#half of them rude or inconsiderate

[chimielie]

oh my god, they were roommates

part 2 to and they were roommates. no cws, just silliness.

you're not talking to tooru.

he's not sure how you manage it so effectively. you eat all your meals in your room while he's home, except for when you manage to sneak from there to the door while he's in the bathroom. his only clue that you've gone out is that you leave your bedroom door open when you do, really hammering home how empty his life suddenly is.

"even when we're in the same room," he sighs, resting his cheek on his fist. "it's like trying to grab a fish out of the water. i turn around or blink and poof! gone!"

"your sleeve is dipping into your drink," says his date. "and i really think you need to discuss this with your roommate. at home. alone."

tooru waves goodbye forlornly as they stand up and walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a half-eaten ball of rice and a broken man.

"you are like a sad, sad," akaashi says, pausing to really linger on the word sad, "wet cat. please stop bringing your dates here to mope about—to them. you are forming bad associations between our business and your terrible romantic etiquette."

akaashi keiji is a mangaka now, or an editor for one, anyway; he works at onigiri miya (tokyo location) on the side because it's the only way he routinely leaves the house; tooru brings his dating drama here to brighten up what must surely be a terribly boring life.

"what would you do without me, akaashi-kun," tooru stretches his arms high with a languid sigh that makes akaashi worry that he has comprehended none of his words. "wouldn't you be so miserable if you didn't have me to bring romance and excitement to your life?"

"i have a boyfriend of several years," akaashi says, which is rude to remind tooru of while he's in such a vulnerable state. "i have plenty of excitement with him in my life."

"inconsiderate!" tooru snorts. "please break up with him to show me solidarity."

"i will not be doing that." akaashi picks up the nameless and now-vanished date's plate and takes a bite out of the leftover food.

"understandable," tooru nods, "that's very reasonable. i just don't know what to do, or how to fix it, or what i did wrong."

"you come in here every other night to whine about what you did wrong."

"do not."

"do too," akaashi sticks out his tongue at him. there's a grain of rice stuck to his lip. "you spent several months going out on dates trying to make your friend-turned roommate jealous—during which, I'll note, you basically exclusively talked about the person you were and continue to be obsessed with—then initiated... romantic physical contact, then ran away. because you have the attachment style of a stray cat."

"ah, akaashi-kun," tooru says. "are you saying i get around?"

"i am saying you are lurking outside the window and begging for attention and then biting the hand that feeds you when you get it.”

“oh.” tooru is quiet for a moment. “can i get the check?”

“it’s on the house if you’ll just go home and talk to your roommate and never come back here with another date.” akaashi says, finishing off the onigiri.

“deal.”

your room is empty, your bedroom door ajar when he comes home. mournfully, tooru sits on the bed, reminiscing over the hours he'd spent gossiping with you here.

he'll just wait for you to get back. when he used to take you dancing—with your other friends, but you'd wind your arms around his neck and he'd run light hands over your waist, your hips, and you would look at him like no one else even existed—you always wanted to leave before midnight. it's ten-forty-nine now, according to his watch, so he's sure you'll be back before long.

you get home at two-oh-four. you had never seen the point in staying out longer when going home and chatting over a bowl of cheesy noodles with tooru was so much more appealing—you didn't want to dance with anyone else anyway. now, though, you don't want to be home, and you have something to prove. to who, you're not sure, but you find yourself staying out later and later.

even though you always return home alone. you'd thought about really upping the ante, about moving on as abruptly as possible, but you couldn't. it felt like going too far in this petty revenge game. after all, you still—

you stop short, dropping your shoes on the floor. the devil is in your bed, lying on his side, knees tucked to his chest to fit his absurdly long frame. his breaths are even and deep, his face peaceful.

"oh, tooru," you sigh, and climb over him to tuck yourself against his warm side.

you blink your eyes open slowly, sleep still gleaming in the corners of your vision. there's a weight on your hip and something that smells really, really good surrounding you, nearly lulling you back to sleep.

"oh, please don't," says a voice you haven't heard in days. "my arm's circulation has been completely cut off. i may never serve again."

you jolt away from the soft source of warmth, which you realize belatedly is oikawa's chest.

"what happened?" you say, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

he looks frustratingly perfect as always, brown hair rumpled, eyes soft like you aren't in the biggest spat of your friendship.

"i was waiting for you," he admits, leaning on his side and casting his eyes down, his lashes shadowing his high cheekbones. "because i wanted to apologize, to be clear. i must have fallen asleep, and then i woke up, and it was like—"

"yes," you cough. "i see. um."

"i'm sorry," he says. "hey, look at me. i'm really sorry."

"for what, oikawa?" you laugh nervously.

"for being stupid," he rolls one shoulder in a shrugging motion. "for trying to make you jealous and instead just being, like, a complete fucking clown during all of it."

"make me jealous?" you say, blinking at him.

"please don't look at me like that," he says, scrubbing over his face with the hand that's not propping up his head. "it-you make me nervous."

"we've been friends for years," you say, still apparently lost. "how can i make you nervous?"

"you always will," he laughs, but it's strained. "look—i like you. probably more, but i'm trying not to scare you—any more than i already have, i mean. i'm not sorry for kissing you, is what i mean. i should just—i should probably go."

"wait," you say firmly before he can untangle himself from your sheets. putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing yourself up to meet his lips, which are soft and dry and parted slightly with surprise.

the kiss is warm and lingers, even after you pull away. tooru stares at you with dazed eyes that make you shy, dropping your own. his voice is quiet but hopeful, contrasting his words in tone when he speaks.

"what the fuck?"

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #oikawa x reader angst #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader fluff #oikawa tōru x reader

[lady-phasma]

Phazzie could you please explain the appeal of Aemond? In great detail please and thanks

I can and I would be honored! I have been saving this one until I could really dig into it. Thanks for your patience, anon.

I'll start with the hair and get it out of the way. Targaryen hair. Now that's done we can move on to why Aemond is such an appealing character for so many in the HotD fandom.

Aemond doesn't have very much screen time and that makes him a bit mysterious. It also makes him fun for fic writers because there is so much blank space to fill in until the next season. You asked for "great detail" so I think the best place to start is with younger Aemond because that part of his character sets a solid foundation for aged-up Aemond who is the primary focus of the Aemond stans.

This kid is complex! Not going into controversies about bullying or whether his actions were justified, objectively Aemond was designed to be more than a one-dimensional character. Your question wasn't about why people hate him but I have to mention that his claiming of Vhagar is the point where fans seem to begin to disagree. However, that such a moment can be so divisive is evidence that it is crucial to his character development.

Back to his appeal. Until this decision is made Aemond is a kind of privileged underdog. He shows disappointment that he was not expected to fulfill any princely duties as his brother is. He is pushed aside as a second son. He isn't a true underdog because, well, he's a Targaryen prince but he has been given a hurdle that is perceived by other characters to be a major disadvantage: he does not have a dragon. For Targaryen royalty that's an embarrassment as well. We all know about the Pink Dread but it's deeper than that.

He makes a rash decision to claim Vhagar at the first opportunity. He's a kid, they act before they think. But he succeeds. Vhagar allows this princeling to ride her. I may not be a good judge of character but dragons are, they know if the rider has the mettle it takes to ride them.

So here's this kid, who lacks for nothing but a dragon, and he finally gets one... under the most inconsiderate circumstances possible. Yup, at Laena's funeral. Kids aren't smart or thoughtful as a rule. Regardless of the 'why's and placing blame, little dude ends up losing an eye by the hand of his nephew Lucerys. Now Westeros is no longer his oyster. A damaged prince, a "cripple" as Bran Stark puts it, and a second son who will have even less duty placed upon him. He's still not to be pitied and he is still privileged beyond imagining, but now his complexity becomes more interesting.

Let's jump ahead. What makes this bizarre, cocky, one-eyed price so likable? Especially when about half of aged-up Aemond's screen time is sass and being rude and literally shoving people. All of that, that's what.

Aemond's appeal is his lack of fucks. He has none to give. He lost them all with his eye. Yes, he loves his mother, honors his father, brother, and sister (don't come at me I'm sure he loves them too). He also worked hard to make sure that he could be arrogant. He didn't wake up a badass. He strove for it. He earned his cockiness. He doesn't give a shit about tourneys because tournaments are for pretty knights who wear armor and ask for favors. He needs no armor, he even discards his shield and still bests a man wielding a morning star. He antagonizes his nephews immediately because he is hyper-aware of his surroundings and planned his words carefully to instill the most insecurity in them as possible.

You might be asking 'how on earth is that appealing?' Well, because the average viewer has to give fucks, day in and day out. His air of superiority is something very few people can get away with without alienating everyone around them. This is why fiction is fun. He is superior and he knows it.

He has no plans to overthrow his brother for the crown but this man knows, and I mean knows, that he is better suited to be king. He knows he is better at everything. Is he right? That's irrelevant for most fans. This grandiosity is sexy. Not only in a sexual attraction kind of way. It's gravitas.

Yet all of that comes from this thin, graceful, precise young man with only one eye. Can you see the juxtaposition, the contradiction, that has been set up for this character? He is, by Westerosi standards, a broken thing. He inhabits a nebulous space, a space not yet concretized by the series, that requires nothing from him while also requiring everything from him.

On top of all of this is a fierce need to rectify what he sees as injustices. He is an ass when he makes his 'strong' pun, as princes can be. He isn't a lovely, compassionate person who rises above, takes the 'high road,' or 'turns the other cheek.' That is appealing as well because it's not how viewers get to navigate their own world. They have to bite their tongues and be the better person. Aemond doesn't have to at all.

To wrap up this monster answer, I want to skip to Storm's End and no, not the chomp, a bit before that. Viewers see Aemond as this rakish, cavalier, sexy Targaryen but I have my doubts that he is viewed that way in the narrative. Lord Borros's daughter isn't fanning herself and melting into a puddle at his feet. He might have Targaryen hair (you knew I couldn't mention it only once) but he is not at all "traditionally" handsome, not as he could have been perhaps, again by Westerosi standards, if he had not lost his eye.

Viewers see him as extremely sexy, again that gravitas as much as his appearance, but aren't frightened of him. The fourth wall protects the viewers from the frightening aspects of Aemond's personality, shields them. And that is the space from which all the appeal emerges. I think I've done pretty well so far to not say "I like this or that" about Aemond. I'm going to do it now. I find him appealing because he is unpredictable. I could very well be frightened of him. I'm not special. I only have a special viewpoint: from behind the fourth wall. His unpredictability makes him interesting (like claiming Vhagar at a funeral) and it makes him a bit dangerous. Of course I think he is beautiful, but that's not the je ne sais quoi of him. What Aemond does that few characters in HotD seem to be doing is making viewers genuinely curious. How that curiosity is expressed is as varied as the fans. Some hate him because he is enigmatic, others love him and project their needs onto him, some want him to be one-dimensional and perhaps evil, and nearly all of them wait with bated breath to find out what he will do next.

#aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #asked and answered #hotd #house of the dragon #Targaryen hair is a sexuality #no teams just a crazy dragon soap opera that i am obsessed with #vhagar #ewan mitchell

[thefrontofmymind]

Lonely This Christmas (matty healy x reader)

a/n: happy holidays yall!! hope you enjoy this, i'm working on a couple requests at the moment and hopefully i'll have something else up before the new year! any feedback is greatly appreciated, kisses!!

SYNOPSIS: Reader is spending Christmas alone, so is their next door neighbour who apparently doesn't know the volume of his speaker system

WARNINGS: brief hints of smut, and like making out, also alcohol consumption

When you were younger, you couldn’t fathom spending Christmas sad; it was a day of joy and family and festivities–and yet here you were on Christmas Eve, alone in a city without your family, recently broken up with, and no friends (they all sided with your ex in the breakup, you tried to think positive, think ‘if they were going to do that, I probably didn’t want to be friends with them anyway’, but you couldn’t deny you weren’t loving the lonesome feeling), with no way to go see the ones you loved.

You tried to make the best of it, you’d made yourself a small dinner, and was practically sunken into your sofa for the entire day, going between all the holiday films you enjoyed so much in previous years, but now they just reminded you of your desolation.

It was starting to get dark–you turned on your fairy lights that were spun around the tree in the corner of your living room, and lit a gingerbread-scented candle. You could feel the despair bubble further and further up into your chest and weave its way into your mind. You knew tears were bound to fall soon enough, so in a fight you were sure to lose, you folded yourself into your duvet on your bed, hoping–praying–you’d get to sleep before they did.

Of course, it was still far too early to go to sleep, so you laid there, not moving among the silence of your apartment. You wondered if anyone was even in the building apart from you–you had seen a solid amount of your neighbours begin to pack up and shuffle out to their families or holiday destinations starting on about the 10th of the month, you tried not to let it concern you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the big day though, obviously, it had affected you, a lot.

You felt hopeless, there was nothing you could do, apart from lay there and wallow in sadness–your whole timeline was of your friends enjoying their evening, and you knew you wouldn’t cope seeing that.

Soon enough, tears began to fall, and you silently cried to yourself for what seemed like hours. Every time you’d begin to calm yourself, another sob would erupt from your chest and you’d start back at square one, completely outside of your control.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but eventually exhaustion took over and you fell into a state of uneasy sleep, until you were awoken by a thumping, droning noise through your wall. You were sure it was well past midnight–the December chill had gotten into your sheets–and it kind of irked you that your next door neighbour was inconsiderate enough to blast music in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve.

In hindsight, you figured it was the lethargy that made you get up out of your bed–duvet wrapped around your shoulders–march to your neighbour’s door, and pound the living shit out of it until you got an answer.

You were greeted with the guy that you’d seen coming and going pretty frequently in the couple months you’d been living in the apartment building, though you didn’t know he lived next to you. He was dressed still in his coat–though you could see his shoes had been kicked off probably right as he got in the door–and he was holding a half-empty bottle of red wine in his hand and a delirious, hazy look in his eyes, and he was indeed blasting some slow jazz ballad throughout his apartment.

“Can I help you?” he said after opening the door and taking a good look at you, no doubt the duvet and angry look on your face weren’t what he was expecting.

“Yeah-hi-sorry, can you just turn the music down? I’m next door and I can’t really sleep with the racket.” You didn’t want to be rude, he seemed to be having just as hard of a time as you.

