#i’ll tag with ed just to be sure too i don’t want to trigger anyone
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Stede’s kids, aka two little shits lol, come looking for him. On their own. In a dinghy.
They truly are his children.
I guessed on their ages, so put them about idk, like 8 or 9, maybe 10 at the oldest for Alma and maybe five or six for Louis, somewhere about there. I may be wrong or off but I’m winging it for now until I find anything definitive re: how old they are in show canon lol.
A note, I did combine some historical stuff for Stede here. Mainly his first son, named Allamby, who had died by 1715 per Wikipedia.
TW for descriptions of child death re: Allamby (made up, because I couldn’t find much to give an exact cause of death, so I just rolled with it.)
I stared at this all day and I think I caught any accidentally a words or major fuck ups, but if I missed something pls let me know and I’ll fix it ASAP dsklfjaskl. Also, if any additional trigger tags are wanted that I missed, let me know and I’ll add them them right away!
---
“Another letter from the kids,” Ed said as he handed the envelope to Stede. “I’ll bet they still want to come out with us.”
“And I’ve told them their mother will not allow that at this time, understandably,” Stede chuckled. “But we’ll remind them.”
He opened the letter and started to read. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
Stede nodded and handed the letter back, moving to sit on a nearby barrel. He’d expected some whining that he hadn’t come back for a bit, or to allow them to sail with him for at least a week or two (Mary wasn’t entirely against it; she simply wanted them to be older before they did so, and that no raid would take place while they were aboard. Sensible requirements that Stede agreed with wholeheartedly.)
He hadn’t expected this.
“They’re looking for us?” Ed said, shocked. “They aren’t old enough for that. Are they?”
“How old were you when you left to be a pirate?”
“Sixteen, or about there,” Ed replied. “How old are yours again?”
“Not that,” Stede laughed nervously. “Oh god.”
“No, don’t panic,” Ed said. “After all, they’re your kids. Smart, good head on their shoulders.”
“And a proclivity to make rash, potentially dangerous and/or poor decisions?”
Ed paused. “Well. Yeah, that too.”
“Should we head their way and see if we can’t find them?” Stede asked. In his head, all he could see were two panicked children aboard a dinghy, in rough seas, potentially about to drown or starve if they somehow survived it-
“You’re picking at the thread on your jacket,” Ed interrupted the stream of potential catastrophes. “Take a breath.”
“I will, when we find them.”
--
“What else did the letter say?” Olu asked.
“They’ve bought their own provisions, weapons-” Ed read, then paused to laugh. “That’s wonderful! Not even my kids and I’m proud of them. Wonder what they picked up for that, because-”
“Ed,” Stede interrupted. “They likely stole money from their mother, oh god I hadn’t considered that yet. Forget being hung for piracy, Mary’s going to kill me first.”
“No one is getting hung for being a pirate, and I’m sure Mary will...” Ed hesitated. “You know, if we all go ashore, you’ll have a head start.”
“I think I need to lie down.”
“Children are much more resilient than you think,” Izzy offered. “They’re probably perfectly fine.”
“Or dead,” Stede chuckled. “I’ll make myself walk the plank if that’s the case!”
“I don’t think anyone actually does that,” Pete frowned.
“What, make someone walk the plank?” Lucius asked. “Or let their kids die at sea?”
Stede whimpered, and Ed wrapped an arm around his waist.
“Let’s not say dead unless we should find them that way,” Ed said. “And no, walking the plank really isn’t a thing. Sorry, love.”
“Right,” Stede nodded. “Then you can tie the anchor to me and drop me overboard! Maybe let Mary do it, that would only be right. And any loot could go towards funerals-”
He let himself drop out of Ed’s grip to sit on the deck, staring into space. He didn’t exactly want to take back all the years of playing pirate, but at the same time, maybe they wouldn’t have come looking for him if he hadn’t done so.
Ed peered down. “So, we’re going to take the lead on this, and I’m going to help Stede to bed. Sound good, Stede?”
He managed a nod, and didn’t fight when Ed and Izzy helped him up and more or less dragged him to their quarters.
“Try to rest, and think of something else,” Ed said as they dropped him into bed. “Read a book, distract yourself.”
He went to the shelves, and pulled out a book on the designing of children’s funerals, and dealing with grief.
Ed frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Come on,” Izzy whispered. “Sooner we find them, sooner he’ll either be alright, or we’ll lock him in here so he doesn’t jump overboard.”
--
“Do we know what they look like?” Roach asked.
“No,” Ed replied.
“Names?”
“Alma and Louis,” Ed said.
“Anything else?”
Ed looked back to the letter. “Alma has very nice handwriting?”
The crew groaned collectively.
“None of that,” Izzy scolded. “That isn’t helping.”
“More information would be helpful too,” Frenchie said. “What do we look for otherwise?”
“It’s two kids in a boat, probably just out there floating!” Jim shouted. “The fuck else do you think we need to look for?”
“Whoa, okay,” Olu took Jim’s hand. “Good point though, there can’t be that many younger kids out for a jaunt on the sea without any parents or someone to keep an eye on them.”
Frenchie raised his hand.
“Yup,” Ed nodded. “Go on.”
“Does their mum know they’re gone?”
Silence.
Izzy opened his mouth, then shut it and looked to Ed for direction.
“Possibly,” Ed finally said. “They didn’t say in the letter.”
“So in other words, their mum and her boyfriend might also be out there?”
Ed pondered it in a silent panic. “Yeah. Yeah, they might be.”
“Actually then, we’re looking for four people,” Frenchie said. “Good to know. Really hope we don’t accidentally find them by running over their dinghies.”
“I know we’re all probably a little scared for all of them,” Olu said. “But we need to keep our shit together. Stede’s lost his enough for all of us, frankly.”
“They are his kids,” Ed said sharply. “Though I wonder about the oldest one. Why didn’t he go with?”
“Isn’t the daughter the oldest?” Olu asked.
“Thought so, but before he came back I went snooping through his things,” Ed said. “And there’s a mention of a son, Allamby. He’s the first kid listed on anything that mentioned his family.”
“Could be he’s old enough that he didn’t want to go,” Roach offered.
“Then why not stop the other two?” Frenchie asked. “They’d tell an older sibling at least before they left. I would, were it me. Brother won’t necessarily yell at you about it, even if he doesn’t like it, and he could have been the one to give them money too.”
“We’re wasting time,” Wee John said. “Let’s get to actually looking for them, and then we can ask them about all of this.”
“Capital idea,” Ed declared. “All hands then, let’s get the show on the road.”
“At least we know they’ll be dressed fancy, if they’re that much like Stede,” Frenchie murmured to Wee John. “Could spot a bright silk from a mile away.”
--
The first three days were fruitless. Stede ate when food was brought to him, drank when water was presented. At night, he walked the deck while the others slept, no matter how much Ed protested. He argued that he slept enough during the days to distract himself from the worst possibilities, the least he could was take the night watch to see if they might be spotted then.
On day four, Ed joined him.
“Can I ask you something?”
Stede nodded, still looking out into the dark at the far end of the deck. The sea was calm, and the moon bright. Perfect conditions to find one’s missing children.
“Why didn’t their older brother go with?”
Stede turned. “Alma is our oldest.”
“Who is Allamby then? I may have peeked at some of your stuff before you came back, and-”
Stede shook his head. “I sort of wish you hadn’t.”
“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have,” Ed said, and took Stede’s hand, reassured when he grasped back tightly. “I won’t again, not without your permission.”
“No, it isn’t the biggest deal in the world,” Stede sighed. “Allamby was our actual first. But he passed a few years ago.”
“When?”
Stede sighed again. “1715.”
“That’s only two years ago,” Ed scoffed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He’s gone and buried,” Stede replied. “What would there be to tell?”
“I’d imagine a lot,” Ed said softly. “How old was he?”
“Five,” Stede said, with another squeeze of Ed’s hand. “Very sweet. Liked picking flowers with me, to bring home to Mary. Wanted to study flowers, actually. Told me how he’d like to discover new ones, and he could name them after all of us.”
“Ambitious,” Ed laughed. “All that at five?”
“He had a plan for almost all of it,” Stede chuckled. “Didn’t really have any idea of how he’d make money to live of course, but truthfully I would have happily paid his way until he was on his feet. And even then, if ever he needed anything, all he would have had to do was ask.”
“What about playing pirate?”
Stede grinned, and finally turned to face Ed. “He loved it. Insisted we go down to the beach to play, the house wasn’t where a pirate would live! We’d walk down and he’d talk about everything involved with it: what weapons he’d use, what he’d most like to have as loot, even how he’d decorate his ship.”
“Flowers?”
“Lots of them. Painted on the walls, on the hull. Didn’t mind that it would mean repainting often. It was a worthy effort to him.”
He leaned into Ed, and Ed slipped his hand from Stede’s to wrap it around his waist instead.
“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Stede again looked to the sea. It was empty as it had been before.
“We don’t really know. He went to bed as usual, after two extra bedtime stories no less, and the next morning,” Stede’s voice caught in his throat. “He didn’t wake up. We thought he was having a lie in, since he did on occasion. Gave him an extra half hour to sleep or play in his room, whatever he was up to. Then Mary asked that I go up and bring him down for a late breakfast.”
Ed reached with his free hand to wipe a tear off Stede’s cheek as it fell. “Stede, if you want to stop-”
“No, he deserves to be known about,” Stede choked. “After we chose to not tell Alma or Louis about him, at least for now. That leaves only me and Mary and our parents, but they never did like him much. Too much like me, I suppose.”
He took a deep shaking breath. “I went up to get him. And it seemed awfully quiet, but he could sleep deeply. He’d played hard the day before too, all day at the beach, being the best pirate he could be!”
Stede smiled. “He would have loved it out here. I’m sure of it. Not that Mary would have wanted him out here either, but maybe when he was older, she would have...well. I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”
Ed nodded and tried to hold him tighter.
“I just thought he was sleeping deeply again,” Stede said. “He looked fine. Out cold, but fine. No blue in his lips, no gray on his skin. Not at that point, at least. But I couldn’t rouse him.”
Ed didn’t say a word, and waited for Stede.
“It was ridiculous, sitting on his bed, trying to shake him awake. Even went and got a glass of water and poured it over him, the poor thing!” Stede was openly crying now. His eyes hadn’t left the glassy water that surrounded them. “How he would have shouted any other morning if I’d done that! And it would have been deserved!”
Stede wiped away his tears, but they fell as fast as he could remove them. “Felt his forehead, expected a fever. He was cold.”
There was no wind, and the night was cool but not enough to chill. Stede shivered nonetheless.
“I picked him up and ran downstairs and called for Mary and to send for the doctor, or whoever could come by quickest that had any knowledge that might help,” Stede continued. “She knew before I did. Accepted it before I did, more like. She’d warned me before we tried for children, that there was always risk. They could die in childbirth and take her with them. Could have a horrid accident. Could be sick enough to die. Could simply die while in their cot, as a baby.”
He took a gasping breath. “But not at that age. Far too old to be a cot death. But it didn’t matter. Mary waited for the doctor at the door, and I stayed with him. Held him until the doctor made me let go.”
