky Nancy: Please I just assumed it was another posh blonde if I did Nancy: Been there, done my best to ignore that Rio: With this accent? I think not Rio: I was stealth Nancy: I didn't have a glass to the wall sounding out how you said vowels Rio: Trust, you'd know Nancy: CAN YOU NOT Rio: You brought it up! Rio: I'm not trying air my business or his Nancy: I have to go find some ground to swallow me brb Rio: 😏 okay babe Nancy: how is that a euphemism? Rio: idk, your mind, honestly woman Nancy: can you at least promise to keep your hands off each other when I visit or not? Rio: We managed this far, I think we'll be fine Rio: not PDA all the way from here on out, like Nancy: Okay Rio: Thanks, Nance Nancy: For what? Rio: For still being normal with me Nancy: If it was abnormal to fancy Buster I'd be too busy judging half the female population to even speak to you Nancy: Besides, I'm saving my big reinvention for when uni starts, like you said Rio: Yeah? Is that warning me to expect my shade and silent treatment in the post, like? Nancy: Maybe Nancy: Depends what you do between now and then Nancy: You can't see my hair flip but its happening Rio: Oh God, don't become Chloe, like Rio: a misstep if ever there was one Nancy: 😱 Rio: You know, don't be THAT mad I'm with Buster, not goals Nancy: Wash your mouth out Rio: I'm sorry but you never gave me a codename Nancy: That Prick ™️ Nancy: But I meant the comparison between me and her Nancy: That was a deep cut Rio: Yeah, she wishes Nancy: If she tries to date me next just know I predicted it Rio: I'll pray for you Nancy: Such an unholy union what else is there to do? Nancy: I love you but I'm not taking the heat off you that way, like Rio: Not to be that bitch but Rio: kinda owe me twofold now so Rio: tick tock Nancy: BITCH NO Nancy: I also draw the line at boudoir photography Rio: Damn 😂 Nancy: I'll recommend you someone Nancy: They won't be as good obviously Rio: 'Course not Rio: I know my own angles, it's cool Nancy: And nobody loves himself more than him so he's bound to as well Rio: I mean, his feed is pretty poppin' Nancy: 🙄 Rio: 😂 that was just a normal compliment Nancy: How did I not know you're so disgustingly in love? My god Rio: Gay drama, probably Nancy: Sad but true Rio: At least you've got an excuse Rio: everyone else needs a word Nancy: Honestly Rio: Though I'm cool with most of mine skillfully avoiding 'cos I don't need to do this 10x over Nancy: oh no Nancy: imagine Rio: Lucky only some of them are highkey Rio: that's enough Nancy: Yeah Nancy: not that I can say anything 'cause about to excuse myself to cry over my brother having a girlfriend when I don't Rio: Awh babe Rio: wanna hit the town when you come? Nancy: To drink, definitely Nancy: anything else with my track record is a no Rio: Your track record of 1 1/2? Rio: Come to me when you've got at least half a dozen failures, like Nancy: You don't think that's enough mistakes to be making? Rio: Nah Rio: Need I remind you your track record with drinking is not flawless either Rio: but you gotta live, babe Nancy: I'm scared, okay? Rio: That's alright Rio: they won't bite 'less you ask Nancy: 😂 Nancy: What if I'm not ready, I don't wanna fuck anyone over again Rio: It's just the club Rio: harmless, meaningless flirting is the standard Nancy: Yeah? Nancy: Will you actually come with me? Rio: 'Course Nancy: Despite Buster's coffee shop masterclass, which feels like a million years ago anyway, I don't really know what I'm doing Rio: I can show you Rio: but you gotta do it how you would, you know, you can't go too hard with an act Nancy: 🙈 Rio: It'll be fun, been ages since I flirted with a girl Nancy: Don't tell my brother that he'll get bored 😂🙄 Nancy: Help me though I need it Rio: No danger, trust Rio: I will, bring outfit options Nancy: Obviously Nancy: When are we doing this? Nancy: In typical lesbian fashion I need to angst for like 4 years prior Rio: Whenever you can get over Rio: I work most nights but I've got plenty time banked so it won't hurt Nancy: Let's make it happen soon Nancy: Everyone's doing my head in here Rio: Whenever you want, babe Rio: your brother is only as busy as usual so Nancy: Is next weekend too highkey? Rio: Nah, sounds good to me Nancy: Okay Nancy: Anything 🍀 you're missing let me know and I'll pack that too Rio: Just some decent tea, tah Nancy: That ain't even London that's just our house Nancy: Full offense mum Rio: 😂 the real beef comes out Nancy: You missed a chance to say the real tea Nancy: Come on Rio: Damn Rio: really let myself down, like Nancy: mhmm Rio: Ah well, what can ya do Nancy: Do you think if I ask your mum to cat sit while I'm there I'll ever see her again? Rio: Your Ma or the cat? Nancy: Either or Rio: I don't think she's that cold Rio: but one of mine would defs go in and give her TLC Rio: the cat, that is Nancy: 😂 Nancy: I'll text you when my flight's booked then Rio: 👍 See you then babe Nancy: Until then, remember I loved you first 💋 Rio: 😂 Love you too silly bitch

