#i feel like i realize this every other day but you can write a fuckton of tags

[tnerb90]

Like the legend of the Phoenix...

Today is the first day of the rest of your life...

Yes, it’s true. It’s been almost 2 years since my last post and here we go again. It feels like Into the Spiderverse. Let’s start from the beginning one more time....I wanted to create a new profile and start fresh, acting like none of the previous failures happened. I’m still tempted to, even as I write. 

But here we go again. I read through each and every post again, looking for patterns. Looking for strengths. Looking for lessons basically. So what happened? A fuckton of different factors, I’m sure. Underlying stress was a big one. I didn’t really acknowledge it much in past posts because I didn’t realize how drastic it was until I started my current job, outside of counseling. Since 2019 when I started...global pandemic. Fired from CHILL. Took 2 jobs that I flamed out on, including a DOH investigation and dealt with that for several months. More?... All the change at PV... Jessie leaving. Jone being fired. Peggy leaving. Desiree taking over as my boss.... also promotion to PHP Manager... burning the fuck out. Changing buildings.... A lot of stress. Looking back, it’s such a relief that I’m not there anymore. I quit PV in April 2022, so it’s been nearly a year now. Working at Conquest now obviously. From early on, I could tell this was a much better fit for me, and it continues to be. Especially stress-wise.... 

But the stress stuff was just underlying it all. Looking at my habits themselves, I can see a lot of areas for improvement... namely, the fad diet thing. I mean, I said it from day 1 that I’ve tried them all and nothing’s worked. So of course, I continue the same method again and failed again. Sure, I lost weight each time. But how sustainable was it? Obviously not very. Because I never once got below 300. Idk if that’s a mental barrier or what. But it sucks. I was doing so well. Got to 300 then gained it back + more. Then got to 302 or whatever...of course, I gained it back+more. Again. A -fuckin-gain.... Looking back, even though it felt like I was onto something (again, losing weight wasn’t the issue, I was doing it). But the method was unsustainable. Panicking over whether beans are too high carb. Sugar free italian ice...corn... chili...apples and honey on rosh hashana. Like come on man. You were doing great! Why was I so worked up about being perfect. It was such an unhealthy all-or-nothing mindset. I felt that if I wasn’t perfect, it was a failure. So one slip easily leads to “fuck it” I can’t do it! Or fuck it! Today’s ruined anyway, might as well start fresh tomorrow. Or monday. Or.... next year. Idk.

Ok, stress. Trying the same old methods/mindset. What else? I’m sure I started smoking again right after the last post. It was late July, early Aug when I got my card. So I’m sure that + the “promotion” and the shitshow that followed did it for me. 

What else?

I’m burying the lede here. The biggest thing I’ve learned so far this time, is I need help... I always do this shit alone. Because I’m afraid to be a burden on others. Or afraid that if I’m accountable to someone I can’t quit and ghost on myself. 

Okay. So those were the major lessons taken from a negative side. Now the positives.... in one of the previous posts, I had the eureka moment that should have always been obvious, but I guess I was in denial or something. I have a fucking eating disorder. BED? Sure. Regardless of the diagnosis, I overeat. Not just overeat. I eat to soothe myself. I eat as a coping mechanism. I can’t believe it wasn’t as obvious my whole life. Like wow. I was stressed AF. I ate. Then I was at peace on the couch. What a fucking concept. Really hard puzzle to figure out. 

(Sidebar- another negative I forgot to mention. I was so harsh on myself. I beat myself up for every little detail, mistake, craving, etc. so maybe I’ll trying being easier on myself, not bees a sarcastic ass like in the previous paragraph.)

Ok. Strengths. I understand now that I was using food to cope. It’s a huge development for me. Like Rogers said, now that I accept it, I can change it. Another thing positive, is I was journaling! I had an outlet! That was awesome. And apparently it’s still beneficial for me to look back on and learn from myself. My mindset. etc.  

So overall, I couldn’t handle my stress. I was using food to cope with that stress. I was being perfectionistic, all-or-nothing about it. I was being harsh on myself. Another thing I forgot to mention was how concerned I was at times with what others may have thought. So again, doing it alone. Hiding it from others. Ironically, I think I did that in order to feel like I wasn’t doing it “for them”. If I do it alone without telling anyone, I’m obviously doing it for myself right? Nah. I need support. Help. Accountability. All of it. And on my own, what did I do? Intermittent fasting. Keto. IF again...counting cals... keto again... Through these past few years, I was also so paralyzed by fear. I didn’t know what to do. I kept failing. I didn’t know what to do that would work... it was really scary for a while. I felt I needed bariatric surgery. I saw no hope otherwise. And the price was of course out of reach.... 

And here we are. March 1, 2023. Another do-over. But what else can I do? Stop trying? Give up? No. Like the legend of the phoenix, all ends with beginnings. So again, I rise and try again. Fall down 7 get up 8. To be continued in my next post above.

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here is every unraveled episode (as of may 2020) as how they’d be as a lover | a 2.5k word long post written in the style of an unraveled about unraveled and also love

Ah. Unraveled. Polygon’s golden boy of a video series where Brian David Gilbert is beckoned into a suit, lured into a blackbox studio, and is only granted escape after he has explained to three cameras whatever batshit video game adjacent thesis he has been cursed with this time. Unraveled is a wonderful video series, and we all love it.

But what if it could love us?

If you’ve ever asked this question to yourself, boy, do I have some content for you, because for the past 2 days, I’ve been working on this post where, for entirely too long, I explain to you how each Unraveled episode would be as a lover. And more importantly, which ones would be the best lovers.

Before I fall deep into this unhinged hole and take you down with me, I need to explain some things.

First: I want to make it clear that I am not categorizing BDG as he portrays himself in each Unraveled. I am instead taking each Unraveled episode as a fully formed being, the story, performance, etc, and letting that shape a character of its own. This character is where I extrapolate details from to create an Unraveled episode’s qualities as a lover. What I’m basically doing is anthropomorphizing Polygon dot com video content. And then making you date them. If this doesn’t make sense, don’t worry, it will as you read along. And if it helps you to visualize the Unraveled Episode As A Lover, I invite you to just imagine whomever it is you are most attracted to---or for those who don’t experience attraction, whomever it is you find most aesthetically pleasing---and then just add in the wild personality traits I describe through the course of this post.

Second: I know what you’re thinking. “Avian, the characteristics of what makes a good lover is subjective!” And I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve been through college, and I’ve witnessed my friends whom I love so dearly enter relationships with some of the most wack ass motherfuckers I’ve ever met. I know that people are into different things. But do I judge them for it? Well, kinda, yeah! Yes, what we want in a lover is subjective, but I’ve consumed a metric fuckton of romance media over the course of my life and am also in a wonderful relationship with my own girlfriend, and thus have my own personal idealized ranking for what makes a good lover. Feel free to disagree with my rankings of Unraveled Lovers, but also, I’m writing this post. I say this with as much love as I possibly can, but if you disagree with me, make your own post. If you don’t wanna make your own post, you’re just going to have to trust me for 2.1k more words.

With that out of the way, let me take you on a journey through the 23 Unraveled Lovers, from worst to best.

BAD TIER: I would probably advise you to break up with these Unraveled Lovers as soon as you are emotionally capable of doing so.

Hoo boy, we’re starting at the bottom. The perfectionists, the nitpickers, the emotionally unavailables. These Unraveled Lovers would have good intentions, but just have aspects within their personality that will wear you and your relationship together down until both of you can no longer take it.

“Ranking all 200+ Megaman robots” is a lover obsessed with the concept of “is this worth it?” They would unknowingly but inevitably rank parts of your own personality on a scale of ‘worth the trouble in this relationship’ and ‘not worth the trouble’. Any lover who deals with you with this kind of dichotomy is somebody you should not be with. You should be accepted and loved for all your parts, the beautiful and the ugly.

“How to make the perfect E3 press conference” is a lover who spent years consuming romance media and has a list of what makes the perfect relationship. So not only do they have unrealistic expectations for what a relationship is, but they will be obsessed with reaching that unreachable perfection. That will definitely put a strain on your relationship until the veneer of desired perfection crumbles away, leaving you both tired and sad.

On a less deep note, “How to tell apart all 596 Fire Emblem characters” just won’t remember any of the names of your friends or family. Sure, they’ll try, but they’ll give up in like 15 minutes and you’ll never be able to take this Unraveled Lover to a family reunion or a party with your friends. Probably not a dealbreaker, but as the Spice Girls said “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.” This Unraveled Lover will not. Next.

“No one asked but I found Mortal Kombat’s best cuddler” and “I wasted 3 weeks of my life finding Castlevania’s hottest monster” are two Unraveled Lovers with a similar problem: they both won’t shut the fuck up about their exes. Mortal Kuddler constantly brings up all the other cuddles they’ve experienced and Castlevanias Hottest Monster will tell you you’re beautiful, but also bring up like 69 other monsters they think are also beautiful. This might not be a red flag, but personally, this would tire me out, always being thought of in comparison or contrast to others.

That ends the BAD TIER and brings us to the OKAY TIER where a large chunk of the Unraveled Lovers fall into, so much so that I had to create more specific sub tiers under the OKAY TIER.

So let’s get into the OKAY TIER: These Unraveleds Lovers are alright, you’ll just have a sublimely weird relationship.

These Unraveled Lovers will treat you right but they’re also just very peculiar. Nothing wrong with that at all, but I’m here to explain to you just in what ways these okayest lovers are bizarre. Let’s start with the first sub tier.

OKAY SUB TIER: College Students who are way too into their major

There are a lot of Unraveled Lovers under this subtier, and this shouldn’t surprise you, because Unraveleds are inherently nerdy. These are lovers that will be good to you but also just never fucking shut up about what it is they’re studying.

“I read all 337 books of Skyrim so that you don’t have to” and "Understanding Kingdom Hearts (and every other story" are Creative Writing majors obsessed with analyzing every single thing they read. As a Creative Writing major myself, I would advise you to never date a Creative Writing major unless you are a Creative Writing major yourself. I think that’s the only way the relationship can be ethical. Being sent essays from the New Yorker every day would be torture if you didn’t actively enjoy it.

“We made all 78 Breath of Wild recipes in one day” is a Culinary Arts major and, score, they’re gonna wanna cook for you! A lot! Beware though, because it’ll be a hit or miss on whether or not the food will be good, but you must admit, that there is nothing quite as attractive as your lover making you food (let’s just hope the food doesn’t harm you).

“Smash Bros. owes millions of dollars in OSHA violations” is going to law school and that should be a dealbreaker in itself, but I’ll be a bit lenient because they’re always working towards the safety of everybody. This Unraveled Lover will always remind you to put your seatbelt on and also tell you exactly what laws you are violating.

“Bowser’s military hierarchy” is a Political Science major, and Political Science majors scare me. So I’ll just say they’re okay, and leave it at that.

“Which Dark Souls Boss is the best manager?” is a rare non-evil Management major because they actually truly care for the welfare of employees. They just will always talk about it, even when you guys are on a date. I know worker’s rights are important, but it’s not exactly what I want to talk about in between kisses, yknow?

“I fixed Fallout’s music by creating a totally new genre” is a Music major who keeps accidentally making Ska love songs to you. You didn’t know Ska love songs could be a thing. This Unraveled Lover makes it a thing.

“Scientifically Calculating the Game of the Year” is a Math major so you will never have to worry about calculating bills because they can do it for you.

“Calculate your pet’s HP with my 100% legitimate formula” is a Veterinary Medicine major so if you’re an animal lover, this Unraveled is the one for you! Just beware, because this Unraveled Lover will also spend a lot of time observing you from afar to quantify your health points, but both of you will inexplicably find this activity strengthens your relationship.

And last but not least for this sub tier, “When can Mario retire?” is a disillusioned Accounting and Finance major who chose this line of study to get a job and, through the years, realized what a hellscape capitalism is. You may have to deal with a lot of zoning out and staring off into the distance, with this Unraveled Lover, but a lover who hates capitalism sure is a good egg.

That brings us to our next sub tier!

OKAY SUB TIER: Cultists or Conspiracy Theorists (AKA...College Students who are way too into their extracurriculars)

These Unraveled Lovers are alright! They’re just a little bit off the shits.

“Every Sonic game is blasphemous” will get really really worked up about things and probably try to start a cult. For most, that’s a definite dealbreaker, but what makes Sonic Bible an okay lover is that they eventually calm down from the cult outburst and apologize. So this Unraveled Lover will treat you well, you just have to be ready to ground them when they get a little bit bonkers.

“Solving the Zelda Timeline in 15 minutes” is very similar to Sonic Bible, except instead of starting a cult, every once in a while they’ll just sit you down on a chair and explain to you their latest obsession while slowly and intensely stripping. Which, hey, that could make for a fun night, if you’re into that kinda stuff! Definitely okay in my book.

That brings us to our last okay sub tier.

OKAY SUB TIER: Your Unraveled Lover might need to schedule some sessions with a therapist, and that’s Okay

Listen, we all have baggage. We all have problems. These are Unraveled Lovers who want to be the best for you, but at the same time have issues of their own, and you’re going to have to support them when they pop into their local psych clinic to make themselves better people.

“Waluigi” is an Unraveled Lover who is going through some identity issues. They want to be good for you, but they don’t even know who exactly they are. They may feel as if they are tricking you into being in this relationship, that they aren’t who you think they are, and while these fears are irrational, they wholeheartedly believe it and will never feel fully secure in this relationship until they have made peace with themselves. If you love this Unraveled Lover, you’re going to have to stick with them as they learn more about who they are.

“Kirby” is an Unraveled Lover who, for some reason, is obsessed with the constant quest to make things make sense. This need of theirs bleeds into every aspect of their life and can definitely affect your relationship. This Unraveled Lover may sometimes perhaps cite that they don’t deserve you because they can’t seem to figure out a logical and objective answer for why you are with them. This issue of treating everything like a puzzle to solve is an issue they will have to work out and recover from, and they will be receptive to this process of recovery because they cherish the relationship they have with you and understand that not everything has to be solved; some things can just be felt. If you choose to stay with this Unraveled Lover, you must be prepared to support them when they take a mysterious but needed soul searching journey in the woods. You must be prepared to sit with them along the shores of the beach and reassure them that life is about living, not about answers.

And that, dear readers, ends the OKAY TIERs. Now it’s time for the tier you have all been waiting for.

Drumroll, please!

GOOD TIER: Pop open the champagne, bring out the strawberries dipped in chocolate, and let Spotify play Careless Whisper, baby, because we’re in the Ideal Lover zone.

Welcome to the Ideal Lover Zone. Here, we have three Unraveled Lovers who are just extremely good fellas.

“I used the Sims to perfect my apartment” is an Unraveled Lover who will work their hardest to be the best for you, but unlike the BAD TIER perfectionists, it will naturally dawn to them that perfection is unattainable. After this realization, they will find comfort and happiness in your romantic relationship and the other healthy relationships they have with other people. This Unraveled Lover will be sincere with you when the time calls for it, but will also not be afraid to be goofy for it. Above all, this Unraveled Lover will ask for help when they need it. They may often be shy, at first, but they understand their limits and will openly communicate to you when situations call for it. Communication is the bedrock of any good relationship, and this Unraveled Lover will never keep you guessing.

“The Perfect Pokerap” is similar to the Sims, in the sense that they will at first strive for perfection in the honeymoon phase of your relationship but then understand that that isn’t possible and then set more reasonable and realistic goals. What sets this Unraveled Lover out from the crowd though is just how much they cherish you. How devoted they are to you. The love you will feel in this relationship will be transcendental, and, even if you do break up, this Unraveled Lover will never forget you.

And finally. Who---according to me, a mildly delirious 21 year old rando on the internet---is the most ideal Unraveled Lover?

It’s “Find your Kojima name with my simple 11 page form.” Why? Because this Unraveled Lover wants to know you. They want to know everything about you, the parts you like and the parts you don’t like. This is a lover who will not shy away from any aspect of yourself, but instead, embrace you for who you are as a full fledged person.

They’ll also give you a whack ass pet name, and boy, isn’t that romantic?

Well, there you have it. All (as of May, 2020) of the Unraveled Episodes as 23 Unraveled Lovers. What did I learn from this endeavor? That romantic love is complicated, but if you’re into it, it is definitely worth the trials and tribulations.

...As long as I’m not dating the Castlevania Unraveled. Seriously, when we’re making out, I don’t wanna hear about how sexy the Hyena With Gun is. Learn how to read the room, dude.

(Thanks for reading.)

#reposting because damn it i worked too hard on this that it BETTER FUCKIN SHOW UP IN THE TAG #polygon #bdg #unraveled #brian david gilbert #nobody asked but

[mego42]

fav lines tag

RULES: share your favorite sentence/paragraph from each one of your fics and tag 6 other fic writers to do it too :)

tagged by the talented brilliant incredible @foxmagpie (💖)

tagging: @pynkhues @hypermania @bethsuglywigs @riosnecktattoo @missmaxime @sothischickshe @joeyjoeylee

some ground rules: I’m only doing brio fic bc at some point when I wasn’t paying attention I wrote a metric fuckton of it and we’re already gonna be here all day bc my other ground rule is I’m allowed to interpret the concept of a line however i want. i’m also gonna tell you why i picked them bc no one can stop me. cool? cool. good talk. 

your monster looks like mine

okay so my first choice for fav would be the entire ~conversation around whether or not beth had a choice when she set rio up bc oooof I just love how that came out so! much! BUT if I’m limiting myself to something closer to a line, I’m going with this one. i love what it establishes for rio’s emotional state when it comes to beth, i love how it captures their push/pull constant one upping battle, I love the rhythm of the flow of it and the grandiose verbiage (i was having a frankly unreasonable amount of fun with natural phenomena imagery throughout the whole fic and this captures a bit of it). idk I just think it’s neat.

The words rip through him, a bright, blazing comet trail whipped across his sky, illuminatin’ his landscape, impossible to ignore.

Elizabeth’s spread out on the bed below him, golden hair tumblin’ around her face, mouth red and swollen, lookin’ up at him like she’s got him. Like she’s figured some shit out. Like she fuckin’ did something by putting that together.

Like Rio doesn’t fuckin’ know. Like that doesn’t fuckin’ haunt him, torment him, mock him every time she pulls some of her bullshit and he’s left picking up the pieces, knowin’ damn well what the right answer is but also knowin’ he’s always gonna be wrong when it comes to her.

--

a song inside the halls of the dark

another one where I’d pick a whole scene if I could BUT if  the whole opening flashback isn’t on the table (idk I love it for 14,000 reasons including how it sets up the bookend structure for the chapter, how it sets up a bunch of the final payoffs, the tone of it, idk everything about it came out exactly how I wanted it to and I really love how it tees up the ending), then I’m going with this bit from the final brio scene. it ties back in a whole bunch of threads that have been woven in and out all the way back to the first chapter and closes them out in a way that also feels (to me) like a beginning which I love bc the whole theme of the chapter is it’s a beginning, not the end.

What does it mean then, that he’s slept so soundly beside her?

The playhouse glows softly. She wonders how many more times she can get away with sanding it before it weakens past the point of supporting the kids’ weight and the whole thing collapses.

Behind it, she can see the long shadow it casts reaching for the boxwoods bordering the yard. The lines of the structure frame windows of bright moonlight on the grass, eerily reminiscent of the windows that loomed large in the nightmares Beth abruptly realizes she hasn’t had in weeks. Not since that last night at Rio’s loft. And that’d been the last one since...his car. Canada. The night all of this started.

Beth blinks. What does it mean that she’s slept so soundly beside him?