“And Mary?”
“Devastated as I was, but she didn’t fall apart like me until the burial. I think it really hit then. We spent days in the house, not eating, not sleeping. We talked once about what if we went to his grave and checked. Maybe he was really alright, and what if we’d buried him alive?! He’d be scared and want us and he’d think we had abandoned him.”
Ed gently prompted him to walk, to try and get him to their quarters or anywhere that he couldn’t watch the waves. At least for a few moments.
But Stede didn’t move an inch. “We nearly did it, too. Mary borrowed some of my old things, so she could move more easily. We were at the door, shovels in hand, and then we realized what we were doing.”
He sobbed. “And it would be pointless. He’d be as pale and lifeless as he’d been at his wake, in his coffin.”
It was by some grace that Izzy came out of his room, headed for the galley. At seeing them, he changed direction and strode over.
“Did we find them?” he asked Ed in a whisper.
“No,” Ed whispered back. “Could you help me get him to our quarters? I can take over the rest of the night watch.”
“You stay with him,” Izzy said. “I can do it. It’ll be nearly light before we know it anyway.”
With a bit more prompting and gentle pulling, they got Stede to walk away from the rail of the deck.
--
“Got something!” Frenchie called from the crow’s nest. “Small vessel, not close enough to see all who’s in it though!”
“Dinghy is ready,” Izzy said as he jogged past Ed towards it. “Roach?”
“On my way,” Roach hustled up behind him, kit of medicines and bandages and everything else in one hand. In the other was a small bag. “Got sandwiches and some jars of water in here. No offense to them, but I can’t imagine kids can estimate how much they’d need...”
“We fuck that up often enough ourselves,” Ed said. “And we’re old enough to know better.”
“And yet,” Izzy sighed, but it had no teeth behind it.
Ed tried to get a better look at the dinghy as they slowly made their approach. “I still can’t tell...looks empty.”
As they made their way beside it, he saw he was right. Still a jug of water and a basket of oranges, set by two daggers. But otherwise, empty.
“Fuck,” Izzy said softly. “Maybe they abandoned it and went ashore somewhere?”
“Why would they leave their supplies?” Roach asked.
Before any one of them could speculate, there was a ripple in the water.
Ed felt a hand grasp his at the edge of the dinghy.
Then, a face. “Oh shit! Louis, come back up!”
They watched as Alma dove back underwater and brought Louis up, a fish in his hands. “I caught one! Can we really stop somewhere to cook it and eat it? Can we go now?”
“No!” Alma looked over fearfully to them as she pushed Louis into their dinghy. “We don’t have anything you’d want! We’re looking for our dad, and he’s a pirate! Most fearsome to sail the sea, so if you’re planning to rob or kill us...”
She paused, clearly out of breath from swimming and panic. “Well, I would reconsider it!”
Izzy smiled, then broke into laughter. “Yeah, these are his. Fucking fuck, Bonnet.”
“You know him!” Alma pulled herself into their vessel, and moved her wet hair out of her eyes. “Where is he?”
“We sail with him,” Ed replied. “And he’s been a mess looking for you two, after he got your letter.”
“Told you he’d meet us halfway,” Louis said. “I told you!”
“Oh shut up,” Alma sighed. “Sorry about him, but he’s always like this, I should warn you-”
“I’m not like anything! I’m being polite and I was even going to offer to share my fish with them!”
“How about we tow you back with us, and then we’ll see about the fish,” Roach smiled. “I’m our chef and surgeon, so maybe you could help me cook it.”
Louis grinned, and set the dead fish on the bottom of the boat to hand over the rope tied to the dinghy.
“Curious,” Ed said as they started the trip back. “Did you two steal this?”
“Of course we did,” Alma scoffed. “We’re pirates.”
Izzy was still having giggle fits, even as he rowed. “Yes, yes you are.”
--
“Dad, ow. Dad! Help!” Louis cried out as Stede picked him up in a bear hug.
“Okay, let’s not suffocate him, metaphorically or literally,” Lucius said as he rushed over. “Hi! Your dad really missed you.”
“I can tell,” Louis said, voice muffled with his face jammed into Stede’s silk waistcoat.
“I was so worried about you,” Stede said as he finally set poor Louis down. “Did you tell your mother that you left?”
“I left her a note,” Alma said, then backed up as Stede moved for her. “Dad, I’m too big to pick up, Dad!”
He did all the same. “And look at you! Sailing in that dress! How on earth did you manage that?”
“You get used to it,” Alma said. “You’re squishing my lungs, I think.”
“Sorry,” Stede set her back on her feet. “I just. I thought you two were dead, and I had no idea how I’d tell your mother or what I’d do; it isn’t as if I’m likely to have any more children and...”
“Dad, you don’t have to cry,” Alma said, but she wrapped her arms around him and nestled her head into his neck.
“I’m hungry,” Louis said. “Mr. Roach, can we go cook my fish?”
“Yeah buddy, we can,” Roach replied. “Ed, if Stede’s looking for him-”
“I’ll let him know,” Ed interrupted gently, brushing away a tear of his own. “Let us know when dinner’s ready, hm?”
“Of course.”
The rest of the crew kept on with their various chores, but all of them stayed on the main deck, watching Stede lead Alma around to show her the ship. In return, she told him how they’d left, stolen their boat, how she’d been saving her allowance to buy everything from their food to their daggers.
No one interrupted directly, but there were smiles and soft giggles all around.
Ed was the only one following after them, listening in and silently cheering at Alma’s resourcefulness. Of all the Bonnets, she seemed the one who might not need any teaching about piracy. Maybe too young, but well prepared for it all the same.
“I am...” Stede sighed happily. “Your mother wouldn’t like to hear this, but I am so proud of you both. What you did was very dangerous-”
“You’ve said that like a hundred times already,” Alma interrupted.
“I know, I know, but I’m your dad. I have to say things like that, so you’re more careful in the future.”
Alma rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Fine, then we’ll board and steal a bigger ship next time.”
“Next time!”
“That or you come back and let us come with now and then,” she said with a little happy hop.
“While that would be a lovely achievement, I think it better I arrange with your mum something that would let you two come out and sail a bit,” Stede said. “If my co-captain is agreeable to it.”
He peered back to Ed with a hopeful smile.
“Absolutely! Say, how good are you two with those daggers?”
Alma blushed. “We aren’t. We didn’t get to practice before we left, and we’ve only used fake swords before.”
“Then I say we get you some lessons on knives with Jim before we take you two home,” Ed said.
“Which is Jim?”
He pointed out Jim, currently winning a knife-throwing contest against Frenchie and Wee John, with the Swede keeping score.
“Whoa,” Alma breathed out as Jim made their best throw yet. “Can I learn how to do that?”
“Jim can teach you that, and I’ll teach you how to take out an eyeball with a dagger, how about that?”
Her eyes shone. “Really?”
He looked to Stede, who chuckled. “I suppose. Better earlier than later, if you’re really going to be a pirate.”
She cheered and rushed away to Jim. They watched her tug on Jim’s coat, mouth moving a mile a minute as she pointed to Jim’s knife.
Jim looked back to them, seemingly waiting for permission.
Stede gave them a nod, and immediately Jim knelt down and handed Alma their knife, showing her how to hold it before tossing it.
“Think Mary’s still going to kill you?” Ed asked.
“Maybe not. Once we bring them back and work something out properly, and I’m sure they’ll need to promise not to run off on their own again. She might show mercy on me then.”
Stede leaned into him, arm at his waist, and they watched the rest of the knife throwing lesson in a contented silence.
--
“Roach said I did the best job he’s ever seen,” Louis told Stede proudly as they sat down to dinner. His fish was too small to share with everyone, but a portion were on his and Alma’s plates. “I bet I could learn how to be a ship’s chef from him.”
“He’s our surgeon too,” Stede said. “That means learning about bodies and blood and guts!”
Louis grinned. “Cool.”
“They get that from Mary,” Stede told Ed, sitting a spot away from him beside Alma. “She’s got an iron stomach.”
“You’re getting better with that,” Ed said. “Sometimes you just need to be around it more to get used to it.”
“Jim taught me how to throw a knife,” Alma leaned past Stede to Louis. “And Ed’s gonna teach me how to take out an eyeball!”
“Ew,” Louis giggled. “Can I learn too?”
Ed smiled warmly. “Stede, I love them. They’re awesome. I had never really thought about kids-”
“Is Ed like our stepdad like Doug?” Louis interrupted.
Stede looked to Ed with a chuckle. “Well, Doug said you two sort of decided if he was or not. What do you think about Ed?”
“Makes sense he would be,” Alma replied. “Cause Doug teaches us how to paint, and now Ed’s gonna be teaching us stuff too. Plus he’s dating you.”
They both blinked. They’d not so much as kissed in front of them yet.
“How do you know that?” Stede asked.
“I have eyes,” Alma said. “And you two act the way Mum and Doug do. You make eyes at each other.”
“I suppose we do,” Stede blushed.
“You’re literally doing it right now,” Alma said, and looked across the table to Jim. “Do they do this all the time?”
“Yes,” came a chorus of voices.
“We aren’t that bad,” Ed said.
“I bet they kiss like all the time,” Louis said.
“They do,” Izzy stage-whispered from his spot by Jim. “And hold hands, and-”
Alma and Louis broke into giggles, cutting him off.
“Alright, we have a decent feast tonight!” Roach announced as he finished setting down the last dish, covered by a high metal dome. “Hard tack, a stew that I think finally everyone will like, and-”
He lifted the dome off the dish. “Thanks to Alma and Louis, we had more than enough oranges for a cake!”
Louis turned to Stede, mouth open to speak.
“One piece for tonight,” Stede said before he could get out a word.
“Okay, but-”
“Stew first, then cake. It’ll taste better that way.”
Louis nodded. “And my fish before the stew!”
“Of course,” Stede said.
Dishes were passed from hand to hand, until plates were full. Everyone dug in, but Stede took the opportunity to take it all in.
Maybe, now and again, he could have both. His family at sea, and some of his family on land, together.
If he saved some cake for Mary, she’d be potentially more likely to say yes, and he made a mental note to set enough aside for her and Doug.
And maybe one extra piece, for Alma and Louis to share before bed.
#text post#ofmd fic#aka the fic of stede holy shit control ur mini pirates lmao#tho if I ever write a follow up to this mary is probably gonna be pissed but also like I should have expected this djslkafjsal#fkn kids man#on the plus side tho when they do sail with him they've got a sort of second stepdad in Ed (and stepdad Doug on land of course)#and a bunch of adopted aunts and uncles who are gonna spoil them rotten and also teach them shit like how to skin a man#ya know the stuff you need to know around that age lmaoo#tw child death
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beckoning, beckoning...
This blog, as you can probably see, is an RP blog for Johanna Barker of Sweeney Todd. I’ll also reblog both posts specifically about canon & posts I associate with Johanna.
Due to this being a sideblog, follows/likes/asks/etc. will come from my main. If I send an ask in-character, it will be on anon and signed with my username.