[chom-raaa]

A long winding commentary on Home is Where the Heart Is Ch14 (by setosdarkness)

@athina39 whoops this got really out of hand…

This week a lot of my favorites fics have updated and I’m like hmmm HIWTHI will probably update any time now. I have zero self-control when I read this fic, so I spent my whole break, and most of my commute reading. And most of my evening to write this because I did not expect it  to be so big (^v  ^;)

“…I could hear the number of exclamation points on that. Is that not acceptable?” Tachihara is so adorable, and I love how he’s similar to Atsushi when it comes to Akutagawa, and how Chuuya learned “life skills” from Atsushi lolololololol!! But dammit Chuuya, so clueless, thinking that Tachihara is “such a nice guy” and a “great kouhai” even though he’s acting like Atsushi, even though he knows Atsushi is madly in love. But then I guess Chuuya doesn’t see why someone would love him Q.Q Also, I like the mention of how Chuuya could predict Tachihara’s response “even if he doesn’t have Flawless.” The way flawless and Oda just kind of slip into his thought process kajsdhfajks

I love how Chuuya’s apartment has become all colorful and vibrant with flowers and nice things jdaklhfdkjadshf and DAZAI IS JUST A PART OF IT!!!!

And when the waitress was smiling at Chuuya for dabbing his napkin at Tachihara’s face and he assumes it means she’s approving of that “normal action”, because he thinks it’s normal when Dazai does it. Because apparently he’s not anything special to Dazai so what Dazai does with him is normal, not anything particularly special CHUUYA PLEASE

Also I think everyone reading this fic has adopted Higuchi’s dying seal sound *nods*

Chuuya’s still concerned about his little outing with Dazai after his date awwwwwwww

Dazai knowing Chuuya’s schedule better than him, making all these arrangements for him (“blackout curtains and the hypoallergenic bedding” whooooa), practically managing his life for him what a waifu <3 I also love the thing where Chuuya throws forks and knives at Dazai who effortlessly deflects all the attacks with a spoon, how married they are *Higuchi squealing noises*</p>

YURI ON ICE. YURI ON ICE. That’s all I’m gonna say.

I love love love how Chuuya goes to pray for Dazai’s safety while Tachihara wondered if he was planning sea travel and how it mirrors one of the previous chapters and aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

ANGST RANT #1

Chuuya feels left out of the loop because all these things are happening without him: everyone on some secret assignment and apparently it’s not important that he knows. “He—he’s useless when it comes to strategies and planning.” And he’s just trying to justify all of it, because he’s just not good enough to be included or something like that (but no Chuuya you’re such a good boss!!!!)