A-live, alive, alive, I—

Her breath catches.

—

pills’n’potions

I don’t have any grand reasoning for why I picked this bit from the 4th (i think?) ~ch as my fav, I just really like writing annie and rio interacting and I especially love writing them with annie like, intellectually aware that she should probably be afraid of him but also spiritually incapable of not being herself and rio being wildly annoyed by it

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut.

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

[...]

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered.

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message."

—

trade my heart for honey

the only thing sexier than rio being good at pool is beth being a fucking shark and rio being out of control turned on by it.

Dropping all pretense at being less than she is, Beth grabs the cue ball, positioning it slightly to the left of center where the felt is slightly more worn. Even without the tell, she's seen Rio put it there enough times to know it's the table's sweet spot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rio shift his weight before she tunes him out entirely, drawing the stick back and letting it fly.

It's as close to a perfect break as she's probably ever managed. The cue ball connects dead on, scattering the rest far and wide. The one and the six drop neatly into pockets, the four and five coming to a stop right on the edge of the left side and far left corner, nearly closing off that whole side of the table.

Every stripe remains in play.

"Solids," she says, not letting herself dwell on the way Rio's mouth hangs slightly open, his eyes glazed over.

—

swaying evergreens

the whole theme of this fic is the terrifying intimacy and vulnerability of sharing your most precious moments and memories with someone you care about and I like how this touches on that along with sort of nutshelling the double edged sword of grief-tinted memory which is another major theme

There's somethin' extra about these unguarded moments. That Elizabeth trusts Rio enough to drop her guard completely and give him this completely unvarnished look at her. It's been over a year since he's been back in her bed, since the first time he'd slept here, but there's still somethin' tentative about it. Like there's a part of him that's never going to be all the way over the first time he'd been here, that can't fully believe how far they've come, that this isn't going to crumble, melt, drain away.

Truthfully, Rio doesn't mind it, that faint edge. He's well acquainted with the different flavors of loss, and the threat of it's a counterpoint that keeps him sharp. Lets him know this is real but not somethin' he'll take for granted.

—

swear on a silver knife

there were a couple of sexy tension bits that made for strong contenders but ultimately this won bc I’m obsessed with how this reference to 306 came out.

“I told you. I got my own debts to pay.” He bit off the words like it cost him something to repeat them.

Beth shivered, abruptly right back at that picnic table, cheeks wet and staring at him, searching for any hint of the man she’d—she’d—anyone besides the cold, unfeeling stranger sitting beside her, blood so fresh on his hands she could nearly smell it underneath the scent of the cold, misty night rain falling around them, blurring her eyes, beading in her hair and on his eyelashes.

—

listening through the air shaft

this was a really hard one to narrow down but I ultimately went with this but bc I love it for a culminating look at how beth and rio’s relationship has evolved throughout the fic and also bc a version of this scene was the first thing I wrote for the whole fic so it was fun to finally get there with everything in place behind it. I also just love it as a reference for the dichotomy of both beth and rio and also how complicated that is makes being around them for everyone else

They aren't even doing anything, just quietly working side by side, but there's a synchronicity to their movements, a quiet peace that makes Dean feel more like an intruder than anything else that's happened today, and he hates it.

It’s so far from the guy that’d broken into his home, beaten him up. Who’d looked at him with those terrifying, blank, shark eyes before casually shooting him in the chest like it was nothing right where they’re about to sit down and share a meal.

A guy, Dean suddenly realizes, he hasn’t seen any hint of in a long, long time. It’s not that he doesn’t think that part of him isn’t there, it’s just...it’s weird, is all, how completely he puts it away.

It reminds Dean of Beth, actually, now that he’s thinking about it.

God. They look so...so domestic. Sweet. Disarming in a way that completely undermines everything Dean thought he'd known about the guy and their whole...thing.  

He just—he doesn't get it, what Beth sees in him.

—

now use both hands

idk I just like this bit let me live

"What are you—what service?"

He makes himself take the route through the showroom that brings him right past her, leaning in and softly brushing a lock of hair out of her face for the first time in longer than he can remember.

Her eyes flutter shut, and he feels absolutely nothing.

"Helping sad, lonely housewives get off once their husbands are done with them."

Her eyes snap open, and he makes himself look at her long enough to watch the hit land and the hurt bloom.

He's empty, untouchable, she's nothing to him.

Rio doesn't look back.

—

I'd give her a HA! And a HI-YA!

you can take my made up backstory for rio and mick from me when you pry it from my cold dead hands.

Mick had been there the first time Rio'd had to get his hands all the way dirty and had kept an eye on him when he'd gotten blackout drunk after, and Rio'd done the same for him. Every bloody, grimy step Rio'd climbed, Mick had been right there with him, watching his back all the way to the top.

The point is Rio's Mick's brother in every way that counts.

Mick'd seen him twisted up over business and twisted up over personal shit, but he's never seen him let both get twisted up like he had since that fuckin' weasel Boomer'd got his ass handed to him and Rio'd gotten curious about it.

—

as the world turns, the blunt burns

I pull this every time I have to pick a fav and I can’t even really explain it aside from I think I’m really, really funny and that’s enough

Beth suddenly sobers as much as she can when she feels like she's simultaneously floating away and sinking into the Earth and wipes her eyes. "Are you gonna get in trouble?"

"You're in the house, ain't you?" He's answering Beth but looking at Rio.

"Mick," Beth frantically tugs at his pant leg because apparently, he doesn't have all of the information. "We're in the yard."

"Yeah, Mick," Rio says, glaring. "You're in the yard."

Mick shrugs, and Beth realizes he isn't scared of Rio at all. That's a neat trick. How does he do that? Maybe he can teach her.

—

smoke, fire, it’s all going up

there are realistically many other better lines in this fic but this one never fails to make me laugh so it remains my fav.

"You- you-" She sputters at him, flailing around a little. "You were the one that started mailing me pieces of a dead body."

"You blocked my number." Rio snarls, which is not what he'd meant to say, and he hates that she trips him up.

"That is not a proportionate response!"

—

got a kiss (with your name on it)

it was this or the text exchange at the beginning of the fic bc I strongly believe established relationship brio would continually roast each other for their past dumbassery but the elizabeth kink won out

"Come here," Rio's voice is thick but insistent in a way that brings every cell of Beth's body to attention. She hooks her thumb over her bottom teeth and drags her lower lip a little, a gesture full of who me mock innocence, waiting for him to say-

"Elizabeth." There it is.

There's an endless amount of things that Beth finds ferociously, irresistibly sexy about Rio, but when he says her full name in that commanding tone? Even if she's pissed the fuck off and has no intention of doing what he wants, it gives her goosebumps.

—

say it’s all in my head (i remember what you said)

I will be real with y’all, I forget I wrote this fic a lot of the time hahahaha but! that means every time I’m reminded I go back and am like oh yeah! I like this! anyway there isn’t like, one specific but I really love most as much as I really like the tentative breathless nervousness and then also overwhelming so muchness and I like how this but captures both of those

For a single, breathless moment, she stands in the middle of the room, alone and terrified.

Then Rio wets his lips and comes towards her, moving with that languid grace she's never been able to look away from even before she had any idea why that could be.

All of the fear collapses like a dying star, sending a supernova of relief and molten heat zinging through her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her head swims, and every cell in her body feels like it's leaning towards him- like she's made of magnets on a molecular level and he's the lodestone.

He gently pushes her bangs off of her forehead, slowly running his fingertip down the side of her face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He tilts his head towards hers and stops, going no further than halfway, leaving it up to her to close the distance.

She lets her eyes fall shut as she leans into him and tentatively touches her mouth to his for the first time.

—

the world is on fire (and no one can save me) / what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way)

two for one!!! idk if either of these is my number one favorite line from either fic individually but I really like how they both play together. I like writing beth and rio pov and having them mirror each other’s narration both in thought and structure a lot bc I like thinking of them as two versions of the same

Beth checks her phone, nothing from Rhea, and sends a quick I'm here, text me when you're close, and I'll grab a table before wetting a paper towel and wiping away the last of her smeared mascara. With precise, brisk movements, she snaps open her bag and fishes out her compact, her lipstick, and her mascara; lining them up click, click, click on the tiny shelf below the mirror.

She can live with this; she has to live like this; she will live like this.

She flips open the compact and methodically dabs away the flush and pallor and shadows that are not grief, are not loss, are not anything other than shock and horror that she'd gone so far, that she'd lost control, that she'd killed a man (that man).

and

So what the fuck had he been doin' with Elizabeth fuckin' Boland, giving her chance after chance to cross the line? What the fuck was the point of a line if it might as well not be there at all? All because he liked her big blue eyes and the way she worked a tight sweater? Nah, that ain't him. That can't be him. That's the kind of shit that'll get you killed, and he's got three spent bullets in his pocket and a scar next to his heart if he ever needs the reminder again. 

He shifts in the driver's seat, reaching into his pocket and fishing the bullets out. Lining them up on the dashboard with a definitive click, click, click. He looks past them to the brightly lit valet station. He's been parked in the back of the lot for ten minutes now, waiting for Rhea to give him the go sign. He ain't hiding, doesn't need to, Elizabeth ain't lookin' for him, he just wants to make sure he sees her before she sees him. Get a good look first, so he can size up the situation.

#good lord when did i write so much fic????????? #imagine if i hadn't onlly stuck w/ ch 12 of song #it would've taken me weeks to do this #tag games #my fic #shut up meg #gg related

[skeletalroses]

I was going to submit this anonymously to one of the bigger aspec blogs but it got so long that I’d feel like a pain in the ass. I’m posting this because I’ve recently landed in a bit of a difficult situation in the vein of Just Aroace Things, and I’m not sure what to do or even how to feel. I’m hoping to get some advice from the community re: a topic that comes up from time to time---navigating roommate/housing situations as an aroace, particularly when your potential roommate’s romance fucks you over.

I met my best friend, A, our sophomore year of college when we got paired up via roommate lottery. We clicked right away and had a blast living together. Unfortunately it only lasted a year, since the best option for my major was to transfer to another campus while for her it was best to stay put. We’ve known each other for nine years now and live in different states, but we visit regularly and had always talked about living together again once we both moved away from our parents.

I’m aroace, sex- and romance-repulsed. A is super considerate and supportive of this. She even discovered recently that she’s demisexual (which she learned about while researching the symbolism of the asexual flag! On her own, completely unprompted! Because she thought it would help her understand me more! See? Super supportive!). She is, however, very, very alloromantic. Up until now this has just been one more facet of our overall odd-couple dynamic (I’m an Addams and she’s a Disney fairy), which has always been something we’ve laughed at and reveled in.

A couple months ago, however, A moved out of her parents’ place and in with her boyfriend of a few years. I’m still with my parents, which suits me fine for the time being, but I eventually want to move out. Like I said, A and I have long talked about living together. We never made any specific plans, but I’ve asked her before to verify that yes, this is a thing we’re both Actually down to do when the time’s right. But that was a good while ago, before she moved in with Boyfriend. We visited last weekend and I brought up the subject again, because I’ve been unsure about it since that whole development.

“Feel free to say no; I won’t be offended; I just want to know how my options stand at this point. We’ve talked in the past about rooming together again. With Boyfriend in the picture now, is that still on the table?”

A’s answer: “Boyfriend has a lot of anxiety, so probably not. Sorry. He doesn’t even like having his family stay over. You’re welcome to stay a few days but not for like weeks on end.”

This was a calm conversation had over cocktails in the mall. She asked to make sure my parents weren’t threatening to kick me out or anything; I assured her that they weren’t, and I wasn’t moving anytime soon, and it’s okay that my rooming with her is out.

Only I’m not that okay with it. I wasn’t confident she’d say yes, but I did kind of think it was likely, and moreover I’m realizing how much I was unconsciously banking on that plan. I’ve been sans income during the pandemic, and I have a fuckton of economic anxiety to begin with. A’s a STEM major in a big city who easily found a solidly-paying job right out of college. She gets promotions and raises and shit. I’m a humanities major in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere where all my impressive qualifications (which I do have) can’t get me anything with a living wage below management level, let alone something in my field. And I’m never going to have that built-in cohabitant in the form of a romantic or sexual partner that allos like A can take for granted. A was the person I could split costs with so as to maybe live semi-decently with someone compatible. Without her, my chances of having that have plummeted.

And it’s all because she got a romosexual partner. This guy who’s known her half as long as I have; who never worked her through the trials and eventual breakup of her previous long-term, engaged-to-be-engaged relationship; who has himself caused her massive amounts of grief, suffering, and sometimes outright danger through his inability to competently handle the drama in his personal life that should never have touched her, all while her mother would write letters to me asking me to come visit because, actual quote, A only smiles when I’m around. He was the reason she would be too depressed to function, and I had to long-distance therapize her through it even though she refused to take the basic step of leaving this grown-ass man at least until he got his shit together, because “he needs me.”

It’s like this dude calls the shots in A’s and my relationship now. I hadn’t seen her in seven months because every time we planned a weekend to hang out, it’d get canceled because Boyfriend wanted to go see his family or something (and he can’t do that without her, I fucking guess). Even this last visit got cut down to overnight when it was supposed to be the long weekend, because Boyfriend wanted to make other plans. And now my best option for future living arrangements is apparently down the shitter because of him. It’d have been one thing if A doesn’t want to live with me anymore because she and he need their allo space or whatever the fuck couples do (still amatonormative and lousy for me). But as far as I understand, it’s not even that. It’s not her. It’s Boyfriend. A and I can be planning something for the two of us for weeks, for months, for years, then it all goes away in a minute because ehh, it kinda cramps Boyfriend’s style. I’m, as A called me, her “best friend soulmate.” I Was Here First. I never fucking made her cry. But I can’t kiss her or fuck her, so I automatically take a backseat to the one who can. I don’t need to be her Number One, but I don’t appreciate being pushed aside at Boyfriend’s every whim.

A, I’m sure, doesn’t realize how it looks from my angle. I know she cares about me and doesn’t want me to feel devalued. She’s just an oblivious alloro. I’m not even sure Boyfriend’s intentionally hogging her. (To be clear, I don’t think he’s a bad person; I’ve only met him a handful of times but I reliably clock my friends’ truly shitty partners on less. I haven’t heard about any crises in the past year or so, so I guess he’s finally managing his baggage well enough that A’s life can go smoothly and not suck.) I’m not unsympathetic to anxiety either; I’m chronically mentally ill and I’ve had my share. And I get we’re little more than strangers at this point. But I hate that he can just singlehandedly veto me and A rooming together ever. It’s much more of a blow to my likely quality of life than he or A---or tbh even I did, before this point---realize.

I hate feeling like I’m being jealous and needy. Maybe A just genuinely likes him better and it’s not only an amatonormative thing. I know I’m not entitled to live with her; it’s not like we promised or anything. But the option getting shut down really made me realize how much I resent not having it, and how much I kind of resent Boyfriend in general.

Which brings me to the asking-for-advice part, to the maybe two people who’ve read this far. Aspecs on here have talked about how amatonormativity fucks over single people and especially aros in terms of housing and life in general. Has anyone dealt with a situation like mine? How do you manage the amatonormative behavior of people in your life snatching your prospects out from under you, or feeling like it has? Is my reaction even reasonable? If so, how should I bring it up to A? This would be the closest thing we’ve ever had to a conflict, and also I’m...not great at being vulnerable. I can’t even vagueblog about these topics because my social media presence is limited to Tumblr and hers to Facebook. Hell, maybe I should just forget it for now, since I’m not changing housing anytime soon anyway, and cross that bridge when I get to it. I wouldn’t ask her to leave him, since their relationship seems to be going a lot smoother than it had been. But goddamn, am I filled with aroace salt about this.

#aromantic #amatonormativity #arophobia #asexual #aroace #might delete this later #sorry about the rant #why this is hell nor am I out of it

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spooky-activity]

Just a little update on Cassandratopia 2: Electric Boogaloo (Or as it stands in my Google Docs folder rn, A Helping Hand). I’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s kinda long. 

I just wanted to say that I’m still planning on actually doing it, despite all evidence to the contrary lol 

I did Cassandratopia in a haze of graduating from college(where I was studying animation) and just having ended my first dnd campaign as a dungeon master (which went 3 years!). I was fishing around for internships, but since the pandemic had just kicked off I wasn’t having much luck. So I had a lot of creative energy that wasn’t getting channeled anywhere, and a lot of free time when I wasn’t applying to places. Which is how I did 4 pages a day several times per week. Which was insane. 

As it stands, I’m running 2 dnd campaigns(one meets weekly, the other every other week or so), and just scored a full-time internship at a video game company! The campaigns I’m running are a homebrew open world, which, for those of you who aren’t too familiar with dnd, is a metric fuckton of work to prep for each session because I have no idea what my insane friends and siblings are going to try and do every time we play. 

Anyways all this to say that my storytelling itch is kinda. Sufficiently getting scratched atm and I have a lot less free time. I’m still plucking away at the setting/refining the story of A Helping Hand, but it’s largely on the backburner. Cassandratopia was also, uh, like the first story I’ve ever told in any sort of format besides the give-and-take of dnd, so... I’m not used to having so much control over the narrative. Oddly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer of stories; my main focus is character animation, so someone else is usually writing the stories I’m telling anyways, which is super cool with me. Honestly I’m surprising myself with how much I want to tell this story, which is why I’m still sure I’m doing it. Just. Slower. Than Cassandratopia got done. 

But I’ll share a bit of the lore I’ve been cooking up! Specifically about Zhan Tiri and The Drops. The story will be told in an extremely dnd type setting, because that’s the kind of narrative I’ve told before and am comfortable telling: hard magic rules, neat fights, scary monsters, a dash of eldritch horror, and huge emphasis being put on magical artifacts(kinda like in the show!). Here’s some stuff that’s basically locked-in. 

Zhan Tiri

Zhan Tiri is one of the many Demon Lords of the Abyss. She’s kind of a mashup of two of my favorite Demon Lords, Zuggtmoy, the Lady of Rot and Decay, and Pale Night, the Mother of Demons and Queen of the Night(with just a dash of Hannibal Lecter because who doesn’t like helpful, polite, manipulative-ass bitches lksjflkja;fj). Her domain sits almost exactly between the Sundrop and Moonstone, largely being the new growth that comes from death, and the endless cycle of life and death. Places where her influence is strongest includes the cracks in... Well anywhere really, from society to the planet’s shell, where metaphorical or physical rot could grow; musty, mostly ignored places where something could fester. Iconography related to her would include endless mazes, fungi, grasping skeletal hands, and rotting/blooming corpses. Her spores can animate corpses, which she likes to use as mindless minions when she doesn’t feel like sending one of her Acolytes. She shares a scrap of her power with those few mortals she likes. She appreciates ambition and the desire to Grow to be bigger than what you were to start with, as those are qualities she herself possesses. 

Incredibly intelligent and merciless to those she deems her enemies, her main thing is pulling the strings from the shadows and seeing just how far she can push people to act with as little prompting from her as possible. She does, however, have the power to kinda bulldoze her way through things if she needs to, but she doesn’t like to because where’s the fun in that? 

She first gained interest in the Material Plane when a Wizard with too much hubris from said Material Plane(Named Demanitus) contacted her trying to figure out more information about The Drops and how to control them. After indulging him for a bit, she started preparing to make a summer home on the Material Plane because it’s New and Fun here and Wow These Mortals are Really Fun to Mess With! And some of them she even genuinely liked! Demanitus then realized his mistake and locked her away in Pandemonium for what he hoped was forever, but turned out to be only around 1,000 years, due to the efforts of her followers. Her little stint in Pandemonium magnified the more... Chaotic aspects of her personality, so now she wants to cover the Material Plane in blooming mazes of fungal crops that she can break people with at her leisure. 