Ind. & semi-selective
I prefer not to do roleplay threads on Tumblr — add me on Discord at werewiire#8094 instead if you're interested or just want to chat. However roleplaying via Tumblr is fine too if for whatever reason you can’t use Discord. :)
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I headcanon Jo as a lesbian & don’t ship her with anyone in particular. However, I’m open to other interpretations & ships as long as it’s all consensual, legal, & sane.
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Character Bios
[ pre-canon and during canon ] and [ post-canon ]
about the mun
My main is @werewiire . I also run a R.M. Renfield rp blog, @themasterssong .
My name is Quincey (he/him).
Apologies for any less-than-beautiful formatting, I usually post from mobile and therefore can’t make this blog as pretty as other RP blogs.
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I try to tag triggering content, but I may not be perfect, so please be warned. If you want me to tag other things, please let me know and I'll try my best. Triggers will be tagged as “[trigger] tw” — for example, #blood tw. In general, due to the nature of the character and source, expect mentions of trauma, child abuse, grooming, and blood, although all will still be tagged.
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hi!! i looked in your fic rec MP and i didn't see it, so i thought I'd ask. i read In Vogue recently and LOVED it and then I've been binging project runway episodes (bc why not) and now I'm craving good fashion fics. maybe even a project runway one. have you read any good ones? and could you maybe rec some?
Hi sweetheart. Ohhh, I love that fic. And yes, I’ve got a few that have to do with fashion.
In Vogue by otpwhatever / @thecelineharry (M, 121K) This one is just….so much. The intensity of the characters, the crazy hot smut (oh god, the window scene), the FASHION, the angst (I had to take a walk around the block after reading it), the epic love story between two men who could rule the world if they could just figure their shit out. The fic has been deleted, but the link is to a download.
These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity (M, 31K) This author has written so many great fics and this one is really lovely. I also always like when one of the boys is not what he seems to be on first glance. There’s also a second part, told from Harry’s POV.
Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (M, 20K) the characterizations and set up for this fic are sharp and funny, making this a really fun read. Plus there’s a lot of talk of Louis worshipping Harry’s thighs. LOL!
Fading by tothemoonmydear (M, 202K) Let me start by asking you to please read the tags on this one. It’s a very well-written fic, but it deals very graphically with Louis’ character’s eating disorder. At the time it was written some people felt it did not portray ED recovery accurately, so if the subject is at all triggering for you, please don’t read this one. Of that’s not an issue for you, make sure you have tissues ready because I ugly cried through almost all of this. I read it years ago and loved it at the time, but it’s not one I could handle reading twice.
sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint (E, 27K) I read this ages ago and my notes only say that it was “sweet and sexy”, which is not terribly helpful. But this author is a good one, in general, so I feel safe including it here.
The rest of these were suggested by @cuethetommo who generally likes the same sort of fics I do. I either haven’t read these, or don’t remember enough about them to have an opinion! 😆 But I trust her.
Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn (M, 15K)
"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."
The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.
Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)
you pull me in by yoursongonmyheart (NR, 7K)
“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.
He’s going to kill them.
He’s really going to kill them.
Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.
“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.
“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.
------
//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.
This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is by LittleLostPieces (E, 15K)
Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing. And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn't what Louis is looking for in a potential partner. That’s all. He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes. His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants. They're not. Really.
swimming in a champagne sea by delsicle (E, 17K)
Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.
An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter
Life at Shutter Speed by zarah5 (E, 20K)
AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.
Special Topping by LoadedGunn (E, 20K)
'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.
Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.
Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"
Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.
everywhere (i want to be with you) by itiswhatisbutterfly (E, 42K)
Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.
Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.
Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen (E, 77K)
“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”
“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.
“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.
“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”
“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”
“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”
“Ok. Go.”
[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]
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Hi! That answer did help 😅 also, regarding if you should put a warning for cheating, personally I like to know what I’m gonna be getting into when I read fics just in case something in there is triggering. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read a fic that didn’t put tags/warnings (things like cheating, death, eds, assault, etc.) and I ended up not finishing it or not liking it anymore.
But it also depends on what you consider cheating, I think a general consensus of it is kissing, sexting, and actually having sex. But some people, maybe even you, may consider him being with someone not too long after the breakup, cheating 🤷🏻♀️ or some, like myself, may believe flirting with people while in a relationship is cheating (bc why would you deliberately disrespect your relationship and make the person you’re flirting with believe they can take the spot as your partner or that you guys aren’t “serious” you know 😅) I hope all that made sense and maybe helped you?? 😭
anonie you’re so right, what’s considered cheating is for sure different for everybody! i don’t personally consider being with someone else right after a breakup cheating, but i feel like we can say cheating itself can be so broad that it’s different for everyone.
i’ll be honest, i haven’t been on tumblr, read or written fic’s for almost 4 years, at that time putting tw’s wasn’t really a thing. we’d put warnings if there was sex, violence, ED’s, or whatnot. i don’t remember warnings if there was cheating, or if one of the characters had died. of course, that’s just from my remembrance as a fic writer i’m sure there was some exceptions, it just wasn’t as common at least from what i’ve experienced! i’m learning as i’m on here more about the different tw tags! i’m educating myself more as to not hurt anyone with my ignorance. thank you for being willing to share with me! i understand the importance of tw’s and i know how much people rely on them, definitely wouldn’t want to let anyone down!
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Cramped
Fandom: IT
Characters: Eddie/Richie
Anonymous said: if ur cool writing for them, maybe reddie and the sort of “i know you love this” teasing?
A/N: I’ve written at least three unfinished IT fics the past few months and I can never seem to finish them, so I’m so happy I finally did and I really hope you like it!!
Words: 739
The summer they turned 20 they went on a road trip, just the two of them, cramped up in a way too small car that had to bear witness to many quarrels just two days into the trip. They’d claimed this would be the only time they would do something like this together, as the rest of the losers would inevitably want to tag along if they did this after turning 21. Eddie had briefly wondered if either of them would be alive to see that birthday, as he was rather certain they would kill each other before the month of June ended.
“Eyes on the fucking road, Rich!” he said at least a hundred times a day, and Richie rolled his eyes each time and let go of Eddie’s knee which made Eddie a bit sad, but he never said anything about it.
Sometimes the cramped space did them favors, though, when they’d parked somewhere for the night after failing at finding a motel or the likes. Eddie always expected them to fight about it. For Richie to accuse Eddie of not knowing how to read a fucking map, for Eddie to claim Richie had missed like three fucking turns. But it was always the most disastrous situations with the most uncertain outcomes that brought them closer. Maybe Eddie would’ve pondered that more had he wanted to ruin his own life.
“Well, this is cozy,” Richie said, having folded down the car seats so that they could sleep semi comfortably. Eddie would never admit it, but it bothered him that they couldn’t touch as easily with this setup. At motels they could at least push the beds together.
“I guess,” he replied, staring at the street light just outside the window that would probably become a problem. “You sure we can’t park closer to the woods?”
“Uh, and get murdered in our sleep? No thank you.”
“I didn’t take you for a wuss.”
Richie’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m not. Take that back.”
“If you show me you’re not afraid to park in the woods I will.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Okay, well, then you’re a-”
“Don’t say it, Ed.”
Eddie poked him in the ribs. “Wuss.”
“Okay, that’s it!”
But Eddie was quicker, knowing exactly how to maneuver Richie in this cramped up space. One knee between Richie’s legs, one hand holding down one of Richie’s wrists while the other tickled the skin just beside the trapped limb. Unable to move properly and not being able to reach Eddie’s offending fingers with his other hand, Richie was left a blabbering mess. It was funny. After all these years Richie always claimed to be the tickle king between the two when they both knew Eddie could turn the tables in two seconds if he wanted.
Partly because Richie was scared of triggering his asthma, but whatever.
“I know you love this,” Eddie said with a grin and Richie groaned, unused to embarrassment and very bad at handling it. “Maybe I’ll stop if you admit it.”
He could feel the car shaking a bit with Richie’s increasing efforts to get away. Eddie blushed only a little bit at the thought of what this could look like if anyone saw them, but his sudden fear was bigger and he heaved himself off of his boyfriend before Richie had even started laughing. Richie must’ve known something was wrong, then, because Eddie never stopped before he got him laughing.
“Eds?”
“We should sleep.”
“You were right.”
“Huh?”
Pink tinted Richie’s cheeks, but he didn’t look away when he said, “I do love it.”
“Oh.” Eddie had to grin at it. “Well, took you long enough to admit it.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Hey, hey, no, I’m sorry. Look at me.” Richie did, his blush growing by the second. “I’m glad you told me.”
“Well, I figured it was time,” Richie said with a shrug, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “So.”
“So?”
“So do I have to now ask you to continue or will you show me some fucking mercy?”
Eddie let out a laugh which would very soon mingle with Richie’s surprised one when he reached over to squeeze his thigh. “You big baby.”
“Shut up- shit!”
“Oh, be quiet, I know you love it.”
It was only then that Eddie realized that Richie had confessed in order to distract Eddie from the fear that refused to leave him be. He appreciated it.
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BTS Reaction || Losing Weight [TW]
A/N: Before this started please remember that you are all beautiful in every way possible. Everyone comes in different shapes and sizes and you should love yourself for you!! In the wise wise words of Rupaul, Love yourself first cause if you can’t love yourself how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else! THAT BEING SAID! I love you all!!! Again no one will be tagged because I don’t want to upset anyone.
WARNINGS: Mentions of bad weight lost habits, diet pills, negative thoughts about S/O and mentions of ED please don’t read if you are triggered by any of those things
Seokjin:
Jin hadn't noticed until it was too late until you were pale and were getting sick far too often for anything to be a coincidence anymore. You were starting to get tired quicker from the smallest of things, running up the stairs resulted in you holding your knees and trying to catch your breath, a common cold was currently making you feel as though you needed to be hospitalised because your body wasn't fighting the bug off. It didn't have the energy to do so and your immune system wasn't healthy enough.
"Baby, we should take you to the doctor." He whispered as he sat beside you on the bed, he took off the wet cloth he'd applied two hours ago and replaced it with a cold wet one to try and keep your temperature down.
"I'm fine Jin, it's just a bug." He stared at you as you tried to sit up in the bed but failed to do so,
"A bug that took me three days to kick-off, you've been this way for a week." You rolled your eyes at him and shivered, he wrapped the duvet around you and shook his head at you.
"You have to see someone," You looked up at him and you could tell he was really worried but it was just your new diet plan...Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. It was the new fasting diet plan you were trying out but no one had told you that since you weren't used to it your body would react poorly.
"You're not eating enough." He commented as he looked at the plate of half-eaten food beside the bed.
"It's not my eating time, I can't-"
"I don't want to hear that anymore, if you want to go on a diet we will go on a better and healthier one together but for now I want you to eat and get better." He didn't snap at you but you knew he meant what he was saying, he was red in the face kind of like he was whenever he yelled at one of the younger members when they did something bad or something he didn't like.
"Jin-"
"Please, it's killing me to see you like this. You're perfect in every way to me." You stared at him as he went on to list everything he loved about you,
"Your personality made me fall for you but then you, your positivity it made me fall harder. I thought you loved the skin you were in?" You looked down at your hands, you were losing the weight faster than you intended and you were only looking to tone your body.