“Oh, sorry, I-uh didn’t realise there was anyone around, sorry,” he slurred.

“Likewise.”

You didn’t walk away, and he didn’t close the door in your face; instead you both just eyed each other in a moment of silence, trying to get a read on each other. There seemed to be a mutual understanding–of solitude, of loneliness. It tugged on your heart strings a little when he opened the door with such a look of shock, surprise and confusion, and you couldn’t quite let it go.

“Look, would you wanna join me for a glass?” He motioned to the bottle in his hand. “In the name of festivity?”

You couldn’t say no, so with a hesitant agreement, you stepped through the door and followed the man–who quickly introduced himself as Matty in passing–to the kitchen. His flat had the same layout as yours, but he’d decorated it far differently. There wasn’t a Christmas decoration in sight, and you noticed a turntable and a shelf full of vinyl records in his living room.

“So what’s the story? Why aren’t you with anyone?” He handed you a glass, while he kept on for himself, and leaned on the kitchen counter between the two of you. “If you don’t mind me askin’”

You figured he was likely half-torn by this time of night, so you really didn’t mind. “Couldn’t afford the ticket home this year, so I’m kind of just stuck here.”

He nodded, not knowing quite how to answer.

“And you? Surely you have people you could be with?”

Matty shook his head and sighed before answering. “You don’t know me, so you don’t know that I can be a bit of a prick from time to time, and I said some stuff that pissed of my family and got be uninvited to Christmas dinner, and all my mates are either away or with their own families and kids and shit, so I kind of have no one this year.” 

Now it was your turn to have no answer.

“At least we have each other, right?” Matty continued with a smile–how ever self-deprecating it seemed. You returned the smile and took his guidance to go to his living room.

You sat on his sofa–leather, and so soft you almost sunk to the floor when you sat down–while he put his wine glass next to your’s and shuffled to his turntable and sound system, turning down the volume and flipping the record that had finished one side.

“A big music fan?” you asked, noting the collection, as well as the plethora of instruments that sat around the room.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, taking off his leather coat and tossing it over the back of the sofa before taking a seat next to you–still with your duvet. “Music is like my lifeblood, it’s the only thing that really keeps me going these days.”

“That’s good,” you commented.

“Yeah, but it can make or break a bad night, you know? Like I’ve been recording this song, and it’s-it is exactly what I seem to be going through right now, and I didn’t write it to be honest or sincere, but somehow it’s turned into that, and it scares me, honestly…” he rambled–though you didn’t mind, it was kind of fascinating to watch him think about it and go through it in his head. “I’m sorry–I know that that’s made it all about me…I’m sorry…”

“No! No, its good to get these thoughts out…” You didn’t really know how to explain your attraction to him, not explicitly in a sexual way–though you couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t the least bit attractive–but more in the way that he just had a magnetic energy about him. He was like a car crash that you couldn’t help but watch.

“Look, can I just play you the song so you see what I mean?” You nodded quickly and he pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and tapped away for a second. “Now this is just a rough demo, my mate, George, hasn’t done all his producing magic on it yet so you’ll have to just deal with my shitty editing skills.”

It felt good to laugh a little, even with a complete stranger. Matty pressed play and your ears were filled with the sounds of a slow piano riff, followed by vocals.

“I get out my records

When you go away

When people are talking

I miss what they say

'Cause it all means nothing, my dear

If I can't be holdin' you near

So tell me you love me

'Cause that's all that I need to hear

I sit in my kitchen

With nothing to eat

With so many friends I

I don't wanna meet

'Cause I don't need music in my ears

I don't need the crowds and the cheers

Oh, just tell me you love me

'Cause that's all that I need to hear

I've been told so many times before

But hearin' it from you means much more

So much more

Reply to my message

And pick up my calls

You see, I wrote you a letter

It was no use at all

Oh, I don't care if you're insincere

Just tell me what I wanna hear

You know where to find me

The place where we lived all these years, oh

And tell me you love me

That's all that I need to hear

Oh, tell me you love me

That's all that I need to hear”

Matty locked his phone and put it back in his pocket, looking at you with softened eyes–silently asking for your approval. Though you couldn’t think of anything to say–every time you thought of something, the tears that made a film over your eyes got closer and closer to filling. You’d never been moved by music like that before. Matty just sat, watching you stutter, while biting his nails.

“That was…” you eventually started. “That was just…wow.”

“Wow-good? Or wow-don’t-be-stupid-and-think-that’s-decent-enough-to-release?” He asked with a nervous smile.

You returned the smile, though a lot more sanguine. “Wow-good. For sure!” You laughed, almost in disbelief. “Wow-so-good, oh my god, Matty!”

He became giddy right along with you, pulling you in for a hug that you returned, placing your arms around his shoulders, which in turn, enveloped him in your duvet with you. Neither of you moved back to your original positions straight away, just sitting together on the sofa, surrounded by the warmth of your duvet.

“When you said you were going to play me a song, I expected some crap Garage Band song, but that-” You paused. “Was a masterpiece.”

“Don’t flatter me too much, my ego can’t take much more,” Matty joked. You noticed his hold of your waist grew every so slightly tighter as he rested his head on your shoulder, though you didn’t want to comment on it in fear he’d retract; it was warm, and comfortable–not the hold of someone you’d never even spoken to half an hour ago, it was purely perplexing to every facet of your social thought process.

You weren’t sure where the time went, but soon enough the two of you had burnt through the bottle of wine and began working on another one. You just couldn’t keep away from each other, there was something cosmic that was drawing you to one another and who were you to deny that? You spoke of everything you’d experienced, as did Matty, and any thought that came to your mind. 

With your arms around each other and faces inches away from contact, it felt homely, and secure, and in all honesty, the most natural thing you’ve done in the recent months of discomfort, loneliness and anxiety. You didn’t fail to notice each time Matty’s eyes would flicker to your lips as you spoke, and you were sure he didn’t miss when you’d do the same to him.

Maybe you were lonely, maybe you were a bit too drunk, but somehow you had enough built up courage to do what your mind had been subconsciously begging you to do pretty much since you walked in the door. You simply blew caution to the wind and closed the gap between the two of you.

Matty quickly leaned into the kiss and placed his hands firmly on your waist, though within a matter of minutes, they began to wander.

You were almost caught off guard by how good he tasted, the sweetness of the red wine you’d both been drinking hit your tongue, and there was a hint of smoke, though only faint, that made the notion that much more perplexing to you.

You lightly bit on his bottom lip, causing him to let out a small moan into your mouth–it made you smirk in the kiss, you were already learning so much about him.

It was Matty that pulled away first to get a proper breath in, though still with his hands on you. There was a look in his eye–a look that you could only describe as impassioned–and you were sure he could see the same glint in your’s. You’d never quite had a kiss like that before, so full of passion and urgency, yet totally spontaneous.

While you both panted a little, you grabbed his hand that was currently still squeezing the flesh on your right hip, and held it closer to your face. You examined his hand, not for any particular reason, simply out of curiosity.

“You have nice hands,” you said, earning an assiduous laugh from Matty.

“Thank you, darling.” He took control back of his hand and gently placed it on your cheek. “Want me to show you what they can do?”

He didn’t wait for your answer after he saw the way to smirked at him, once again ridding the air in between you. The kiss quickly deepened, as Matty moved slightly so you could straddle him, as his hands moved from your face to the backs of your thighs. You were beginning to get restless and frustrated. You pulled away to look at him again before placing a line of chaste kisses down the column of his neck.

Clothes were quickly shed and before you knew it, you were on Matty’s bed, cuddled into his side, basking in a sweaty, out of breath glow. You took his hand again, which made him chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence between you. He turned his head to look at his bedside table, you weren’t sure why until he spoke.

“Hey, look, it’s past midnight.” You twisted a little to see the small clock sitting on the side, showing a time just before 1 AM. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas,” you said back with a smile.

#matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy blurb #matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader

[kenonade]

This sounds intresting, it could be ment in so many ways:

I am sick. I need them to be sick too.

Whats it about?

In short, it’s a peterachilles sickfic I wrote when I was sick. There’s a lot of those in my drafts because projecting onto Peter is my favorite pastime.

This wip takes place in my half-cooked entertainment industry au (which is not the idol au surprisingly) (it’s slightly more serious) (only slightly). Peter invites Achilles over to have a drink or two after a shoot day and wakes up sick and hungover the morning after. Shenanigans ensue:

Ender’s head poked out from the doorframe. “Have you called the director?” he asked. Peter gesticulated vehemently, pointing at his throat, then at his phone, then back at his throat again.  “Sorry, I forgot you can’t talk. It’s a nice change of pace, really,” said Ender. While Ender explained his malady of misfortune, Peter could only sit and listen in frustration. No, that’s not what’s happening, he wanted to shout. I’m not calling in sick because I don’t want to go to work, Ender. I take this career seriously, unlike you, and I actually realize how the production relies on my presence. I’d kill to be on set right now.  “Yes, that’s correct. Peter would much rather focus on his health right now.” Peter snatched the phone from Ender’s hands but could only croak out a couple of words before Ender easily reclaimed control with his healthy, non-ill, physically capable strength. He finished the call with a couple of words about the importance of holistic wellbeing and flashed Peter a satisfied smile. Fantastic. Wonderful. Now the entire industry would hear of Peter Wiggin, the rude, inconsiderate asshole who couldn’t even carry the tiny weight his role came with, effectively tarnishing the reputation he had worked so hard to rebuild. 

I love writing him catastrophizing… he’s so real for that.

The ask game is here <3

#enderverse #peter wiggin #peterachilles #ender wiggin #he is here too <3 #he’s an indie film director in this au if ur wondering #valentine is baking. she runs a bakery. i need her to bake #kenon.txt #btw thank you for the ask!

[saytrrose]

Do you feel comfortable telling us what happened at your parents' house?

Sure! But be prepared for a long ramble.

My stepmom is a really conservative transphobic narcissist.

My housing plan this year is a tiny room freshman dorm and had a bed, closet and desk. I share it with my bestfriend, Kayla.

My housing plan NEXT year has been decided, I am going to move into a 4 room apartment style dorm, where we all have our own rooms, 2 people each share a bathroom, and we even have a living/kitchen area. I’m very excited!!!

I broke the news to my parents, and said that Kayla and I would share a bathroom on one half of the dorm, and our friends Micheal and Brayden would share the other side.

She expressed concern over two “girls” being with two “guys” and I told her it would be fine because both Brayden and Micheal are gay men, and are engaged to eachother too. To which when she heard this she was “oh okay.”

But then she brought up the possibility of the housing office not allowing us to be co-ed, girls and boys sharing a apartment style dorm together and I had Micheal’s permission to tell my mother that he was a transman, meaning he is afab, to ease her nerves. I explained that the housing office obviously did not care as long as we all knew eachother and agreed on it.

She then proceeded to rant on how gender is so confusing, and for 2 days straight refused to use Micheal’s name, instead referring to him as “the girl who wants to be a boy.”

I told her that it’s not complicated at all, and she asked me “So are they gay or straight?” And I told them they are gay men, which I had already told you prior. She then asked me “well has the wannabe boy had any surgeries?” And that’s when I started to genuinely get pissed off.

I said “First, that’s an inappropriate question to ask. What would you do if a random person kept inquiring on your genitals? It’d be an issue wouldn’t it?” To which she then interrupted me, saying “Oh so they don’t. Yeah I thought so. So they are straight until they get surgery.”

I told her that we are in COLLEGE and that’s a lot of money, time and healing to take into account and Micheal is infact on hormones and looks his gender, acts his gender, sounds like his gender, and so on. I then decided to de-stress, and promptly left the whole house to go on a walk which apparently to her, was very inconsiderate and rude.

On top of all that, she consistently helicopters over me, anytime I touch my phone she’s “what are you doing.” “Who are you texting.” “What are you texting them.” “Why are you doing that on your phone.”

One time I went to my room for a singular hour to go through some of the things I packed and got at the thrift store, just deciding what to leave home and take with me you know, nothing big. I walked out once dinner was done, and she loves to use a bitchy voice and say “look who came out of their room.” “Look who’s alive and decided to join us.” And when I try to say I was literally gone for a fucking hour she accuses me of being too “antisocial.”

Also, we have 5 dogs at our house. Almost all are abused. They live in kennels constantly unless they are ushered outside to potty. There is Jax, poor old man is 14 and has prostate cancer. He has severe arthritis as well and struggles to walk. There is Shepherd, he has one big tumor on his spine and about 5 itty bitty ones around it too- but all non-cancerous. Past his hip bones he is hairless due to skin irritation and scratching/biting. Then there is Mac, the golden lovely child of the house who is the only one not in a kennel ever, roams the house, only one allowed on furniture and more. There is Charlotte, a hurricane Harvey rescue who is a gorgeous and pretty cocker spaniel/poodle. She’s pure black for the exception of white paws and a white heart on her chest. She’s super sweet but gets screamed at everyday for whining in the kennel but good news!! My friend Kayla is in the process of adopting her to help get her out of the house and into a better home. Then there is Pickles, my poor baby that my stepmom hates the most. Just yesterday she was scolded for curling up next to me which was apparently “possessive behavior” so she took her shoe off and beat her in in face 4 times until she was whining and barking- and then got yelled at for getting defensive and snapping once at her.

It’s horrible.

Did I mention all of this is in the span of 24 hours?

More that happened, my stepmom asking me to constantly check the mail to see if my VA check has come in. It comes the first week of each month- sure, but calm down I don’t need to check 3 times a day. Also she only cares so much because my stepmom is blind, is jealous everyone else is putting an effort into their lives and is desperate for some ounce of control and wants us to give her money for her smoking addiction.

Also my check didn’t come in LOL but that’s alright, my awesome sister said she’ll swing but next weekend and snatch it up for me.

It’s just exhausting. Thats just ONE day there- I can’t imagine what summer is going to be like. My sister gave me the idea to get a job like my stepmom wants, but get it here in my college town so I don’t have to be home. Which is genius!! Pickles stays with me, safe and not getting abused. (She’s so scared of everything when she’s home, and it’s so hard to try to help her heal from ptsd when it’s recurring- ik if I do this it will be best for her.) AND I don’t have to be there which fucks with my own mental health.