The Drops

The drops are two semi-sentient pieces of one original artifact, whose original purpose was to be a tool of creation for the gods. Which, through some great calamity(still deciding that one), got sundered and settled into the two basic aspects of creation: the nearly unlimited well of life-energy which organizes stardust into planets, cabbages, and kings, and the “you gotta crack a few eggs to get an omlette” destructive force which breaks down what the sundrop makes so that it can make more. 

The main goal of the drops is to reunite. I would want to as well if I was ripped in half! This manifests as a... General tug in the direction of the other drop. A desire in the host to Go That Way. It can be resisted, and even ignored for a bit, but it’s always there. Like being hungry if starving wasn’t a danger. Just a bit uncomfortable if you aren’t going That Way, but ignorable. 

Both drops generally try to be as helpful to their wielder as possible, as originally they were a tool of creation to the gods. They are innately obliging. They’re also REALLY UNSAFE FOR MORTALS TO BE MESSING WITH. The Sundrop is a little safer because the most it can do is kinda. Overcharge you into something distinctly not human but still alive, and King Fredrick was lucky he made the Sundrop into soup before giving it to Arianna. But King Edmund got his wholeass arm blasted off for touching the Moonstone. 

The Sundrop

Best I could whittle it down, the Sundrop has power over life energy, like the sun’s light. It also has power over the energy derived from geothermal activities, so deep sea creatures Are Not Immune To The Sundrop, which was a funny thought that crossed my mind that they could be, but that will likely never come up anyways salkdjf;ljsf It is, in its basest form, Growth and Progress. 

It’s a little sentient, but very much entrenches itself into whoever is holding it at the time. Like another mind looking through your eyes and seeing what you see/feeling what you feel while still retaining a bit of individuality from the host. It’s not... Parasitic because it’s in its nature to give, but it’s generally pretty firmly attached to whoever is holding it until they die( which isn’t usually for a WHILE. It ’infects’ a new host when one dies, usually a plant near their grave...) or until a solar eclipse. It wants what they want, but it’s very fussy so they have to ask it for power exactly correctly(like singing an incantation every time you want to heal someone, or doing a Ritual involving lots of very specific ingredients, Celestial Alignments, and Secret Words) or it won’t listen, like an orchid dying if the ph balance is off in the soil by a little bit. But it’s generally pretty intuitive to use, because it wants what you want and (as long as you ask right) is willing to help. 

Anyways basically under the influence of the Sundrop you get a few things: 

Basically limitless energy coursing through your body while you’re in a place with sunlight, which equates to rapid healing, mostly, because every cell in your body is being supercharged with free energy. Never getting exhausted in direct sunlight. (If Rapunzel lived in a place that was sunny 24/7 like near one of the poles she wouldn’t have to sleep like. until it started to get dark in the opposite half of the year. Then she’d have to sleep like a regular human being)

You stay at your prime, or if you are past it, revert to your prime. Someone who is holding the Sundrop, or who has regular access to the Sundrop’s magic can’t die of old age or illness. They have to be hurt beyond the Sundrop’s ability to heal or have it taken away from them. 

The ability to share this rapid healing with others (if you ask right)

The ability to freely draw on the raw, near-limitless energy of the sun to shape into things like cool-looking energy blasts (only if you ask right) 

The Moonstone

The moonstone has powers over varying levels of destruction: from destroying things by ripping them apart/ to Not Letting Things Be Destroyed(also known as protecting) by freezing them in indestructible rock. Like the moon, it can ‘reflect’ a bit of the sundrop’s power, so it can kinda provide energy, albeit a lot less than the sundrop can provide. It’s the inevitable march of The End of All Things, fertilizing the fields of time with the ashes of the old so the new can take root. 

The Moonstone is a bit more in the dark(pun intended hehe) when it comes to bonding with someone, it can only try to figure out what is going on based off the emotions of its wielder, and through anything directly touching the Black Rocks. Because of this it’s... Kinda dumb? It tries to do things to help(Like shooting red fear-rocks to try and scare away whatever must be scaring its wielder so badly) but often fails spectacularly at helping. 

Under the influence of the Moonstone you get: 

Mortals get Neat Body Armor that’s actually just you being turned into a rock! They are very fragile! They need to be protected! The best the Moonstone can do to try and preserve you is to Stop All Destruction by.. Pausing all bodily functions indefinitely. Rocks don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and almost nothing can destroy you if you’re solid Black Rock. The weak reflection of the Sundrop’s energy keeps the host animated, but they’re not exactly alive anymore. Like cryostasis. Wounds (if any) acquired in this state won’t be a problem because they’re not messing anything up, because nothing is technically working in the first place, but they will be a problem when you’re not protected in this way anymore. It’s a cosmic ‘I’ll deal with that later’ button, essentially. 

Like the moon, the Moonstone can reflect the light of the sun. It uses its rock crystals to do so, which can even split the sun’s power into different shades, like a prism. Essentially, different colored rocks can mean new and exciting power sets. 

Blue Lightning! The Moonstone can reflect the Sundrop’s power, so it also has access to pure bursts of energy, even if it is weaker and colder. 

The Moonstone is very helpful, but usually has no idea what you want. ‘Asking’ the Moonstone for more control over its power in the same way you would Ask the Sundrop for more power reminds it of the perfect bond it used to share. The Moonstone’s incantation deepens the bond between wielder and Moonstone in such a way that it actually knows what you want from it, giving you near perfect control of its powers.

*This is kind of just a side note of the Drops: While the Moonstone is weaker than the Sundrop in an head-on fight, it could hold its own if it were on the defensive. Redirecting the power instead of trying to overpower and such.

** Cass made of rocks means I get to draw her skeleton :) not in every picture that would be fucking nuts and way too much work alskjdf;lkjs;fv

#helping hand #a helping hand #casstopia #cassandratopia 2 #mine #so yeah next comic is happening still #but I can't promise when #maybe in like 6 months when one of my dnd games wraps up #my siblings are the ones who play weekly #and I said i'd run a shorter campaign for them #like half a year campaign #then I'll only be running one game! #and I'll have time to draw comic stuff and finish finalizing my draft #I'd also like to apologize in advance for my clunky storytelling #I've literally never done this before lakjs;dlkcvj;lksjf

[paganvamp]

Saving Grace: Chapter Seven

Meet Damon Salvatore!

(Holy shit this a long chapter)

2009 AD: The Other Brother

Elena was soaked, standing chest-deep in the muddy lake as Ric looked on from the woods above.

“Damon! How are you even here?”

“Thanks for the tip, brother.” Damon’s voice, disapproving and frustrated, sounded from his place behind Ric, leaning against the tree trunk next to him. Neither of them seemed too bothered that he had just launched Elena into the water, though Ric did have the decency to look a bit sheepish.

“You sold me out!” Elena accused.

“You think I'd take you to a mountain range of werewolves on a full moon without backup?”

“Get out of the water, Elena.”

“If I get out of the water, you’re gonna make me go home.” Elena protested.

“Yes, because I’m not an idiot like you.”

“Right now, you’re both acting like idiots.” Ric groused, rolling his eyes, and walking further away from the bickering pair.

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last.” Grace’s voice could be heard before she came into view, but it was clear from the tone she meant the jibe with affection and good humor.

“You dragged Grace all the way out here just to babysit me?” Elena frowned at Damon.

“He dragged Grace all the way out here because she doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” Grace responded in Damon’s stead. A moment of silence as Damon and Elena stared accusingly at each other.

“You gave up on him, Damon.”

A klaxon-sounding bell tore Grace from her vision-dream, and she was momentarily too discombobulated to realize it was her own alarm clock. Who the fuck are Damon and Ric? Grace sighed. And why the fuck are they looking for werewolves? She’d just gotten over her strange Stefan vision, and the uneasy feeling of her hand in his. Elena liked him, seemed to trust him, and Caroline thought he was God’s gift… it was only Bonnie who seemed to share Grace’s reservations.

Pulling her phone off the charger, Grace found she had a string of new messages. Navigating to the three-way chat between herself, Bonnie, and Elena (some things needed to be Caroline-free), she noticed that the other two girls had apparently had an entire conversation while Grace was asleep.

E: Any word on the psychic front? Am I gonna win the lottery today?

B: ha-ha. I told you, Grams was drunk. No winning lottery numbers here

E: 2 bad. Aunt Jenna really wanted that new tv

B: Grace, I hope Ur not ignoring us. That’s very rude

E: She’s probably still asleep, Bon. It’s like 5 am

There were more, as well as some texts from Caroline, but all Grace could see was one word floating in front of her eyes: psychic. She’d prayed that Bonnie would show some inclination toward magic, that she would have someone to talk to and practice with. Could this be the first signs of her Tapping into her powers?

Quickly - so quickly her first draft was unrecognizable as English – she typed out a response to Elena and Bonnie.

G: I’m awake. Psychic???

While waiting for a response, she alternated between reading the rest of her notifications and beginning the arduous process of brushing and braiding her elbow-length hair. Strangely, Grace had yet to receive Caroline’s customary ‘good morning’ message, which usually consisted of a precise list of all the plans she’d made for the entire day, and maybe an actual ‘good morning,' if she remembered. She did, however, have multiple texts from Caroline dated the night before.

C: If you notice any new tall, dark & handsomes around town, know I’ve already called dibs – 8:00 PM

C: could you please tell Elena she just needs to jump S’s bones already? She listens to u – 8:30 PM

C: OK srsly, I’m asking — has Vicki always been such an attention whore – 8:45 PM

C: don’t answer that – 8:46 PM

No other texts had come in from Caroline until hours later, when she sent the last message of the night:

C: Elena may be a prude, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get some. Don’t wait up ; ) – 10:30 PM

So, clearly Caroline had run into her ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ last night and taken him home. The last part of the message, ‘don’t wait up ; )’, sent a pang through Grace. She remembered when she was the one sending her friends texts like that. Not now, Grace. It’s school time. Mostly, she was fine, didn’t think of Bryan at all… but sometimes a memory would hit her like a fuckton of bricks. She shook off the sudden melancholy and gathered up the scattered grimoires and spiral notebooks strewn across her room from the night before. No wonder she’d stopped answering messages at 8:00 – after pouring over magical tomes for hours, she had fallen asleep early.

“Grace, hurry!” Aimee’s voice urged from her room across the hall. “Don’t you have practice today?” Oh, shit. No matter how good Caroline’s mystery man had been last night, she would happily skewer Grace over a bonfire if she were late for practice again, and her practice clothes were in her duffel in the school locker room. If she was late to school, she wouldn’t be able to grab them before class, which would mean she’d have to detour before practice to get them and… well. Either way, she needed to move her ass or she’d be late to first period. She winced; It was kind of a habit of hers, unfortunately.

“Shit, Aims, I really have to go! Are y’all ready, or can you get dad to drive you?” ‘Y’all,' a phrase reminiscent of her childhood in Louisiana, usually only made an appearance around family members or when she was in a hurry.

“Neither.” Chloe called grouchily from the bathroom, down the hall from her sister’s rooms. She was not a morning person — which was lucky for her, since she’d somehow ended up with study hall (aka an hour to sleep in) first thing in the morning. “Dad left already, which you would know if you ever woke up on time.” Since she didn’t have time to argue, Grace let the snide comment go this once.

“Then get in the car, we have to leave, Chloe!” Where is my damn history book? Grace’s room was a mess of grimoires and textbooks and writings by and for witches. The history book was buried somewhere in the sea of paper and ink.

Chloe’s head popped out from the bathroom, a furiously indignant look on her pretty face. Her hair was to Grace a rat’s nest of clips and curlers and bobby pins, though she was sure it made sense to Chloe.

“Not all of us are okay with looking like Leif Erikson every day, you know.” As mothers are wont to do, Cecile somehow sensed an argument brewing and appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Grace, you go. Take Aimee if she’s ready. I don’t have anything until the afternoon – I can drive Chloe.” As Assistant Curator of the history museum in the city, Cecile worked strange hours and dealt with a fairly lengthy commute every day, but she and Joseph – manager at a bakery in town — felt it worth the sacrifice.

“I’m ready!” To prove her point, the only brunette among them sailed past her mother and sister down the stairs, bag over her shoulder and shoes already on. Shoving her feet into the first pair of tennis shoes she saw, Grace stuffed her history book — found under her bed, for some reason — into her bag and followed Aimee to the car.

Grace needn’t have worried about Caroline’s wrath; when she reached the school, Caroline was nowhere in sight. Bonnie and Elena were, though, so after saying goodbye to her sister, she headed their way, just in time for Stefan to join them.

“Good morning, Elena. Good morning, Bonnie, Grace.” Grace smiled and nodded at him, more focused on Bonnie’s reaction to him than a warm welcome. She hadn’t had any time to see if either of the two girls had responded to her inquiry about Bonnie’s supposed psychic powers, so she’d just have to observe and bring it up later.

“Hey,” the greeting was short and uncomfortable, even for Grace, as Bonnie cast her eyes around for an escape route, “Um, I gotta find Caroline. She’s not answering her phone. So, I’ll see you guys later.” Late and unreachable? Maybe mystery man was more Ted Bundy than Casanova? But before Grace could ask if Caroline really was AWOL or simply being used as an escape route, Bonnie was gone.

“She doesn’t like me very much.” How astute.

“She doesn’t know you.” Elena corrected gently, smoothing ruffled feathers as usual. “She’s my best friend. She’s just looking out for me. But when she does, she will love you.”

“Bonnie’s one of those resistant-to-change types, at least when it comes to the friend group.” Grace offered. She felt awkward, as she agreed with Bonnie but was standing with Stefan.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” Uh-oh. That’s her ‘I have a plan’ voice. “Are you free tonight?” Grace didn’t need any powers of divination to see where this was going.

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Dinner; My house, 8:00; You, me, and Bonnie.” Elena turned to Grace, an invitation on her lips.

“Oh, no. I’m not getting in the middle of that. This is Bonnie’s thing.” No need to mention her own reservations, especially if it meant getting out of the sure-to-be-awkward dinner.

“Fine. Stefan and Bonnie will spend some quality time and she’ll get to see what a great guy you are. Mission accomplished.” Elena had quite the self-satisfied smile on her face, as if she’d solved world hunger and not Bonnie’s bad attitude. In the silence, a familiar voice sounded in Grace’s ear.

“….Do, Ty?” It was Matt, clearly, but the words were faint. Grace could only make out a few of them,“…made…choice.”

“…One.” Tyler responded.

“Hey, I didn’t know Matt was here already.” Grace exclaimed, just to say something. Elena gave her a strange look.

“What are you talking about? How do you know Matt is here?” Elena knew Matt’s voice as well as Grace did. It should have caught her attention as well, shouldn’t it?

“You didn’t hear him and Tyler?” It was Stefan’s turn to give a strange look, but this one she couldn’t decipher. She wasn’t willing to read him again, so she was left bewildered at the searching expression on his face.

“…Ty, don’t! Ty!” That was louder, but before Grace could make a comment, Stefan was whirling around to catch the football that had been aimed directly at his head. He threw it back — a good throw, maybe better than Tyler’s. Elena laughed at Tyler’s shocked reaction, but Grace was focused on something else. They’re so far away… Grace had always had good senses — perfect vision, a sometimes-too-sensitive consciousness of smell, good hearing — but that was almost… inhuman. No wonder Elena was confused. She hadn’t heard a thing they’d said. Noticing more students arriving, they made their way inside the school, where Elena was not ready to forget Stefan’s display outside.

“That throw was insane. I didn’t know you played football.”

“I used to.” He looked nostalgic for a moment. “It was a long time ago.”

“So why don’t you try out for the team?” Grace asked. Football player and cheerleader may have been a cliché, but it was a cute one.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Stefan appeared to think the suggestion was ludicrous.

“So, you don’t like football?” Elena clarified. I hope the mixed signals aren’t a Thing with him.

“No, I love football. I think it’s a great sport.” Grace would beg to differ, though she would never tell Matt. “But in this case, I don’t think football likes me. You saw Tyler over there, and we both know how Matt feels.” The word ‘both’ let Grace know she was heading into third-wheel territory, so she told Elena she’d see her at lunch and made her way to her locker, where her worst nightmare had come true.

Tyler and Vicki. Kissing. She supposed the pair were always either fucking or fighting, so no option was great, but at least when they were fighting, they weren’t a unified front. They wouldn’t tag-team to make her day more difficult. In fact, one of them might even go out of their way to make her life easier, just to spite the other.

Maybe she was glad to be single after all.

“Luctor et emergo.” Grace muttered, as she elbowed her way past the writhing couple to her locker. Grace’s parents had insisted on all three of their children learning both Latin and French from an incredibly early age. Back then, Grace simply thought they were classists or wanted to set their kids apart somehow. Now she knew their true motives – Traditional Magic, and its spells, were almost entirely recited in Latin; the witches of the Quarter use Ancestral Magic – a large part of which was in French. Since childhood, Grace had a habit of slipping into another language in times of stress or hardship — similar to her use of ‘y’all’ — which seemed to be happening a lot more lately. Luctor et emergo: I struggle and emerge. A frequently used phrase when walking the halls of Mystic Fall High School. Another thing becoming more common lately was upper arm work-outs — for days, Grace had been shoving every textbook and spiral bound she could into her backpack and lugging it around all day, just so she could avoid the two forces of nature currently sucking each other’s faces off. The one bright spot was that Vicki had seemed to loosen up on her vendetta against all associated with Elena Gilbert.

Slamming her locker door shut, Grace glanced at her phone again. Bonnie was right — not a peep from Caroline. She began to type a message when the warning bell clanged, signaling two minutes to get to class. She would have to locate Caroline later.

Cheerleading practice was the highlight of Grace’s day. There was almost nothing she loved more than the rush that came from flying and tumbling, except maybe magic. Yes, she hated football — basketball was much less boring, without all that stopping and starting — but cheer was worth it. Of course, she’d made her three closest friends through the squad, and it was one of the few subjects she and Chloe seemed to agree on. Then there was the adrenaline rush, as well as the benefits of having to keep her body in such good condition. It didn’t hurt that the uniform was adorable, either; Grace was proud of the body both nature and cheer had given her, and tended to prefer silhouettes and styles that accentuated her curves, complimenting her features — which, of course, the uniform was basically designed for.

After dropping her water bottle and bag at the edge of the field, Grace began stretching near Bonnie.

“Seriously, if you could maybe make yourself look a little uglier next practice, I think we’d all appreciate it.” Bonnie japed, eyeing the cherry-red spandex shorts and black sports bra Grace had donned for practice.

“You’re one to talk.” Dana, doing the splits a few feet away, called to Bonnie. “Like, could you turn down the glow a little bit, Bonnie?” Grace herself dropped into the splits, having loosened up enough, and slowly rotated forward until she was flat on her stomach. She looked up to see Bethany, a fellow senior, inches away doing the same. Beth, who shared Grace’s weird sense of humor, grabbed Grace’s hand.

“Tell my family…” she whispered, as though she were dying. “Tell my family I died well.” She collapsed loosely on the grass as Grace wailed in feigned grief.

“No, Beth! Come back! I’ll miss you!” Before the charade could continue too far, Grace heard Bonnie’s voice from just outside her limited field of vision.

“Oh, my God! You’re here!” She sounded stunned.

“Yep.” Elena! Grace contorted herself as far as she could without spraining something and saw her two friends standing above her. “I can’t be sad girl forever. The only way to get things back to the way they were are to do things that were.” Grace wasn’t sure that made sense. She slowly pushed herself back up into a sitting position and Bonnie and Elena each grabbed a hand to help her up. “Oh, and you're coming to dinner tonight.” This could end poorly.