Moving on to Chuuya’s expectations. He can’t seem to expect anything good from Dazai and even when good things happen he just assumes it’s temporary and something else is coming later (poor baby).

“I try not to expect Dazai’s good behavior whenever possible” Because Dazai let him down too many times Q.Q

And how he just savors every moment they have together because who knows when it will all just come to abrupt halt?? Like that scene where Dazai booked a room with only one bed and he just enjoys the moment because “after all, once Dazai decides that he’d like to leave again, there will be no repeat performances of this comforting closeness anymore”.  And when they screw up the ice skating tournament and it was all such a mess but Chuuya saw it as “a chance to dance that closely, intimately, with Dazai, but that’s neither here nor there”. He perceives it as a “chance”, an opportunity, something good that he wants to hold on to. Despite being so involved in each others’ lives it’s like Chuuya is falling the whole time and bracing for impact, preparing himself for the worst, but then it’s only natural.

And once again with how Chuuya rationalizing Dazai’s behavior. “Dazai laughs - but it’s soft instead of grating. Though that’s probably because…” and there’s always a reason because it simply CANNOT be what he wants it to be. All the excuses are better than making assumptions, because look where that got him in the past.

Poor Chuuya just avoiding the route with the greatest potential of pain QAQ It’s so sad that someone who usually takes things head-on would distort his thoughts ignore some really obvious signs because it’s brought him so much pain. 

When Dazai talks about them spending the next New Year’s together “Chuuya smiles, because that kind of promise is nice, but ultimately means nothing. It’s nice, if only in this moment though.” OMG he wants this so bad but he’s so resigned to the fact that Dazai’s just going leave at some point alksdjalksdjf

 -

 I love the texts Chuuya gets from everyone. I love how distinct their voices are <3 Atsushi freaking about chazuke, Aku thanking Chuuya for helping him make chazuke (gimme all the akuatsuuuu). Aku warning Chuuya about Dazai, I just love the way he talks about Dazai now go Aku!! Yosano and Kouyou? Ranpo wants to give Poe gifts akjsdfhkajdshf! </p>

Some notes on Dazai: “Does that guy need anything aside from your company anyway?” *more dying seal noises* I just love the way Steinbeck says that like it’s common sense and that the oh-so-tricky Dazai is so obvious and predictable in his affections. And Dazai always replying to texts if they’re from Chuuya, trying to be there in his own way I guess *cheering Dazai on*

“I am helpless against your beauty and I’ll need your company to cure me of this lovesickness” OMG I almost died of laughter (maybe we all kind of have that feeling for Chuuya tho), but then I read the next part where Chuuya thinks it’s some kind of code and then later: “Did you just fucking imply that my looks made you sick?!” aaahahahahahaha I’m dead XD

  ATUSUSHI SASS APPRECIATION 

“Ah, so the man-tiger really sounds threatening when said by mafia members. I thought it was just Akutagawa.”

 “Do you really want to know what i call him, Chuuya-san?” I love Atsu’s not-so-innocent side

 And when Chuuya denies missing Dazai and Atsu’s all like"Are you excited about Fukuzawa’s return then?“ LOLOL

-

Aku’s "I’m going to the hospital” comment. Period.

 ANGST RANT #2

OK so the mistletoe, which has all sorts of romantic connotation and stuff, sacred plant of a goddess of love, all magical and etc etc, but then Chuuya says “Mistletoe are parasites, pests….They…kill trees. And stuff” as if he’s talking about how loving Dazai was killing him.

And before they have their indirect “kiss” there’s “Because things have ultimately not changed, have they? They can’t change–because that would mean—“ and he’s just not ready to accept that yet. Not an actual kiss. Puh-lease.

Back to my earlier point on Chuuya anticipating loss and disappointment; he knows he wants this with Dazai, he slowed down all of those moments he had to be close to him, but he just can’t see a happy ending. And Dazai just kind of confirms it too, telling Chuuya he’s going to Russia with Mori and Fukuzawa last minute and leaving just like that. Not really telling him the details of his mission.