Also, stepmom isn’t trying to get my money. That’s nice too.

Sorry guys this is more so a vent now, but hey if you read this far than thanks for listening 😭

#vent #ramble #rambles

[uncxntrxllable]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE !!

Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

LAKOTA

► NAME: Lakota

► NICKNAME: none, or... monster, if you ask people who go camping

► TITLE(S): Mother Nature's Monster

► AGE: 260+ in this current life, but passes for late twenties appearance wise

► SPECIES: Deity

► SEX: Female

► NATIONALITY: based on her FC and on human terms, British.

► INTERESTS: anything and everything related to the wildlife and nature, animals, she doesn't care what it is, if it involves nature, she likes. Humans, to a degree... Even if she denies it or won't openly admit it. Humans who actually dedicate much of their time to helping animals, helping the wildlife in general or even people who just really enjoy nature. She likes getting to know those types of people.

► PROFESSION: Protecting and helping nature, wildlife and similar.

► BODY TYPE: Fit, lean

► EYES: Amber-Brown

► HAIR: Blonde

► SKIN: White

► FACE: Cara Delevingne (in the 2nd season of only murders in the building)

► POSTURE: Healthy

► HEIGHT: 5'6

► VOICE: Cara Delevingne

► SIGNATURE OUTFIT: She doesn't have one, but she enjoys wearing things that look a little more formal, but never or rarely ever dresses or anything dress-frilly like.

► SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Nobody

► COMPANIONS: Also nobody. Unless you counted Lorelei, but they don't often see one another sooo... Imma stick with nobody

► STRENGTHS: I'd say the fact that she is a very powerful voice for the voiceless is a strength, which by that I obviously mean animals. She will advocate for the wildlife in ways that most if not almost all humans never ever would, and I think that's a strength. In that respect, she's very caring and compassionate.

► WEAKNESSES: She tends to judge people far too quickly, she more often than not sees the worst in humans before she will see the good. She's stubborn and without really even meaning to half the time, she can seem inconsiderate and or rude, insensitive.

► FRUITS: Big fan of fruits... But if you sat a fruit platter out, she'd probably clear the berries out first.

► DRINKS: Water. She's plain and simple. Just water, not even with any ice, that's weird. Needing frozen water in un-frozen water before you will drink it is weird.

► ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: None, unless someone insists that she have a drink with them. And that someone needs to be a loved one cause otherwise she'll just say no.

► SMOKES: Never, she hates it so much. Very bad for the environment and smells horrible.

► DRUGS: Never. The only good drugs are the ones that have and are used for medicinal purposes, she does not care for nor like the idea of any other types of drug that humans have invented.

► DRIVER'S LICENSE: No, and the likelihood of her ever wanting to drive is zero. She just, doesn't care? She can just, run to the thing. Why sit in giant metal box on wheels when can run or walk?

Tagged by: @myriadxofxmuses

Tagging: @sorrowsick (cross) @wolfpackmuses (steele!) @legeandary (nicholas (manning)) @kingofthewebxxx @beastbitten @nightwatchr @luposcainus @lonetala @vulpuslunae AND YOU if you see this and think, ooo this looks like fun, STEAL IT.

#thank you so much for tagging me! #lakota study ; 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟

[covenofwives]

To Cry on a Bed of Stars

GeorgeHD is so very rudely awoken from his slumber by an inconsiderate DreamXD. HD has half a mind to throw the younger God out, until he realises something very off about XD's behaviour.

This is a two parter fic (technically three but the other fic is getting rewritten so doesn't really count right now). The first part of the fic isn't about tickling but it's basically tells what happens before this fic.

First part is To Pay A Visit if people want to read it.

Now please enjoy some very rare, soft comforting by GeorgeHD

---

GeorgeHD was in the midsts of a strangely comfortable dream. Usually the God’s dreams ranged from being too exciting or horrid nightmares, but this one was calm.

HD was laying over a warm grassy spot in the middle of a calm, starry night that matched his hair. There were fireflies flying up overhead, merging with the stars and shooting off into the night sky to make a wonderful meteor shower.

The God stretched out along the grass, sighing comfortably before pushing himself up. He got halfway up before he was stopped. There was a sudden pressure on his back, pushing him down but also pulling him back to lie back on the grass. It didn’t feel the same as the grass against his back. This new pressure was firmer, warmer and the cloud of panic in HD’s mind slowly cleared to the realisation that he was waking up. And someone was with him.

The fog of sleep cleared, slowly pulling HD back into reality. The night sky faded away to a bundle of pillows and blankets. He was not in a perfect grassland but instead in his own colourful void of the God Realm, which was slipping out of a dark blue to a hue of confused turquoise.

HD had fallen asleep laying on his front, which apparently the visitor took as an invitation to cuddle up against his back. Luckily HD knew who it was pressed against him. There were very few who would come so close to HD’s realm willingly, and there was only one who had two sets of arms; both of which were wrapped around HD’s waist.

DreamXD pressed their chest to HD’s back, their arms locked round the smaller God’s waist and their face buried into the back of HD’s neck.  A usual position. Sometimes when XD stayed to nap, this was a position they slipped into during their cuddles. But HD was a hundred percent sure he fell asleep alone, and XD was usually one to wake him up whenever he arrived.

“XD…” The starry haired God yawned. His voice was still rough from sleep, and his instinct to turn over and stretch was impeded by the other God pressed into him. “When’d you get here...?”

XD was silent but HD knew he was awake. He could feel the arm around his waist shuffle and XD was a still sleeper. His face nuzzled into the back of the smaller God’s neck and HD had to suppress a bubbled squeak.

“EhexD! D-Don’t pretend to be asleep! I know you’re awake.”

XD’s response was still uncharacteristically quiet. As the haze of sleep cleared more, HD took in more unusual details. XD’s didn’t have his mask on, and his face felt unusually cold against the other God’s skin. His arms hadn’t stopped moving as though there was a jitter through them. These details, along with the silence, confirmed to HD that something was wrong.

HD pressed his tongue between his lips before speaking again, trying to make his voice softer. Tactfulness was not exactly something he was familiar with. “XD…what’s the matter with you? You’re not your usual se-”

The noise cut off HD’s words like a sword through paper. But it wasn’t a response the taller God made. The sound was small, meek and one HD hadn’t heard the XD ever make.

XD was crying.

Suddenly the little details clicked into place. The cold feeling along the back of HD’s neck wasn’t cold, it was wet with tears. His arms around HD weren’t shuffling, they were shuddering.

The realisation hit HD’s mind like a ton of bricks and numbed their tongue into silence. They felt at a loss for words, completely helpless and useless to their friend.

HD might not have known what to say, but some deep part of him knew what to do.

From behind XD, the familiar ethereal hands appeared. One slowly brushed their white fingers through XD’s blonde hair, scratching through his scalp and then combing their fingers through the golden locks. Another took spot at XD’s back, patting and rubbing into his shoulder blades and a few caressed down his arms.

The hands seemed to do something right as the trembling lessened down.

HD waited a moment for any signs of crying again. When it seemed XD had calmed from that, HD took a breath and spoke.

“DreamXD…can I turn around?”

The blonde God’s arms tightened around HD’s waist.

“You don’t need to talk. I don’t even have to look at you.” HD carried on, his voice as calm and soft as he could make it. “I just want to hold you. You can bury your head into my neck after I turn.”

There was a pause before XD slowly nodded and his arms unwrapped from HD’s waist.

HD tried to move as slowly as he could. When XD backed up enough, he turned around, trying his best to keep his head turned from XD to give him privacy. When HD lay down on his back, XD was instantly down, laying over HD’s chest and pressing his face into the starry haired God’s neck.

HD could feel it properly now that XD not only didn’t have his mask on, but the wraps around his eyes were gone too. Whatever was enough to break XD down was serious.

HD’s hand took over from the one petting through the blonde hair, but the ethereal hand travelled down and joined the other in patting XD’s back. He didn’t wrap his arms back around HD’s waist, instead XD laid them by the other’ God’s side instead. His upper arms resting by HD’s shoulders and his lower near HD’s sides.

The air was silent apart form XD’s shaky breaths. It didn’t sound like he was still crying, more like he was trying to even his breathing again after a cry.

“You don’t need to but…you can talk about it if you want?” HD offered. XD didn’t respond and HD’s first impulse was to ramble. “Or if… I don’t know, if you want I can talk to you about stuff. Just nothing stuff. I know when I’m upset I like some noise. Keeps out the chatter, you know?”

XD still kept silent, only moving his arm to slightly curl around HD’s shoulder. The silent punted into HD’s heart, and he felt useless. He’d never had to comfort someone before and his only reference was relying on was trying to remember the things 4K would say to him.

The taller God lightly shook his head against HD’s neck. His hair fluttered along HD’s neck and up his chin. HD’s first instinct was to hold back his giggles as he always did, but he was struck by a quick moment of brilliance and instead giggled openly.

“Th-Thahat tihickles…”

The two were silent then. HD waited on what felt like held breath for any response. They couldn’t be sure XD would respond, but they waited hopefully. It took a while before XD moved again, shaking his head in the exact same way. His nose nuzzled into the spot were HD’s shoulder met his neck, and his hair tickled over HD’s neck and chin again.

HD giggled and wriggled under XD’s weight. “Ehehex Dehehehehe…”

The blonde God’s arms crowded closer around HD. The ones by his shoulder now held onto them and the ones at his sides now had hands ready, claws resting over the sensitive skin.

A shudder ran through HD though he tried to stifle it. The ethereal hands around XD had disappeared, leaving him helpless. XD’s long claws slowly trailed down, starting from HD’s ribs and ending over his sides. When XD’s claw lightly poked in, HD jumped with a high squeak.

“Tickles?” XD’s voice rumbled against HD’s neck, which only served to rile up the butterflies already going mad in HD’s tummy.

“Y-Yehesssss…”

The claw in HD’s side moved to the dead centre, pressing in and like a button was pressed, HD couldn’t stop the spill of giggles that left his mouth. His back arched, though it didn’t offer much escape, and his arms wrapped around XD’s neck. Partly to let out the ticklish energy coursing through him and another to keep him from struggling away too much. Every survival instinct was screaming at HD to move away, but he ignored those voices.

“Does it tickle here?” XD’s asked.

“Y-Yohou knohow ihihit dohohoes.”

“I’ve forgotten.” XD’s voice went low and dangerous. His hands around HD’s shoulders now gripped on tightly and both hands poised by the smaller God’s sides latched on to the quivering muscle. “Remind me.”

Even with the “warning”, when XD started squeezing and drilling into HD’s side the smaller God was not prepared. His body jumped with his laughter before trying to crumple and curl up, though that was impossible with XD draped over him and keeping him purposefully stretched out.

“EHEHEHEX DEHEHEHEHEHEHE! NNnn-fffuhuHUHUCK FUHUHUHUCK!”

HD’s instinct was to scream for the tickling to stop, but he swallowed back those words, burying his head into XD’s shoulders and laughing against his skin. XD’s hands moved around HD’s back, skittering along his lower back and up to the back of his ribs. It didn’t tickle as much, turning HD’s laughter into squirming giggles.

“Y-Yohohou ffff…wh-whihihiy dohoho yohohour nahahails tihihickle soho muhuhhuch!”

“They were perfectly made to tickle you.”

“Thahat’s ahaha lihIHIHIE!”

XD’s nails grazed along one of HD’s back ribs. One of the ribs in the middle of his back, but he couldn’t note down where exactly. XD did though, and brought all of their nails back to test the spot. Grazing and drawing little shapes along the overly sensitive bone, sending HD into a frenzy.

“NAHAHAHA! NNNnnn! S-Stohohop! StohoHOohoHOHOP! G-GIHIHIVE MEHEHEHE AHAHA BREHEHEHEAK!”

XD’s his scritching faded until finally stopping. His hands lay flat along HD’s back, and he snuggled back into the spot at the smaller God’s neck. It slightly tickled again but it wasn’t as bad. The tickles rose like little bubbly giggles in HD’s chest, but it felt nice. Calming.

HD chest rose and fell with his panting, eventually settling his breathing enough to speak without panting. “How do you always find new spots?” He grumbled, though a smile was on his face that he was sure was from the left over tickles.

“It’s my gift.” XD boasted proudly.

“What a terrible gift.” HD scoffed. One of his hands came up to XD’s blonde hair and pet through it again. He watched the golden locks fall through his fingers before he spoke again. “Can I see your face?”

He knew the question might have been a hard one. He could feel XD’s arms tighten around him, but not too much to hurt.

“I… I-I don’t have my mask on. O-Or…”

“I don’t care.” HD tried to make sure his voice sounded soft, and not snappy. “Your eyes don’t bother me. Please?”

HD thought he’d have to wait a lot longer, but XD surprised him. They pushed themselves up, uncurling their lower arms and repositioned themselves to leaning over HD.

XD’s wraps were off, and his mask gone, leaving his face so unusually open and vulnerable. From the tops of his cheeks to his hairline there lay a black void. It wasn’t even that the skin looked completely black, it was more like there was nothing there. Void of any humanoid resemblance, it lay as a dark back drop for the masses of swarming shapeless eyes.

The many eyes were always moving though the void but never mixing with one another. They were the colour of a dark night sky filled with tiny stars and a thin bright green pupil stood out amongst them. While the eyes were always moving, disappearing and reappearing, the pupils usually all looked in the same direction.

Right now the pupils were focused on HD, but they faltered and flicked away every few moments. At the edge of the black void, just above XD’s cheeks, there tears gathering and dried tear marks already down their cheeks.

HD silently reached up, wiping away some of the tear marks and a few tears not yet fallen.

“It’s dumb right?” XD tried to smile, but it was shaky and his voice sounded broken up. “I don’t have any tear ducts, yet I still cry. So stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” HD said softly. His hand cupped over XD’s cheek, which the other God leaned into gratefully. “What happened?”

Even the question seemed to set XD off again. Fresh tears bubbled under the void and his voice made a little squeak before he could speak. “I-I… I fucked u-up…”

“With what?” A few of the ethereal hands appeared again. They cupped around the back of XD’s neck, leading XD back down into HD’s arms and XD followed without a fight.