“I am?”

“Mm-hmm. You, me, and Stefan.” Bonnie gave The Look. “You have to give him a chance.”

“Tonight's no good. Have you seen Caroline? I texted her like a hundred times.” So, Caroline was still missing… Grace was seriously starting to worry. Missing practice was perhaps the most Un-Caroline thing that could possibly happen.

“Don't change the subject, Bonnie Bennett! You're going to be there.”

“Fine. I'll go.” No one could talk Elena out of something when she set her mind to it, not even Bonnie Bennett.

“Good.”

“Can I circle back to the Caroline thing?” This was probably an appropriate time for Grace to circle back to the psychic thing, but anxiety was gnawing at her. “Neither of you have heard from her. Like at all?” They both shook their heads, then all three girls looked around as if Caroline might pop out of a bush.

“Seriously, where is Caroline?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like her.” Grace was already reaching into her bag for her phone.

“I’ll try her again.” Before she could, however, a car pulled up to the field, containing none other than Caroline… and ‘Damon’. Dream Damon. Grace couldn’t equate Caroline’s sexy-bad-boy mystery guy to the obnoxious but lovable older-brother type she’d dreamt earlier.

“Uh…”

“Oh, my God. That must be the mystery guy from the grill.” Grace suggested. Her friends seemed dumbfounded, and some part of her found it good to know they were just as lost as Grace.

“That’s not a mystery guy.” Or not. “That’s Damon Salvatore.” Grace’s head swung toward Elena so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

“Salvatore, as in Stefan?” So, she’d had visions of both brothers within days of each other? Each one an indication of future best-friendships? Caroline sauntered over to them, looking smug as all hell even with that ridiculous scarf around her neck. I’m all for a fashion statement, but at cheer practice?

“I got the other brother.” She said to Elena. Well, that explained some of it. Grace knew about Caroline’s deeply buried resentment of Elena, and the fact that never dealt with it or addressed it — she didn’t need to be an Empath to know that, because Caroline had told her. But even if she hadn’t, Grace could practically smell it radiating off of Caroline, she was so upset. “Hope you don’t mind.” Clearly not true. “Sorry I’m late, girls.” She addressed the whole squad this time. “I, uh, was busy.” That little smirk at the corner of her mouth let Grace know that she wasn’t completely wrong about Caroline’s activities the previous night. “All right, let’s start with the double pike herkey hurdler, what do you say?” The girls quickly formed lines, never willing to risk Caroline’s drill-sergeant-esque wrath, and Caroline began counting. Grace, who was behind Elena, could see the younger girl struggling with the maneuver and wondered if Caroline had chosen it on purpose. “Elena, sweetie, why don’t you just observe today? Okay?” It was never a good thing when Caroline used the word “sweetie," and smoke was practically coming out of Elena’s ears. “Keep going! Okay. Do it again, from the top! And 5…” as she went back to counting beats, Grace and Bonnie threw Elena as many commiserative looks as they could. But Elena’s attention had been drawn to the football field, where Stefan Salvatore himself was running plays. The girls watched as Tyler rammed into Stefan, all his weight behind it, and they went down.

“…Gonna live, Salvatore?” Coach Tanner called to the boy, still prone on the grass. Grace could fucking feel Tyler’s emotions from across the field, he was so worked up; he was pissed that some new guy was climbing the popularity ladder so fast, and though a part of him truly did hate Stefan for Matt’s sake, mostly he was jealous himself. It was moments like this when Grace remembered why she hated Tyler so much. The douchebag is using Matt as an excuse to deal with his Alpha Male Complex. Maybe next he’ll pee all over the school like a dog, just to mark his territory.

Stefan got up, and the boys huddled up again; Grace turned her focus back to Caroline’s instructions.

Grace was not looking forward to the football game. Between Caroline’s pettiness being at peak capacity, Elena’s patience at an all-time low, and Bonnie still refusing to come around and give Stefan a chance, Grace figured every moment spent not cheering would be in mediation. As soon as she arrived, she made it her mission to finally talk about the ‘Bonnie’s psychic’ text that had been hovering around her mind all day. Along the way, she ran into Elena, who had apparently quit the squad, and Stefan, who had apparently joined the football team — not quite the stereotypical couple she’d imagined earlier, but whatever.

Finally managing to locate Bonnie, Grace dove straight into what she’d been itching to ask all day.

“So, Bonnie. Psychic?” Bonnie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“You know how my Grams will get drunk and then start telling me all these stories about magic and fairies and everything…”

“Yeah, I’ve experienced it a time or two.” Perhaps because Sheila knew Grace herself was a witch, she had even less of a filter when Grace was around.

“Well, the other day she starts going on about how I’m psychic.” As Bonnie explained Sheila Bennett’s drunken rambles, Grace realized what Bonnie had yet to put together. Her Grams was telling the truth – Bonnie was a witch. A powerful one, judging by her lineage and psychic abilities — not as strong as Grace’s, but present enough to mean Bonnie’s powers were likely almost unparalleled. “… I mean its crazy, right?” Bonnie was laughing, but there was the smallest part of her that was starting to think maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all.

“Yeah, maybe.” Grace didn’t think it was quite time to reveal herself to Bonnie, but she didn’t want to be unsupportive either. “But, I mean, I totally predicted the end of that movie the other day, so maybe Grams is on to something.”

“Guys, hello?” Caroline had found them. “Are you going to cheer, or are you going to chat?” The two girls rolled their eyes.

“Good to see you, too, Care Bear.” Caroline ignored them, instead using that freaky talent of hers to hone in on the slightest of imperfections.

“Hey, Tiki, it’s all wobbly. Can you stand straight, please? Could someone please help Tiki?”

Grace had her arms wrapped around Matt, despite his protests that he was fine.

“You’re not fine, you dumbass. You just found your teacher and coach…” She didn’t want to say it out loud. “You’re the one who found him, okay? Don’t pretend that didn’t suck.” They were standing by his stupid truck, the light from the ambulance and police cars throwing strange red and blue shadows over everything. The cab door was open, as Grace had bodily slammed into Matt’s back as he made to get inside and clung to him like a monkey.

“Yeah, Gracie, it sucked.” He sighed. “What kind of animal would do something like this?” Caroline’s mom had made the announcement not long ago – Coach Tanner was the victim of another animal attack, this time right in town. Grace shrugged.

“A starving one, I guess.” But Tanner hadn’t been eaten. Just attacked. Like the others. Matt rubbed his hand down Grace’s back as if he were the one comforting her.

“C’mon, Gracie. I’ll drive you home. You can get your car tomorrow.” He walked her around to the passenger’s side, the door of which sometimes stuck shut, and helped her climb up before finally getting in himself. The air conditioning rattled, a comforting, familiar sound in the silence. Grace toed off her white Nfinities, flexing her aching feet. She’d been an idiot in practice last week and fucked up her ankle during a particularly poorly executed scorpion stunt. She’d wrapped it in elastic wrap her mother had spelled with healing charms before the game, but it was no miracle cure. Matt must have noticed her grimace, because he glanced at her with a disapproving big brother look, despite being a year younger than her.

“How many times have I told you to keep your legs straight?”

“Well, look at you, Mr. Cheerleading Expert.” Grace mocked him, not wanting to admit that he had told her that countless times. After nearly 7 years of watching (and sometimes unwillingly participating) in backyard cheer practice, Matt was somewhat knowledgeable in the sport. Knowledgeable enough to know a stunt will fall if the flyer can’t keep her fucking legs straight, anyway. “Don’t worry, Caroline already tore me a new one.” Damn, had she ever. The moment Grace went down, she’d felt Caroline’s hawk-like gaze on her, even through the bodies of her bases. ‘Stop giving me excuses, Sinclair. It’s been four months! Get it together.’ Elena had been in Grace’s stunt group when her parents were killed, which left the foursome someone bereft of a base when she quit. Caroline had frantically rearranged but getting used to a new base was always an adjustment. Selfishly, Grace was just glad none of this had happened when she was captain.

“Yeah, well Caroline can be a nutcase but this time she’s kind of right.” Grace could feel herself getting defensive, even though he was once again correct, but didn’t want to say something that might stall the effectively distracting conversation. Matt might pretend to be blasé, but Grace was calling bullshit.

“Yeah, I get it mom, I need to be more careful.” By this time, they’d reached Matt’s house and, despite Grace living literally fifteen feet away, Matt drove past his own driveway and pulled into hers. “Seriously, dude?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m a gentleman,” Matt smirked, “sue me.” Rolling her eyes affectionately, Grace moved to unbuckle her seatbelt when she noticed Matt staring toward her house with a strange look on his face. She’d seen that look before. She waited for him to break the sudden silence, but he was lost in thought.

“Matt?” She prompted quietly. She knew what he was going to say, and if talking about it was going to keep his mind off Tanner’s mangled body a little longer, then she’d talk about it.

“It feels weird.” That’s specific. “Looking at… this.” He gestured vaguely towards her house, then back towards his. “I mean… yours is so…”

“Big?” It wasn’t really, not for a family of five — it was actually a completely average house in every way. Two floors, four bedrooms — well, three bedrooms and a converted office — two bathrooms. But next to Matt’s she supposed, it did look a bit extravagant.

“And your car is so…” Again, he trailed off, searching for a nice way to call her spoiled. She didn’t take offense.

“Fancy?” She did drive an Audi - cherry red and the love of her life — but (here comes the justification, she nearly cringed) her father had wanted an Audi for years. By the time they’d saved up enough, they had three little kids and it was impractical. So they kept the savings set aside and when Grace turned 16, her dad finally got his dream car… for her. ‘If you so much as scratch the paint, this car is mine,' her father had warned. Chloe, much to her disappointment, had gotten a Honda as her first car. It was a perfectly good car, but certainly not an Audi. Matt sighed and gave her a sheepish look.

“I’m sorry. I just look at the difference between the two… who knew one yard could feel like such a big divide?” It wasn’t like Matt lived in the “bad part of town” and Grace’s house happened to be the closest. His house should have been perfectly normal, just like hers. But his mother wasn’t the best with finances… Or upkeep… Or mothering. She hated that her family’s good fortune made Matt feel so inferior.

“Well, if anyone can bridge that divide, Donovan… it’s you.” Matt would almost certainly settle quite happily into the small town life, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be a better small town life. He smiled at her, shaking off the seriousness.

“Well, it certainly won’t be the girl who can’t even keep her legs straight.” She punched him, both of them laughing. She gathered her shoes and bag and jumped down onto the still-warm asphalt.

“Goodnight, Donovan.” She called, circling around to his side of the truck. “But seriously. If you’re ever not fine…” she paused, searching for a way to end that statement that didn’t sound too smothering. “Well, you know where I live.” He smiled at her, backing out and pulling into his own car port, before waving goodnight as the side door into the kitchen slammed behind him. Making her way inside, Grace was nearly tackled to the ground by her sister, and she suddenly knew what Matt must have felt like when she leapt on him at his truck.

“Oh my God, Gracie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Aims. I wasn’t…” I wasn’t there. But she was there, was just around the corner when a wild animal viciously attacked a man she knew. “I didn’t even…” I didn’t even see the body. But she had, just before the coroner draped a white sheet over her old history teacher and loaded him into a van headed to the morgue. “Matt found him.” Matt had it worse. That’s what she meant. She wasn’t fine, but Matt had it so much worse, so how could she admit that? Maybe that’s what Matt himself had felt, in some form.

“Oh my God, that’s awful.” Her sisters weren’t at the game, thank God, as Chloe had dance rehearsal and Aimee a date. All of their knowledge was second-hand and incomplete, which possibly made their worry worse. Or would, when rehearsal was over, and Chloe checked her phone to undoubtedly find dozens of messages ranging from factual to wild rumor. “Was it really a bear?” Grace snorted. She had no idea what kind of animal had attacked Tanner, but whatever story Aimee had heard probably involved some hulking Goliath of a grizzly storming onto the football field and biting the coach in two.

“I have no idea, Aims. No one saw anything.” So it was probably not a bear. Something stealthier, like a cougar. “Have you spoken to mom and dad?” Their parents were also out on a rare date night and Grace wasn’t sure if the news had reached them yet. If so, they were likely speeding their way home at this moment. But Grace’s younger sister shook her head.

“I don’t think they’ve heard yet. I didn’t want to spoil date night and tell them.”

“What about your date? I’m sorry it was cut short.” It was Aimee’s turn to snort, sounding just like Grace.

“I’m not. He spent the entire time bouncing between checking his phone and his reflection.”

“Yikes.” Grace knew her sister’s pain. “I guess maybe one good thing came out of this evening then, yeah?” Aimee worried her lip, something clearly on her mind. “What’s up, Aims?”

“I just… all these animal attacks… do you know of anything that could help?”

“What, like hunting the thing down?”

“No, doofus. Magically. Are there… protection spells or talismans or something, so I don’t have to constantly worry about you and Chloe and mom and dad?” As the only non-witch in the family — though their father practiced very rarely – Aimee’s knowledge of magic had limitations.

“Um, sure. Probably. But I’ve already got my jet.” To illustrate the point, Grace held her hands out her sister, the black rings sparkling on her fingers. She wasn’t technically supposed to wear much jewelry while cheering, but the thumb ring was inconspicuous and unlikely to cause problems. It was also a security blanket of sorts. The other one, the one she’d bought for herself only a few years ago, she took off right before cheering and put on again immediately after.

“Yeah, I don’t know if Chloe’s into the whole black-jewelry thing.” If Grace was into it, then Chloe likely wasn’t, more out of conscious decision than personal preference, but it didn’t matter. There were other alternatives. Grace sat at the dining room table, sliding her mother’s grimoire to her sister.

“Pick your favorite, then.”

Grace completely fucking forgot about the Founder’s Party. Like, literally, would not have remembered to go if her mom and sisters didn’t scream at her to ‘go get ready because your date is picking you up in an hour’. Actually, they walked into Matt’s house, uninvited — where she had been celebrating the news that the culprit of all the animal attacks had been killed (a cougar, like she thought) — and marched her back home.

When Jeffrey Lockwood-Hamilton had approached her and asked her to go to the Founder’s Party with him, quote ‘because it’s going to be so boring and you might actually make it bearable,' she’d been flattered, if confused. It wasn’t that she and Jeffrey were unfriendly, but they didn’t associate much, what with him being two years younger. Grace supposed that, the times they had hung out had been at other excruciatingly dull parties such as the Miss Mystic pageant, which Caroline required Grace to go to every year for ‘moral support’. They’d entertained each other while their respective ‘dates’ had been occupied, so she supposed it had become somewhat of an unspoken tradition that she and Jeff would hang out at parties.

So, here she was, digging her red party dress out from the closet and wincing as Chloe none-too-gently twisted her hair into an updo. The dress was pretty, standard, just passed the knees with a simple, straight silhouette and thin straps. She threw on some strappy sandals and grabbed a purse right as Jeff rang the bell.

“Ready to have some fun?” He asked sarcastically by way of greeting.

“Cheer up, Jeff.” Grace coaxed. “There’s always champagne.”

When they arrived, Grace immediately spotted a potential problem: Damon Salvatore, looking unfairly handsome in his dark suit, was on Caroline’s arm, and they were chatting with Elena and Stefan. Caroline was still sporting that weird-ass scarf.

“I’m about to be super fucking tacky, Jeff, and leave you alone for a few minutes.” Grace grimaced as she made her excuse. Jeff laughed.

“You’re fine, Grace. Go say hey. Bring me back a glass or two of champagne if you can sneak it past my mom.” He nodded to the corner, where his mother had one eye on the heritage display and one on her son.

“Sure thing.” As Grace approached, Caroline began dragging a wary Stefan onto the dance floor before spotting the older girl.

“Gracie, you’re here!”

“I am! And you’re with Stefan.” It was a question phrased as a statement.

“Damon won’t dance with me,” Caroline pouted, “but apparently Stefan is quite talented.” He looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Well, he’ll have to be to keep up with you, Miss Mystic.” Caroline beamed at the reminder of her potential title and the compliment.

“Why don’t we find out?” Stefan suggested, motioning Caroline forward. That was clearly code for “let’s get this over with,” but Care either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. Grace continued forward to Damon and Elena, who were studying the heritage displays.

“…I just… I hope you two can work it out.” Elena was saying, in her “Elena voice”.

“I hope so, too.” Damon’s tone rang of double entendre, but Grace dismissed it and made her presence known.

“Founding Families, huh?” She asked, looking over the document they were in front of. “Riveting.”

“You make fun, but you New Orleans-folks have your traditions too.” Elena poked fun right back at Grace, the age-old debate familiar and affectionate. Damon turned to her.

“You’re from New Orleans?”

“I am. I’m Grace.” Knowing he was Stefan’s brother, Grace was beyond reluctant to shake his hand and experience that same slimy emptiness, but it would be extremely rude not to.

“Damon.” He extended his arm and Grace placed her small hand in his, hoping she didn’t look as apprehensive as she felt. His hand was warm, but his soul was cold. Cold and dead, like Stefan’s, but there was something else… a warmth not from life or love, but bitterness and hate and malice all festering inside of him. There’s more than this to him. The Damon she had seen in her vision, the one she had been friends with — closer even than her and Stefan would become, judging from the emotions in her vision — was not this embittered, cancerous thing currently in front of her. So, she pushed deeper and deeper, shoving her way past all the black and bad, until finally, finally, there was something else. Something surprising. Insecurity and… longing. Love, or… something he thought was love. Something that maybe used to be love but was now merely the impression of it. Intelligence still glimmered in every corner of this part of his soul, but it wasn’t the cold cunning of before. It was hard won, a lifetime’s worth — several lifetimes worth — of mistakes and knowledge and experience. This was the Damon she would come to know, someone broken but too proud to show it, who used acerbic humor as both a defense mechanism and a show of support for those few he cared for. Suddenly becoming aware that this handshake was starting to become too long to be normal, she pulled her hand away as he looked her over, assessing. Too deep. She’d pushed her powers too far, had already reached her limit and was practically exhausted and out of breath, like she’d been running. She tried to covertly catch her breath, hoping Damon and Elena didn’t notice.

“Have you been? To New Orleans, I mean.”

“I lived there. Once.”

“Really?” Grace’s eyes widened. It wasn’t often she met other people who’d experienced the magic of New Orleans, let alone lived there. “Do you miss it? I know I do.” He smiled a touch nostalgically.

“Well, it was a long time ago.” There was something in his voice as he said "long time,” the same thing that had been in Stefan’s as he said the same words about playing football. Something that implied more. “But it was a hell of a lot fun.” Grace gave him a once-over.

“You know, Damon, I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” Damon’s eyes gleamed with something even she couldn’t quite place.

“I look forward to it, Grace.”

As Damon and Elena headed off toward the dance floor and their respective dates, Grace noticed Bonnie sitting at a table by herself. She knew that she was ignoring Jeff, but she hadn’t spoken to Bonnie all day, and she had the rest of the party to hover by his side. She made her way over, but when she was a few feet away, the breeze blew out the candle sitting as the centerpiece on the table. Bonnie turned her head, focusing her attention on the candle.

It re-ignited.

Grace stumbled, nearly fell over. Bonnie started, blowing the candle out and glancing around to make sure no one saw. From this short distance away, Grace could feel Bonnie’s budding realization that her Gram’s drunken rambles were true, her fear and confusion, her paranoia and loneliness. And Grace couldn’t let Bonnie believe she was alone in this. So, she righted herself, marched over to her friend, and grabbed her arm. Bonnie looked up at her, obviously scared she had witnessed the candle incident.