"I do I just- I wanted to tone up and look good for you." He groaned laying his head on your shoulder and then pulling your hand to his lips, leaving a small kiss on the top of it.
"You always look good for me, you could walk into my room in a bin bag and messy hair and you would look good." You stared at him from the corner of your eye and then looked at yourself in the mirror beside the bed. He was right, you knew he was right he was Jin he was always right.
"I'm sorry, I promise I'll come off the stupid diet and eat properly," He nodded and looked up at you,
"We can start joining Jungkookie in the gym if you want." You nodded as you yawned out and closed your eyes feeling tired thanks to the painkillers the doctor had put you on for the cold.
Yoongi:
"Painkillers?" Yoongi asked when he woke up the next morning with a hangover from the night before. You'd all gone out drinking to celebrate his D-2 release and it ended up turning into an afterparty back at your apartment where you both promptly passed out in your shared apartment bed.
"Top shelf of the bathroom cabinet." You mumbled into the pillow not having the energy to go and get them for him, you felt the bed shift and then you heard the door so you knew he'd gone for himself.
"Can you get me some too?" You called out as you sat up in the bed, you stared at the mattress in front of you holding your head and trying not to fall over. The room still felt as though it was spinning and you were going to vomit at any moment.
"Sure, which bottle-" He cut himself off when he poured the contents of what said painkillers into his hand, but inside were little red pills. He knew them anywhere, he'd seen other idols taking them before.
"What did you say?" You looked up to see him standing in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom holding a handful of the pills in front of you. You gulped and he waited for an explanation from you,
"They're just to help me lose some weight." He stared at you waiting for you to continue but you didn't,
"How long have you been taking them?" He asked taking the ones in his hand and the ones in the bottle and dumping them into the bin.
"Yoongi!" You yelled out but he wasn't bothered he stared at you,
"Well?"
"Four weeks," He stared at you and then at the bin,
"Why?"
"I just wanted to lose a little weight," He looked you up and down and he noticed how different you looked. You were losing weight but it wasn't a healthy way to do it,
"Why the pills?" You felt like you were under interrogation so you laid back down on the bed and closed your eyes wanting him to drop the subject but he wasn't going to. The bed shifted as he got in next to you, he rolled you over so your head was laying on his thigh and he rubbed your shoulder blades.
"Do you understand why I'm being like this, do you know how dangerous they can be?! You could have been hurt and I wouldn't even know what to tell the doctor because I didn't know you were-" He stopped talking once he saw you staring up at him, you weren't in the mood for the rant he was about to do and you just wanted to sleep away the hangover.
"There are healthier ways of losing weight." He whispered and you nodded in agreement with him, you knew there were better and healthier ways then what you were doing but nothing worked quite as much as they did.
"They stop me snacking." He glared at you as you tried to defend your actions,
"They also can raise your blood pressure to high levels. You knew he was doing this for your own good but you still hated how right he was about it all, he laid down with you and kissed your forehead.
"We'll start working out together if you want to lose weight, you can come with me to the gym."
"You hate me watching you work out."
"I'll make an exception." He whispered to you but you nodded in agreement with him, working out with Yoongi did seem like a good idea.
Hoseok:
It wasn't Hoseok that had noticed what was happening with you at first, it was Army. Your relationship with Hobi had been out in the open for the last year and they adored you, you would keep them updated on anything and everything you were allowed to. Always checking with Hoseok first though in case you weren't supposed to tell them something like the time you almost leaked Hope World to everyone who followed you. Army was starting to worry about you though, with every new picture you posted to Instagram you were starting to look skinner and you had stated you were trying to lose weight but this seemed too fast to everyone that was following you so they started to call you out on it. You ignored the comments but Hoseok who had a private account saw the comments and started to notice himself that you were losing too much too fast.
"Hey baby, did you enjoy lunch?" He asked one day when he came in from work, you rolled up the yoga mat you'd been using to work out on and nodded.
"It was lovely, thank you Hobi." He stared at the back of your head, you were lying and he only knew that because he hadn't made you lunch that day to try and trip you up on it.
"It's funny though, well not funny but weird..." You turned to look at him with a frown, he dropped his bag onto the floor and watched as you put your work out things away.
"I didn't make you lunch today." You felt your stomach sink as you realised he was catching on to what you were doing,
"I just skip lunch Hobi, that's all." He hummed and followed you into the kitchen,
"Did you have breakfast?" You stared at him from across the kitchen and he knew then that you didn't, you were never good at lying and especially to your boyfriend Hoseok.
"Why?" You looked down at the floor trying not to cry over something like this, it was something you dealt with a lot and so did other people but it didn't make the subject easy to talk about.
"I don't like the way I look Hobi..." He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, he knew there was nothing he could say in this situation to make you feel better so he did the best he could to help you.
"Losing weight this way is harmful, I know you've probably heard it all before but this is a bad way of doing it...Let me help you if you want to change." You nodded along with him and he kissed the top of your head,
"But you have to eat so your body has the nutrients it needs to help you lose weight." The rest of the night you came up with a diet plan together, something that you would feel comfortable with and then you wrote a workout plan, planning to go with him to dance practise twice a week to have a little extra workout together.
Namjoon:
The moment it became clear to Namjoon what you were doing he wanted to help you but he knew a direct approach wasn't going to work with you, you'd never been good with people coming right at you with information, you had to be shown that what was happening wasn't good. So he started by skipping meals with you just until you would notice he wasn't eating like he had with you, he stopped having breakfast like you, then lunch and that's when you picked up on it, he was sitting up in his studio at home working and you found the food you'd made him was still sitting in the fridge and he hadn't touched any of it,
"Was your food not okay?" You questioned coming into his home studio, he looked up to see the food you'd made him still in the small lunch box and he shrugged his shoulders.
"I wasn't hungry." You walked back out of the room without questioning him again and he felt bad already for doing this to you. He felt awful for not eating your food but he knew he had to make you realise this wasn't a good way to lose weight and this was the only way to get it through to you.
(X)
"You're not hungry again? Shall I call a doctor, you look pale." You panicked rushing over to Namjoon later that night, you'd offered to cook him something to eat claiming that you'd already eaten but it wasn't true and Namjoon knew that and he was upset that you'd lied to him about it.
"No, baby...Don't you see what I'm doing?" You shook your head and he groaned at you, he took your hands in his and sat you down on the chair that was in front of him.
"I know you've been skipping meals and I want to know why." You stared up at him, his eyes were tearing up and you knew he was upset over the fact that you'd been doing this to yourself,
"I was just trying to lose weight."
"Why not go onto a diet? Or work out more, you don't have to skip meals, it doesn't work." You looked at the floor, he was right and you knew that. You'd done all the research you could on losing weight and you knew what worked and what didn't but this was working for a short time,
"It'll work now but once you start eating normally again your body will retain everything and you'll build the weight back up," He'd been doing his research, he wanted to be able to talk to you about this properly he didn't want to come charging at you without any information to help you with.
"I know-"
"So why are you doing it?" You didn't have a real answer for him, you knew what you were doing wasn't going to work but it was working then and there and you wanted results fast.
"Your weight will bounce up and down while you do this...But I promise you if you want to lose weight we can do it together in a healthier way, we'll start going out on more walks? We'll-" You cut him off by kissing him on the cheek and he stared at you,
"Thanks, Namjoon, I promise I'll start looking after myself." And you meant it, you were going to take his advice and look after yourself.
Jimin:
Jimin was overjoyed when you told him you wanted to start dancing with him and it was fun at first but as time went on he began to notice something odd about you. You looked paler than usual and with every dance routine it was taking you longer and longer to recover and move onto the next one, you were out of breath and practically dying on the floor for air.
"We should take a break." He said one day looking at you panting against the mirror but you threw your hair back into a ponytail and that's when he noticed the bruises. There were small purple bruises lining your wrists and hips.
"What the fuck?!" He called out a little louder than he probably should have because Hoseok looked up from his phone on the other side of the room, you stared at him from the mirror and then noticed what he was staring at.
"You and Jimin going a little too hard at night?" Hoseok joked getting up to leave the room, he left and Jimin rushed to your side examining the bruises but they weren't from him or from the bedroom.
"I bruise easy." Which wasn't a lie, since starting the new diet you were on you had started to bruise easier than normal so he stared at you.
"What do you mean? You used to bang your legs and never have a bruise." You looked at your skin and ran your fingers along the bruises.
"I cut meat out of my diet, I'm probably just not used to it, I'll get some supplements and multivitamins." He stared at you as you went back to the stereo ready to start the next dance but he turned off the music the moment you started it and you frowned.
"Jimin what's the-" You stopped when he lifted the corners of your shirt up to reveal your stomach to him,
"What are you doing?" He sat down on the floor and pulled you into his chest, he felt awful and that he was the worst boyfriend in the world for not noticing until that point.
"What did you have for breakfast?" He asked rubbing your head,
"Nothing, I never eat breakfast." He nodded in agreement, he knew that. You hadn't eaten breakfast in the three years you'd been together so that was nothing new to him.
"What did you have fun lunch?" You pushed him away from you and stared at him,
"You were with me, what is this about?" He stared at you as he tried to remember what you'd had that day at lunch but he couldn't remember anything.
"You had coffee? A black coffee? That was your lunch?" You stared at the floor as he began to catch on to what was happening and then he forced your head up to look at him in the eyes.
"You are perfect-"
"Jimin stop," You said trying to push his hands off you but he held them steady on your head and kept your eyes trained on him.
"Listen to me, you're perfect okay? You don't need to start skipping meals or working out harder." You looked at him and he sighed he knew that you weren't going to listen to him but he wanted to be able to let you know how he felt about this.
"If you really want to lose weight, which you don't need to, I'll come up with a diet plan for us, we can do it together." You shook your head at his suggestion,
"Jimin you're hot, look at you! Your body! You're just- You're everything and I just- I want to look good enough for you." He blinked at you and then shook his head.
"You're good enough for me, fuck that, you're more than good enough for me." You began tearing up and he pulled you into his arms,
"Just promise me you'll start eating again and taking breaks, please." You promised to go back to meals and he continued to hold you on the floor while you talked about everything.
Taehyung:
You were standing in front of the mirror measuring your body and jotting them down into a notebook when Taehyung came home, you hadn't heard him come in and so he watched through the gap in the door and everything started to make sense to him. You'd stopped having breakfast and for lunch, you were having shakes that he didn't think were good for you but you continued to have anyway because they helped you. The more he thought about it the more he couldn't remember the last time you had a real meal, he snuck back down the stairs and slammed the front door.
"I'm home! Making dinner!" He yelled going straight into the kitchen and started getting things ready, you came bouncing down the staircase to him and hugged him from behind.
"I'm not hungry baby, but why don't you go and have a shower and I'll cook you something." He shook his head insisting that he would cook for the night and he wanted you to have a nice long bubble bath.
While you were in the bath and the food was cooking he snuck up to your shared bedroom to find the notebook you'd been writing in, he found it stuffed between three different books on your nightstand and he flicked through. Finding photos of you and then measurements beside it he heard the bathroom door unlock so he raced down the stairs with the notebook in his hands.