XD lay over HD again, this time resting his head over HD’s shoulder. “I think I… I-I fucked up with Dream.”

“Your brother?” HD poised it as less of a question and more in shock. “Did you fight?”

“Yes…N-Nooo not like… I-I’ve been a horrible brother…”

“What brought this on? I thought you were reconnecting with him.”

“I was! I was but…things went... I-I didn’t pay attention or maybe I was too late to see it but Dream changed and I w-wasn’t there for him and now he-he doesn’t even want to see me.”

HD was silent, letting them rant and get out whatever they wanted. It would be better to manage the problem when he knew all the pieces. When XD was quiet again, HD spoke. “Did he tell you that himself?”

“Yes! He…y-yes.”

“Then, as hard as it may be, space is the only thing you can give him.”

XD’s hand gripped onto HD’s robes. “But I… I-I want to fix this.”

“I know you do. I know it kills you not to rush back to him but if he tells you he doesn’t want to see you then, for now, all you can do is respect that.”

XD gave a defeated huff, sinking lower into HD’s arms. After a moment he gave a forced laugh. “You know, another friend doesn’t want to speak to me either. And someone gave me the same advice to just give them time. Now I’ve fucked up the same way even with my own brother.” His voice broke into a cry again. “I’m a useless friend…”

“You are not!” HD quickly shut that down. The ethereal hands swarmed around XD. Soothing through his hair and down his back. “You’re  the kindest, most patient God I’ve ever known. Even despite how horrible I was to you, for months, you kept coming back to visit me and check up on me. If it wasn’t for you I’d still be alone.”

XD said nothing. HD didn’t know if he was stunned silent, or just too tired to speak anymore, so HD tentatively carried on. “You might make some mistakes but your heart is always in the right place. And I know keeping away from people goes against your puppy-like nature,  but it’s good for both of you to heal.”

XD gave a soft huff. His breath tickled over HD’s skin and gave him goosebumps, but HD repressed the shudder.

“Do you…do you want to tickle me again?”

XD made some kind of response. His body made the tiniest movement but he was still silent. HD wanted to chastise himself for being so stupid, but his nerves made him talk instead.

“Sorry. I suck at helping people. I just… I don’t know how else to he-EHEHELP!”

XD’s hands had snaked their way to HD’s sides again as they were distracted and started skittering their nails up and down in the same pattern as before. When HD started really laughing, he switched to kneading.

“YohHOhOHou s-sneheheHEAHAK!”

“You offered.” XD spoke with a smug smile. “And I really want to get back to that new spot we found.”

XD stopped tickling and his hands slipped around to HD’s back again. “D-Dohohon’t! Dohohon’t yohou dahahare!” HD tried to make his voice sound stern, but it was hard with his wobbly smile and giddy tickles still fluttering through his nerves.

“Hmmm now where was that rib?” XD purred, moving his lips right against HD’s ear.

HD tried pulling away his head but XD just followed. “YohohOHOU knohow whehEHERE!” He said, his voice squeaking as XD’s fingers would start gently scratching.

“I’ve forgotten.”

“Th-thahat’s juhust yohour fahavourite ehexcuHUHUHUSE!”

XD’s hands skittered up to just graze along HD’s lower back rib. “Is it this one~?” He drawled out.

“D-Dohohohon’t.” HD pressed his palm against XD’s shoulder. It wasn’t enough pressure to actually push the other God away and XD knew that. If HD wanted him to really stop, he would have absolutely no problem in doing that.

“Hmm. Nope. Not this one. Maybe this one?”

XD’s fingers crawled up, and even with HD knowing it was happening this time it didn’t stop his laugh. It wasn’t as loud or squeaky of course and HD snorted through the laughter that it wasn’t that one, but XD already knew that.

“Not there.” XD sighed in feigned disappointment. “Then is iiiiiiit…”

The taller God’s fingers made a slow crawl to the rib above and HD was determined he wasn’t going to be caught out again. Unfortunately that plan was out of the question when XD suddenly jumped in, attacking at the spot with all 10 kneading fingers and scribbling claws.

HD jumped and screamed with laughter. Their legs kicked, heels dug into their blankets and they pulled side to side; anything to lessen the maddening shock waves rocking through their body and tickling every nerve in his system.

Eventually XD did stop, complying when HD tapped out with his safe word. The blonde God was then lulled into a soft sleep in the arms of HD. He fell asleep to one ethereal hand playing with his hair and another rubbing soothing, wide circles in his back.

In a shocking twist of events, HD did not sleep afterwards. He didn’t fall asleep at all. HD kept awake for the whole time XD slept. Just watching his friend, and keeping a vigil look out. The moment XD’s face twisted to an uncomfortable look, HD pressed a kiss over the top of XD’s head and melted away all of the dark clouds gathering in the younger God’s head.

HD would, of course, deny he did such a thing.

#godsiblingau #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!georgehd #ler!dreamxd #2 stories already written into god sibling lore lets goooooo

[puddingvalkyrie]

Eavesdropping

  "The boy is weak."  It was wrong to eavesdrop, she knew. But the old king could only mean one person by 'the boy' and that made this her business. Cat-formed, Aurelia crept to the door.   "You expect too much from him," Nareena argued. "He's just a child, yet."   "And if you leave him, he'll remain a child," the old king countered. "He spends too much time with the commoners. I blame your husband."   "You mean the husband you insisted I marry?" Nareena replied. "I have no complaints now, but it was your idea."   "You know that ensuring the line of Night continues is an important duty," the old king told her. "So don't you try to pull that. I don't suppose he's taken a fancy to some commoner that he's started spending so much time below stairs?"   "He seems depressed lately for sure," Nareena said. "Grandmother Connie spoke to him, but she won't tell me what he said. I think perhaps he is lovesick, I can't see any other reason for his melancholy."   "What half-wit spurns the affections of the Dark Prince?" the old king scoffed. "It's a chance to be queen some day, and bear Gaia's heir. And what's his excuse? He's handsome enough and he's no rapscallion. Then again, perhaps that's the problem. Goes back to what I was saying. He needs to grow a bloody backbone."   "I keep telling you, he's not short of admirers just because he's not an inconsiderate boor," Nareena sighed. "He's just shy, I think. He's been sneaking around lately . . . no idea why he thinks he should hide anything from us, but you know what teenagers are like."   "Bah, and there's a fancy new word we didn't need in my day," the old king complained. "You had children and you had adults and no-one thought to mollycoddle the ones who weren't growing up fast enough."   "Yes yes, you've made your opinion quite clear, father," Nareena snapped. "I agree, to a point. Tyrian won't make a good king if he's too soft. But he's only young. And I believe his spending more time with the common folk to be him listening to his father. Connall has always encouraged us to mingle with them."   "I'm glad someone listens to their father," he grumbled. 

The conversation turned to what nobles Tyrian might have an interest in, or how they might get him interested if he wasn't, and Aurelia snuck away. Much as it would be amusing to hear them be wrong, she had other things to do.   "Louis." She tugged on the sleeve of the guard as he stood watching the others train. "We're friends, right?"   "Yeah?" He turned his gaze to the stern-eyed teenager. He'd never seen someone wearing so much pink look so serious. The cherry-blossom covered yukata did not suit her expression at all.

  “Do you think I could be a guard?” she asked.

  “Why?” He tilted his head to one side. “Fool’s a cushy job. You don’t have to do very much.”

  “Sounds like being a guard.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “So do you think I can or not?”

  “Even if I said no you’re going to try anyway,” Louis replied with a shrug. “But yeah, why not?”

  “How?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “I guess you need to ask the Captain of the Guard if she’ll train you. You’ll have to ask permission to leave your current post first though. It’d be rude to ask the Captain before you ask Their Majesties.”

  “Yeah . . .” She wasn’t looking forward to that.   “So . . . Not telling me why then?”

  “Not here.” She walked off towards the palace gardens. He watched her leave before finally shaking his head and following.

  “You got some kind of privacy spell or something?” she asked, once she'd found a suitably secluded spot.

  “This isn’t private enough?” Louis clicked his tongue. “Is this some kingdom ruining secret you got or . .?” Aurelia gave him a dark look. “So it IS?” He raised a barrier.

  “I finally found something I agree with King Pickleface on.” She crossed her arms and paced from one side of his barrier to the other. “Tyrian needs help.”

  “He does seem upset lately.”

  “He’s gone to pieces over some stupid boy,” she complained. “And now Pickleface thinks he’s weak. Thing is . . .”

  “You think so too?” Louis guessed.

  “No!” she shouted. “Well, yes. Sort of. It’s . . . It’s not weak to be kind. And it’s not weak to be sad.”

  “King Connall, huh?” The king and his words were popular. “I don’t remember him saying the second one.”

  “Kings don’t have to say things to make them true.”

  “Never said they did.” He waited patiently for her to get to the point.

  “It’s his own stupid fault!” she burst out.

  “Connall’s?”

  “Pickleface’s!” Aurelia wrinkled her nose. “Tyrian wants to be like Master Connall so bad and if he was just left to his own devices, he'd find his own way or whatever, but his grandfather keeps telling him he’s wrong!” She clawed one hand down the bark of a nearby tree. “And then he wonders why he’s no confidence! Idiot!”

  “And what do you expect being a guard is going to do about it?”

  “That’s . . . Complicated. A fool has no social standing." She started pacing again. "I’m going to need some social standing . . .”

  “For what?”

  “Tyrian needs someone to be, I don’t know, mean I guess, whatever the definition of strong is to that moron. So I’ll be mean for him.”

  “I think you’re going to need to aim higher than a guard,” Louis pointed out.

  “I think you’re right.” She bit her lip. “But I have to start somewhere.” She looked up sharply. “Right, you can drop the spell. . . . Oh, and if you ever tell anyone I said Tyrian went to pieces over a boy I’ll scratch your face off.”

  “I thought we were friends?” he said, tilting his head.

  “That’s how I know you won’t tell,” she replied, smiling brightly.

  “A boy, huh . . .”

  His lip was wobbling already and tears were welling up.

  “You’re quitting?! Why? Did I do something wrong?” Tyrian clasped her hands. “Please don’t leave! Please . . . Don’t you leave me too . . .”

  “I’m not going anywhere, you dummy,” she told him. “I just want a different job.”

  “But why?” Tyrian asked again. “Do you not like being my fool? I have done something, haven’t I?”

  “No!” she said quickly. “Look, no-one needs to pay me to be your friend, okay? It’s a waste of the palace's resources, you know?”

  “It’s not because of me?”  

  “I want to be more useful,” Aurelia replied. “I don’t want to sit around being pretty. That’s what nobles are for, right?” She gave him her best smile.

  “Yeah . . .” She got a weak smile in return. “So you’re really not going anywhere?”

  “Nope,” she replied. “Even if my parents find me then hey, the position of fool will be open, right?” Tyrian finally burst into tears. He hugged her tightly;

  “You’ve no idea what that means to me,” he sniffled.

  “Nah, I’m pretty sure I do,” she replied, hugging him back.

She hesitated as she went to knock on the King's door. After a few false starts, she steeled herself and rapped sharply on the wood.

  “Come in?” came the reply. She pushed the door open and peeked around it. Connall looked at her from his desk. “Aurelia, you don’t have to knock. Is something the matter?” She realised she was clutching the door. She let go and shuffled into the room, putting her hands behind her back.

  “No.” She swallowed nervously. “Maybe Tyrian told you, but . . . I decided to quit being a fool. Not that I’m ungrateful!” she added quickly. “I just think I’ll be more useful as something else. And I want to learn new things.”

  “You’re growing up, the pair of you.” He smiled at her.

  “It’s really okay?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “But really, what's the matter? Did something happen? You can’t have fallen out, or I’d have heard about it. Did someone else upset you?”

  “Sort of, but . . .” she trailed off.  “It's a secret.”

  “Oh, I see." He paused just for a moment. "Well, we all have secrets.” He leaned forward and tousled her hair. “You’ll always be part of the family Aurelia. You don’t get to quit that part.”

  “You’re the best, Master Connall.” She beamed at him, close to tearing up herself. She lunged forward and gave him a tight hug around the waist before scampering off down the hall.  

She was going to be a guard and then . . . Well, that was the secret.

But she’d show him.

She’d show him who was weak.

------

Wrote this several years ago, but it was relevant to the new piece I did and I don't think I posted it here.

Originally posted on deviantart, Nov 14th 2017.

#vdbif #vampires don't belong in fairytales #vampire #fairy #ocs #vampires #tyrian von stollenheim #writing #vampires don't belong in fairyland #cat yokai #oc #writeblr #creative writing

[thebuginthecornerofyourroom]

There are some tidbits of wisdom that come with growing up and maturing that are not something talked about but they make life more bearable, and one of these is that

You cannot be kind all the time.

If being a cunt and an asshole is your default then this post isn't for you, because you can pass life being who you are without this troubling you, but anyone who is trying their damnedest to be kind, and has been doing so for some long time knows one very important thing about being kind, which is:

Being kind to some well-meaning people takes A LOT of energy.

This is not about how "you should be above assholes", which btw, you shouldn't. This is about this friend, this family member, this person who knows you, who is a nice person, an alright kinda human, with it's flaws and pros, who has to interact with you and whose complete existence in that time and moment seems to be dedicated to ANNOY. THE HELL. OUT. OF. YOU.