And “Dazai siphons the life out of him, leaving him with work, work, work. It’s just like before, only with more phone contacts and more Facebook friends, this time. He wonders if he should feel happy for expecting this all along.” Draining him LIKE THE DAMN MISTLETOE.

Dazai not telling Chuuya that he’s really moved in with him. How Atsushi knows, everyone knows, but not Chuuya. Once again left out of the loop.

ANGST RANT #3

“Dazai claimed to never lie on negotiations and what happened back then–was a negotiation, nothing else……Dazai Osamu is a fucking liar” The way he rejects Dazai’s confession, the way he’s forced himself to see their relationships ajkdfhajksdhfkajsh

“Chuuya’s heart beats staccato beats of misery and hurt, as he watches Dazai’s face remain impassive, in control. He hates it.” This contrast between Chuuya’s turmoil and Dazai’s perceived calmness, Dazai sort of making his decisions for him, running him in circles just because he could predict his reactions. How frustrating, how unfair. The table flip was so impactful in this scene. How can he struggle for autonomy against someone who can grasp everything in the palm of his hand?

Dazai’s trying to be careful but his lack of transparency is one of their biggest problems, way to go Dazai. Just because you know he’s going to reject you doesn’t mean that you can just hide things and not let him do it. Let this poor man decide T.T I do acknowledge his effort though.

Chuuya’s three years of trying to be normal falling apart, I love how he corrected it to eight years, because he’s been struggling for so much longer.

(Mori asking Dazai to be the PM’s new Boss? Ouch, OUCH)

“’And I’m just the sharpest tool in your box.’” He’s been holding that one in hasn’t he? The way Dazai was his world while to Dazai he was just an object to be used. 

And holy shit Dazai, telling Chuuya that they can’t have normal things because they’re monsters. Chuuya’s been struggling so long to find self-worth, to finally deserve to live among normal people…I would imagine that he would have these feelings for sure, being such a kind person doing such wicked things, but then it was because DAZAI was the one who said it, who invalidated his feelings, that hurt him the most. *sobbing*

Chuuya’s actually crying now, finally falling apart after keeping it together for so long, but Dazai can’t just kiss those tears away now like he did after his nightmare. Because all of those insecurities and scars are coming right back to reality now.

“Eight years ago and Chuuya would have carved out his own, beating heart, the moment Dazai said that it’s part of the plan.” The way this was written, from the wording to the buildup from the previous paragraphs, was so raw and painful I had to stop reading for a moment because sweet Mother Theresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz Chuuya needs so much love.

He wants proof, perfectly acceptable because there is overwhelming evidence of Dazai hurting Chuuya. The little bits of him caring for Chuuya are overshadowed by Chuuya’s Dazai-is-pain-I-can’t-come-close-or-I-won’t-be-able-to-bounce-back-again mode. Especially when Dazai is STILL hiding things from him. Still making his choices for him. And despite all of his efforts he feels as if nothing’s changed. Dazai’s still lying, he can’t be normal, can’t escape from the past, “He’s the only one truly disgraced here, tainted with darkness, tainted with the budding light of hope that will never fully bloom.”

Dazai asking for him to just believe even if there’s no proof is outrageous at this point.

But then akjdhfaksjhfaksjadfh Dazai’s all desperate and just pleading for him not to push him away how heartbreaking.

They’re going to need a catalyst to get back together right? Please send help!

Thanks so much for this wonderful update!! So intense adfasajkfhaskjhdjk, I can’t wait to see how the characters handle this. (I did not proofread my comment so sorry if I rambled too much)

#bsd #soukoku #fic #commentary #review #chomra blabs #oh no this got way out of hand

[secretsandsin]

Based on this prompt from the kinkmeme here. Wrote this ages ago but then forgot about it, so super late fill, sorry. OTL

The hunt wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Rogue behemoth blah blah terrorizing travelers blah blah blah. They’ve heard this all before.