(X)
Halfway through the meal he watched you, he wanted to make sure you were at least eating something but he noticed you'd only eaten the vegetables,
"I found a book I like." He started and you looked up at him,
"What book?" He walked over to where he'd hidden your notebook and placed it in front of you tapping his fingers on the front, your eyes widened as soon as you saw the writing on the front and you swallowed hard looking back up to his face which was full of concern.
"I just want to know why." You looked back at the notebook and then back to Taehyung trying to think of something to tell him to make the situation lighter but there was nothing, you were trying to lose weight and you weren't doing in the best way.
"I wanted to-"
"I know what you wanted to do but I just want to know why this way, why not a different and healthier way?" You felt bad for the way that Taehyung was looking at you and you knew you'd hurt his feelings by doing something that could have been dangerous to you. All he wanted to do was protect you and he felt as though he was failing now, you looked at the photos in the book and then back up to Tae.
"There are better ways," He promised you taking the book and putting it into the kitchen bin beside him, you knew he was telling the truth and that there were going to be better ways to keep the weight off and still be healthier and he was going to sit and come up with a plan for you. After telling you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you and how you looked and that you only have to change if you wanted to.
Jungkook:
Everyone knew how much of a work out freak that Jungkook was, he was always at the gym and when he wasn't he was doing at home workouts and that's how it started, you started feeling insecure because of how fit your boyfriend was and you decided that you wanted to be fit with him. Jungkook hadn't noticed at first that you were losing weight dramatically, he saw you working out with him and going to the gym more but Namjoon had noticed for him and mentioned it to the maknae that it could be dangerous for you. Since then Jungkook had been keeping an eye on you, what you ate when you worked out and what you did between, he wanted to make sure you were staying healthy. You were standing in the gym together and while someone was spotting him you went onto the treadmill to go for a run, you knew how long Jungkook was on the weights because he focussed on building his body while you focused more and losing what you already had.
"Be careful," Jungkook called out to you, he'd noticed you'd skipped lunch that day and he wasn't too sure about you coming with him to the gym but he couldn't say no without making it look like he was suspecting you, he wanted to be sure that you were doing what he thought you were doing even though it was worrying him so much.
"I always am." You yelled back cranking up the speed and turning from a jog to a sprint within a couple of seconds. Jungkook kept an eye on you and noticed that you were starting to look pale and your body was swaying a little,
"I'm done." He put down the weight and rushed to your side just in time as you slipped on the belt and fell backwards off the treadmill, the machine shut down and you sat up from the floor. Jungkook cradled you in his arms and you tried to stand up,
"I'll go again." Jungkook pushed you back down into his arms and sighed at you, Namjoon was right you were going too far with it and it was starting to worry him.
"We'll go home." He helped you walk into the changing room to get you some water and to get changed,
"Kookie I'm fine I just-"
"You're not fine!" He snapped as you were alone in the changing rooms, you stared up at him he'd never been this angry with you before and it was unsettling to you.
"I've been worried sick and so has Namjoon, he noticed you were skipping meals and how much weight you were losing...Y/n, don't you see what just happened?" You looked down at the floor, you'd hoped no one had noticed that you'd skipped meals or started working out harder than you should have but someone had.
"Kookie-"
"Don't, okay? I thought that maybe Namjoon was seeing things but you just nearly passed out Y/n, don't you see how bad this is now?" You looked at him and nodded, of course you saw how bad it was.
"But I was doing well, I was losing weight." He sighed at you and took your hands into his,
"You'll only put it back on the moment you start eating again, you have to eat regularly and work out, that way your body will have the right things to burn while you're working out and you'll stay healthy...Won't pass out like you almost did in there." You nodded in agreement with him and he sighed pulling you into his arms trying to come up with some kind of diet plan for you both so you would stay healthy with him and still feel good about yourself.
#bts#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts reaction#bts reactions#kim seokjin#seokjin#seokjin x reader#jin#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi x reader#suga#jung hoseok#hoseok#hoseok x reader#kim namjoon#namjoon#namjoon x reader#park jimin#jimin#jimin x reader#kim taehyung#taehyung#taehyung x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x reader#you're all beautiful
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Overprotective
Pairing: Adam Ruzek x (female) Halstead!Reader, Will Halstead x sister!Reader, Jay Halstead x sister!Reader!
Word Count: 3003
Author’s Note: Okay I freaking love this request and this was super fun to write, hope it’s close to what you were looking for dear requester! I know you said if I wanted I could add in a loopy reader, and I did to an extent but I didn’t want to go too overboard with it because every time I’ve been given pain medicine I’ve never been that loopy from it, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to write it without it just being completely bizarre, hope you don’t mind!
Trigger Warning(s): Car accident, minor injury, overprotective older brothers, overprotective boyfriend, pain meds, talk of starting a family (i.e. talk of planned pregnancy, and even though it doesn’t go into detail and no one is actually pregnant, I know it’s a trigger for some people with tokophobia so I want to put it out there just in case because I don’t want to cause anyone any discomfort)
Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters
Summary: Y/N Halstead is the youngest Halstead sibling and her older brother’s have always been overprotective, even well into her adult years. She never minded it, but it was definitely the main reason she didn’t tell Jay that she was dating his coworker, Adam. However, when she gets in a car accident and ends up at Med, her relationship with Adam comes to light.
Y/N = Your Name
Being the youngest sibling was one thing, being the only girl was another. It caused you to be a bit of a tomboy growing up, always wanting to tag along with your brothers. You adored your older brothers and they adored you. Both of them were insanely overprotective of you as a child, and that didn’t stop even when you reached adulthood. It also caused you to be one of the most protected little girls in Chicago.
Will was always making sure you kept up on your physical health, going to the doctor when you weren’t feeling good and getting regular checkups.
Jay was always making sure that you were safe, whether it came to where you were living, where you were working, or who you were dating, he was always making sure that it was ‘safe enough’ for you.
This is part of the reason you didn’t tell Jay that you were dating his coworker, Adam. Partly because Jay didn’t think any guy was good enough for you, and partly because you knew of Adam’s track record with women. You just didn’t think Jay would be too thrilled, so you kept it quiet.
You confided in Will, which was an odd thing because usually you told both of your brothers everything and never kept something from one that you told the other.
Will told you to talk to Jay, that he would understand and that Jay only ever wanted what was best for you and for you to be happy. Which you knew was true, but regardless you were extremely worried. So that is what had you keeping your six month long relationship with a certain someone on the down low.
Until you were in an accident. It wasn’t your fault. The lady ran a red light and t-boned you.
You were taken to the hospital in an ambulance, you were insisting you were fine as you were wheeled into the ED. You’ll never forget the look on your older brother’s face when he saw you being wheeled in.
“Y/N?” Will asked worriedly as he rushed over to your side. “What happened?”
“An old lady ran a stop sign and t-boned my car.” You told him before looking at Sylvie. “Is she okay?”
Sylvie smiled at you and nodded. “She’s in the ambo behind you but she seems to be doing just fine, you got the worst of it.”
“Okay good.” You nodded some before looking at your brother. “I’m fine. My head hurts but I’m fine.”
Will shook his head some, he wanted to help you but couldn’t because of the code of conduct, so he stepped back and allowed Dr. Marcel to step in to treat you.
They gave you a shot of some kind of pain medication, you weren’t sure if it was morphine or what but it was good shit and made you feel like you were floating.
You were staring off into space when Will walked in. “Hey, you doing okay?”
“I am doing just peachy keen, dear brother.” You told him with a goofy grin on your face.
Will chuckled and shook his head at you. “Glad to hear it.” He paused and looked at you for a moment.
Your face fell as you looked at him. “You called Jay, didn’t you?”
“I had to.” Will told you. “You know he’d want to know and if I didn’t call him he’d get mad at me and I’m not having that.”
You huffed some and crossed your arms, staring at him. “This is gonna cause problems, William.”
Will laughed at you and shook his head. “It’ll be fine.”
“You know he’s gonna overreact.”
“I assured him that you were okay.” Will told you.
~~~~~
After receiving Will’s call concerning you, Jay was noticeably upset.
“Voight I gotta go, my sister was in a car accident. Will says she’s okay but I need to make sure.” Jay told him, the worry very evident on his face.
Voight just nodded, they weren’t busy with a case so he was fine with Jay going to check on his sister.
“Wait, Y/N was in an accident?” Adam asked, his ears having perked up when Jay mentioned you. “Is she okay?”
Jay gave him a bit of a confused look, not understanding why Adam was so worried about you. “Will says she is but I have to make sure.” He told him as he headed out.
Adam jumped out of his seat, turning to Voight. “I gotta go too.” He told him. “She’s my girlfriend.” He explained when Voight gave him a strange look, turning on his heel and following Jay out. “Halstead, wait! I’m going with you!” He called.
Voight shook his head. “That’s gonna cause problems.” He muttered as he turned to head into his office.
Jay stopped to look at Adam. “Why?” He asked him, not having heard Adam call you his girlfriend.
Adam stopped five feet away from him and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well, we’ve kinda been seeing each other.”
“What?” Jay asked, anger rising. “You’ve been screwing around with my little sister?” He stepped toward him.
Trudy jumped in between him and Adam. “Woah there.”
“It’s not like that!” Adam insisted quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s really not like that man.”
Jay glared at him, still angry, a fire in his eyes. “Oh? Then what is it like? Are you not sleeping with her?”
“Well, I am.” Adam started, taking a quick step back when Jay stepped forward.
“Hey!” Voight shouted at them.
“We’re not just sleeping together, I love her.” Adam told him honestly. “I really love her.”
Jay huffed and looked from Trudy to Voight before turning and storming out.
“Ruzek.” Voight called after him as he started to follow Jay out.
“I’ll fix it.” Adam told him, not stopping. “Hey man, wait.”
Jay spun to face him. “I wouldn’t come out here, no one’s here to save your ass.”
Adam shook his head. “Listen to me.” He insisted. “Please. I love her. Okay? I love her, completely and I’m not gonna hurt her.”
“You better not.” Jay told him threateningly.
“I’m not gonna.” Adam told him, not backing down. “She’s the one, man.”
Jay stopped and his expression changed some, having been taken off guard. “What?”
“She’s the one.” Adam ran a hand over his face. “I can’t lose her. If something were to happen to her, I don’t think I could live with myself.” He told him honestly. “She’s the one.”
Jay’s expression softened and he nodded slowly. “You love her that much, huh?”
Adam nodded. “I really do.”
Jay sighed and looked away for a moment. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital and make sure she’s okay.” He beckoned Adam to follow him to his truck.
Adam got in the passenger seat.
Jay got in the driver's seat and started the car, pulling out onto the street and heading towards Gaffney. “So how long have you two been together anyway?”
“Almost seven months now.” Adam told him.
Jay nodded as he drove. “She didn’t tell me.”
“She was worried about how you’d react.” Adam explained. “Given my track record and all.”
Jay huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Of course.” He rolled his eyes some. “So you really think she’s the one?”