“I think we need to talk.” Grace pulled her friend out of her chair and away from bustle of the party. “There’s some things you need to hear.”

#saving grace #masterlist #oc #kol mikaelson #damon salvatore #fanfic #the vampire diaries #the originals #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson

[juuls]

Pinned: Writing Updates

Hiya folks! ^_^ With this new pinned post feature, I figured it would be a good spot to put updates on how my writing is going (or not). As most of you know, mental and physical illness and recovery keep me from writing either quickly or easily, and I know that bothers or puts off some of you. Believe me, I feel guilty a lot of the time I’m not writing, but I know that nobody wants me to feel like this is a job, that I should enjoy what I do, and I try my best to just relax and let the writing come to me. It has always been a grueling task for me, and my words fight me, but I choose to see this as a labour of love. Thank you, everyone, for your support (and for holding up my fragile, rebuilding, self-confidence/ego :P). Managing chronic pain and illnesses along with fairly rapid-cycling Bipolar II makes things a bit messy, but I keep pushing because writing (and you amazing readers) means so much to me. 💜

UPDATE September 4th: see below “Read More”

Previous update, August 21st: Still only about 2400 words into chapter 28 of Cross, and I deleted Hurricane due to reasons but will be working on it bit by bit to instead post it as a single-chapter fic later on when people aren’t so busy anymore. Means I can focus on Cross though, which is all people want from me anyway. S’all good! Looking forward to moving that story along anyway.

Still have @grlie-girl’s Mansom fic, which is an MTH-adjacent fic. But then that’s it! Then I’ll start back up on Deliverance, my Stuckony kidfic, and keep moving Cross along. :) I’ve also been doing quite a lot of brainstorming for my original fiction series, which will be a combo SciFi-Fantasy series with magic and tech both, along with an eventual triad relationship! I’m really excited for it, even if it takes me decades more to write. xD

Works in Progress:

Hanging From a Cross of Iron: Fem!Tony Stuckony, time travel and soulmate AU. Just posted chapter 27 on July 19th! Yay! I’m about 2400 words into chapter 28 and I’m forging ahead as mental and physical health allows. But I think... maybe before the end of August? Thank you, everyone, for your kindness and patience!

Stony MTH fic for @ishipallthings: Fem!Tony Stony, Pacific Rim AU. Natasha Stark/Steve Rogers (Earth-3490) Get Together fic. @sparkly-angell is awesome and helping me by being a soundboard and beta. 5-15k. Will post it all together at a later date instead of chapter by chapter.

Deliverance: Stuckony kid fic, post-Avengers but in the alternate timeline that occurs after Avengers: Endgame. Have not forgotten about this, but it dropped in priority once I sorta over-committed myself to MTH, whoops. I’ll be back to this, though. :)

Gift fic for @grlie-girl, Mansom: (Marta/Ransom) from Knives Out. Dirty, filthy, femme!Domme Sugar Mama post-canon oneshot. I may need a second account to post this pile of filthy hot lava. ;)

Recently Finished Works:

Thread Work: Stuckony wingfic featuring Tony’s sister Darcy, written for MTH.

Ten Days: PepperStuckony bodyguard AU written for MTH for @tehroserose and @astudyinsolitude-writes.

Bad: a ShockStuckony get-together, meddling matchmaker Darcy fic, written for MTH.

I will try to keep this up to date but sometimes I’ll forget. Check back occasionally to see if I’m any closer to updating! I love all of my readers and commenters, and am so blessed to have you choose to read my work. Thank you so much. So so much. I’m sorry for the wait, but I’m a comeback kid, I promise. Sending love, and be safe and healthy and good to those around you.

Love, <3 Juulna

UPDATE September 4th: I’m going to put up a separate post, probably, but what’s going on is this... I obviously have Bipolar II and have learned to ride the ups and downs pretty well in recent years, even if some things still surprise me on occasion. But what I’ve never been able to properly treat or learn to deal with is anxiety. I’ve always had GAD (general anxiety) but it’s been untreated since I had so much other shitty health to focus on. Prioritization, right? And I needed all my faculties to not end up dead at the hands or by the gun of my ex. Then, after I left, I was making strides in recovering from the severe abuse and trauma at my ex-husband’s hands, sharp tongue, and actions from July 2017 until... well, it’s still an ongoing process, but this whole year, part of 2019 too, has been a lot better on the healing front. The strides I was making helped me focus on things other than my anxiety, but after dealing with those things, the anxiety started crawling insistently in.

Didn’t help that I finally felt up to checking out what was going on in the world more often. And it’s been good for me, it has... in that I’ve become better educated in the awfulness of the world, which has allowed me to call out racists, ‘Truthers’, and other asshole bigots who remind me of my ex. The downside of all that is that I am way over-empathetic and am appalled at the absolute.... *makes incoherent helpless noises*... just, appalled at EVERYTHING. And I am afraid. And worried. And angry. And a slew of other words that I’m sure every one of you get. You’re all intelligent; you know what’s going on in the world.

And sometimes I devolve into apathy, sometimes sleepless nights (I get about 16-20 hours of sleep a WEEK right now, which should be in the 40-60 hour range, frankly), increased pain on top of the fuckton I’m already in, worsening migraines, dizziness, and the intrusive thoughts of my bipolar depression keep telling me there’s an easy way out of this all. That’s when I knew I needed to do something. So sitting down with my loving father and my caring psychotherapist, I put together a list of my symptoms, what I wanted to tackle most, what I was willing to let go, how all of it interacted (cocktail medications, which I’m already on, can be dangerous and deadly), and then put together a proposal for my doctor, who’s been my family practitioner for two decades.

When you hit the point of panic attacks weekly, and not being able to sleep, even with a double dose of your sleep medication... when you don’t want to watch the things that bring you some modicum of joy for fear of aspects reminding you about the real world... when you wish you simply didn’t exist anymore... you need help. I needed help, and I won’t shy away from discussing that in a public setting, for the simple fact that someone who reads this might need to hear that it’s not the end all be all, not the end of the line, not the end of your life. So with the support of my father and my therapist, who I spoke to last night and this morning, respectively, in advance of my doctor’s appoint this afternoon... My doctor listened attentively to me and gave me permission to go on benzodiazepines again. I will be taking one daily, the one that doesn’t have nearly as great a spike of effect, but lasts longer and steadier, and will also be taking the other, spikier one, as the equivalent of a rescue inhaler for the next panic attack.

I’m not trying to hide from what’s going on in the world. But there is a line I need to learn to respect in how much news I look for, how I consume it, and how I let myself run away with myself at any injustice I see. And fuck, there is a lot. I will still be keeping abreast of the news, still educating myself, still engaging in discussions with people I trust to be kind to my mental state as best they can in the situation, and other things. This will simply make it so I don’t devolve into an incoherent mess of a breakdown/panic attack, and most importantly it will keep me from suicide. It’s never been much of a threat for me, but lately...? Let’s just say I am a bit more concerned than usual.

Gotta love brains, eh? Mental illness sucks. But this is one way I can take control. Other ways include the Nutrisystem diet I recently started, going for regular walks with my pupper and dad, reading 42 Sci-Fi/Fantasy books and counting in 2020, breathing exercises, removing harmful elements from my life even if that pains me in the moment... I’m making progress in other areas.

But what does this mean for my writing? Well. Good question. The last few times I took the stronger of these two medications (on a more daily, vs rescue, basis), well, I didn’t write hardly at all. I have hopes for being able to write during this, with the more steady medication, but I also have to feel happy to write, and the state of the world isn’t going to give me much opportunity to feel that for months yet, if not years (go and goddamn vote)... so yeah. But I realized that I don’t put myself first in big ways like this. And this time I need to. If the writing happens, that’s wonderful. If it doesn’t? Well, I’ll settle for less anxiety and not being dead, and I hope that that’s okay with y’all. I know it’s frustrating when a favourite author takes ages to update, and I’ve always been fairly guilty of that... but you all know that I ALWAYS come back. That’s what I do. I love this community, this fandom, my beta, my readers... you make it all worth coming back to.

So please, all I ask is that you be patient with me. I’m experiencing a pretty severe mental health crisis and not holding on too solidly. But I’m thinking of you. Thinking of all of you, and just how much I appreciate you.

With love,

Juulna / Meg

#my writing #stuckony #stucky #stony #female tony stark #hanging from a cross of iron #deliverance #firecracker #marvel trumps hate #updates #status update #masterpost #of a sorts #hurricane #mth 2019

[izvorposts]

SnK ch 125 Spoilers Ahead.

About Levi

I haven’t been in the fandom for too long, but SnK has become an addiction (laughs in suicidal) and I want to share my thoughts on the latest chapter, mainly Levi. I know I won’t say anything new, but I have the urge to write about it. 

First off, they’re back, yay! Maybe we can say that 2020 started in a promising way. Maybe.

Second of all, Levi is a burrito and I see way too many people being overly excited about him going back to fighting when/ if he gets better. No. Please, no.  Levi is not a killing machine. There is so much more to him than just being a soldier/ captain. But, let’s start from the beginning.

LOSS

Levi’s life has been heavily permeated with loss and abandonment since he was born. Kuchel died when he was very young, but old enough to remember her. Knowing what having love means and then losing it is devastating. To top that off, when she died, he had nowhere to go, so he just lived for, we don’t know how long, but even if it was just a few days it’s still heavy, his mother’s dead body in a small room in a brothel. After that, Levi gets saved (let’s put it like that) by Kenny, who teaches him how to survive, but eventually (yes, for a sensible reason) he abandons him, too. Levi learns the reason only after it is disclosed by Kenny many years later, but up until that point Levi only knows he was abandoned and that’s it. His life in the Underground can’t have been easy, not matter how skillful a gangster he was. I feel suicidal if there are more than three days in a row with no sunshine, he lived with no light for years. There he has two friends, Farlan and Isabel, whom he also loses after they’d joined Erwin. He’s left with two people he’s close to – Erwin and Hange, and he’s also left with that damn syringe Kenny gave him, which eventually led him to decide who lives and who dies. The syringe was an insane cycle. Levi gets it from Kenny, gives it to Erwin and Erwin now only entrusts Levi with the fucking thing, he also entrusts him with the decision to use it as he see fit. And, yet again, Levi loses the person he deeply cares about – Erwin, just this time it was Levi’s decision. Like, fuck. Now, these are just some major losses in his life, but we can’t forget about his comrades and the life he leads as a soldier.

IDENTITY

For the longest time he lived he was Levi, just Levi, not even knowing his last name. Then he becomes Heichou and Levi Heichou and only later in the story he is someone with full identity – Levi Ackerman. There are many other things that constitute our identity more deeply than our name, but our names are the first things we learn about ourselves. I guess we have them for a reason. Another important part of his identity is Humanity’s Strongest, and while he does deserve it, it’s vital we see beyond it – he’s a human person. It’s also vital to take a look at how much pressure this puts on someone, no matter how mentally strong they are. Having only one person rely on you for something puts you under pressure – let’s try to imagine having entire humanity rely on you for, no less than, giving them freedom. We see Levi fight and we see him live, but the question is – what does he live for? Does he live for himself among other things, or is his every move carefully calculated so he could survive to go to yet another battle? Does he see himself as Humanity’s Strongest and nothing more? His current burrito-like state and the final sentence of the manga sound ominous to me, because no matter how precious someone is for the world, their inability to keep doing something they did for the longest time hopefully won’t make them lose their sense of purpose. We don’t know what is going on in Levi’s head, but for the fans, really, there is so much more depth to him. I hope that, if he can’t fight anymore, he won’t think that this is the end for him, that his purpose is lost, and I sure as hell hope the fandom won’t be disappointed, because:

SELFLESSNESS

What Levi did with Erwin when he let him go was a prime example of selflessness. There was literally nothing in it for Levi except guilt, pain and more loss. Had it been me with that syringe and one of my friends, I’d be like: Bitch, you’re getting the serum and you’re staying because I can’t face yet another loss (this is probably why no one will ever do a manga about me lol jk). Levi lets him go, he lets Erwin find peace, he puts what is most important for Erwin above everything else, himself included. Giving someone up to let them die in peace/ be happy/ find their sense of purpose/ really whatever requires superhuman effort and loads of selflessness and that’s Levi for you.

CARING 

No matter if you only watched the anime or also read the manga, Levi is extremely caring towards his comrades and friends. On countless occasions he stops Mikasa from getting hurt or killed, because she’s incapable of not following her impulse. His priority is to minimize the loss of human life and he does everything he’s capable of to keep his people alive. When Eren was to seal the hole in wall Maria, we see Levi mention Hange’s group and wondering if Hange is alright more than once. He takes care of them like they’re his responsibility, he protects them and he genuinely cares.

PATIENCE

Even though he comes off as impatient and blunt, he actually rocks the role of a teacher. He takes pastor Nick to see for himself what people have gone through and he does the same with Dimo Reeves – he just talks to them, no aggression, no threats. He lets people choose, and this is really something I admire about him; he lets Eren make a choice when they face the Female Titan for the first time. He keeps saying that no one can know what the right choice is, he doesn’t force people to do as he says (okay, a small exception being Historia becoming queen).

EMOTIONAL and COMPASSIONATE

Yeah, not the first adjective you’d associate to Levi, but let’s remember his reaction when they all learn that the titans are actually humans, when he realizes he’d been killing humans all along. His reaction to Petra’s dad when they come back after fighting the Female Titan. The fact that he collected Ivan’s patch and what he told Dieter and Jurgen.

BRAVE

Okay, no need to overanalyze this, obviously, the man is the epitome of bravery, but he’s the one who assumes responsibility for Eren, when we just learn Eren can become a titan, before anyone, Eren included, knew what he, as a titan, could do. And it’s also Levi who guards Zeke, and we all know how well that ended for Levi.

MODEST

Levi doesn’t claim that he knows what the best or the right thing to do is in many situations. We don’t hear him speak a lot, but he does say more than once: “Who’s to say what the right choice is.” “Make a choice you’ll regret least”, etc. He doesn’t try to enforce (again, the situation with Historia is an exception) his views on anyone.

And so on and so forth.

So, wouldn’t you agree that it’s been enough, that he deserves to keep living in peace? I’m afraid that he’s one of the most underappreciated characters in SnK, and I claim that he’s the most tragic one, and making him a one-dimensional killing machine simply isn’t fair. Levi is a deep, multi-leveled character and he deserves all the appreciation we can give him. And I can’t emphasize this enough - he’s human.

If Levi can’t fight anymore, his role won’t be any less vital - he’s already done a fuckton of things for humanity, maybe more than anyone, both as a soldier and as a person.

He deserves happiness and peace, he’s got Hange by his side (if I’m inspired and not lazy I might write a few things about Hange these days, I feel they’re also quite underappreciated), which is a good start. Levi is comprised of unbelievably many qualities we don’t see in people too often, please pay more attention to him.

I will wholeheartedly support fanart and fanfics that give Levi and Hange happiness and if I do write more fanfic, I solemnly swear the two will always be happy. And if it’s okay to ask, Isayama, please, do the same. 

#shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #levihan #snk spoilers 125 #hange zoë #attack on titan #levi heichou #snk 125

[ngeibheann]

Nobody Needs to Know

don’t ask why i’m doing this just [john mulaney voice] go! FETCH!

For the record, medicine isn't miracles. He's not really sure what it'll take for other people to get that through their thick skulls.

A re-write of The Oaths They Take, almost five years later.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880353

When shit goes south with a dullahan, Worth spends about two hours cleaning wounds, applying runes, and swearing at any little thing that moves. Hanna’s out for the night, medicated to a comfortable sleep on Worth’s insistence that he needs to be asleep unless he makes a break for it to go chasing after the monster again. He puts tall, dark, and dead in charge of making sure he stays asleep, but leaving the room gives him the perfect opportunity to start antagonizing a vampire the second he starts asking questions.

 It’s an awful goddamn pantomime they’ve got going on. Someone gets hurt, someone starts yelling, someone starts punching. It’s a social re-run, with the dialogue blurring together with past arguments. It’s remixed and retooled, and suddenly calling someone a cunt seems fresh and exciting. What’s less fresh would be the right hook to the jaw, knuckles scraping just barely against teeth.

 In their equal defenses, bickering about how much effort Worth had put into stabilizing Hanna probably was going to end with someone swinging. A lot of bloody rage for his apparent ineptitude as a medical professional, a lot of misplaced wish-upon-a-star bullshit about what medicine can do and how fast it works.

 “Medicine ain’t magic, an’ I’m not some fuckin fairy. You, maybe. Not me.”

 The comment is spat out with a tall leer and a bandaged hand running across his face, attention paid to a busted lip. The indignant look Conrad gives Worth isn’t anything new, but there’s a flash of what, regret? That maybe behind all of the bastard bravado there’s something that makes him feel some kind of guilt for hitting him? Shame isn’t tolerated in the clinic, usually.

 Worth crosses his arms over his chest when he realizes the silence is punctuated by that stare. “He’s gonna be out fer awhile. Y’can leave if yer gonna just stare at me like that.”

 Conrad blinks himself out of the daze, mirroring the crossed arms in a bout of defensiveness. “I expected you to punch me back.”

 He doesn’t expect the doctor to roll his eyes, a sigh like a heavy hiss before moving away from his position in their little stage at the center of the clinic, meandering back to a filing cabinet behind his desk. Conrad follows, if only out of morbid curiosity when he hears him mutter don’t feel like it as a response.

 “Wait, wait,” Conrad says, hand dropping onto the scuffed surface of Worth’s desk, only to immediately retract it when he comes into contact with some sort of slick substance that sticks to his hand for a moment. “You’re pissed.”

 Worth doesn’t dignify the analysis with a response, hissing and cursing at the filing cabinet when he rattles it loose on its bearings. It groans and screeches on the rails, metal screams against metal— the contents inside clattering with a glassy clatter and wet noise. It’s enough to cause some flinching on Conrad’s behalf, vampire senses be damned.

 When Worth turns around, he’s got a handle of tequila in hand and a neutral glare on his face. He sidles closer to Conrad, lean-sitting against the edge of the desk and unscrewing the cap of the bottle with deadened abandon. It’s unnatural, his silence stilted and the level of visible malice in him dropped to a complete standstill. It’d be pleasant if it didn’t manage to fill Conrad with curious dread.

 “Don’t tell me you grew a conscience after I decked you,” Conrad says, if only to goad Worth into acting more like himself and less like a haunted mannequin. “I might think you actually—“

 Worth cuffs him in the back of the head, his free hand delivering an open-palmed smack while he takes a belt from the amber bottle. It’s a sharp hit, enough to earn an ow, fuck in response. The look he gets is incredulous, offended, and yet somehow died back to a state of bewildered mystery.

 “Fuck yer conscience bullshit,” Worth finally bites out, bottle hanging loosely from the neck in his grasp. “Yeh wouldn’t be in here pissin’ an’ moanin’ about m’ bedside manner if yeh actually had an ounce a’ competence in your body. All of yeh, fuckin’ amazing.”

 “Oh, so Hanna being attacked by some weird horseman thing is my fault, now?” Conrad asks, and his fists curl at the nod he receives in return to the question.

 “All of yer faults. Stupid as sin, can’t keep that kid outta trouble, then yeh come in and have me patch Little Red Ridin’ Rune back up—“

 “Keeping him out of trouble is like keeping you out of a fucking liquor store, jackass.”

 The interruption earns another swat, only to be stopped mid-swing when Conrad swivels to grab his wrist with some degree of bruising force. Worth swears under his breath, sucks in air through his teeth, and takes another drink.