Because sometimes there is this coworker, who is nice, you can talk with them, you've gone once or twice to a bar to hang out, has a family, has some kids, and you've asked to do something for you and they always forget, they always do it half assed only to you, you always have to tell them 5 times through 7 different communication mediums for them to do it and only when you come in yelling onto their office CAN YOU FUCKING SEND ME THE DOCUMENT PLEASE and don't leave them alone until they do it works

Or sometimes there is this friend within your group who is nice, cool friend, love 'em, cool for a nice plan, lots of other friendships, and you're trying to set up a date for hanging out but they just can't and they refuse to tell you they can't because whatever dumb fucking reason and Dude, if you can't on Thursday or Friday then what about Saturday Hmm, I don't know, I might have to see another friend And Sunday Well I gotta eat with my mum it's super important What about next week and they keep coming out with excuses but of course, they don't state their availability, they don't propose any solutions, they wanna hang out and they're being the most uncollaborative bastard in the face of the planet and of course you cannot just say Well, buddy, it seems you can't make it so we'll just hang out and see you whenever you can because that's super rude and they'll get offended and bitchy and cunty because now it seems it's our fault we can't hang out all together except we've done nothing and they'll still WON'T SAY THEY CAN'T FUCKING MAKE IT

Or these couple you're friends with who are cool, nice, lovely people, very in love, and one day you're hanging out with them and the rest of the group of friends and you're all sitting in a bar and everything is going nice, but the ambience changes and you all want to go somewhere else, and you start discussing but it's just a bad day, and some of the places are closed, some you have to call in advance, some have a weird vibe tonight, and as the look for something to do progresses you start noticing that one, these two have barely participated in the discussion and two, they are getting upset about not having a plan, and the rest of y'all keep thinking and squeezing your brains to find out something to do and the only thing these two do is complain, and Why can't we go to A It's closed, we already said it This sucks, this is so stupid :( and they're not proposing any alternative, nor any other plan, and when one gives up and tries to come to terms with the fact that it's not gonna happen tonight they stand up and Nooooo, c'mon don't leave, lets just think of someth THERE'S NOTHING, THERE'S NO PLAN TONIGHT and then maybe you'll go to a half assed bar you had to compromise to because it's the only place open that doesn't suck too much and the fucking couple talks with no one for the rest of the night because they spend the whole time in a corner making out

None of these people are deliberately acting like assholes, and yet, they're being annoying, inconsiderate and using your kindness in order to blame you for an issue they are doing nothing to solve.

You cannot be kind to these people in these moments. Being kind is what has gotten you booked into a corner, and you cannot use kindness to get out of it.

So, you have to be a dick.

It sucks. It needs practice. It's gonna bum everybody out. But it has to be done.

If you don't have practice doing this, you'll come across as an asshole. Probably you should learn to measure your words and manage to say "Look, we're trying to do something, and you're using your conditions to bum everybody out without collaborating, so fucking stop, asshole" in a less confrontational way, or else the frustration will eat you alive, and you still have to tell these people off.

Patience, politeness and kindness have limits. They have to. If you believe that you have infinite patience and limitless kindness either you haven't been tested against the world or you are a stupid fool.

Being able to recognize the limits of your own kindness, and when to be an asshole, is a very important part of growing up and maturing.

#writing #no one is kind all the time #people who believe they are are being assholes somewhere else #maturing #this post is about an aita #the kid was being an asshole yes #but i understand #reading conprehension tumblr didnt #for whatever reason

[lesbiansanemi]

Caught up on jjk. opened the jjk tag. saw the first post was a straight x reader post. IMMEDIATELY closed it and opened your blog instead. o7.

I'm so glad to be a safe haven from the hellscape that is tags. I hope you enjoyed your scrolling o7

Nah, x reader shit is a literal fucking inescapable plague and it's so fucking infuriating, I can't lie

Like, I truly have no issue with x reader stuff in general. Like the actual fics and art, of course. I have no interest in it, but other people like making and reading it, so good for them! Like, glad you're having fun

The broad community around it is fucking insufferable though and they make me kinda fucking hate anything associated with x reader stuff in general, to the point that I literally block anyone who posts/reblogs it on sight.

They are so fucking inconsiderate of everyone other than themselves in fandom spaces and ignore so many of the social niceties pretty much all other communities use to make fandom a habitable space for everyone en masse. The way they flood and abuse tagging systems is so fucking infuriating. Like, using the jjk fandom as an example (as its x reader community is one of the worst I've seen in this regard, though kny isn't much better), you shouldn't be fucking tagging your x reader smut shots with every goddamn character in the series. You want to write something of getting dicked down by Gojo? Sure, put it in the general jjk tag as well as Gojo's tag. That's valid and fair. Why tf are you tagging Maki? Or Yuuji? Or literally every other character in the series? Why are you tagging unrelated ships? It's so unnecessary and rude and self centered.

I also hate that the vast majority of them won't tag their stuff with a general x reader tag that's easy to blacklist. If I want to avoid their posts in totality, I'd have to blacklist "gojo x reader" "satoru gojo x reader" "gojo x fem reader" "gojo x gender neutral reader" "gojo x you" etc etc you get the point.... but for every fucking character in the series. Why not just add literally one general "x reader" tag that would mean people like me could easily avoid your stuff and we can both blissfully enjoy our lives? Tagging isn't just for getting exposure, it's for allowing people to avoid your work as well. That's more than half the courtesy of it

But no.... they want to shove their shit into as many people's faces as possible because they think that will get them more exposure, not just piss people off and make tags uninhabitable for literally anyone who isn't interested in it

They also have a tendency to not put their graphic, explicit porn under read mores, which is also just basic decency. Never mind that I then have to scroll through all 4K words of your OOC daddy kink nanami porn, but I had to see it when I didn't consent to it, potentially in public. Thanks for that! Also especially dumb when you put MDNI on it and then... just post it openly without even a single click to keep it off the screen. Great job! Not that MDNI always keeps minors out (obviously) but it's a useless shiny sticker when you then post the porn just out in the fucking open, not even offering one fucking click for people to consent to seeing it

I've also noticed they tend to use uncredited art in their stuff super fucking often? And no "art not mine" doesn't fucking count as credit.

Idk, I just truly have no fucking respect for the x reader community at this point considering their blatant lack of respect and courtesy for literally every other fandom subculture.

Sure, they get some hate for being "cringe" or whatever (which I admit isn't fair. I def don't get the appeal, but I don't think anyone should be getting meanly ridiculed for it, you know?) but I wish they would realize that the fucking disdain they get from the rest of the fandom is for these reasons.... Not necessarily the self shipping or even the blatant mischaracterization for wish fulfillment purposes

Idk, sorry for the rant, but the x reader crowd fucking infuriates me. Like I said, I block them all on sight (probably have upwards of 1-2K blogs blocked at this point because of it), and have blacklisted as many tags for it as I can.... and while how often I see it has definitely gone down and makes tags slightly more bearable... it's still, fucking somehow, like 50 fucking percent of them

But anyways, back to the main point! I'm glad I could curate a jjk tag that is more enjoyable and to your tastes! I know I very much like having one I can scroll through that's art and meta, rather than.... that

#asks #kaz rambles #long post

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Don’t Give Yourself Away

Pt. 2 of the Low Life series that I started forever and a day ago! It’s just the enemies section of the enemies-to-lovers plot, bear with me here

TW: alcohol, underage drinking, driving under the influence, mentions of violence, violent thoughts, Billy just wanting to punch things basically