Adam nodded. “I know she is. I can’t picture my life without her, and I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep her in it.”
~~~~~
When they got to the hospital, Jay heard you arguing with Will from outside the room. You were upset that Will bothered him, and Will was telling you about how he would want to know.
Jay walked in and wiggled your foot. “Hey brat.” He greeted you with a smile. “Heard you were in a bit of an accident.”
“I’m fine.” You insisted but smiled at him, then your eyes saw Adam waiting inside the door, you cleared your throat. “Officer Ruzek, what’re you doing here?”
“He knows, Y/N.” Adam told you.
You looked at Jay. “You know?” You waited until Jay nodded in confirmation before continuing. “And you didn’t overreact?”
“He did, but Trudy broke it up.” Adam told you. “And then I assured him that I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”
You smiled at him. “Aw, how sweet.”
“She’s a little loopy.” Will told them both. “They gave her some pain meds.”
Adam smiled as he walked over to your side. “So you doing okay?”
You nodded to him. “Uh-huh, I don’t even feel any pain anymore.”
“Good.” Adam said softly, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.
“You didn’t have to come all the way here to check on me, I know you were working.” You told him.
“We weren’t busy, plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you were okay?” Adam asked you, still holding your hand.
“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You told him, smiling droopily up at him from the bed.
Jay made a grossed out face and looked over at Will, who was smiling. Both were glad that you seemed happy, even if they were worried about who you were happy with.
“She’ll be here overnight for observation, she had a pretty nasty gash on the side of her head.” Will told Jay, but Adam caught it too.
You began to zone out and Adam nudged your upper arm lightly. “You tired, babe?”
“A little, I think it’s cause of the pain meds they gave me. They’re starting to wear off some, but I’m just so tired.” You told him, yawning after the words were out of your mouth, almost like your body wanted to prove your point for you.
“You should get some sleep.” Adam said softly.
“You should get back to work.” You told him, then looked at Jay. “Both of you should, before Voight gets pissed off.”
“He’ll be fine as long as we don’t kill each other.” Jay grinned at you.
“More like as long as your brother doesn’t kill me.” Adam chuckled a bit.
“Don’t you dare!” You pointed at Jay.
Jay chuckled. “I won’t, I actually believe that he loves you.”
You smiled some, your cheeks turning red. “Yeah, he’s such a good boyfriend. He really is.”
Adam smiled softly down at you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, making sure not to kiss you near your injury. “Get some rest, I’ll be back as soon as I can be.” He assured you softly.
You smiled tiredly up at him and nodded. “Okie dokie.”
~~~~~
Two months after the accident and you were all healed up, you and Adam were still together and getting more and more serious about each other.
Adam was out getting beers with the team, he followed Jay to the bar when he was getting a beer. “I just want you to be aware that I’m going to ask your sister to marry me tomorrow night.” He told him calmly.
“Oh okay.” Jay stopped and had to do a double take. “Wait, what?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask her. And if she says yes, then this time is gonna be different.”
Jay stared at him for a moment. “You’re actually going to ask her?”
Adam nodded again, taking a swig of his beer. “I told you two months ago that I can’t picture my life without her.”
“I remember.” Jay told him, nodding. “She’s gonna say yes.”
“I sure hope so.” Adam admitted, chuckling a bit. “I’m actually nervous.”
Jay looked at him. “Why? You’ve been engaged before.”
“Yeah, but like I said, this time is different.” Adam told him. “And what if she says no? I mean, I know she’s outta my league and that she deserves better.”
“Then be better.” Jay told him. “It’s that simple man. Be the man you think she deserves.”
Adam looked at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the man she deserves, but I’m gonna try.”
“Good.” Jay told him, nodding. “Because I’ve never seen her so happy before.”
Adam smiled. “Really?”
Jay nodded again. “Yeah, she loves you and you make her happy, it’s nice to see.”
Adam nodded some and took another swig of his beer before setting it down. “Screw it.” He said, causing Jay to look at him again. “I’m gonna do it tonight.” He headed out of the bar.
“Where’s he going?” Kevin asked, looking at Jay.
Jay shrugged. “Not sure.” He lied, knowing it wasn’t his place to tell anyone what Adam was up to.
It was a bit before ten when Adam showed up at your door, knocking insistently.
You pulled the door open and looked at him, confused. “Adam? Is everything okay? I thought you were getting drinks with the team?”
He nodded to you, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I was, but I needed to see you.”
You raised a brow. “Why?” You asked slowly, a bit worried.
“Well I was gonna do this tomorrow night at dinner, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” Adam told you, pulling something from the pocket of his jacket and briefly looking at it before dropping to one knee.
You gasp. “Adam, what’re you doing?” You asked quietly, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Y/N Halstead, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Adam asked you softly, looking up at you.
You couldn’t contain your smile as you nodded. “Yes.” You breathed out. “Yes!”
He stood up, pulling you into a hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you. The minute your feet were back on the ground he was kissing you. He pulled back and took the ring out of the box, tossing the box aside, and took your hand in his, slipping it on your finger.
You couldn’t stop smiling, tears welling in your eyes.
Adam smiled wide at you and pulled you in for another passionate kiss before pulling back. “Come on.” He said softly. “I wanna tell the world how lucky I am.”
You raised a brow.
“The team’s still at the bar and Will’s there too.” Adam told you. “I think we need to celebrate.”
You smiled and nodded some. “Okay, give me a minute to change, I am not wearing this out.” You motioned to your pajamas.
Adam chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
You hurried off to your room and quickly changed before heading out and putting your shoes on, you grabbed your coat and followed Adam out.
You walked into the bar, hand in hand, still smiling.
You immediately spotted your brothers and the two of you walked over.
“Well she said yes.” Adam told them.
Jay smiled. “I knew she would.”
“Wait, you knew?” You asked him.
“What am I missing?” Will asked, feeling left out and confused.
“Adam asked me to marry him.” You told Will, smiling wide. “And I said yes.” You turned your attention back to Jay. “So you knew?”
“He gave me a warning.” Jay told you with a slight shrug, taking a swig of his beer and beckoning Herrmann over. “I’d like to buy these two lovebirds a celebratory drink please.”
Adam ordered a beer.
“Just a sprite for me please.” You told him. “I’m designated driver tonight.”
“One drink won’t hurt.” Jay told you, trying to get you to order a drink.
You shook your head to your brother before turning to Herrmann. “Just a Sprite, please.”
Jay narrowed his eyes at you, watching you. “Is there something you two aren’t telling us?” He asked you skeptically.
Adam caught on to what he was saying and looked at you. “Babe?”
Will looked at you as well.
You laughed and shook your head. “I’m not pregnant guys, I just don’t feel like drinking, okay?”
Jay and Will both nodded and left it at that, but Adam almost seemed disappointed in your answer.
After chatting with your brothers for a bit, you pulled him to the side for a little privacy. “Hey, you seemed disappointed when I said I wasn’t pregnant.” You said softly, looking at him, you two had talked about kids very briefly and you knew he wasn’t ready to have kids yet. “I thought you wanted to wait.”
Adam shrugged some. “I don’t know, I thought I did but I got a little excited at the idea of you being pregnant.” He admitted quietly, not meeting your eyes.
You smiled softly. “Really?”
He nodded to you, finally looking at you. “I know I want a family with you, Y/N. I thought I wasn’t ready but I am, whenever you are.”
You smiled and kissed his cheek. “We’ll talk more about this when we get back to my place.”
“That’s another thing we need to talk about. We’re engaged now so I think we should live together.” Adam told you.
You paused before nodding. “Okay.”
“And my place is bigger, in case, you know, we do decide to start trying soon.” Adam added.
You smirked some. “I think you just don’t want to be the one moving.”
Adam smiled a bit. “I really like my place.”
You laughed softly and nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll move in with you.” You assured him softly, you really had no problem with moving into his place instead of yours, he was right when he said it was bigger, and it was closer to where he worked and actually to where you worked too, so it only made sense.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you back towards your brothers, who had been joined by Hailey and Kevin. Adam smiled at them. “So guess who’s getting married.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Kevin teased him, chuckling but putting his hand out to shake Adam’s hand. “Congrats, man.”
Adam shook his hand, still smiling. “Thank you.”
Hailey hugged you. “Congratulations.” She told you with a smile.
“Thanks.” You had never felt happier than you did in that moment.
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Have you ever dealt with food-restriction or ED or whatever?
I really debated answering this one. I understand that it's a sensitive topic for a lot of people, and I do go into some personal details with my struggles, so I'm going to put most of that under a cut.
I know a lot of blogs have something like "we do not stan ED in this house" and that's the extent of their address on the topic and some get pretty angry if anyone even mentions ED around them. I get it, it's a triggering topic and it can be unhealthy and maybe hearing about it or seeing it or whatever pushes someone (back) into bad habits. I understand all that. In my opinion though, shutting down the topic is problematic. I believe that destigmatization saves lives--and not just for ED. Making it a dirty little secret and something one feels ashamed of talking about or struggling with creates more problems. It doesn't go away just because someone feels they cannot talk about it. I'm on the side of destigmatization--where "how are you" is an actual question rather than a casual greeting where "good" or "great" are the only acceptable answers. No--it's supposed to be a question and we shouldn't have to feel ashamed when we are going through crap. Maybe neither party has time to get into it then and there and maybe the other party isn't comfortable/or the right person to go to with those particular issues...but "how are you" is supposed to be a genuine question, not a greeting.
Short answer to whether or not I've dealt with food-restriction or ED: yes.
I don't want to invite drama onto my blog with this...but I think it's time I said something on the topic. For one, I'm sick of how people go "we don't stan ana on this blog--GTFO" and leave the discussion at that. I don't think that is healthy. People that actually struggle with EDs and Ana maybe want to get help...but professional/formal help is not always accessible and not necessarily always the right tool for what they are going through in that moment. I understand that EDs are unhealthy and I am not trying to glorify them...but I want to say that I care about the people struggling with the stuff and I admire their resilience. There's enough shaming going on around the world and I'm not going to dish it out to someone struggling with an ED. I'm not going to make it out to be something that's taboo to talk about like it's some dirty little secret. I want to de-stigmatize it. I want a world where someone can be like, "I struggle with food/eating and I had a setback last night" and those of us listening can be like, "Alright. Is there something you need/want me to do with that information? How can I help?" Currently, I see a lot of, "Shh! That's a triggering topic! Do you want to set off all the other ED suffer-ers in here?! Don't talk about that noise!" even in my IRL friend groups and I think it's just sad. These are the same friends that are constantly reblogging, "It's okay to not be okay" and “I’m a safe person to tell stuff to” stuff but clearly they don't believe that.
The way I see it, living with EDs is like living with a pet alligator. It was once small and cute and early on maybe you made one choice: you chose to keep it. Great...well, now it's grown and it's a problem and you don't know what to do with a full-grown alligator that eyes you like you're it's next meal. Who do you talk to when everyone shuts you down and maybe there isn't an "animal control" number you can reach out to because it's expensive or it doesn't exist in your area or they're so over-booked that you'll be alligator-chum before they get to you? That's how I see ED. It's terrifying but it's still 'your' pet alligator, even if you feel more like it's pet human at times.