 Conrad glares back at him, bony wrist still in hand. “So were you always this much of a callous douche, or do you just need therapy and an AA meeting?”

 “What is this, a first date?”

 “Always a dick. Got it.”

 There’s a long pause before Worth thrusts the bottle of tequila in Conrad’s general direction, the tension in his shoulders dropping when he gives a protracted sigh. Conrad doesn’t take the offer, which then lets Worth remember that right, he is a vampire. No matter how much tequila is in his bloodstream, there’s no blood in booze.

 “Take a wild guess why I dropped out.” Worth says, an exhausted command. The bottle sits on the last remaining free space on the desk, atop a stack of messy papers. Conrad finally lets go of his wrist, only to cross his arms and close his eyes in an overblown act of thought.

 “My money’s on illiteracy or completely flunking out.” Conrad says, finger tapping against his arm. He opens his eyes to look back at Worth with a smug grin. “Am I right, or am I painfully right?”

 “I’ve got a BS in pre-med, dickhead,” Worth says, but there’s some degree of a smile on his face. It’s weird, Conrad admits to the existence of some positive expression on Worth as a bizzaro hex, but it’s more welcome than whatever hollow demon was possessing him moments ago.

 “You’re bluffing.”

 “I went t’ fuckin’ NYU. Grossman.”

 Conrad stares back at him, knowing full well the insinuation is that Worth did well, and at some point, had an obscene amount of money. Certainly passed an MCAT along the way, which is possibly the most un-Worth thing he could have ever guessed. But, by the venom in the way he says Grossman, Conrad knows it’s not a lie.

 “So, why’d you leave, then? Money run out?” Conrad asks, and Worth makes a point of looking back to the exam room, as if he could somehow see everything behind the wood of the door. His hands tent together before picking at the gauze on his arms.

 “Yeh ever think about how patient info sounds like bible verses?” Worth asks, which gets a blank stare if only for the insane revelation that Worth gives enough of a damn about the bible to draw that conclusion. “John, 19. Claire, 28. Steven, 14. Like that.”

 Conrad clears his throat to absolve him of any lingering ogling of the way Worth seems to quiet himself when he brings up the suggestion, fixated on his own arms. “Can’t say I have.”

 Worth looks up from his wrists, head slightly tilted. There’s exhaustion in his expression that his voice barely carries. “Y’think about it more when they die.”

 “You dropped out because—“

 “I didn’t have th’ balls t’ watch people mistake medicine fer miracles every night a’ my life? Or maybe it was watchin’ people die?” Worth answers with a question that’s not quite a question, pushing a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. He taps the pockets of his coat, quick to fumble through getting a cigarette and jamming the filter between his teeth.

 There’s a dead silence between them and the click of the lighter, and Conrad finally notices the flecks of red on the gauze covering Worth’s arms. He hadn’t been picking at his skin, but if blood was— jesus christ. Leave it to him, really. Walking around with someone else’s blood on him, despite an apparent attempt to have washed it off if his hands are any sure sign of concern. It’d be poetic if it weren’t so fucking morbid.

 Instead, Conrad opts to put a hand out. “Pass me one.”

 Worth gives him a side eye of insane proportions. “Since when d’ya smoke, princess?”

 Conrad rolls his eyes at the nickname, instead leaning over and taking a cigarette from the coat pocket himself. It’s a risky move, it’s a little too weirdo-intimate, but judging by the lack of protest, it’s probably fine. He mentions something about a metric fuckton of weed in college- art school bullshit and all that jazz. It’s enough of an answer to get Worth to give him a light at least, the two sitting on the table and taking silent drags.

 It was stressful, the bad shape Hanna had been in, and Conrad doesn’t exactly get Worth’s opinion on Hanna, but he knows he has to care somehow. In his own insult you on the operating table sort of way, but it’s still giving a shit. Seeing him visibly shaken feels cruel, almost. Any other day he’d be reveling in the way Worth’s been knocked off his hostile high-horse, but now it’d seem evil. A trespass of some kind.

 He doesn’t know when he started leaning against him, maybe an instinct to hunt for some extra bodily warmth in the chill of the clinic. It’s a bitter late November, and being undead doesn’t do Conrad any favors in the cold.

 He figures it can’t hurt to ask another question, that maybe Worth actually brought it up because he wants to talk about what the hell happened in New York. That maybe he’s moved on from being a petulant child and learned to use his words.

 “Why’d you tell me this?”

 The question is quiet and gets a huff in response, a slow drag hazing the air around them. Worth puts a free hand on Conrad’s shoulder, slowly slinking down his back to give a firm clap against his shoulder blade.

 “Cause,” He says slowly, staring at the front door of the clinic. “Nobody’s ever gonna believe ya if yeh squeal.”

 Of fucking course. Conrad can’t quite make out the tone, if he’s been bluffing the whole time or just pointing out that nobody in their right mind would ever believe he’d ever admit to that, especially to him.

 “Fucker.” Conrad says under a smoke-laiden exhale, opting for the response that gives Worth some plausible deniability to keep up the unshakeable asshole facade.

 “Bitch.” Worth mutters back, hand still idly moving against his back, personal space entirely forgotten in that moment.

 It’s going to be a long night.

#hinabn #conworth #conrad achenleck #doc worth #to all of my followers wondering where the hell this spark of insp came from #mind ya business

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Glad To Take Care Of You

Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You get so wasted that you don’t recognize your own boyfriend.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

This is the December 7th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

The bar you and your friends are in is packed and crowded. Sweaty bodies grind on each other to make room for virtually everyone in the place. The bar is swarmed with people requesting the new drink that’s got everyone raging: spiked eggnog. Luckily, you and your friends got there early so you were one of the first ones to get this popular drink. Bars all across town are serving it, and you just can’t get enough of it. To start off, you’re having a light drink since you want to ease yourself into the hard stuff instead of just going for it right away.

The same thing can’t be said for your friend Tiffany, who is already wasted and grinding on a guy she just met on the dance floor. He’s got his hands on her hips, but you can tell from your seat at the bar that he’s trying to lift the ends of her dress. He doesn’t look threatening, but in today’s society, you never know who you’re dealing with. Tiffany has always been the tough one of the group, so you weren’t worried about him taking advantage of her. She’ll knock him on his ass, wasted or not, if his touches weren’t wanted.

“Look at Tiffany go. Man, I wish I could get that,” Valerie sighs longingly.

“You’re single! Mingle it up!” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, what man wouldn’t want a single mother of three who barely sleeps and whose boys are rowdier than any other kid I’ve seen?” she scoffs.

“You’ll find a man who wants that sooner or later.”

“And what about you? Does your boyfriend want that for you? Or does he know you’re bar hopping with your closest friends?”

“Yeah, he knows. He’s the one who suggested I do this. It’s been a while since I’ve been out with you girls, and I guess he sensed that I needed the break. He would have been with us, but he’s filming late. Apparently, there was some technical problem a few weeks ago, and they’re filming what they couldn’t before.”

“I wish I had an actor boyfriend,” your other friend, Darcy huffs.

“Don’t tell Darren that,” you laugh.

Darren has been Darcy’s boyfriend for over two years, so you know her comment was only playful. This night has only just begun, but you’re already having such a good time. As you drink your alcoholic beverage, you can feel your purse slap against your leg which only reminds you of what’s inside. Matthew trusts you no matter where you go, who you’re with, or what you do. He has no reason to behave otherwise. However, he doesn’t trust others around you and gave you a taser for protection. Since you’re going to be drinking this entire night, you’re afraid of electrocuting yourself, but you keep it inside your purse just in case. Maybe playing an FBI agent for 15 years has gone to his head, but you love how much he cares about you.

“We should hop to the next bar. This one is getting kind of lame,” Olivia, your absolute best friend, shrugs.

“What and leave Tiffany here by herself?” you ask.

“She looks like she doesn’t need us anymore,” Valerie points out, motioning to your other friends. Tiffany has her tongue down the man she’s been dancing on all night.

After telling her you’ll be leaving to the next bar, you and your other three friends headed to a club nearby. Much like the previous establishment, they were serving eggnog that is just a tad stronger than you’re used to. The music is loud, everyone is dancing and having a good time. There are so many clubs on the strip you’re walking on, but Darcy knows the bartender very well. They’ve been friends since high school, so that means discounted drinks for everyone.

It’s not a good idea to have discounted drinks, especially since Darcy is a lightweight. She likes to mix her hard and soft alcohol, which means she’s fucked up almost every single time. You keep telling her how much missing alcohol is bad, but she never listens. Her friend keeps supplying the drinks, and you and your friends keep drinking them. You’re not wasted yet, but if you keep drinking like this, you will be.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Darcy groans.

Her bartender friend seems to know the drill because she’s pulling out a large bucket and handing it to Darcy. She takes it and throws up in it. Her head does not leave the bucket for the next ten minutes. Darren is out of town for the next two weeks, so the only way she’s getting home is through a cab that you’ve already called. By the time they got here, Darcy has calmed down quite a bit. Throwing up is her body’s way of telling her to stop. The only thing that will help her now is a tall glass of water and a fuckton of ibuprofen. The cab is paid for by you, and you’re helping her into the back seat.

“3684 W Highland St. Gate code 8494,” you told the driver.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Darcy mumbles.

“You’re welcome. Take medicine, drink water, and get some sleep,” you instruct before the driver pulls away.

Two down, three to go—if you’re counting yourself. Darcy is the only person who knows the bartender week, so it’s time to move into the next bar/club for some new experiences and tasteful alcohol. Olivia is drunker than she realizes because as soon as you enter the place, she’s tripping over her own two feet trying to get to the bar. She doesn’t throw up when she’s done like Darcy, she dances… and sings… and gropes.

The music is pounding through your skull, but you enjoy whatever content the DJ is spitting. Olivia is downing shots one after the other, and you and Valerie are watching with open mouths. She finishes with a satisfying “ahh” before sliding off her stool.

“Olivia are you okay?” you ask.

“Never better,” she grins and wobbles across the dance floor.

As soon as she’s swarmed by other people, she begins dancing in the worst way possible. Your comparison is much like Jessica Day on New Girl and the way she dances freely without giving a shit about anyone else’s opinions. Or like Amy Santiago from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It’s funny to watch, but that dancing will soon turn into groping if you don’t do something about it soon. You take out your phone and dial her husband’s number so he can come and pick her up.

“Hello?” he sleepily asks.

“Hi, I just want to tell you that your wife is currently trying to dance on some dude who is clearly interested in another woman. I think she’s had too much to drink.”

“I’ll be there soon. Text me the address. Thanks, Y/N,” he grumbles and hangs up.

When he arrived not long after, Olivia jumped into his arms with a happy squeal. It was nice to see her get loose, and you decide it’s the best option for you too. Instead of drinking eggnog all night, you went for the much harder stuff. It was just down to you and Valerie, who keeps checking her phone every few seconds.

The next place you two go-to is another bar, but it’s much quieter than the first. The music is still loud, but you’re able to hear what Valerie has to say from where you’re sitting at the bar.

“Wow, you’re really packing it,” she comments when you down your third drink at this bar. It’s safe to say you’re pretty wasted at this point.

“Whoa, there are three of you,” you giggle. Darcy throws up, Olivia dances and gropes, you love to giggle. Your body’s way of telling you it’s enough is when you giggle so much that you pass out from the energy spent doing that small action.

“I hope you’re having fun,” she smiles, and her phone rings. She gets up and leaves the area to answer it and comes back ten minutes last with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a call from my babysitter. One of my kids is sick and is calling for me. I really should get home to deal with this.”

“Yeah, go, take care of your little babies,” you chuckle and get up with her.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Me? Okay? I’ll be fine! The nights not over!” you giggle as you follow her out of the bar.

“Do you want me to call Matthew to pick you up?”

“Who?”

“That’s a yes,” she whispers to herself. “Well, I have to go. You have fun, okay?”

“Yes! Fly like the wind my little butterfly!” you giggle.

You two separate with her getting in her car, and you stumble on down the street. Luckily, it’s that time of year/night when barely no one is out on the street. You’re all alone which is dangerous, especially with your state of mind. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when you look to your left, you see a car driving slowly next to you with its windows down. You hiccup and stumble over to the car which has now stopped.

“Hey, Valerie called me. You’re a bit drunk, are you?” Matthew says with a smile.

“I don’t know who you are. Leave me alone,” you slur and leave his car. Matthew follows slowly next to you since he doesn’t want to lose you.

“Y/N get in the car please!” he calls out. People are passing by and giving him weird looks, and he refuses to look like a creep. “Don’t worry, she’s my girlfriend! Everything is okay!”

“I have a boyfriend, you know,” you stop and face Matthew.

“You’re drunk, I’m driving you home. Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I have a boyfriend, and he’s going to be mad if I get into another man’s car. He’ll beat you up really good, and you’ll be crying and wishing you never talked to me in the first place!” you mumble and begin walking away. Matthew parks the car with a smile and gets out, jogging over to you. It’s sweet that even in your state, you’re still thinking about him.

“There’s a warm bed waiting for you at home,” Matthew coaxes and puts his arm around your shoulders. It doesn’t take much for him to steer you in the direction of the car. You’re stumbling over small pebbles in your way, and Matthew holds you up every time you wobble.

“I like a warm bed,” you whisper.

“Yeah, and there’s a warm blanket just ready for you snuggle the whole night,” he chuckles. He helps you into the passenger side and reaches over you to buckle your seatbelt. You giggle for no reason, and he smiles in retaliation. He loves the sound of your laugh whether you’re drunk or not. It’s so pure and innocent that he just can’t get enough. He rounds the car to the driver’s side, gets in, starts her up, and pulls away from the curb.

“You know, my boyfriend is going to be worried when I don’t show up,” you say.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! And you’re going to be in big trouble, mister, if you don’t return me to him! He’s too great to worry about me,” you start to get emotional. Matthew can’t stop smiling, but lets you continue.

“He’s nice, and funny, and so handsome. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as handsome as he is. He doesn’t deserve you taking me away for your own selfish reasons! I love him so much,” you whimper emotionally.

“I love you too,” he grins widely.

The drive to your shared house is short, but you’re fast asleep by the time he parks in the driveway. He gets out and goes to your side, opens the door and unlocks your seatbelt. You’re so wasted you don’t even wake from this. Usually, you’re a light sleeper, but not when you drink. He hooks his right arm underneath your knees and supports your back with his left one. He carries you inside the house and to your shared bedroom. When he got the call from Valerie, he made sure that everything is set up for your arrival. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, the fan on, the blanket warmed from the dryer, and your pillows fluffed. He lays you in bed and began stripping you of your clothes. You like sleeping in just your underwear, so it wasn’t hard for him to get you into that state.

He doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this since you’re rarely like this. You deserved a night out with your best friends, and he’s glad to be the one to take care of you through the massive hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. After all, you’re the one he truly loves.

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#25 days of rpf christmas #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler fan fic #matthew gray gubler fan fiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler fiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg fanfic #mgg fic #mgg fluff #mgg fan fiction #mgg fan fic #mgg fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fic #cm #cm fic #cm fiction #cm fanfiction

[expolikestoart]

Fam-ILY au headcanons post!

listen I love them a lot and I want to talk about them even if no one else really cares

Character Designs

Sleepover/Movie Night for the boys

The Picani Family

the Picanis have a day once every week where they all watch a few episodes of Avatar together. tis law.

Emile is genderfluid!! So sometimes they're Patton and Dee's dad, sometimes they're thier mom, sometimes they're their ren. Patton and Dee tend to just call them their dad though, just cause it's easier to explain to the other kids. And it doesn't cause Emile any issues so they don't mind. They were a pronoun braclet a lot. (tbh they're really just happy their kids sees them as a role model.) (He/Him, She/Her, They/Them, depends on the day)

Patton likes to play with his stuffed animals a lot!

his favorite blanket is his weighted blanket

Dee is HoH so the entiree family knows ASL and he wears hearing aids.

Dee's very passionate about octonauts and his favorite episode was the coral reef snake one. (his favorite character is tweak)

Patton and Dee are bio siblings but they're both adopted by Emile. Emile had a partner during the adoption but they broke up a few years later and he(the partner) never offically had any custody.

at the start of the storyline (maybe writing a fic) they just moved and Emile and him broke up.

Emile keeps pictures of them in his wallet and Will talk about them whenever someone asks.

Emile is a children's therapist in this AU, and specifically works with kids who deal with learning disabilities.

The Kingsley Family

When Remy was like. 17 he got in a relationship with this one girl and they did the do. When the twins were born, she left. He hasn't heard from her since.

His family wasn't that supportive except his Great Aunt Becca who's a wonderful woman. She lived with her partner for years until she died a year or two before Remy moved in.

So they all live with her now.

Roman likes to sew little costumes for his stuffed animals. Remy helps.

Roman begged Remy to let him join dance classes. Remy doesn't currently have the money to take so he's saving up to let him.

Remus is in that weird kid phase? You know the one where they're weirdly obsessed with like. Death and witches and shit? He's in that phase.

He also makes "potions" and shit outta stuff in the kitchen. 50% of them are probably poisonous. Remy lets him drink absolutely none of them.

Remy's Bi and proud. He hasn't really dated anyone since he was 17 but. He's open to dating again. But only if his boys like them.

Remy works at a few different places. He's the manager at a coffee shop when the boys are at school and at night when they sleep he works at a gas station. Neither has great pay but he's doing his best.

Roman and Remus have very active imaginations. It has led to them waking up Remy or Becca due to monsters in the closet more than they like.

Disney! And! Pixar! Movie! Nights!

Remy and Aunt Becca have most definitely made scrapbooks of the boys together. (even though Remy might deny it to keep up his tough guy image)

The Cogsworth Family

Brian showed the boys some of Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Logan fell in love with the show immediately. Virgil doesn't like it as much but he likes to see Logan excited so he watches it too.

Virgil freaking Loves Gravity Falls though. He likes to try and find monsters in the apartment complex and nearby park. He swears he heard a hide behind once. (Brian played the sound effect on his phone and placed a speaker in a tree to make him happy)

Logan only likes certain textures with clothes so Brian makes sure that when they go clothes shopping Logan feels them first.

Logan has a prosthetic foot (it doesn't show in the family portrait because his socks and shoes cover it up) ((he also has a barbie doll because her leg was a prosthetic))

Virgil likes to draw a lot, especially monsters and stuff that he sees on tv. It's really cute looking half of the time but sometimes it kinda worries Brian.

Brian is Trans! And Aro/Ace. The kids are his. He had them pre-transition. His family wasn't supportive of him transitioning so he doesn't really talk to them. Has been on T for 5 years. (He/Him)

Brian's a bit of a space nerd so he likes to watch documentaries on them and the kids will often curl up on him and watch too.

Brian's compiter has a metric fuckton of baby photos of the boys!

They go to the park because he tries to keep them as healthy as possible and hopefully his kids will make friends. Both are painfully shy.

He's a security guard/Janitor for Walmart's l a t e shifts.

The Sanders Family

Thomas isn't adopted y e t but god is Anton working on the paper work for that because bitch that's their son now and they love him.

Thomas still is the goofy guy we know, happy, enjoys Disney, likes to sing and stuff.

Since Thomas is old enough to join the school choir he did and he loves it.

Anton and Thomas met the others because Emile was Thomas's therapist and once Anton asked Emile the best thing he could do for their kid and Emile commented on how that they knew it was scary, cause they had the same thoughts when they adopted their kids.

Emile is no longer Thomas's therapist due to him no longer being impartial since that's his kids friend and that's kinda iffy so now their friend is.