Read it on A03 here! :D

~~~*~~~

Fuck Steve Harrington.

That’s the consensus that Billy’s brain has come to as he sits in the overcrowded, gratingly loud cafeteria of Hawkins High. It’s been half a day here and that’s the only thing ringing through his ears  as he picks at the hunk of ground up meat this school tries to pass off as “food”.

“I mean, who the fuck does he think he is anyway?”

That’s Tommy, grunting over a mouthful of applesauce, his girlfriend sitting next to him and twisting up her mouth in some kind of disgusted agreement. Or maybe it’s more so irritation at the very bitter topic of interest. Billy can only grunt wordlessly back at him.

Tommy’s been rattling off for the last ten minutes about how Steve “betrayed” them, Carol’s listening with vague disinterest, and Billy’s thinking of ways to crawl out of his skin. All it took was one long look at Steve Harrington this morning in the parking lot to tell him he was in some serious trouble. And when that wide eyed girl got out of the same car… Billy felt the bitter fire of jealousy lick at every corner within him. And lord did he hate it.

He hates even more how he can’t even convince himself in some kind of soothing reprieve that she’s just a friend or a sister because he saw them. In the hallway when he was walking from one dreary class to another. Billy heard the guy giggle as she hit his chest and reprimanded him for his “stupid” sunglasses. As he smiled the brightest thing Billy had ever seen and said something that sounded like “I missed you”. Said something like “Tell me about it” when she pointed out that it had only been an hour. He purred it out as he cradled the side of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss; pulled her closer, smiling like she was everything and he couldn’t be close enough. Right there in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see. For all the hope and potential to seep out of Billy’s body and pool onto the ground.

“Leaving us to be with those… freaks.”

The boy in question is about 2 tables over, talking with that girl and some lanky dude with a shaggy haircut who looks like he can’t hold himself upright. Billy thinks it’s the punk he bumped into earlier in the hallway as he stormed away from whatever show Steve Harrington thought he was putting on with that girl. The same kid who Tommy and Carol were picking on earlier as they entered the cafeteria- sending rude jeers and snickers his way about being “cursed” and “creepy”.

Tommy and Carol are jackasses. It doesn’t take a whole lot of time for Billy to put that together- they’re loud and inconsiderate, walking and acting like they have something to prove with everything they do. They look down their noses at everyone they can, despite Carol only being 5 foot and Tommy being not even a foot taller. They take up so little space but walk like they can make demands of the world. Small fish in even smaller ponds. Billy knows and hates the type.

But Steve Harrington… He’s 2 tables over and he’s laughing something loud and bright and handing the lanky dude some of his food in some kind gesture and he’s got his arm around that girl and he kisses her temple where her hair meets soft skin and- and Tommy is right. Who the hell does this boy think he is and why the hell does he think he gets to be that way so unabashedly? Where does he get off, shining so brightly that Billy can’t even hope to get near?

“Clearly he made a big mistake.” Carol mutters, paying adamant attention to her tray and looking pissed to high hell with the conversation at hand.

Ripping his eyes away from the laughing and joyful Steve Harrington does more harm than good, because it means Billy has to look at a sulking Carol and Tommy. Billy hates more than anything that these people are the best people for him to stick to. He’s not here to make life-long friends- he’s only got a couple of years until he can get the fuck out and back to California. He’s not clinging to any hope for happiness here, he just wants people who are popular enough to make life easy and tolerable enough to keep him sane. A year or two and that’s it, he’s out and can scrub all of this clean from his memory. And hell, maybe sharing a common enemy will give him something to do in the meantime.

Billy’s not even fully sure what Steve did to these two to have them bitching so much. Tommy’s been rambling uselessly and Carol seems about as sick of it as Billy is, regardless of her seeming to agree. Everyone else around them is paying no mind anymore.

 This shit must happen often…

The only information he’s gathered is that Steve was their friend and they had some violent falling out and now Steve walks around with the prissy girl and the punk-ass boy. It’s been a long 10 minutes already.

 Just two years...

“Not King Steve anymore.” Tommy bites out and that gets Billy listening.

“King Steve?” He scoffs at the title. “Are you serious? Who the hell called him that?”

“Everyone.” A girl chimes in- Billy doesn’t know her name. He stopped inputting information past a certain point.

“Why?” He asks over his orange juice carton.

Everyone at the table looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Because he’s hot.” Carol supplies like it shouldn’t need to be said. Billy holds himself back from comment.

“He’s never had an awkward day in his life.” Tommy says, sounding just as bitter as before. “He acts better than everyone and we all just… agreed.”

At that, Tommy turns in on himself. There’s guilt on his face.

“He practically ruled the school.” Another girl adds, doing a fuck all job of reading the room as she swoons over her words.

And with all that, they’ve answered Tommy’s question.

 He knows exactly who he is. He’s the King, because they told him so.

Billy sends another look his way, to the boy that seems to have everything he could possibly need. The boy smiling and laughing. Somehow Billy doesn’t think this fallen “king” made that big of a mistake. This boy looks like he needs nothing more in his life than these two “losers” and a place to be with them… and Billy feels bitterness in himself growing ever faster.

“Yeah, well not anymore.” Billy growls darkly.

The energy shifts at the table- all the dejected faces of these people who have lost their effervescent leader turn hopeful onto Billy. He couldn’t have guessed to overthrow the “king” of Hawkins High on his very first afternoon, but he can’t say he fully dreads it.

 People doing what I say? Could be nice. It’s good to have people on my side… and it’s only two years.

“Yeah, not anymore.” Tommy nods in agreement, grinning through something sour still. Billy can’t say he really gives a shit about whatever this dude is going through.

“Anyone else to avoid?” Billy asks dismissively.

“Underclassmen mostly.” One girl complains. “God they are so annoying.”

“Some of them are worth a good screw though.”

The girl smacks the guy who just perked up. “You’re so disgusting.”

“I’m right.”

“Stop screwing freshmen! Just because you can’t get anyone else to touch your dick-”

Billy tunes out their bickering.

“I heard Julie’s a pretty good screw, too.” Tommy says lasciviously, clearly feeling more normal again. Carol doesn’t seem to be having it, though.

“I don’t trust Julie as far as I can throw her.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve heard some pretty good things-”

“She talks too much.” Carol crosses her arms indignantly. “It’s the people who talk the most that have done the least. Plus her mother is the town gossip, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? She never shuts her trap.”

Billy hates a gossip. He makes a face that Carol must register, because she’s giving him a look like she’s been proven right.

“Yeah, exactly. So unless you want a single kiss and everyone to know about your dick that she’s never even seen before, you’ll stay away.”

“Jealous?”

Carol turns to Tommy with a gasp. “You’ve never even touched Julie Warner, so don’t you start.”

Tommy’s grin is feral and Carol looks about ready to deck him, but she just scoots in closer to him and continues to pick at her tray of food.

The brisk fall air coming in from the open window feels like an insult. Billy looks outside and wishes it smelled of salt rather than pine. Wishes the trees weren’t so fluffy but rather slim and impossibly tall. Wishes the world wasn’t quite so gray and brown and hopeless. Wishes, wishes, wishes…

He shoves his hands in his pockets for some protection and feels out the crumpled neon invite he dismissively shoved away before.

“What about... Tina?” He asks with general disinterest, reading from the paper in his hand. They shrug.

“Tina’s cool.” Carol admits. “Her mom is out of town on some business thing so the house is gonna be empty for the party.”

“Doesn’t really matter what Tina’s like though.” Tommy says, scraping the bottom of the applesauce container with his spoon like it’s his dying meal. “A party’s a party, right?”

Billy figures he can agree.

“You’re going, yeah?”

All eyes turn to Billy again, expectant. Suddenly, the weight of whatever “leadership” role he’s taken on has hit him. Maybe he should have just skulked in the corner and kept away from anyone’s attention. Maybe all those “freaks” they pick on had the right idea of lurking in the shadows and keeping your head down.

Then again, no. Talk is dangerous, and… Mr. Chief Hopper said it himself: “Not a lot to do around here but talk.” If they’re gonna talk, he’d rather control the conversation.

 Two years…

“Is there anything else to do in this piece of shit town?” He asks by way of an answer, with a sort of disgust he can’t wipe from his words.

They all laugh with mirthless agreement. Clearly, Billy was right. A boring old town full of cow shit and corn stalks- nothing to be proud of or excited about here. He’s surrounded by people itching to get out, just like him… except Billy’s not going to be like them. He’d bet his soul that at least half of these kids are gonna become burnouts trapped in the general area; like wriggling and desperate flies in a small town spiderweb.

“So, Billy…” The girl next to him purrs, scooting in and getting far too close for comfort. “Tell us more about California.”

Billy absentmindedly squirms out of her grip and silently begs for strength.

~~*~~

“I’m very sorry Billy,” Coach Walters or Wallens or goddamn Walrus says, not sounding very sorry at all. “But the roster was already decided over a week ago.”

They stop in front of his office, the man fumbling with a set of keys. Billy’s glaring down at them with furrowed and angered brows, feeling himself snarling at the clanging metal.

He looks up when the Coach does, his expression failing slightly at the almost sympathetic look on the coach’s face.

“I’m sorry. You’re just too late.”

“I can’t be too late.” Billy insists, voice straining a bit. He’s not going to say he’s been following the coach around desperately ever since school got out 20 minutes ago, asking and pushing and borderline pleading to try out for the basketball team… because no one’s here to see it anyway so he doesn’t have to admit to shit.

“You are.” The coach sighs, reaching out to grab the equipment from Billy’s hands. He offered to carry it, thinking it’d give him an edge of favor. Now Billy holds it back like it’s a hostage.

“You can make an exception for me.” Billy says assuredly. Coach Walrus shakes his head, bushy eyebrows low and deep frown unable to be hidden, even behind his abundant whiskery beard and mustache.

“I’ve given two exceptions already to other guys.”

“That’s not my problem!” Billy bites, holding back a wince when the coach frowns harder at him.

There’s a pause, a staring match that holds all of Billy’s hope for a decent time here in this wretched place. There’s nothing to do around here but wander the streets, and the temperature is dropping far too rapidly for that to be comfortable much longer. He doesn’t want to be huddling in the cold outdoors this fall, or god forbid by the time winter sneaks around. And there’s no way in hell that Billy is spending more time at home than he needs to. Billy’s got a few things going for him, but he could count those few things on one hand, and he’s not going to sit here and let one of those things be ripped away by being a week late when that isn’t even his fault.

He stares. He refuses to back down. He refuses to hand over the equipment.

“It is if you wanna make the team.” The coach says lowly. Threatens, if Billy had to guess… but there might be hope in that statement, and it keeps Billy from throwing the sports equipment down on the ground at his feet.

The coach stalks into his office. Billy follows.

“I was on my team back at home.” He tries quickly, heart pulling uncomfortably at the thought of it. He can’t think about things he misses, or he’ll get stuck.

“Alright, that doesn’t mean much.”

“We were in the best division in the state. We won championships.” Billy’s selling his former team way up. No one has to know, and certainly not this man. He only hopes he doesn’t look into it too hard.

The coach takes pause, eyeing Billy as he fiddles uselessly with paperwork on his desk.

“That says nothing about you as a player.”

Billy’s going to pull his hair out. He clutches the bag of dodge balls in his hand with a death grip.

“I can show you how I am as a player.” Billy grits out, vague recognition of threads breaking from under his grip. “If you just let me try out.”

The coach raises his eyebrow.

“You can put that equipment over in that corner.”

Billy looks down at the fraying bag and his popped out veins. He takes a few steps to toss the assaulted bag in the aforementioned corner.

“I just don’t have that kind of time right now, Billy-”

“Well I can vouch for myself.”

“I can’t just have kids vouching for themselves and getting onto our Varsity.”

“I was the best player on my team!”

Some would say that’s debatable, but-

“You were the captain?” the coach asks with a skeptical look. The words “best” and “captain” don’t have any correlation in Billy’s mind, but he nods his head anyway.

“Yes, I was.”

A lie. But it’s not like captain even matters, especially when the real captain was the son of the coach and mediocre at best.

“And do you have someone who can vouch for that?”

Billy reels. He hears a gruff, distant voice in his head.

 ... name and number… someone I can call… your best interest in mind...

He desperately wishes things could just be easy. He wishes it wasn’t such a witch-hunt to find someone who cares.

“You can call my coach.” Billy says, trying not to sound as lame as he feels. He’s fully aware his coach retired last year, it’s some new guy now that Billy didn’t bother to meet before the move. He knows if this man calls, he’s not going to get much by way of an answer. He’s hoping it’ll work in his favor- he seems so busy with fuck knows what that maybe he’ll just get sick enough of this to let it slide.

The exasperated sigh that leaves Coach Walrus seems like the nail in the coffin, Billy’s just not sure which coffin yet-

“Coach?” calls a voice, smooth and distant. “Coach Wallace?”

Another groan fills the room as the coach pushes past with an apologetic face to get back into the gym. Billy follows, feeling more flustered than he’d like. They’re not done here, they can’t be-

“Sorry Steve.” Coach Wallace laments.

 Steve.

The boy in question is standing in the door, mid-afternoon sun backlighting him with a glow that makes Billy want to hurt someone. Maybe him. Maybe there’s something to be said of Billy wanting to destroy every pretty thing he sees.

Steve looks at him with confused curiosity in his eyes. Billy can’t help but puff his chest out at the evaluation- maybe Steve even rakes his eyes up and down Billy.

But Steve looks away quickly. Billy tries not to deflate.

“Are you still coming by for dinner?” Steve asks, looking at the coach. Billy scoffs. Steve glares.

“Oh, yes, sorry Steve. I hope I’m not keeping your parents waiting-”

“Nah, if I know my mom she’s still mixing drinks and… making hors d'oeuvres or something.”

 The fuck is an “or derve”?

The coach and Steve laugh. Steve’s laugh is too damn pretty. Billy thinks about ways he can wrap his hands around a laugh.

“I just came by to ask if you still need help getting to my house.”

“Oh yes, if you could. I’ve been there so many times, you’d think I’d have the trip down by now.”

“Eh, it’s a little out of the way.” Steve shrugs, popping out his hip, hands in his pockets. His nonchalance is liable to drive Billy to murder. “I just uh… I’ve got somewhere to be tonight and I’ve kind of gotta… get ready for that. But no rush-”

“Ohhh… a nice date tonight?”

 Get ready, huh?

Steve rubs the back of his neck, smile sheepish. He’s just so polite.

“Eh it’s… it’ll be something.”

“Alright well then let’s-”

Billy clears his throat as loudly as possible.

“Oh! Sorry Billy uh... “ The coach heaves another sigh, like Billy couldn’t be any more of a burden. Billy fucking hates that sound. “Look. I’ve made a lot of exceptions already, but you seem committed to wanting to be on this team and lord knows we could use the commitment here. So… I’m taking your word for it just this once. Practice is right here every weekday right after school except for Mondays, alright?”

“Got it.”

“If I decide at practice that you’re not up to snuff, don’t throw a fit with me.”

“That won’t happen.”

Billy doesn’t specify which one he means. The coach seems to notice.

“I mean it.”

The coach points a thick, red finger in Billy’s face, his own very serious. And with that, he’s turning back towards Steve and leaving the gym. Steve is still standing there, backlit by the sun, leaning against the door and only shifting to let the coach leave first.

He peels his eyes away from Billy, looking impossibly and offensively disinterested.

And fuck Steve Harrington.

That’s the consensus that Billy’s brain has come to as he climbs into his bed that night, the nippy chill of the late October Indiana air seeping in through his drafty windows. It hasn’t even been 24 hours to come to this; it seems as though everything in this town can be ruined in a matter of 24 hours or less.

He’s fitful as he sleeps, as always. And as always, his sleep is mostly blank images and stressful feelings. However, every now and then, in between the anxious dark, he sees a sort of prettiness he wishes he could get his hands on and wring out- violently.

~~~~*~~~~

In his 16 years of public schooling, there’s one important lesson Billy has learned: being popular isn’t as important as being intimidating.

He could be the most friendless, insignificant sap on campus- in fact, Billy’s starting to think he would have preferred that option -but being feared is the only status of any worth. Being feared means no one talking shit about him. Being feared means everyone bending over backwards to get on his good side. Being feared means no trying to shove him around or trying to pick a fight because they know he’ll dish it out just as good as he can take it.

Back at home, Billy got into fights outside of school. Plenty of them. Enough to have all the students know he wasn’t one to be messed with. More than a few bruised faces and black eyes told everyone to never dare accuse him of empty threats. But here, in Bumfuck, Indiana with only the cows and their shit for company, no one knows a single thing about him. He’s just the latest newcomer who happened to ride in on a glittery California wave.

He figures this blank slate has given him a few options: hope someone starts a shitty rumor about him, start that rumor himself, or get in a fight.

He’d rather anything but that last one. No part of him wants to expel more energy than is absolutely necessary in this place. Everything’s easier when you let others do the work for you.

And for as angry as he’s been these last couple of days, he’s tired most of all. Tired from new homes and new time zones and new schools and new roads and new people and the same old expectations he’s always had to deal with… he’s just tired. There’s too much figuring out to be done. For as boring as this shitty town is, nothing’s normal here. He doesn’t want to have to do so much to exist comfortably. And he certainly doesn’t want to have to waste the energy on beating someone’s face in if he doesn’t need to.

He wants all of the benefits with none of the work. If he can get through this by staying low and having everyone assume more of him than he’s willing to give, things will be good.

He just has to get through it. And getting through it tends to be the hardest part.

He hears talk. Lots of it. None of it is quite what he wants yet. It’s only been a day, but every second counts when it comes to reputation, especially when that reputation is riding on a rumor. By the end of next week the momentum will die down and he knows he can’t wait that long. So he listens intently to the talk around him- mentions of “rockstars” and “roads paved gold” and “is that a scar?” and that’s what catches Billy’s ear the most. There’s hope filling in him that maybe he’ll get exactly what he wants.

“He doesn’t deserve an exception. He just moved here.”

The voice is coming around the corner from where Billy is shoving useless books into his locker. It almost sounds familiar, but in a way that grates at Billy’s ears.

“I don’t know, man.” A far less familiar voice responds.

“He’s cocky.” It’s spat out with disgust. The boys can’t see Billy if he can’t see them, but he knows the words are about him. He can feel it tugging in him. “Why does he think he gets special treatment?”

“You get special treatment, too.”

“What? No I don’t.” The familiar voice is a petulant little whine now.

“The coach visits your house all the time.” And that’s what seals it.

This guy is talking to Harrington.

“... okay but that’s different though.”

That’s Steve Harrington. With his self-entitled confidence and his irritated whine. He’s not getting what he wants and he’s pissed about it. Or maybe it’s more than that. Billy is clutching his last book with white knuckles, wondering why his being on the team means anything to this rich little prick.

“You weren’t even here for tryouts, were you?” It’s the other guy. Billy’s seeing red. “You were still on vacation, but Coach let you on the team anyway.”

He can hear Harrington stutter, grasping for straws on how to defend himself.

“Yeah but... But that’s just different c’mon man, you know that. Coach knows me, he doesn’t know this… asshole.”

“He might be good for the team.”

“Who cares? He’s a pain in my ass.”

Billy doesn’t realize how hard he slams his locker until he rounds the corner and sees wide eyes and open mouths. He realizes he doesn’t care far quicker, though. His fists are clenched hard, knuckles cracking. People are whispering. He can’t hear their words. He’s staring down this stupid boy with his pretty face and wants so badly to see it ruined. Wants so badly to take one of the many things this self-centered prick gets to have as his own. Wants to ruin what he has- wants to rid him of even half of that privilege.

Harrington’s face is shocked, but it washes away into dismissiveness. He raises his nose up.

“He’s just a worthless poser. He doesn’t belong on the team.”

Billy seethes.

But Harrington doesn’t see it, because he’s turned around and walked away. The other guy is still standing there, gaping, before he walks away too, but Billy barely realizes. He’s got laser focused vision on Harrington. Billy’s fists flex.

He wants to do something. He wants to hurt him. He wants to chase him down the hall and get his hands into him. Feel his flesh under him. Feel him writhe under him.

He wants him gasping for air and pleading.

His chest fills with bile just at the thought… the thought of wanting…

Billy turns and walks the other way.

He doesn’t know why he does it. He still sees Harrington’s face in his mind, dismissive and uninterested, and then it all morphs into just shapes… and there’s more energy coursing through him now than there has been since he first stepped foot on the soft and muddy Indiana soil- and it’s poisonous. It’s the sort of energy that wrecks through his body, making his limbs shake and his heart race until he’s finally got his hands on something. It’s the sort of energy that makes him feel sick when he thinks back on it afterwards… that makes him feel like a familiar monster. The sort of thoughts that make his heart race with anxiety alongside the adrenaline. There’s just a scary kind of freedom in roughing someone up- he’s big and he’s strong enough. He’s worked hard for it. There’s control in taking it into his own hands. It feels like all he can do sometimes. All he needs is to get a good grab. He can get anything within reach. He just needs a reason.

“Hey, Hollywood… what’s with the red face? Can’t handle a little Indiana sun-”

There’s a reason.

He doesn’t register anything until he’s in the front office, being sternly spoken to by the vice principal. He gathers from the conversation that he gave the guy a bruised stomach and he “should be lucky it only got that far” because “from what I’ve heard, you’ve got a new coach. And he doesn’t take kindly to this kind of behavior.”

Billy doesn’t even think about it until later that night, when he’s getting ready for Tina’s stupid party and hears those afternoon words repeat through his mind. Words questioning his worth, questioning his character, threatening to take away something he just barely got… all because he got angry. All because he couldn’t handle himself. All because he’s a mirror. He’s just a reflection of all the worst things he sees...

No, it happened because of Harrington. Because of Harrington most of all. Yeah. Because Harrington couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut or his shitty opinions to himself. Because Harrington has a face too pretty for his own good.