Onto the personal aspects.
I've never been officially diagnosed with an ED and I don't believe I've ever done something that's extremely dangerous on this front. That being said I have (and sometimes still do) struggle with intrusive thoughts about my body.
I'm "average" sized...maybe on the bigger side of average in North America...however, there's a different standard in Asian culture. Like the "Asian F". I was always told I was supposed to be smaller. I was supposed to be no more than 5'3, no more than 110lbs, have a bust no bigger than 34C, and be able to fit into anything marketed to teens and up. Yeah...I'm none of that.
I'm going to try not to rant and get angry and upset...so here goes, take 7 on trying to answer this.
I grew up surrounded by judgmental adults. I eat and I'm fat; I refuse to eat or eat less and I'm exhibiting worrisome behavior. My take away: I bring dishonour on my cow no matter what I do. Sure, there are those that'll be like, "they'll judge me whether I eat or not so I may as well eat some good food"...yeah...that's not me. Choosing to skip the meal and the company entirely is the only way I feel/felt like I 'win'...but as a child that wasn't an option.
I mostly ate alone in University, but my brain filled in for the silence of judgmental comments. If I ate my whole lunch in one sitting I'd get upset with myself. I'd pack smaller portions and I'd be aware they were smaller, but I'd still be upset with myself for finishing it...or even finishing it and still being hungry. If I caved and bought a sugary drink or a snack or something because it looked good, I'd scold myself for using up the food budget as well as the calories budget. I used to break apart individual cookies--one cookie would take 3-4 sittings/days for me to allow myself to finish because I'd only allow myself two fractured pieces at a time. Some days, i.e. weekends, I'd intentionally skip a meal or two and rationalize that I was simply indulging in kink and that I'd eat later. I always did end up eating later and going about my life as normal. "Fasting once in a while is supposed to be healthy", I'd tell myself...but I won't deny that there was some part of me that would tell me that every skipped meal and calorie ignored was gradually working toward shrinking my body.
Despite how it sounds, I wasn't actually doing noticable damage to my body. Physically, I was within the realm of healthy...maybe on the bigger side of average and definitely not mentally sound...but my body was fine. My body didn't change--I didn't gain or lose weight. I ate...I just felt bad about it and beat myself up about it. In retrospect, it was a heck of a lot of mental anguish I did to myself with nothing to show for it.
Life after University is pretty stressful. Stress doesn't agree with my tummy so I got (and still get) frequent upset stomachs. I've become pretty conscious of eating and how my stomach feels so I end up being careful to eat less so that there is less to upset my tummy. I do it because an upset stomach is inconvenient...but I do enjoy the fact that it seems I have lost a little weight. Losing weight isn't a big part of my rational though. My coworkers have mentioned that I look thinner. I don’t see much of a change when I look in the mirror...but my belt does up two notches tighter without too much fuss so I guess I have slimmed down just a smidge. I didn't intend to lose weight, I just cut down on eating because I didn't want to deal with so many upset stomachs...I think I'm allowed to enjoy the unintentional weight loss without it being a problem...but if I had a problem then I guess what I think about this situation doesn't count for much.
I wish I was thinner--just enough to fit into acceptable sizes in the women's section. Enough to not feel like "the big one" when among my friends. I don't idealize the extremes of weight-loss...like...I don't want to be able to count my ribs or have my joints be wider around than my biceps or whatever. And I don't feel like I'm obsessed with losing weight/being thinner. It's something I want...but I also want a burrito and a can of Cola. I tend to partake more than I deny myself nowadays...just in smaller portions. I’ll still get mad at myself for indulging...but I do indulge and try to lessen the mental kicking by splitting things between two meals or something. I still break apart my cookies and eat them over the course of a couple of days...but most of that is because I run out of time to enjoy the treat or because I want to ration it so that I don't have to spend money to buy another one every single time. I don't try to count calories and all that. I still see eating less as a good thing...but I'll still eat a decent portion...I won't pick at my food rather than eat it.
My opinion here, but I don't think I'm unhealthily obsessing over weight and body issues and stuff. They're a part of my life but I don't think they do enough to be super problematic at this stage in my life.
And now onto the tie-in with the content on this blog. I've answered quite a few asks about how I feel about 'stuffing' and the thing that rhymes with "Geight Wain" with "for reasons I don't want to share, I'm not comfortable with that stuff". Most of the reasons I was thinking of for those asks is covered in the personal stuff above. I'm not comfortable with stuffing and the big "double-u gee" because for all of my life I've felt or internalized some judgements about body size and weight. It's very upsetting for me. It's also why I hate a lot of the degradation talk and things mentioning chub or fat or rolls or whatever--because it brings be back to being a kid sitting amongst judgmental adults feeling ashamed of how much of the universe’s matter I took up. If other people like those tags they're free to do so...I just don't want that sort of thing shoved into my face or imposed onto me because it makes me feel bad and makes me remember bad times. I’m into tum-kink and stuff and would love to indulge IRL with an actual partner someday...but I don’t think I will ever be comfortable with putting on weight or even RPing something like that. The thought of getting bigger terrifies me and it’s not something I want encouragement for personally. You do you if that’s what you’re into...just leave me out of it.
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Day 19 & 20!
Day 19 - “I hate it when...”
As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.
Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.
I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.
I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.
I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)
🤷🏻♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....
Which is a good segue into Day 20 -
————————————-
“Communication”
Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....
Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.
I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)
On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)
Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆
Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆
I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).
You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)
Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....
I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.
Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).
Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”
“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”
“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”
My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....
So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...
We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂
Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!
But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼
But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.
My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).
And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.
Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘
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Gansey did not remember being this twitchy in high school.
It was difficult to remember ‘high school’ as this thing that had happened to him only a short year ago and not something in his distant past. He’d experienced so many things in the years of high school and also in the gap year since, it was hard to hold the memory of Aglionby as something associated with himself. He had felt quite different then.
Quite less twitchy.
Blue would probably take offense to the word twitchy. He didn’t think it was a slur of any kind, but it still felt like a word she would not-so-gently correct. Fidgety, she might say. Hyper.
Not that he was hyper, he just couldn’t seem to stop picking at the corner of his folder. Or playing with the zipper tag on his schoolbag. He had to admit, he did feel rather high-strung.
To be so far away from her – Blue – when they’d so recently been so close. Closer than close. It was mildly unbearable.
And not only her, but Henry who had been with them on their gap year road trip around the world. Adam, who was following his own academic pursuits but had been a real grounding presence in his Aglionby days. Ronan, who he missed like a limb and who’d worried him while he’d been away and potentially worried him more now that he was close but still extremely far.
Georgetown was not so far. Ronan came to the area every week for mass with his brothers.
It was enough distance for Gansey to feel it in the marrow of his bones.
He tapped his pen distractedly against his laptop, waiting for class to start and contemplating if he should send Ronan another text. Just to make sure he was coping. He couldn’t remember ever tapping his pen at Aglionby.
“Okay, class, welcome to BBH 251, colloquially known as ‘Straight Talks.’”
Gansey sat up straighter, taking a firmer grip on his pen to sublimate the urge to fidget.
“You can all put your laptops away, this isn’t that type of class.”
Gansey startled, blinking for a good few seconds before shutting his laptop and sliding it back into his bag. He wasn’t sure what kind of class didn’t require taking notes. His pulse jumped a bit in his neck, some predecessor to an inappropriate sense of dread.
“This class is about exploring intersectional identity, putting focus on privilege and invisible identities.”
And now the dread made more sense. Gansey was always far too aware of his privilege.
It would be absolutely heinous to have to get up in the front of this room and list out all the ways society valued him more than them. Looking around the room there were women, there were people of color. Students with pride flags on their bags and their hair dyed outrageous colors. There were students who looked like Adam had when he’d first come to Aglionby: hollow cheeked and broken down in a way that could only be reached by withstanding poverty. How was he supposed to come out to this class as a straight, white, wealthy son of a Republican career politician?
“The class is called straight talks because what we learn in this class, we carry over into other classes. We reach out to other classes and introduce ourselves with our full intersectional identities.”
The horrors continued abound. Gansey would have to do this around the entire university.
“I’ll start.”
Their instructor introduced herself as a white, cis woman. She was a lesbian athlete in her mid-fifties. She talked about the difficulties of being a lesbian athlete, how she suffered ageism in the gay community, and the stereotypes that come with it.
Braver souls than Gansey came forward and asked what cis meant. The teacher calmly explained that it simply meant “not trans”. Gansey hadn’t known there was a word for that. He hadn’t thought about the need for one. And that made him feel worse than anything. Because anything that wasn’t “other” was “normal”. What a terribly privileged thing he was.
“And now, to present more examples from your peers, I’ve asked some of my students from last semester to show you what a straight talk might look like. Ryann, do you want to start?”
Ryann didn’t look particularly bothered either way, but started on what was obviously a well rehearsed speech.
He was genderfluid, which meant he changed his pronouns regularly, but he told them all that at this moment he was a he so please refer to him as such. He was of Māori descent. He talked about what it was like to be underrepresented and constantly likened to Taika Waititi just because he was the only Māori person anyone ever heard of, if they’d heard of it at all. He suffered from EDS, which meant he had what was usually referred to as an invisible disability. In other words: people assumed he was abled when they looked at him since he didn’t need a wheelchair. At least not yet.
This wasn’t at all about Gansey, but he still found himself sinking slightly in his seat, the shame he felt by the simple fact that he had none of these additional social obstacles to deal with making him feel absolutely wretched and helpless.
The next speaker helped some. She was white and cis and able-bodied. But she spoke of growing up in poverty in the American south, constantly living in fear because she was bisexual and a woman. She discussed how she’d known more girls who’d experienced sexual violence than she could fit on two hands.
Gansey felt a little like crying. Actually, a lot like crying. But he was a Gansey and he would never show such unmeasured behaviour in company. And this was not about him. He would not make it about him.
The last person was agender. They were mixed race: what races, they weren’t even sure because they were adopted. They grew up in a wealthy family but lived in a community where they didn’t feel deserving of that station. Feeling undeserving was something, at least, Gansey understood.
They were also demisexual.
“So, demisexuality is on the spectrum of asexuality,” the person – Storm – explained, in a practiced-sounding way, but not like Gansey thought they were tired of explaining: they still sounded as if they cared deeply about this label. “Everyone’s heard of the Kinsey scale?” Most everyone nodded, Gansey maybe too enthusiastically. He’d read a lot of history when he’d realized Adam was bisexual. “Asexuality has that same kind of scale, ranging from sex-repulsed asexual to sex-positive gray-asexual. Asexuality is differentiated by the lack of feeling of sexual attraction. sex-repulsed asexuals don’t feel sexual attraction and don’t want sex in any way. People can still be asexual but have sex anyway for stress relief or for their partner: they don’t feel the attraction but don’t mind the act itself. Gray-asexual people can feel sexual attraction but only sometimes. It’s all very relative and, obviously, I don’t speak for everyone blah blah blah. Following?”