The only thing that really stood out about this request was the astronomical reward attached. Apparently, this behemoth was particularly vicious and prone to attacking anything moving into its territory.

But by this point, they’ve been eating nothing but toast and cup noodles for days and even Gladio was starting to get sick of them.

Nobody protested when Noctis accepted the hunt.

Predictably, it wasn’t an easy hunt. Like, top five worst-hunts-ever material, right up there with the extra friendly marlboro and the flan that smelled like week old gym sock left to marinate in pit sweat.

Sure, they knew behemoths were generally violent and aggressive. This one just seemed extra violent, and also really really angry. Ignis theorized that perhaps it was near mating season. To which Gladio countered with, “I really don’t want to think about these things fucking.”

Which. Point taken.

No one really had time for idle conversation after that. One distraction could cost them, and as their supply of curatives was as desperately low as their food supply, it just wasn’t worth risking. Even Prompto (carefully) put his camera away, though he did pout about missing awesome shots of ‘a behemoth large enough to rival Gladio’ beforehand.

(Gladio threatened, “I’ll show you large!” to which Prompto squeaked, “Sexual harassment! I need to find an adult I can trust!” and Ignis gave them both a smack and an exasperated glare.)

It’s a good three or four hours later before they can sense the end of the fight, the great behemoth’s strength finally dwindling down before it collapses with a roar. Despite the blood pooling beneath it and the deep gashes on its body, it still struggled to get up and move, seemingly in a random direction since none of its attackers were there.   

(“Maybe we blinded it,” Prompto suggests. “Maybe it’s just dumb,” Gladio snorts.)

Noctis was the one who dealt the finishing blow, a clean slice to the underbelly, sliding through the blood with a grimace of disgust on his face the entire time. The behemoth’s dying bellow sounded almost sad and until the life left its eyes, it continued trying to get up, its muscles twitching even after death.

“I need a bath,” Noctis proclaims, trying to find something to wipe his bloodstained hands on. Unfortunately, every inch of him was just as bloodstained, so he walked up to Prompto and casually grabbed his shirt.

“Dude! Gross!” Prompto swats at him half-heartedly, too tired to really put up much of a protest. “Gah, you really do need a bath. You reek.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe we can switch roles and you can be up close and personal with the giant, bleeding monster and I can shoot at it from a distance.”

Prompto pretends to consider this. “Nah, I think I’m good. You can’t be a knight in shining armor without your trusty sword!”

Noctis snorts, slumping down against his best friend’s shoulder, ignoring his indignant squawking. “If anyone’s a knight, it’s Gladio.”

“He needs a shirt to be a knight.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since always, duh. It’s in the handbook.”

Completely ignoring the younger two’s antics, Ignis approached the behemoth corpse, already analyzing which parts they could make use of.

“Hm...it is a cut to the digestive system but, thankfully, a clean one. The bacteria shouldn’t have spread much.” He straightens from his inspection. “Gladio, a hand, if you please?”

“Guess I’m on butchering duty again?” He hefts his greatsword onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Maybe I should just wield a giant butcher knife from now on.”

“Nonsense. That would just look silly.”

They stayed for the additional thirty minutes it took for Ignis to be satisfied that he had stripped all useful parts off the carcass. By then, the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon and Gladio suggested they camp instead of driving all the way back to town, despite numerous protests.

(“Gladio. Did you miss the part where I am literally covered in blood? And so are you!” “Creek’s up that way. I’ll even let you go first, princess.” “Uck! What if there are leeches like last time?” “Then maybe they’ll clean off all that blood faster.”)

Ignis pacifies them with the promise of behemoth steak on rice for dinner and the four stomp onwards in search of a suitable camping location.

The good thing was, the rampaging behemoth scared most other things off its territory. The bad thing though, was that all the surrounding vegetation was decisively squashed looking and therefore, not all that great for hiding a campsite from magitek troopers flying overhead. And of course, there wasn’t a camp ground to be seen. 