 Fuck Steve Harrington.

~~~*~~~

Billy likes it loud.

Everything. Everything loud.  Loud music, loud sex, and certainly loud parties. Loud parties bring a comfort that quiet ones could never hope to grasp. Billy can’t be around this many people without his body vibrating from constant energy. Without his eardrums shaking from the wailing music.

There’s no thoughts to be had while inverted and chugging watery beer out of a dirty, spit soaked keg. He gets a high off of the overstimulation, his body rushing itself over with adrenaline. Then he kicks his foot, and the guys at his ankles let him down, and his ears are buzzy enough to drown out the cheering he can see is taking place in his honor. His heart is thumping heavily. The cheers get louder as his blood settles back into its regular flow. He can feel large hands patting and pawing his shoulders and back.

He cheers along with them, vibrating with the words he’s saying even though they’re gibberish to his ears. There’s no need to be coherent as he shouts, wandering back into the house and cutting through the crowd of people as he puffs his cigarette. He feels a hand- must be Tommy’s -lingering on his back and shoulder. Hit him there. Stay there. Lingering lingering. He’s too out of his mind, too out of place to care too much.

Being drunk makes it easier to stay at this lame party. Most of it is blurry to him, what with his stuttering movement and the way his eyes have started to water after being upside down for so long. He’s fixated on streamers hanging from the ceiling, figuring they must actually be toilet paper now that he’s got his hands on them, pulling them absent-mindedly from the ceiling like a cat with yarn. He’s dizzy with everything, suddenly aching for something for his mouth to do, thinking of going for his cigarette again or even tonguing at the paper when-

 Fuck.

He keeps a good grip on the toilet paper, hardly realizing that he’s bringing it with him as his focus is completely honed in on a figure leaning up against the nearest wall. He pushes past writhing bodies, vaguely hearing the music as it shouts over all of them. There’s only one person Billy cares about right now- maybe only one person he’s cared about all week.

He doesn’t have words and doesn’t feel he needs them. Tommy’s scratchy voice says all he needs him to.

“We’ve got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington.”

Billy stares Steve Harrington down with fervor, but he can only see himself in the reflection of Harrinton’s glasses. He’s blurry even to himself, and it leaves him angry.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Is the voice of another guy Billy never bothered to remember the name of. “Yeah, eat it, Harrington!”

Harrington takes his glasses off then, face looking every bit as serious as Billy feels. They just stare as time vibrates around them. Or maybe it’s just Billy. Billy still has no words in his throat, and especially not with Steve’s eyes on his. Billy thinks, briefly and loosely, about how he still wishes he had something to do with his mouth right now.

And then it’s just as always- as if Billy couldn’t be more boring if he tried -because Steve looks away with disinterest. He shifts his focus over to Tommy and his lips curl into something that straddles the line of a smile and a sneer.

“Harrington, huh? Whatever happened to Stevie?” He asks it in a way that makes Billy’s blood run hot in a way that isn’t just anger. It gets Tommy shifting nervously. Harrington’s smirk just grows wider.

His eyes flick back over to Billy for a quick second, before leaning in and speaking seriously to Tommy: “You can tell your new King I hope he enjoys all my sloppy seconds.”

Tommy’s face burns a bright red but Billy can’t see that because he can’t look away from Steve. He’s a whirlwind of everything violent and intoxicated and overwhelmed and far too strong. He sneers, ready to lunge but his body won’t let him. His feet are planted.

“Happy Halloween!” Harrington chirps, looking far too happy and far too satisfied and far too bright in his all-black outfit as he walks away. And Billy wants to lunge at him. Wants to spit out all of his hatred. Wants to blame his whole life on this one guy as he saunters away.

But Tommy stalks away with a dark mutter. And then there’s a crowd sweeping Billy up and leading him back over to the dance floor.

And it’s times like these Billy is glad it’s loud, because he doesn’t need to speak to anyone. But it’s times like these where Billy hates it loud, too, because loud means people. Lots of people. People touching him and writhing against him and sweating on him. His stomach starts to churn with the way everyone is undulating around him.

He shoves his way towards the window, seeing most people have migrated either inside or out back, now that the keg seems to be empty. There’s a few stragglers still coming in fashionably late, lots of cars parked outside, but there’s a small patch of dried grass over to the side that’s completely vacant. It looks like a haven right about now. He pushes through the crowd until they part like the red sea for him, giving him the chance to stumble outside and lay out on the grass.

When he gets there and flops himself down, he laments how rough and scratchy it feels. He silently cusses out Tina and her folks, figuring there’s no way it can be drier here than it is back where he’s from, down near the border where they're in a drought most of the year and the heat dries up the plants. Figures they must just be cheap. Can’t even take care of their own lawn.

And Billy wonders who he’s kidding. His old man is the same damn way.

He lays back, head feeling woozy from leaving the heat of all those bodies and heading straight into the crisp fall air. While the grass is harsh and offensive against him, he’s still grateful for the stability now pressed against his back. For a second, quick and warm, he feels fully safe.

And if there’s anything to be said for Hawkins- for all of Indiana and the piece of shit Billy still firmly believes it to be -it’s the night sky. It’s every star above Billy that’s winking back at him crystal clear. It’s the hundreds of them… hell maybe thousands of them that are in view right now on the crunchy grass next to Tina’s house.

San Diego was vastly different. Even in the small towns bordering it, the stars could never be this abundant and bright. Only when Billy and his friends dared each other to paddle out into the ocean on their surfboards late at night could they see anywhere near this many stars. Only on the farthest and most secluded corners of the beaches, or the very tip of the more vacant piers.

There’s some comfort and some pain when Billy thinks about how these are the same stars that can be found in San Diego. Roughly. Right? It’s certainly the same Fall moon. It’s a different breeze hitting him right now, chilling him down to his bones and making him wish he was on that surfboard. Wishing he and his friends were talking about something stupid and childish. Wishing the harsh ground beneath him was rocking like a rolling wave.

Billy’s always hated wishes. Despised them. He never gets anything he wishes for. They’re not worth the breath.

Still somehow his brain never quite gets the memo.

He’s dizzy with booze and people and wishes. He’s staring at the stars, watching them twinkle, wondering how the real search out here in the boondocks is for a plane in the sky rather than a celestial body, and he wishes for things. He wishes for pretty things. Wishes for things he can get his hands on. Wishes for ease. Wishes for salty breezes. Wishes for seagulls. Wishes for seashells. Wishes for and wishes for and wishes for-

He hears the door open and slam- heavier now than it has been as people wander into the party late. He sits up quickly, immediately feeling that keg he chugged earlier and that joint he hit before getting here and those beers he had in the car ride over and-

Someone is trudging down the walkway, smacking bushes angrily as they go. Billy watches with unfocused eyes, noticing first the dark outfit and then the coiffed hair.

“Harrington!” Billy shouts after him, heart pumping quickly, watching as the boy doesn’t slow even for a second. He heaves himself off the ground, head feeling heavy, wondering if his eyes are deceiving him or not. “Harrington, you…”

The boy’s steps falter. He shifts his attention, just a little, in Billy’s direction and there he is. That pretty face. Billy hates the way Harrington shifts his attention away so quickly, just like always. As if Billy couldn’t be any more worthless if he tried. As if Harrington himself is the one deciding factor of something like that.

So Billy starts to walk after him, his own steps lazy versus Harrington’s urgent pace.

“How’s it feel? Huh?” Billy’s mouth feels like mush, so he yells louder to compensate. “Being such a loser? Losing everything you had?”

He watches as the moon illuminates the bit of Harrington’s pale neck exposed to the air. He wants his nails in this boy’s skin. He wants to dig into him and under him in every way. He wants a lot of things he can’t stand to put into words.

Harrington still isn’t looking. His stride still isn’t breaking. Billy is pissed, tries to walk a little faster, tries to yell a little louder.

“Must really suck doesn’t it, champ? Hm? Knowing you don’t mean anything to anyone anymore.”

If Billy isn’t mistaken, Harrington starts to walk faster. It feels kind of good and kind of sick to see him react. So he keeps yelling after him.

“Knowing you’re nothing to them now, eh hot shot?”

Harrington’s steps get heavier. Billy feels a cackle rising up through his throat.

“Knowing you lost it all-”

“God, no one gives a shit about you!” Comes a voice that startles Billy, knowing it’s not his own, but rather Harrington’s. He’s damn near screeching as he spins around quickly. His face is bright red, even in the dim light of the night, and his expression is folded into rage. “Not a single shit!”

Billy nearly falls as he stumbles back, suddenly being faced with a shift in momentum. He cements his feet to the grass as best he can, staring down Harrington and his dark eyes. His mouth falls open in his shock.

“They?” Harrington continues, gesturing wildly to the house behind them. “Aren’t worth anything. They’re gonna forget you in a month, tops. And then what do you have? Huh?”

Billy blinks, bewildered and suddenly boiling, Because how dare he… how dare he-

“Who cares what you have to say! You mean nothing! Just get the fuck away from me.”

And then Steve turns back around, stomping down the street, probably to find his car. And Billy watches after him, stumbles backwards a bit, clenches his fists tightly. The words stick to the cold air like a tongue to a frozen pole, rushing around Billy’s head in heavy, dark promises. In harsh and brittle words of truth.

 No one gives a shit…

His knuckles crack again with how hard he’s clenching them, and he moves to go after him with his fists- but he fumbles. His head is spinning with harsh truths now too. Everything feels wrong and sour. He tries to chase after him, go get his hands on him, to make him pay- but he just stumbles forward like he’s a deer with newfound legs.

And Billy wishes. Billy wishes with all his might to get his hands on something tangible and breakable and fragile.

He can’t help it… he watches Steve pull away and down the road, driving faster than Billy’s heart is beating. Billy feels wreckage inside of him.

He turns back to the party to shove his way through the crowd, to grab another drink, and to get the hell out of here.

#Billy Hargrove #Steve harrington #Steve Harrington still being an asshole supremacy rise up #i say as if I have not been a part of the problem #fic #yearning #angst #stranger things #tommy hagan #carol perkins #i had a sort of a revelation recently about Billy and how I feel about him #and how I feel about a lot of plots with characters who seem violent but broken #you know that scene in Punch-Drunk Love where he says he wants to bash her face in and she says she wants to rip his eyes out and suck on #them??? yeah.... yeah I just think Steve and Billy would turn into that #i think Billy disassociates and wishes to do violence bc sometimes I disassociate and wish to do violence and even tho I don't do violence #I do understand #y'know?? does this make sense?? #you feel so much you are so overwhelmed all you can think to do is *squeeze* and squash and hurt and cry #and rip and shred and tear??? #yeah..... yeah.............

[adhd-informative]

I need help. I'm sorry but I've already asked other people with adhd but I still feel like I need more imput on the situation.

I am friends with someone who has adhd, and they have the habit of ignoring my input when we are talking.

How alot of our conversation go is this:

-I begin a conversation

-they walk away mid conversation because they are distracted (I don't mind)

-i wait patiently wait for them to get back, I recognize they have adhd

-when they get back I continue the conversation but they immediately change the topic, which I understand, its upset because it happens everytime, but subject changing is normal

-i attempt to add to their conversation, by adding input of my own and adding on to their idea

-they kinda just nod or say "yeah ok" then countiue with what their saying with out actually recognizing or building off my ideas

Other times I'll be talking to them and they would only respond with short nods or "yeahs" which did really bother me but yesterday they admitted that they only listen to half of what I actually say, I said this hurt me and all they said was "i have adhd, it's not an excuse it's an explanation" but them continued to do it knowing it hurt me

They also make fun of my intrests and keep saying they don't understand how someone could possibly like what I like, I tell them why I like these things but they kinda dissmiss/ignore what I say

I'm getting really upset and want to talk to them about it but I know that alot of this is caused by adhd. I don't want to hurt their feelings and I'm questioning whether I should be allowed to even be mad in the first place. I've talked to my friends who also have adhd and they say the things they do are kinda shitty but I wanted to ask a more knowledgeable source because I recognize that every instance of having adhd isn't the same

Regardless of having ADHD or not, this person does not sound like a friend to you. There’s no reason for belittling the interests of others, especially not those you call friends. And ADHD people, who frequently have their own hyper fixations, should understand better than most why this behavior is inappropriate. It’s essentially bullying the way you’re describing it. There’s a huge difference between saying that you personally don’t see the appeal of something and it’s not for you, versus saying you could never see why anyone would ever like something and making fun of that thing most especially to someone that you know enjoys it. And as an ADHD person we are more sensitive to rejection and have more intense investment in our interests, so there really is no excuse here. It’s wrong and ADHDers of all people know it’s wrong.

As far as the conversations go it’s slightly more complicated. Maturity level matters here so age and severity of symptoms can be factors, you’re right that people experience ADHD differently. That said, if someone is being inconsiderate and expecting a one-sided friendship that is never okay and you’re justified in being hurt and frustrated.

I can understand zoning out when someone is talking about an interest that is not shared. However it is very rude to say as much. I think we’ve all been there, but you feign at least mild interest because you care about the feelings of the person talking. You zone in enough to formulate a question or comment that sounds like you’re engaged before you zone out again. It’s only right. That’s how friendship goes, you’re not going to be invested in every word that comes out of their mouth every time. But you love seeing your friend happy to talk about what they care about. So you encourage them speaking because you’re happy they’re happy. It is normal for ADHDers to have a really really hard time focusing on things that don’t capture our personal interest. But friendships involve give and take. We want our friends to tolerate our ranting on the subjects in which we are interested in, we owe our friends to give the respect we wish to receive. It’s unrealistic to expect we’d always share interests, and sadly zoning out at things we aren’t interested in is in our nature, but this friend of yours isn’t even trying. Saying “I don’t listen to you half the time” is very different from simply being inattentive at times when someone is speaking, this makes it seem like it’s a personal disinterest in the other person and discourages that person from feeling welcome to speak to their interests in the future. And that’s not something a friend does.