Anton is nb and pan-romantic ace. (He/Him, They/Them)

Both of them are kinda chaotic at times and sometimes you can find the two of them trying desperately to bake but there's batter on the ceiling and flour in Anton's hair. (they can't bake but anton can cook so it's okay)

When Thomas gets adopted all the others will be invited to see the signing.

Thomas didn't get to watch most Disney movies while in Foster care so Anton is showing him everything.

He also didn't get to see the Barbie movies so guess what else he's watching because Anton insists.

Anton still has an appreciation for fine arts and has a painting hanging up in his Living room framed and right next to it in just as fancy a frame is a drawing Thomas made. (it's a family portrait that Thomas made with stick figures. When he gave it to Anton, Anton c r i e d.)

Thomas has two friends from before he writes to, Joan and Tayln. He writes them letters every few days. They write back and everytime he gets one he's like!!!!!

Anton's the most well off of anyone in the squad so he tends to give gifts to the others when they find something.

All of them

The Parent Group are all very supportive of their kids interests, and also have meetups while the boys have playdates where the drink they're preferred hot drink (Emile likes Tea, Remy and Anton like Coffee, and Brian likes Apple Cider) and bitch about the shitty PTA moms and work (not emile though he loves his job and has patient confidentiality so... no)

Roman and Logan both love Percy Jackson but in different ways. Logan read all the books. Roman read the comic book adaptions and listened to the Lightning Thief Musical.

Virgil and Patton like to hunt for monsters together in the apartment complex and park but everytime it happens they both get a little scared and run if something actually looks spooky.

When all the kids became friends they had Patton teach them ASL secretly for a couple of months to surprise Dee. They showed Dee and he c r i e d. Happy tears of course but he was so surprised that all of them learned that for him.

Virgil, Dee, Remus, and Roman all have the same Recess break on the little kids playground so they play pretend together a lot. Usually it's Roman and Virgil vs Remus and Dee, but sometimes they switch it up.

Patton, Thomas, and Logan are the Big Kids, but also are kinda the weird kids too so they don't have much friends outside of the group. But it's okay, because they got each other and they like to hang out.

Patton has punched some kids cause they made fun of either his friends or Dee or maybe his Dad. He will throw hands. Logan might hold him back. Thomas will hold him back but only after a punch or two.

Remy once joked about having one brain cell in front of the kids and all the kids who weren't his got very alarmed and started to make him realize he was smart but Roman and Remus went: yeah you do. He's never been so heavily burned before or since.

Roman and Remus don't do the weird twins finishing each other's sentences thing but Logan and Virgil do.

Patton still makes puns but not good ones because kid's humor is nonsensical so half of the time he'll go up to Logan and Thomas and try them on them and every time they're both like "???? what did you just say????????"

They will all go and do fashion shows where Roman and Remus will take the others and drape them in sheets and cutains and blankets and have everyone walk the fake runway while someone sits out and judges.

Remus, Dee, and Virgil try to do magic together. It doesn't always go well but they try.

Roman, Patton, and Logan will try to play demigod but Patton has no clue what he's doing.

Roman and Remus showed Thomas some Disney sing alongs he could play on his tablet. Anton thinks their son has a lovely singing voice but also. they doesn't like hearing him sing at 6 am when they're barely awake. Can someone hold a grudge against a kindergartner? Ask Anton.

#sanders sides #cartoon therapy #family au #emile picani #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #brian sanders #ts brain #logan sanders #virgil sanders #anton sanders #thomas sanders #All of them are babey and i love them a lot okay. like #please love them too I just have feeling

[bangtan-madi]

Hello, I love your writing, can you please do: 102. — RFA + how they are as parents?

Jaehee

I definitely see Jaehee as more of a structurally-strict parent.

Guidelines, boundaries, rules: they’re super important to her. After all, kids are happier when they know what parents expect, right? It also comes from the fact that, deep down, she’s a very anxious person. She puts in rules so her anxiety doesn’t cause her to flip-flop. The last thing she wants is for her nerves to rub off on her child in a way that makes them nervous, too.

However, Jaehee is not overly strict. She’s kind and tender. If her kid messes up or breaks a rule, she’s more the type to sit them down and ask them why they did that, what’s behind the action, why they’re suddenly acting out.

Her gentle nature definitely helps her when it comes to mothering. True, she expects certain things, but she’s not the type to get angry, even when nervous.

She never yells. You’ll never catch her shouting at her child, no matter what they’ve done. To her, that’s the opposite of helpful. Getting louder doesn’t prove your point.

She upholds standards so they’ll know how to survive in the world. Every rule comes from a place of love. She doesn’t make them up for no reason.

When they’re younger, she’s a bit harder on them, but that’s to show that the standards are there for a reason.

No, you can’t eat candy for breakfast. Why? Because it’s unhealthy.

No, you can’t sleepover at your friends’ house. Why? Because I don’t know their parents.

She might come off as overprotective, but trust me: it comes from a place of pure love. Her greatest fear is not being able to protect her baby. She’ll do everything in her power to make sure that fear never comes to fruition.

As they grow older, the rules are less strict but still existent.

Despite all the rules that sometimes create animosity between her and her child, you will find no bigger cheerleader than Jaehee. She’s at every practice, every recital, every event. Even work comes second to her baby. She’s that mom, the embarrassing one screaming their kid’s name and pulling them into a big hug, no matter their age.

Jumin

His parenting style is similar to Jaehee in a lot of ways.

From day one, his child knows what’s expected. There are ground rules and they will be enforced with a gentle hand.

However, unlike Jaehee, Jumin is more open to changing those rules if a good argument is made. This applies more to when his kid is older, but the last thing Jumin wants to do is constrict or suffocate his child.

This has to do a lot with his own upbringing. His father was a kind man, but Jumin always felt like he had to be perfect, otherwise the love would disappear.

He never wants his child to feel like that, so Jumin is open about his mistakes. He’s definitely the type of parent to apologize when he realizes he’s done something wrong, no matter the time of day. There have been times when he’s woken them up in the middle of the night to say he’s sorry.

Jumin doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time when it comes to being a dad. His kid knows that, and as they grow older, they do their best to be well-behaved.

The open-line of communication Jumin encourages keeps the house pretty level-headed. Fights are few and far between, and mostly sprout from heated debates.

Also, like Jaehee, Jumin is a huge cheerleader for his kid. But let’s be honest: everyone in the RFA is going to be crazy supportive and vocal for their kids. They just go about it in different ways.

Jumin, however, has the money and resources to put his kid in just about any hobby or interest they have.

One week they’re interested in horses? Guess who just signed them up for lessons with a world-class trainer?

Oh, and now they’re talking about swimming? Jumin’s already dialing his groundsman, inquiring about how much it would cost to turn the floor below the penthouse into an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

He never wants his kid to feel like they have to grow up to be just like him, or even have a little bit of interest in his company. All he wants is for them to be safe and happy; the rest can work itself out.

All in all, Jumin throws himself into being a father, giving 110% effort. For the first time in his life, work comes second, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Seven

And then there’s Seven. Oh boy.

If there ever was a father that’s the personification of a bad dad-joke, that’s Seven.

After just spewing headcanons for Jumin and Jaehee, this guy is…very different. Those two had rules for good reason, but Seven? He doesn’t really believe in rules. At all. That carries over into fatherhood.

Like, just be a good person, maybe wait until you’re older to break the law, and make sure you come to me if you get in trouble. That’s basically his attitude as far as rules are concerned.

It’s not that he doesn’t care. Trust me, he cares a fuckton. When you think about the horrible childhood he had, everything starts to make sense.

His mother had Seven and his brother out of wedlock, fathered by a powerful politician. She used them for money and abused them because she felt like it. The Choi boys never felt safe in their house, not once. They were always on edge and scared of the next outburst, worried as to when they might eat again, and fearful of the future.

Seven would rather die than have his kid go through anything like that. He takes it upon himself to provide everything, more than his kid could ever want. He’s definitely the type of dad to go way overboard with clothes, toys, treats, and basically everything.

He’s a goofy parent. When his child is a baby and toddler, he’s constantly doing silly things to make them laugh. Strange faces, weird voices, throwing himself on the floor or into the nearest piece of furniture, he’ll do just about anything to see them giggle and clap their hands.

He’s so animated, and that doesn’t go away when they get older. While Jaehee is the embarrassingly supportive mom, Seven is just plain embarrassing. He’s going to throw enormous birthday parties, holidays, graduations…Face it. Seven’s going to go waaay overboard for every occasion.

Because why not? He never celebrated anything when he was a kid, so now he puts everything into celebrating his little one.

Piggyback rides and shoulder rides are happening, whether his kid likes it or not. And he’s 100% the dad that throws their kid into the air, probably a little higher than he should. Spinning them around in circles, getting on the floor and playing horsie, breaking into tickle wars, Seven’s going to be a more physical kind of parent. Hugs, snuggles, naps, the whole shebang.

More than just being fun though, Seven wants to make sure that his kid’s needs are always taken care of. He never wants them to worry about anything: money, safety, food or water, affection, nothing.

This also transfers into being overprotective, although he’s not a helicopter parent. He has other ways of watching their every mood, such as CCTV cameras and tracking their cell. Not that he looks at what they’re doing on it, he respects their privacy, but he does like to know where they are at every second. Between his past and his job, no one can blame him.

Honestly, he might not tell them as much as he should due to the fact that he has a hard time with connection and emotions, but Seven is so freakin’ proud of his kid. They could do anything, be anything, and he’d be equally as proud of them. There isn’t anything they could do to change that.

Yoosung

Honestly, if you want the calmest and collective parent in the RFA, Yoosung is your best bet.

While he can be a little immature at times, having a kid of his own really caused Yoosung to step up and into his role as a father.

When they’re a baby, he’s both overprotective and insecure. Yoosung had a fairly average childhood with good parents, so he’s surprised when doubts of his abilities slip into his mind. Is he a good enough dad? What if he’s doing too much, or not enough? What if he makes a huge mistake and can’t fix it?

Over time, he realizes that he underestimated himself and that every parent has those doubts. He comes to terms that, while he isn’t his mom or dad, they gave him a stable childhood where he was able to grow up happy and content. So he tries his hardest to recreate that feeling for his own kid.

Happy-go-lucky in nature, Yoosung is definitely the kind of parent that’s still in touch with his childish side. Obviously, one of the biggest way he and his child bond is through video games. As they grow up, Yoosung buys them all the best for their age group. It becomes their thing, dad-bonding time as it were.

Another thing they bond over is food. After taking up cooking even more after becoming a father, Yoosung never ceases to take up even the most ridiculous food-related challenge from his kid. When they’re little, it often ends in absurd creations that both parties agree should never be recreated.

However, when his child gets older, it shifts into something they do on the weekends to de-stress and talk about their week. Yoosung is thankful for the helping hand and is happy to show off his self-taught tricks.

Open-dialogue is so important to him, as it is to basically everyone in the RFA. He’s constantly curious as to what his kid’s up to, what their friends are, what their hobbies are. He’s not overbearing or overprotective; he has no reason to be. He honestly just wants to know so he can relate to them better. He’s even been found reading up on something his kid mentioned in passing.

Definitely the kind of dad to offer up the house for sleepovers and play-dates, even into high school. The Kim household is a place where kids love to go. There are always sodas in the fridge, always junk food in the pantry, and always the newest video game tech ready in the living room. Because of his nature, Yoosung relates a lot to kids, even as he grows older.

Honestly, Yoosung just tries to be there for his child, no matter what they need. If that’s money for a trip, he’s got it covered in surplus. If it’s a night to relax after a long week of finals, he’s already prepped their favorite meal and rented a movie. If it’s a talk about something important, he’s already sitting on the sofa with open arms.

Zen

Besides Seven, I think the person with the most to prove–and the most to make up for–when it comes to fatherhood is Zen. His childhood was a joke. Between his mother constantly telling him he was ugly, to the brother that betrayed him, it’s no wonder he has doubts about having his own child.

But, by god, is he a natural.

Of all the members of the RFA, I think that Zen’s loving and caring nature makes him the most natural father. While the others had some maturing to do, or at least a shift in central focus, Zen is already there. He’s already mature, and he already puts others first. While becoming a dad stretches muscles he hasn’t had to use before, it’s nothing that doesn’t come easy to him.

A really big thing for Zen is assurance. He’s constantly telling his kid how good they’re doing, even before they can comprehend what that means. From the very first breath they take, to their first steps and first words, to their first day at school, and every little thing that follows: Zen will always tell his child how amazing they’re doing. Even if they mess up, he’s right there, complimenting them on how hard they tried and how he’s proud that they didn’t give up.

But more than just ability, Zen is insistently reassuring his kid about their looks. That’s a really important facet of mental health. He knows all too well how a parent can affect how a child views themselves. ‘Cause if he can help it, his kid is going to grow up with the best damn body image ever. He knows he can’t prevent every bad thought that finds its way into their head, but he’d be damned if he was the cause of a single one of those demons.

He’s constantly telling them how good they look. When they’re younger and still unable to pick out their clothes, he tells them they look adorable. When they’re older, toddler to elementary, he allows them to dress themselves, even takes them shopping when they want a new look.

Who the hell cares if they pick out something that doesn’t conform with gender stereotype, or something with clashing colors? They look fucking adorable in that Pokemon shirt and zebra-pattern tutu. Anyone even thinks about saying something about it? Good luck. They gotta deal with Papa Zen.

When they’re a pre-teen and teenager, that freedom of expression expands into hair and makeup. Whatever gender they are, Zen is more than happy to encourage them to do whatever the hell they want with both. I mean, it’s not as if his look is traditional, per se. Even as a father, who is he to tell his kid what they can and cannot do to their appearance? As long as it doesn’t hurt themselves or anyone else, he couldn’t care less. He thinks it’s awesome.

Zen applies that attitude to most areas of parenting. Rules and punishments, personal choices, successes and failures–whatever his kid does, as long as they’re not hurting themselves or others, he supports them.

It’s not to say he’s not involved. Oh, no. Quite the opposite. Zen’s an actor, and as such, he knows how hard it can be for the world to accept someone that’s out of the ordinary (or what he would call extraordinary.) Whether that be a styling choice or a career choice or a romance choice, Zen will always be involved in his kid’s life. Never as an opposing force. Always as a supporting hand.

Basically, when it comes down to it, Zen is going to be the kindest, most supportive dad ever. His kid is going to know from day-one that Zen is always in their corner, and that if there’s anything they’re interested in or need help with, they can go to him. If they have problems, Zen is there to help. If they want to go after a dream that everyone says is impossible…Well, you know Zen is going to be right beside them, encouraging them to make their mark on the world.

#kyojin-madi writes #mystic messenger #jumin #jumin han #zen #hyun ryu #jaehee #jaehee kang #yoosung #yoosung kim #saeyoung #saeyoung choi #seven #707 #mystic messenger headcanons #fanfic #mm #mystic messenger imagines #headcanons

[kumeko]

A/N:  Chapter 2 for my @marveltrumpshate fic for @quillofchoice! I wanted to try alternating between Brock’s and Jack’s PoVs a bit. I’m not sure if I made him too soft, but my research has given him the image of a soft house husband. XD

Summary: Jack never expected to find himself in the middle of a children’s toy aisle, looking at Barbie Dolls. When Hydra promised new experiences, this was not what he was expecting.

…

…

…

…

In the years they’ve known each other, Jack had gotten used to Brock’s temper tantrums (for lack of a better word). The man was a walking volcano, just waiting to erupt, and every now and then he would explode in a fit of rage. Usually it was on a mission, sometimes it was during sparring (Jack had long gotten used to the bruises), and occasionally it was during something mundane like eating dinner (which led to bruises of a different nature).

 Yet, for all of his experience, this was a strange outburst. In front of him, a miniature Brock paced across a desk, tiny firsts clenched tightly. Scattered around him were shredded magazines and distorted paper clips. When you were the size of a finger, there were very few things left to take your anger out on. That said, Brock had managed to leave an impressive trail of destruction. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he actually killed someone in this form.

Oddly enough, as deadly as the image was, Jack couldn’t help but find it cute.

 Not that he could ever say it aloud, least he wanted to be the dead person. Despite whatever label he would put on their relationship, Brock was never one to let feelings get in the way. Jack didn’t have that level of detachment, it was beyond him.

 “What is taking them so fucking long?” Brock growled, his usually deep voice coming out a high pitch.

 Again, very cute. Jack had never thought he was one to like cute things, but, as usual, Brock was an exception to that. “It takes time to process things,” he pointed out.

Brock glared at him (adorable) before letting out a chain of expletives. The angrier he got, the worse the words, and by now Jack was starting to feel awkward listening to them. It was a small mercy that no one else was in the waiting room with them. When Hydra had shuffled them off to one of their post-mission check-ups, they had ensured privacy. Whether it was out of respect for Brock, out of fear for what he’d do, or just to keep word from getting out, Jack wasn’t sure but he was grateful nonetheless.

 It had been a long check up, with two doctors putting Brock through every kind of test and machine possible. Or at least, tried to—most devices were configured for human-sized bodies, not dolls. Jack had waited patiently in the small, white waiting room, idly flipping through old magazines. After two hours, a tiny Brock had marched out of the doctor’s room, looking not a wit taller and a fuckton angrier.

 “Maybe they got some Pym particles off you at least?” Jack suggested with a shrug. “Then the mission won’t be a write off.”

 “That is not—”

 The door opened, cutting off Brock’s high-pitched growl. A man with a white lab coat stepped out, looking incredibly ordinary for a doctor who looked after mercenaries. He skimmed the clipboard in his hand, flipping through pages, before looking down at Brock. And then even further down, because god, Brock was tiny. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay like that for a while.”

 Brock’s expression grew dourer. “The fuck.”

 “Fortunately, the change isn’t permanent—after a few weeks, it should wear off. However, we don’t have the capabilities to force a change. You will just have to wait,” the doctor continued, ignoring Brock’s reaction. “Come back for a checkup after that, I would like to see if there are any alterations to you after the fact.”

 “Alterations?” Brock stomped forward, each step shaking the table. “I’ll show you—”

 Jack groaned and leaned back into his seat.

 -x-

 “No.”

 After three hours, Brock’s voice had gone from endearing to downright annoying. Jack glanced furtively to his left and right, scanning the toy aisle for any witnesses. Fortunately, it was midday Wednesday and the Toys R Us aisle was deserted. The only people to watch on to this argument were the hundreds of Barbie dolls lining the shelves, rows upon rows of blankly smiling dolls that sent a shiver up his spine.

 He had never been good with dolls.

 “You don’t have a choice,” Jack argued back softly, gesturing at the Kens stacked behind Brock. Despite standing on the shelf with them, no one could mistake Brock for them—he was slightly shorter and the scowl on his face was downright bloodthirsty. “There’s nothing else your size besides a Ken doll.”

 “They are nowhere near my size,” Brock scoffed, patting one of the dolls at the crotch. He leered. “But you’d know that, right?”

 There was nothing remotely arousing about that when he was that size and Jack bit back a frustrated sigh. “Look, just pick a few, okay? You don’t want to stay in that for weeks.”

 “You need to do better than that to get in my pants.” Brock leered once more before turning to the Kens. Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hawaii Ken, with this pastel, floral shirt. “Do you seriously expect me to wear that?”

 “It’d be a change of pace,” Jack snarked, grinning. He picked up Ballerina Barbie and dangled it in front of Brock. “Or you could always wear these.”

 “Didn’t know you had that kink,” Brock shot back dryly. “I’ll make sure to buy you one later.”