(”Man, someone needs to reroll their luck stat.” “Can you stop being a nerd for like two seconds?”)  

Instead, they stumble upon a cave, disguised by low hanging tree branches and almost invisible but for the well-worn path leading up to its entrance.

Ignis reasonably points out that now was perhaps not the time to take on any potentially dangerous things living in that cave. Prompto chimes in that “dude, everyone knows hidden caves are where all the best items in RPGs are!” Noctis just wanted to find a place to pass out for the day.

And so Gladio ended up with little more than a flashlight and a ‘good luck’ as he went into unknown and potentially dangerous territory. So, business as usual.

Fortunately, the cave didn’t extend that far back, although it was a fair bit larger than it looked from the outside, with soaring ceilings that could house a building. He spent too much time looking at the ceiling, he didn’t realize there was something on the ground until he almost stepped on it.

Good thing that ‘something’ squeaked at him before he could crush it.

Looking down, he spots some sort of nest, a bunch of leaves and grass bunched up to make the stone floor a little softer. Looking closer, he sees three wriggling little bodies in that nest, one of which he’d almost stepped on.

He squats down to take a closer look, shining the light down to chase away the shadows. The three whatever-they-are’s are a weird purplish color that triggers a faint sort of recognition in the back of Gladio’s memory. They resemble newborn puppies mostly, their eyes barely open and squinting at the light in his hand. The squeaking is coming from them, high pitched sounds that he refuses to find cute until he’s 100% sure these things weren’t dangerous.

(Watching them attempt to reach his shoe in clumsy, wobbly movements lowers their odds of being dangerous to maybe 1%. Could still be poisonous.)

“Gladio? Did you find anything?”

He stares at the furry, squirming beans trying to climb his boot.

“...sort of?”

It is Ignis who identifies them as behemoth cubs, probably not even two weeks old. Not much is known about behemoth young, he says, because their mothers are often much more territorial until the cubs have opened their eyes and can start feeding on solid food.

It is Prompto that makes the connection, freezing in his quest to coax over a cub with his finger.

“So that behemoth we just killed…”

There is a short silence. Noctis suddenly becomes much more aware of how covered in blood he is.

“Oh, Gods.”

They stare down at the newly orphaned cubs crowding around Gladio’s foot. They look so tiny and helpless, it was hard to make the connection between them and the vicious monster they just hunted down.

One of them lets out a big yawn and is so shocked by this, it overbalanced, squeaking as it waves little paws in the air.

They could practically hear Prompto’s heart breaking.

“We...we have to do something, right? Since we...you know…” the blonde trails off awkwardly and waves his hands in a manner that probably is supposed to suggest the brutal murder of the cubs’ mother. “We can’t just leave them!” He turns pleading blue eyes at the others.

Ignis shifts on his feet and adjusts his glasses. “Prompto,” he begins, voice softer than normal, “I know it’s hard to envision right now, but these cubs will one day grow into monsters like their mother and then other people will have to hunt them down.”

‘So we should just kill them now’ goes unsaid.

Prompto’s lip trembles but he nods anyways. “I-I know, but…” He looks down again, where the cubs are clumsily pawing at each other in order to win the spot on top of Gladio’s boot.

“We don’t have to, um, kill them, right?” Noctis speaks up, “We can just leave them here and maybe they’ll wander off and not bother people anymore.”

Prompto nods with downcast eyes. “Y-Yeah. Maybe they’ll be hermit behemoths when they grow up!”

No one points out that leaving them at this age would effectively be killing them.

Satisfied that there was nothing else in the cave, they get ready to move on. Gladio gingerly moves the cubs aside before backing out of the cave, apologizing in his mind. Killing them now would’ve been a quicker, kinder death, he thinks.

It’s not until they’re a few feet away from the cave entrance when they realize that the squeaking isn’t getting any further away. Turning, they see all three cubs tumbling over each other and tripping over their own oversized paws to chase after them.

“Uh, Specs? Why are they following us?”