The walking away mid-conversation thing could be restlessness (and boredom), which is an ADHD thing. But unless you had been talking on the same topic for a very long time it would be considerate to finish the conversation in progress, or at least give a summary of the conversation and a couple closing remarks before changing the subject if you are feeling burnout on the subject at the moment and are eager to discuss something else. If I really want to say something on a different subject I will say the thing, and the ask a question or make a comment on the previous topic to bring it back around because I wasn’t trying to be rude or derail anyone I just got excited.

Changing topics frequently and suddenly is often how the ADHD brain works, it’s common that something someone said reminds us of a thing, which reminds us of a TV show, that reminds us of a specific episode, that reminds us of another thing, which relates to a play we studied in class, which would be great to mention now. And then it feels totally out of left field for everyone else. Our quick moving brains paired with excitability and poor memory make us unlikely to find it easy to wait on sharing. However it has helped me to learn some tactful ways to keep the conversation flowing and work with my friends instead of against them at such times. I might say “Oh! Real quick, X thing and how it pertains to Y. Pretty interesting topic for exploration huh? Wanted to say that while it was on my mind, anyway you were saying A thing was happening and B person was responding with C reaction. What happened after that?” Then we can come back to the other topic later now that my friends with better memories are aware I had some thoughts about it.

As far as not responding to the input that you add to the conversation when they are speaking, I think that could be ADHD. Like maybe they have this whole idea they have been thinking about in their mind all day and they’re dying to get it out and it’s very specific and they just want to share their vision. Like I get it, but again it’s give and take in a conversation and you need to give others the respect you want to receive. Not to mention that I’ve gotten such genuinely fantastic ideas from my friends input and I think it’s worth the work to have an open ear and an open mind when sharing ideas, even if it does take some more work with ADHD the payoff is well worth it. ADHDers make such great connections and can be so resourceful, learning this skill has been so valuable to me personally.

In conclusion: I appreciate you looking to better understand how ADHD impacts relationships. ADHD symptoms can make being a good friend harder, it’s true, however being unkind is not an ADHD symptom. If a friend is being rude to you and they don’t place any value on what you have to say or your feelings then they’re not a good friend. You deserve to be treated well by your friends.

[ronensass]

so the stripper au... i had about 5k written for it but then i got stuck and it wasn't going anywhere for a few days. then emma sent a gif in the discord and it sparked a new au idea that made me decide to combine the two into one. so the stripper au is now the stripper/bartender au.

here's the first about 1k!

Being a bartender wasn't his first choice, but the opportunity presented itself at the right time and he couldn't let it pass him by. At that moment— stack of late bills growing on his coffee table— it was either take the job or work on the ranch in the blazing Texas sun. He loves his family's ranch, but he'd much rather have air conditioning in what is turning out to be the hottest summer in Austin.

Though he'd never had any experience with mixing drinks— aside from one high school party his senior year that got way too out of control in the blink of an eye and almost ended with his Texas Ranger father arresting his friends— Tommy hired him due to his eagerness and will to learn on the go. It wasn't too hard with Paul by his side every night, a mastermind at toxicology. He mixed and served drinks with such ease that Carlos quickly got the hang of the flow behind the bar.

He always imagined a strip club being disgustingly filthy, but the club was cleaned every night after closing. All the leather seats on the main floor surrounding the runway were disinfected, bathrooms sterilized, tabletops wiped down. It's probably a big reason why the place is packed every night. That and the incredibly talented dancers.

Throughout the nights, Carlos catches brief flashes of performances in between slinging drinks. He flirts with a couple of the regulars who sit at the end of the bar, but he never lets it go any further than that. His first night on the job, he'd set one rule for himself: do not sleep with the customers or dancers. Tommy's never said it herself, but he feels like it's a general unspoken rule.

"Comin' through!" Paul announces loudly from his right to be heard over the booming music, carrying a large tote of ice cubes in front of him.

Carlos steps back to let him by as he shakes a mojito for a man that's nearly fallen off his barstool several times in the last half hour. He's cutting him off after this drink and pointing him out to Judd in case he puts up a fight. It's happened on occasion, a drunk as a skunk partier that repeatedly refused to stop harassing the dancers and other guests. Judd, with his 6'4" frame, body blocked them towards the exit and hauled them into an Uber.

Like any other night of the week, the club is crowded with party goers in various levels of intoxication. Every seat is taken on the main floor, groups at the high top tables along the outskirts spilling down the steps. There's a swarm of people near the front of the runway, a bachelorette party if he remembers correctly. A woman in a revealing, tight white dress dones a tiara and banner across her chest that probably reads Bride to Be.

The bar sits along the back wall, kitty corner to the dressing rooms. Alcohol bottles line the shelves behind them, three giant flat screen TVs playing some sports game on mute that no one is really paying attention to. Pink lights reflect off the smooth bar top as a hand pounds the wood harshly to get his attention.

"I need a drink, bro."

Carlos ignores him, pouring a gin and tonic for a lady that actually knows her manners with a smile. He'll get him his drink when he gets the chance, he's not the only customer in the place. One of his least favorite parts about this job are the childish customers that demand they be dotted on as soon as they step foot in the club. His mother raised him to be compassionate, never to be inconsiderate to anyone because you never know what a person is going through, but this guy has been plain rude all night.

He slaps the bartop again, "Hello? I said I need a drink."

"Excuse me?" The soft voice is nearly drowned out by the bass, but he's learned to hone in on them during dances. Carlos looks up to meet the most startlingly beautiful set of sea-green eyes of an attractive man he's never seen leaning on the bar, "A mineral water, when you can. Thanks."

"Sure thing." Carlos turns away with a flirty smile, bumping shoulders with Paul at the back counter as he reaches for an empty glass.

Paul nods in the general direction of the man over his shoulder, "He's cute."

His reply is forgotten as shouts and glass breaking sound behind them. Carlos whips back around to a full on brawl unfolding just on the other side of the bar. The rude man and the man with the pretty eyes are swinging fists, the latter being ganged up on by two other drunken men who are presumably the first's friends.

"Hey, hey!" Paul lunges for the air horn they keep stashed under the bar, blaring it to get Judd's attention from across the club, "Judd!"

Without even thinking about it, Carlos is hopping over the bar and attempting to separate the outnumbered man from the group. Judd is suddenly at his side, easily stepping between the three men and him with a stiff arm against the one's chest.

"Git." His southern drawl is fierce, motioning towards the exit.

"He started it!" Rude guy #1 whines, pointing towards the man behind Carlos over Judd's shoulder.

"You swung first," The man is cradling his jaw, wincing as he runs his tongue over his split lip, "I was just defending myself."

Judd remains an immovable wall as the friends advance forward in protest, "I ain't care who started it. Y'all need to git before I call the boss lady down 'ere and yer barred." The three agree reluctantly, grabbing their coats and pushing through the gathered crowd without leaving a tip.

Carlos turns back towards the sea-green eyed man, swelling building around his left eye, and motions at Paul, "Hey Paul, can you get me some of that ice please?" He briefly looks at the other man's face before grabbing a dish rag off the counter and dumping a handful of cubes in it. Paul hands it off to Carlos when he's done with a knowing look on his face.

#cassi talks #wip wednesday #carlos reyes #paul strickland #judd ryder #*mywriting #*stripperau

[molasseslord]

Thoughts about The Iron Butterfly series as I go through my reread (up to 3/4 the way through The Steele Wolf)

Joss

AKA why I hate men ✨

There are very few men in Thalia's life who genuinely care about her as a person. Most of the men, especially love interests like Joss and Fenri, only care about whatever benefit they can get from Thalia.

Joss in TIB is caring, but it stems from whatever sense of responsibility he feels over her from rescuing her from the river with Darren. In TIB he's inconsiderate of her boundaries as he tries to be closer to her and attempts to make assumptions and decisions for her without discussion, such as when he:

Touches her without permission multiple times despite her obvious truama

Takes ahold of her hand during the resetting of her leg and forces her to allow him to take her pain

Sees her practicing archery on Faraway and removes her from him

Forces himself into her room to act as her guard

Pulls her to the side and kisses her without permission

He makes it very obvious in TIB that he feels as if Thalia *owes him* a romantic relationship.

In TSW he is increasingly more inconsiderate towards Thalia and her feelings, acting as dense as a fucking rock at times when she's obviously uncomfortable. He forces her to hide her feelings and remain uncomfortable by weaponizing guilt and being dismissive ("this is for my sister" "think about my parents" "this engagement is only for show... for my sister.")

TL;DR Joss feels entitled to a relationship with Thalia for rescueing her, he's inconsiderate of her emotions, he uses his relationship for personal gain.

I wrote a lot but in my defense I really hate Joss lmao

Fenri

Fenri's crimes against Thalia are incredibly obvious, and Thalia even points out herself that his anger towards her calling for the Kragh Aru rather than becoming his lifemate is a matter of pride to him. That he sees himself as strong, smart, and worthy to be the next clan leader. He claims he has feelings for Thalia, but they must be rather shallow if he verbally assaults her the way he does. And he kisses her without permission as well! Thalia!!! Stop letting men get away with doing that to you!!!

During the first half of TSW his attitude towards his relationship with Thalia is entitled, similar to Joss. Unlike Joss he's openly antagonistic whenever he feels as if things between them aren't going his way or that she insults his pride in some way.

TL;DR Fenri feels entitled to a relationship with Thalia for maintaining her secret, he's inconsiderate of her emotions, he attempts to use a relationship for personal gain.

Kael

Kael, you beautiful asshole of a man. He's redeemable because he actually does care for Thalia beyond whatever benefit can be gained from a relationship with her. Which... There is no benefit for him, besides staying alive and maintaining his honor as a SwordBrother. Thalia is nothing if not an inconvenience for him.

Unfortunately Kael viewing her as nothing but an inconvenience is where his issues come in: He's an asshole towards her, through and through. He berates her, mocks her, taunts her, insults her, invades her personal space, attempts to take her life at one point? is rude, refuses any sort of open and nonconfrontational dialogue with her, and literally does everything he can to make her hate him. All on purpose, he feels as if it's better for the both of them if they hate each other. In TIB I think he actually does tell Thalia that he hates her...

In TSW Kael is more expressive of his emotions, but refuses to be clear about them. He begins to show actual care for her, again without any benefit for himself. The threat of losing her is a genuine fear for her wellbeing rather than his own. He's winning points I'll give him that.

TL;DR Kael is an asshole towards Thalia but his genuine care for her is what redeems him.

Misc others (up to 3/4 into TSW)

The Adepts, Bearen, Bvork, Rayneld, the Septori: All deny Thalia autonomy in some way, physically threaten her, or physically abuse her.

(in the case of the Adepts: think the one guy who wanted to experiment on her (the literal thing that traumatized her) and the one dude who pulled the fake knife stunt on her without warning when demonstrating the paint knife (not a cool thing to do to someone who's been in life threatening situations multiple times).

TL;DR on why I hate men: I'm a lesbian and all of these guys are nothing but inconsiderate and/or assholes towards Thalia over the course of their ✨romantic plotlines✨

Faraway and Wolf are the only men in this series who is valid and worthy of love and adoration 🧡

(I feel like all of this is incredibly obvious but I had to get it off my chest)

#this is 100% cuz im bored lmao #and i really hate joss #and if any reader finds this post i need them to know how much i hate joss #name colors delegated by my synesthesia #the iron butterfly book #the steele wolf #chanda hahn #thalia valdyrstal #kael #joss jesai #long post #analysis

[honeykaes]

Help sorry I also just sent in kinks! Resubmitting if it's still okay 🙏

Turn ons: Cute. . . I don't know how to describe it but everything soft and cute and loveable, like maybe people who feel like sunshine personified? Being unafraid of being affectionate or admitting about what they like, knows what they want and might tease me about it but enjoy the chase. Someone who can be my other half as a bestfriend before being lovers i.e. late night talks, lunch dates, sudden hugs. Falling for them feels like falling on a cloud!!!

Turn offs: Being mean or rude for no reason, too strict or serious, too much muscles (sorry Itto 😭), too wild or rough, or being inconsiderate.

Kazuha: I thought they wouldn’t forgive me when I ran away from Inazuma. It haunted me for a long time. Did they think I’d abandon them? Did they think I was selfish? Did they still love me?

Yet when I returned to Inazuma, they only wrapped their arms around me and wept—wept the tears that I had buried for so long.

Crying that night together, I promise I wouldn’t go anywhere else in the world without them by my side.

#—kaeyatic mailbox {📬}

[retelling-of-ragnarok]

Maybe it is a silly question, but if Gwen cannot truly feel how can they explain Auren what friendship is? It would be extremely artificial then, and no wonder Auren has issues to understand.

Despite all Auren's flaws, it seems Auren can actually teach Gwen as they are true in their emotions.

I sincerely apologize, if this ask comes as inconsiderate or rude. It not meant as such.

❆ it’s not a silly question!!! nor did it come off as inconsiderate or rude!! however the ‘no wonder—‘ MADE ME GIGGLE. 😭✋but i also just? don’t know how to answer this??

i mean yeah i made the meme of like “oh gwen teaches auren friendship” but that wasn’t exactly the case? auren doesn’t know what friendship is at all— because its never had bonds like that growing up. all it had were material possessions, so it (albeit unintentionally) treats people the same way. and thus latched onto gwen, since in their eyes “if he’s mine. he’ll never leave.”

so auren probably feels even less emotions than gwen does— since gwen can feel things, they just can’t process what exactly it is. meanwhile the only thing auren feels towards others in material possession. even though it doesn’t mean to.

so basically that whole scenario was Gwen actually explaining to Auren that the people it holds dear won’t leave them just because other people enter the picture?? And in Gwen’s case specifically “Just because I meet someone else, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you.”

I GUESS IT WAS REALLY JUST?? Gwen teaching Auren that people aren’t objects? and thus ‘possession’ over them isn’t won, or lost, so easily. Because Auren has genuinely never had a bond in its life.

BUT ALSO— At the point in ROR’s timeline that this meme scenario takes place; a year and a half has already passed. so Gwen has gone through it. And has experienced some development (and a lot of lectures from some characters) during that time.

YEAH IM SORRY BUT I DIDNT REALLY UNDERSTAND THIS QUESTION? I PROBABLY JUST READ IT WEIRDLY. BUT I HOPE THIS IS OKAY. ❆

#ask.stuff #anonymous #gwen exicor #auren archambault #((ROR = retelling of ragnarök #((btw #((YEAH IM SOREY MAYBE IM JUST BAD AT READING #((BUT THIS QUESTION CONFUSED ME