 Jack didn’t drop the Barbie, but only just. He nodded at the Hawaii Ken once more. “Only if you wear that.”

 Brock kicked the doll with a surprisingly amount of strength for his size. Ken crashed on the ground, bending in a way dolls weren’t meant to bend. “Try again.”

 And he was back to angry. Jack rocked back on his heels, scanning the dolls. Finding a Ken that looked like he belonged in the 90s, with his leather jacket and black jeans, he held it out. “What about this?’

 “That’s a fucking boy band. Do I look like a boy band?” Brock grimaced, swatting the doll away. Yet another casualty. Jack wasn’t going to pay for them.

 “They don’t really have an ‘army’ Ken,” Jack muttered under his breath, irritated. “Or—oh.” Sitting on the second highest shelf was a Ken with camouflage print. “They do have one. They really do have every profession covered.”

 “Stripper?” Brock suggested, leering again.

 “We’re trying to get you more clothes, not less.” Jack rolled his eyes, picking up a box featuring Barbie and a carriage. There were other ones, with motorcyles and horses and even a huge dollhouse. Brock would need a bed too, right? Somewhere safe he could rest without worrying if he got squashed. Tiny forks and plates so he could eat. “Maybe we can get one of those sets?”

 When he didn’t get a response, his eyes flicked up to the shelf Brock sat on. Or rather, had been sitting on because he wasn’t there anymore. “Brock?”

 Footsteps to his right alerted him to the reason his commander had disappeared. “Do you need help with anything, sir?” a kind but curious voice asked.

 Jack bit back a groan. Helpful employees were worse than dogs and almost impossible to shake off. Clearing his throat, Jack turned to his right and tried to smile. The way the woman flinched told him he’d failed. “No, I’m good.”

 Sporting a blue vest and jeans, the employee clasped her hands behind her back, her expression nervous. A bright yellow name tag identified her as Linda. “If you do need anything, let us know.” She paused looking at the doll in his hand and then smiled up at him. “Buying a gift for your daughter?”

 Automatically, he shook his head. “No.”

 “Oh.” Linda guessed again, “Your son?”

 “I don’t have—” Jack paused, realizing just how strange it was for a single grown man his size to be standing in the doll department. “Yes…it’s for my…niece,” he lied. He could almost hear Brock’s laugh; he was terrible at impromptu lies.

 “Right.” She gave him a strange look, her smile strained. “Of course. I’ll be…leaving now.”

 Without waiting for a response, Linda fled the aisle. The second she stepped outside the aisle, Brock laughed in earnest, jumping out of the shelf and onto Jack’s shoulder. “Your niece? Why are you so shitty at this?”

 “Shut up,” Jack growled, irritated.

 “Seriously, you can’t even come up with a—”

 Having had enough, Jack flicked Brock away with his finger, listening to his tiny yell as he flew through the air. Unfortunately, unlike a bug he didn’t go splat. Picking himself up off the ground, Brock shouted, “JACK!”

 No matter how strong his body was, he was still insanely slow, and Jack dropped several dolls and a dollhouse into his shopping cart before leaving.

 And if he threw in the Hawaii Ken, it was not out of some need for revenge. No, he got that just by watching Brock struggle to catch up as he marched through the store.

 -x-

 Today was a day full of firsts, including Jack sitting in the middle of his living room trying to assemble a Barbie playhouse. When this was over, he was burning the whole thing. Scattered around him were garish, bright pink plastic pieces, all waiting for him to force them together in the shape of a house.

 “I’m not living in there,” Brock stated flatly, picking up one of the tiny plates. At least it seemed the right size.

 “You don’t have to, but you need furniture, right? A bed, a chair, a table?” Jack listed out, flipping through the instruction manual for directions. How was this harder than planning a mission? It made no sense.

 “You’re spray painting them,” Brock ordered, dropping the plate. Good thing it was plastic.

 “What, can’t handle pink?” Jack teased. He winced as Brock punched his thigh. “Fuck, how does that hurt more than normal?”

 Brock shrugged. “Science.” Neither of them had been hired for their academics, after all. He patted the mattress of the bed doubtfully. “These aren’t made for sleeping.”

 “Better than nothing.” He turned the directions vertically, his mouth twisting as he tried to figure out how to screw together two pieces. And after this he had to make dinner—what should he do about that? Get a normal amount and give Brock less? Did Brock have a normal-sized appetite or a tiny-sized? Would he need to cut rice into tiny pieces?

 Suddenly, he didn’t want to finish making the dollhouse. It was the easiest thing on the list.

 -x-

 At the end of the day, Brock had somehow swung back from irritating to cute. Maybe it was dinner—a single spaghetti noddle chopped up into small pieces with a few drops of sauce. Maybe it was the tiny doll’s cup he drank from or the way he washed his face with a bottle cap full of water.

 Or maybe it as the way he ignored, in typical Brock fashion, the bed that Jack had painstakingly made and opted to instead sleep on Jack’s pillow.

 Jack tried not to smile as he gingerly laid his head down beside Brock.

#hydra husbands #brock rumlow #crossbones #jack rollins #captain america #fanfic

[hogwartsfirebolt]

This is the very best fic I have ever, ever read. I promise you that I am not kidding: A fic rec. 

Grounds for Divorce - @tepre - 122k - Explicit

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

In the 18 months I have been an active member of this community, I must have read no less than a thousand wonderful stories, many of which have touched me in ways I could never fully articulate. Whenever someone asked, I would recommend four, five fics, never able to pick just one as my favorite, I thought that, with so many stories out there, loving one above all others would surely be impossible. I was incredibly, deeply, beautifully wrong. 

Thoughts under read more

I struggle to think of a place to begin this rec, because there is no way any of my words can ever truly do this masterpiece justice. I suppose I could begin by telling you that this story is so damn brilliant in every single aspect that I can’t wrap my own head around how much I adore it with every piece of my silly little self, or that it is so careful in its execution that I didn’t even realize when exactly it was that I irremediably fell in love, or that I had never read a piece of fanwork that held such a deep understanding of itself, that there was little I could do but let myself be pulled right into the heart of it, of this. 

I was lucky enough to get to know it when it was still about 50k words long, and even then, when I sat down and read all of that, I knew that this was something incredibly special, and every single word that was added since then only made me feel even more sure that I was witnessing the birth of what is surely going to become a fandom classic. At least for me, it shifted my entire perception of the pairing, the fandom, the entire wizarding world. There is a before and after Grounds for Divorce for me.

Now, the concept in itself is simple. This is a bonding fic. You know the kind. Harry and Draco are nothing to each other after the war, and somehow find themselves literally on the brink of death unless they touch each other. That’s what it is. A bonding fic. But, oh dear, if you go into it expecting just THAT, it will literally knock you out. I’m not kidding. Just, poof, passed out on the floor, because despite using a pretty popular fandom trope as a base, that’s about the only thing that isn’t 100% unique to this story. 

This is the moment when I tell you that there are about seven years between chapter 1 and chapter 10. Yes, we get to see Harry and Draco from age 18 to 25 or so. That is the first thing that is notably different from any other bonding fic I have ever read, that they’re stuck together for literal years, and so they can’t stop living their lives while they are bonded, no, the show must go on. The second thing that makes this special are the mechanics of the bond itself, and how it’s a simple spell that makes them sick when they go a long time without touching each other, and when they do touch each other, it pushes for more more more in such desperate, delicious fashion that I clung to my seat when they were first learning how to deal with this desire. 

The third thing, the MAIN thing, the most BEAUTIFUL THING that makes this fic special is, of course, the characterization. Oh my GOD. How do I even put this to WORDS. There is just no way I can explain how fucking perfect everybody is in this. 

Harry is damaged from the war and doesn’t realize it, Harry has trouble connecting with people and doesn’t realize it, Harry is carrying a hell of a burden on his shoulders and doesn’t realize it. It’s beautiful how much I, as a reader, was able to pick on all these things when Harry himself has no idea that he’s dealing with them. He is angry, he hates being bonded to Draco at first, hates that he has to spend his days with him, and doesn’t even stop to consider that maybe things are different with Draco now, he closes himself up and chooses not to engage, and this, to me, felt like such an accurate depiction of who he is. After everything he went through, this is YET ANOTHER THING he has no control over. 

Draco is just lovely. It’s impossible not to love him. He is intense and he’s rambly and seriously annoying, but he’s also damaged, he’s careful with himself after everything that happened, and he genuinely does try to be better, and that is something that always makes me so weak in the knees for him, when he is truly just good and doing his best not to fuck up. 

Their interaction is difficult to describe, because it changes every moment the more they get to know each other. We begin with a lot of anger on Harry’s side, confusion and hurt on Draco’s side, and as they learn how to navigate the fact that they’re now bonded, the situation shifts. Draco tries to connect with Harry, Harry just wants to live his own life. Years and years and years pass, and they go through so much together, they learn to become friends by accident, they learn to care about each other, they shape their lives around each other without even realizing it. They’re married, for all intents and purposes, and dealing with it in very different ways. 

The massive amount of growth we see them go through in this is just indescribable. We start with them as boys, hold their hands as they become men. 

They hurt each other a lot. Harry hurts Draco for like five or six years straight, being dismissive and impenetrable. Draco hurts Harry later on. They grow together, they date other people, they watch each other date other people, always with this bond between them making things difficult, and it’s really, really messy. 

The love story, as we witness it, unfolds almost by accident, entirely underneath the surface, such a masterfully crafted slow burn, that by the time the characters themselves realize what’s happening, they’re elbows deep into it and it’s impossible to turn back. It’s beautiful, the intensity of the feelings simmering for years, the depth to their interactions, how meaningful the little things become, in time, how much Harry’s perception of Draco changes, how much this makes Harry change. 

The Harry we end up with is. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. He is. I CANNOT. The intensity with which I THIRSTED over him has no precedents. His single-minded intensity, his focus, his drive, his certainty, how he throws himself headfirst into things once he chooses to and doesn’t look back at all. He is just. Hot as all fuck. That’s it. There’s no other word to describe him. But to get here, to find this beautiful, intense, loving man, we have to go through so many layers of decades-old hurt and his struggles with being human that he’s not even aware of, and, really, this story is about forgiving Harry in so many levels, about finding that even though he saved the world, he’s just human and he has a fuckton of issues, and this deconstruction of the hero persona we find in him, in how he willingly sacrificed himself in the war but now has absolutely no clue how to be open and trust people is just. Delicious. And don’t even get me started on the physicality of him, and how in some parts he’s just sex on legs. 

The Draco we end up with is a man so honest and open in his love, a man who overthinks and rambles and is impossibly lovely, a man who goes through so much hurt and still always shows up for the people he loves. He is clever and beautiful and just absolutely wonderful, so loyal and caring that it aches. 

Watching these final versions of them love each other made me cry so, so many times. 

All of these words have just been an attempt to explain what they are, individually and together, but they are NOTHING. I can never truly explain what happens in those 122k words. It’s something you need to experience for yourself, and there’s so much MORE than this. 

There’s Ron, who is the loveliest human of all time, and there’s Hermione, who is still so loyal and fierce and wonderful, and there’s Draco’s friends and baby Rosie, eventually, and every single character was obviously created with so much care that they feel solid, real, even the original ones. 

The settings are vibrant, I felt like I was standing in the Malfoy townhouse all those evenings Harry and Draco sat together, I saw Harry’s garden come to life right in front of my eyes, I saw Egypt in stark clarity, once they went there, and actually, that entire section just feels like such an intense sensory immersion in every way, physical and emotional. When they finally have sex, I almost fucking burst out of my skin with the intensity, the depth of each touch, the pace of each scene. 

The writing is just beautiful, the kind of structure that reads smoothly and leaves you breathless and makes you feel everything that ever happens in the story, there’s quotes that sometimes literally made me have to stop reading to catch my breath, to regroup before being able to continue, because they were SO beautiful, SO spot on. Every single detail is styled to absolute perfection, not a single hair out of place. 

There is nothing like this story. Nothing. I have never felt so connected, I have never loved the characters so deeply, I have never reread anything as many times as I have reread this, I must have read it like 12 times at this point. 

It’s not just a fic, it’s an experience. I don’t know what else to say to convince you to allow yourself to go through it, because it is worth every single second. I could beg on my knees right now. It is my number one fic, the best I have ever encountered, and I think it might remain that way, always. 

Do yourself a favor and CLICK HERE. Give Tepre your love (all of it, SHE DESERVES ALL OF IT for creating this), allow yourself to feel everything this story has to offer, and once you’ve done that, come to me. I will never tire of this. (heh, reference). ❤️

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry fic recs #ficrec #drarry fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #tepre #grounds for divorce #grounds

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told and Update

CW: Spoilers for Baghdad Waltz up to chapter 36 and some non-graphic discussion of childhood sexual abuse 

Hello!!!

Wow, I am so, so sorry for falling off the grid like that. I thought I was going to have WAY more time in October/November to work on the fic and work on fandom stuff in general, but my professional life threw me a huge right hook and I got completely sidetracked for weeks. So I’m off schedule a bit, in terms of having the next chapter. I’m sorry for the delay. 

I’m done with the full draft of Chapter 37 (about 23k - “short” but emotionally very dense) and am working through final revisions now. However, I also had to do an extensive amount of 9/11-related research for it, and part of that research has been reviewing oral histories of New Yorkers from the day of the attacks, and I came to the shocking realization that much of the prologue is historically inaccurate. Moreover, it’s shamefully inconsistent with the way that New Yorkers would respond to such an event. I’m embarrassed by how shoddy of a job I did with it.

Thus, I’m also going to be rewriting the prologue and including more accurate details, both historically and in terms of character dynamics. I mean, there’s no way Bucky could even live in Brooklyn and be a first responder at Ground Zero! All the bridges and tunnels were shut down. Shame on me. There will be ripple effects throughout the entire fic. Sigh. This is just round one of the massive amount of revisions I will be doing to the early chapters of the fic, which I wrote years ago now. I was going to wait to post both at the same time, but I don’t want to make you wait that long. I’ll just give you a notification when I finish the prologue revisions, and it’ll be like a little bonus chapter.

Anyway, here are some asks! Starting with a two-parter

First, thank you for the kind words. I’m glad you’re finding this fic moving. It’s definitely an emotional rollercoaster for these characters, and my hope (I guess?) is to have that be a parallel process for the readers. I think you hit the nail on the head that this relationship is exhausting. And you’re also right that not everyone would have the perseverance to keep coming back to it. It would be so much easier to amputate, pack up and go home. But once these characters get back into each other’s orbit, it’s very challenging for them to not keep crashing back into each other. It’s partially because they just love each other so much, but it’s also because they have an unhealthy relationship dynamic that sets them up for these toxic cycles. This will become especially apparent in the next chapter. They love each other, yes, but they also use each other to fill the gaping holes and insecurities they have within themselves. And they’re horrible communicators to boot. It’s a perfect storm. But at least they are going to try out some of this therapy crap maybe…?? We’ll see!

Along a similar line…

Thank you so much. That is so lovely of you to say, and I’m happy that I have your trust with this story. That said, I don’t know if it’s weakness if you’re not willing to run yourself through a miserable gauntlet of suffering the way Steve and Bucky are doing in this story. Would we call Rikki weak for drawing a boundary and stepping away from Bucky when his alcoholism was destroying their family? Some people used other words, but I’m not sure if weakness is the thing that might make someone walk away from a relationship like this. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should keep slamming your face against the same wall until you’re black and blue. This is a highly dysfunctional couple, and these men have serious issues they are grappling with personally that make them ripe for this kind of relationship. Bucky is an open wound, crippled with shame, desperate to do anything to feel better. Steve has deep attachment injuries from his chronically ill mother and deadbeat dad, as well as major control issues, and he wants to latch on and fix and make right, and if he manages every variable just right, he really thinks he can do it. And then throw in a fuckton of PTSD and TBI and alcoholism and physical injuries on top of it. So no, I wouldn’t rush to judge yourself for not envisioning yourself gutting it out in this grim scenario. 

But I also think we can identify with at least one of these characters, and we can root for people who want to overcome the shit that life has thrown at them to be with the person they love. Because they really do love each other. There’s just so much noise that it’s hard to tease out the signal sometimes. 

Good call on Bucky being a notoriously unreliable narrator, and he’s someone who is likely to underreport his suffering. Aside from his war-related injuries and his psychological struggles, Bucky’s most symptomatic issues are his GI problems. He has both peptic and esophageal ulcers, which are slightly different creatures. Peptic (stomach) ulcers, in Bucky’s case, have been caused by H. pylori and exacerbated by smoking and drinking. The esophageal ulcer was most likely caused by an excess of stomach acid due to gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) and, once again, exacerbated by drinking. Both of these have led to nausea, vomiting, lack of appetite, and weight loss. They have really emerged since Bucky got out of the military and pursued drinking with renewed vigor. Though he wouldn’t know it at the time because he doesn’t keep up with these things, his GERD is very possibly linked to acute, high dose exposure to the exceedingly toxic “dust” from the collapse of the World Trade Center towers. It’s one of the most widespread chronic health ailments of those exposed, aside from lower respiratory problems.

And now for some heavy-ass questions from licketysplittt — see CW above.

Yes, I am going to talk more about the context of Bucky’s abuse for sure, so I won’t go into the depths here. But I will say now that you are absolutely right that he has complex feelings for his abuser. I think it would have been easy to write him as just being unidimensionally angry or ashamed, but I know that’s not the experience of everyone who has experienced sexual abuse. This is especially the case if the person who commits the abuse it is a family member or caretaker or friend or trusted religious figure or someone who’s not just a “stranger in the bushes” type. I wanted to try to capture that experience in this fic. Bucky has also been multiply victimized by multiple people over the course of his life, which adds to this complexity and creates an internal narrative for him. Like what does it mean that this keeps happening to him? This is also not an uncommon experience for people who have been abused as children. And there’s also the added piece of this that Bucky’s gay, right? So he’s got this very, very young sexuality that’s on the verge of blooming (your Disney sexuality perhaps, sitting close, holding hands, etc) and this older male is making sexual advances toward him, and so he might ask if this person “saw” something in him aside from his social isolation that made him choose him. These are certainly questions he’s tortured himself over. I will get more into all of this, I promise. 

Winnie and George undoubtedly knew that their kid wasn’t a very popular one. But perhaps they always knew that he was a kid who wasn’t destined to have many friends because he’s “sensitive” or however they would characterize him (I’m sure they had different ways of viewing him). And I think it’s important to take into account the type of household that Bucky was in and the way he would shape his behavior. George was this total wildcard — “Best Dad in the World” most days but a screaming, violent tyrant at these odd, unpredictable times that were fucking terrifying for everyone in his path. This is a house where it’s best just to shut up and create as few problems as you can, because you don’t want to be the one that dad is gonna flip his shit at. And so everyone is walking on eggshells and Bucky is going to get very good at lying about how bad things are. And oh! Jamie finally has a friend, how wonderful. There will be more details in upcoming chapters about how this all transpires, but I think the dynamics at home made it possible for a lot of this to happen. And you’re right that these were not the most skillful parents, and their marriage was very strained and stressful for everyone. And these fictional assholes also frustrate me! The emotional content can be hard to write. It’s one reason these past few chapters have taken me soooooo painfully long. 

Great questions! You are all so thoughtful and kind. Sorry again for getting so terribly sidetracked. I am going to keep plugging away at the chapter and at comments and asks. I’m optimistic that I will have the next chapter for you within the next two weeks. I am pleased with this chapter and hope you’ll like it. Thank you for being so patient!!! 

#YOU ASKED I TOLD #send me asks #baghdad waltz #you are the best