If Ignis is annoyed at suddenly being the designated behemoth expert, he doesn’t show it. “Perhaps they’re hungry?”

Gladio glares as the cubs run straight up to him. “Oi. We’re not food.” But they didn’t seem to be attempting to eat him, they just sat and cuddled with his boot some more.

What the hell.

“Oh, wait!” Prompto snaps his fingers. “Maybe it’s like that thing baby ducklings do! The, um…”

“Imprinting?”

“Yeah! Maybe they imprinted on Gladio because he looks like a behemoth!”

“Okay Blondie, come here and - “ As soon as he moved his feet, the squeaking came back, the cubs scrambling around until they found their anchor again.

It was cute in a I-need-to-punch-something-to-feel-manly-again kind of way.

“Hm. Perhaps the imprinting theory isn’t too far off the mark.”

“Oh, c’mon Iggy, not you too - “

“Gladdy’s a daddy!”

“Alright, you know what, you little punks - “

Maybe it was all the shouting or the anger in Gladio’s voice, but something set the cubs into a panic, alarmed squeals filling the air as they huddled behind Gladio’s leg until all that could be seen were tiny masses of shivering fur.

He takes a deep breath. “Look. We already said we can’t help them. And it’s not like they can follow us either.”

They stare each other down, nobody wanting to voice it out loud.

Ignis coughs delicately. “I have heard behemoth veal is especially tender.”

“Iggy!”

“Well, we were planning to eat their mother,” he says, pragmatically, “That’s hardly any worse.”

Noctis looks a little green in the face. “Ugh. Not sure I want to eat behemoth any time soon. Or ever.” Prompto nods his agreement.

“So who’s going to...you know…” Prompto makes another vague gesture at the cubs.

They all glanced at each other.

“Nose goes!”

And of course Gladio gets the short end of the stick (the nose? Whatever).

“Fine!” he growls. “My steak had better be the biggest piece out there, you get me?”

Prompto looks a little nauseous. “No arguments here, buddy.”

He summons his greatsword and looks down at the shivering mass at his feet. One of them lifts its head, staring at him with wide, yellow eyes. It opens its tiny mouth to give a happy chirp, its stumpy tail attempting to wag. It wiggles its way out of the cuddle pile to place two small paws on his boot.

His sword comes down.

The thud as it hit the dirt made three little bodies jump, but any fright they might have felt was quickly forgotten in favor of chewing at the hem of Gladio’s pants.

“I can’t do it.” Why did they have to be so darn cute?

Ignis gives a long-suffering sigh that still somehow managed to sound relieved. “Well. I’d imagine we’ll come across a wildlife center sooner or later.”

Prompto and Noctis high five.

With little choice, they turn back for the Regalia, conspicuously avoiding the area where they took down the earlier behemoth. Waiting for the cubs to scramble their way on their own is cute, but time-consuming, and with night fast approaching, Gladio is forced to pick them up and carry them in his jacket-turned-crib. Luckily, they are perfectly happy to be carried and Prompto expresses, once again, his urgent need for his camera.

Behemoth cubs are very snuggily, Gladio discovers.

They make Ignis throw out all the behemoth meat, much to his disappointment.

They learn many things in the first week they become unexpected parents/monster tamers.

Prompto learns that he can bribe the cubs away from Gladio with bacon. Their bacon budget rises considerably until Ignis puts his foot down. Prompto still manages to get some fantastically cute shots that he swears he’ll sell for a fortune one of these days.

Ignis learns that baby formula is horribly overpriced. But plain milk didn’t seem nutritious enough for infants, so he reluctantly set aside gil in their meager budget to accommodate that. If they had to have more days of toast and cup noodles, well. Perhaps they shouldn’t have made him throw out all that hard won meat.

Noctis learns that baby formula tastes disgusting. In his defense, it was early (“Dude. It was like 2 pm.” “And?”) and he was half-asleep. Worst way to wake up ever, and that wasn’t even counting Ignis’ exasperated sighs afterwards and the cubs’ big, wibbling eyes of betrayal.

Gladio learns to put a shirt on anytime the cubs get anywhere near his chest unless he wants them trying to suckle from him. Yeah sure, laugh it up, Blondie and Princess, but those teeth were sharp. He had to get medical treatment and even Ignis couldn’t keep a straight face.

And they all collectively learn that there really weren’t that many wildlife centers out there. Even less that wanted to try raising baby behemoths. And by ‘less’, they mean, exactly none.

“Well,” Ignis says, after the third wildlife center employee took one look at the cubs in Gladio’s arms and nearly fainted, “perhaps we should start looking into other alternatives.”

But he knew a losing battle when he saw one and between Prompto naming them (Meatloaf, Sirloin, and Brisket, which was more than a bit morbid), Noctis trying to teach them tricks (“No, he totally rolled over that time, didn’t you, Meatloaf?” “Noct. He just got pushed over.”), and Gladio turning into ‘Dadio’, complete with baby talk and bedtime stories, he figured it wasn’t worth the effort.

Besides. The little buggers were kind of cute.

It took three months before the cubs were too big to comfortably ride in the car with them. Instead, they found out that behemoths can go up to speeds of nearly 60 mph. They probably alarmed many drivers who had to follow behind the Regalia while it was being chased by three mid-sized dog creatures on the highway.  

Noctis is the one who decides the cubs (probably too big to be cubs now, really) needed collars. Or some sign that they weren’t wild beasts.

All the screaming people did every time they come to town might have something to do with that decision.

They commission some from Dino, figuring regular dog collars would be outgrown in a few months. The result was three rambunctious behemoths the size of small horses with hoola hoop-like collars flopping about their necks. Not only did they then have to spend a not insignificant chunk of time making sure the collars stayed where they were supposed to, no one even came close enough to the collars to recognize the royal crest engraved on the tag next to the name.

So the screaming continued.

Around five months, they start getting more monstrous looking, much to the Chocobros’ alarm. Black, wicked looking horns start to curve from their foreheads and their previously adorable habit of headbutting their humans when hungry was suddenly a lot less adorable and more hazardous to their health. Two of them grew a ruffle of orange fur around their necks, something Ignis guessed meant they were male. Sirloin and Brisket grew a lustrous mane of orange fur while Meatloaf got something that looked like tusks coming from the bottom of her mouth.  

(The Chocobros had a surprisingly intense conversation about whether the cubs had gender appropriate names. In the end, it was decided that Brisket was indeed a manly enough name but Sirloin would have to be abbreviated to ‘Sir’. Meatloaf, it was unanimously decided, was a unisex name.)

It was Gladio, naturally, that taught them to hunt on their own and to attack when directed. Hunts became that much easier now that they essentially had three hunting dogs (but five times more deadly) at their command.

In the end, despite the truly massive food budget, their ban from entering certain towns, and the near misses involving trampling and being gored, it could’ve turned out worse.

(“Yeah. We could’ve tried to turn them into veal, right Iggy?” “Mmmrph?” “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Meatloaf. We won’t let mean, ol’ Specs turn you into dinner.” “Oh, please. You seemed perfectly happy to eat their mother not too long ago.” “Okay, but in my defense, even Prompto was looking kind of tasty at that point, and he’s all skin and bone.” “HEY!”)

Ten years and a lifetime later, three hulking behemoths preceded the funeral procession of King Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Hero of Light and last of his line. They wear faded leather collars with a dull, metal tag, words long since faded away.

They are followed by three somber men carrying a simple wooden casket, looking like the weight of the world is on their shoulders.

In time, they know, they will become legend. The last king of Lucis bringing back the light with his three loyal companions and noble steeds.

But right now, in this moment, they are simply human and beast, mourning the loss of one of their own.

#kiv writes stuff #final fantasy xv #ffxv #think I missed a few of the prompts but I did try