There were grumbles of assent from the assembled class and Gansey nodded distractedly.
What Storm (and that was another thing: Ronan would absolutely love the names nonbinary people chose for themselves when Gansey told him) what Storm was talking about with gray-asexuality sounded just like normal people. Not everyone experiences sexual attraction ALL the time. Then wouldn’t everyone want to have sex with everyone else all the time? That sounded extremely distracting, who would have the time?
And not everyone was in the mood all the time either. He was working to be really open-minded, but this didn’t sound real.
“Demisexuality,” Storm continued, “Is on that spectrum. The important qualifier is that demisexual people can feel sexual attraction but only if they establish an emotional bond with someone first.”
And just like that, something in Gansey’s head snapped.
He shot his hand up.
Their professor waved him off. “We’re not doing questions right now,”
“That’s okay.” Storm said, smiling at him. Something in their eyes glinted in what Gansey thought might be recognition, even though they’d never met. “What’s up?” They asked, nodding at Gansey.
Gansey had no idea what was up. He hadn’t raised his hand with any kind of plan.
“Hello. My name is Gansey,” he introduced himself, because his mother always said that was a good jumping off point. “Demi is from the Latin word dimidius meaning partially or half.”
That probably wasn’t the right direction to start with, judging by the muttering and eye rolling from his classmates. Gansey felt his neck heat up but Storm looked amused.
“Are you calling me half-sexual?”
“No,” Gansey shook his head, trying to come off better. “I guess I just wondered how the leap was made from demi meaning half to demi meaning… what you said.”
“Mr. Gansey–” the teacher started again, looking a little put-out. Gansey guessed he’d probably said something wrong. Something offensive. Something condescending. He was good at that.
But Storm waved her off again. “I don’t know, man, I didn’t invent the word. I just learned it, same as you’re learning it now.” Their eyes flashed again on the words ‘same as you’. “I learned the word and I remembered every teacher I’d had a crush on growing up after they’d established a connection with me. I remembered the weird sex dreams I’d had about literally every one of my friends. I remembered how any time someone talked about having sex with a stranger I thought they were kidding because how could you feel that way about someone you didn’t know?”
Gansey’s hand gripped the seat of his chair, each statement from Storm triggering his own memories. How he’d never had a crush on a girl – a serious, Want To Do Anything About It crush – until Blue. How confused he’d been when Adam said he had more experience with girls, because he hadn’t, really. How Helen’s advances on poor unsuspecting men felt false, because how could she want to sleep with all of them? She’d just met them.
And he remembered the weird sex dreams he’d had about Adam and Ronan, even though he was straight.
At least… he’d thought he was straight?
Storm smiled at him in a soft, almost pitying way. “Any other questions?”
Gansey shook his head. “No, thank you. Please continue.”
It seemed this class may teach him more than he’d counted on.
His first order of business was to call Blue.
Both because he needed to speak with her about this new word he’d just learned and also because he had a scheduled call with her and also because he missed her fiercely.
“Have you heard this word ‘demisexuality’?” Gansey asked by way of hello.
He could almost hear Blue blink in surprise. “No. Where have you heard the word demisexuality?”
“I’m taking this Bio-Behavioral Health class. It’s usually reserved for at the very earliest second semester students but I spoke to my advisor about my apprehension regarding achieving the required credits for gen eds and she suggested combining requirements through some classes that might cover both. This class counts for gym and science.”
“So you’re not taking a gym class?” Blue hummed, mournfully. “No pictures of sunkissed Gansey rowing in the early morning?”
Gansey’s ears heated up and he cleared his throat. “Any photos you’d like I’ll take for you, Jane.”
Blue hummed again, self-satisfied.
Gansey cleared his throat again. “So this class explores identity and marginalization–”
Blue cut him off with a barked laugh. “Oh, man, I would love to watch this class react to you .”
“Yes, Jane, it was not very comfortable for me, aware as I am of my privilege.” He tried not to sound petulant but he was and it did. “But there was a student named Storm who introduced me to this new word. Demisexuality, I mean.”
“Okay,” Blue said. There was rustling on the other side and Gansey pictured her getting comfortable, sitting in the chair next to the table in the phone/sewing/cat room. She had her own cell phone by now – a fight that spanned weeks and several countries of their road trip – but she refused to use it to speak to Gansey himself, only saving it for calling her mother while she was away or to speak to Adam on the phone his own boyfriend had bullied him into accepting. He assumed she’d cave and use it to speak to him when she was away at school herself (her semester didn’t start until October) but for now they were relying on old habits. “So tell me about demisexuality.”
He began to talk through it with her, repeating some of what Storm said and drawing new conclusions and going so far as to pull a webpage on the subject up on his phone as he spoke, switching between reading off of it and putting the phone to his ear to hear her reply. He knew she could have looked this up herself, but he appreciated she was letting him tell her about it. Teaching her was the easiest way for him to learn himself.
She cut to it pretty quick. “Is that what you think you are?”
Gansey blinked, expecting the question, he supposed, but not expecting how it would make him feel.
“I thought I was straight,” he answered. Because it was true. Even if it was becoming less true by the moment.
There was a rustling that Gansey recognized as a shrug. “Everyone thinks they’re straight until they don’t.”
Gansey blinked again.
“Thank you, Jane.”
Blue hummed. “I’m gonna let you sit with this. Call me back with any updates?”
Gansey hummed back. They hung up.
Gansey appreciated she wanted to let him sit with this – it was a kindness and potentially a necessity. He didn’t know how to do this, he’d never had a sexual identity crisis before.
So he called Ronan.
Who didn’t answer, of course, so he was forced to sit with his sexual identity crisis.
He sat with it for two hours until Ronan sent him a text. “Dick.”
Gansey called him.
Ronan answered. “Jesus Mary, Gansey, what ?”
“I think I had a crush on you when we first met.”
Ronan choked and immediately hung up.
Gansey swore, growling, before hitting redial.
“Gansey, I swear to Christ,” Ronan pleaded.
“Shut up!” Gansey swore. “Please shut up. I am so stressed out right now, Ronan.”
Ronan, for his part, shut up. It was an angry and embarrassed silence, but considering what Gansey had just confronted him with that was understandable.
“I learned something in one of my classes today and Jane thinks it might apply to me.” Blue had said no such thing, but something told Gansey that Ronan would take information like this more seriously if it came from sensible Blue. “There is apparently a sexual orientation previously unbeknownst to me that describes feelings of attraction only when there’s an established emotional connection.”
Ronan was silent for a few breaths before he said “Okay?”
“So we were very close when he first met and I felt an immediate connection to you and I didn’t know how to process that outside of friendship because I’d never felt it before but now with this new term sort of recontualizing things, I think it may have been a crush.”
Ronan made a sort of squawk in his throat, reacting similarly to the first time Gansey had said the word “crush” but, thankfully, not hanging up the phone.
“Gansey… I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”
Gansey opened his mouth then shut it again. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Ronan either. He didn’t know how to ask “Do you think I had a crush?” or “Do you think I’m not straight?” or “How do I restructure myself, how do I think of myself, if I’m not straight like I always thought?”
But that was an emotional burden he had no business troubling Ronan with. Gansey’s feelings weren’t Ronan’s responsibility. He had other things going on.
“Nothing,” he answered, quickly, attempting to brush off the entire conversation. “Just a thought to mull over. I thought I’d share. But, you’re right, you have other things to do–”
Ronan sighed so loud and dramatically, he cut off Gansey’s prepared polite change of topic right in its tracks.
“Gansey, it’s okay if you’re not straight. It would be fucking cool, actually. That means none of us are straight. High five for a perfect queer score or whatever the shit.”
Gansey’s mouth twitched.
“And if you had a crush on me that’s cool too.” He cleared his throat, his next statement coming out as a growl to cover embarrassment. “I had a crush on you in the beginning, too. So it’s whatever.”
Gansey grinned. “Oh, you did?”
“We are never bringing this up again,” Ronan told him firmly. “But yeah, man, you’re like the portrait of well tended youth. But you drove a fast and shitty car and smiled like a dork. I was sixteen, what do you want?”
Gansey’s grin softened. “Well, now I feel indecorous. You’ve had time to think about this. I have nothing prepared to tell you why you were crushworthy.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Ronan said, quickly. “Tell me about the crush you had on Parrish, instead.”
Gansey sat up straight, very much feeling like he’d received a rowing oar to the face. “Did I have a crush on Parrish?”
Ronan snorted, cruel yet fond. “Of fucking course you had a crush on Parrish. Everyone with eyes and a brain has had a crush on Parrish.”
Gansey frowned but remembered again the inappropriate sex dreams. Then he blushed. Then he conceded. “I suppose you make valid points.”
Ronan laughed. “Did you get butterflies the first time he helped you fix the Pig?”
Gansey hummed, getting a little lost in the memory, before jerking back. “Oh. Have I been a little stupid about this?”
Ronan snorted again, the sound 100% joy this time. “Yeah, man. But that’s okay. No one can know everything.”
When Gansey was slated to present his own “straight talk” to the class weeks later, he was prepared. Not ready. Not comfortable. But prepared.
“Hello,” Gansey started, his politician’s-son smile on. “My name is Richard Campbell Gansey III, but I go by Gansey. The legacy in my family, so aptly captured by my name, has never been something I was comfortable with.”
Gansey watched a few faces around the room nod. Expressing that they saw him, they understood what he was saying, and they accepted it.
It gave him the strength to continue. He smiled a bit more easily this time.
“It feels overly boastful to list the ways for which I have privilege in this world – it was something I was never brought up to put a name to for fear of coming off ungracious or pompous. But putting a name to something is the first step to breaking down the social structures that put people like me so far ahead simply by the state in which I was born. So just because it makes me uncomfortable, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it. I only ask that as I go down my list, you all don’t hate me too much.”
That got a few laughs. Gansey sighed a bit in relief before steeling himself.
“I’m white. White Anglo Saxon Protestant, which is rather ironic as I’m deathly allergic to wasps.” Another laugh. Gansey took another breath. “I come from a wealthy family: what some call old Virginia money. I’ve never wanted for anything. I am cis, I am male, I am able-bodied – save my poor eyesight and previously mentioned bee and wasp allergy. Access to care for eyes and allergy has never been a problem, though, because of the aforementioned wealth. I’ve been able to go through my life relatively normally because of the wealth and despite what otherwise might be debilitating conditions.”
The bee allergy had killed him, once, but Gansey wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to get into that in this setting.
“I have a girlfriend, so I am straight passing,” Gansey continued, swallowing. “And, until very recently, I thought I was straight.”
He lifted his eyes to the class, hoping some of them were remembering his questions to Storm on the first day. Storm themself wasn’t there but Gansey pictured them in his mind as he continued.
“Learning about demisexuality has opened some things up for me,” he confessed. “I spoke to my girlfriend and to some friends from high school who are queer themselves and who I only recently realized I had had crushes on. They all think it’s extremely funny, telling me I was terrible at hiding it. And they’re all very excited to realize this gives us a perfect record of queerness in the friend group.”
More laughs. Students’ faces were very open and friendly. Some were still a bit disdainful – there would be some fights he couldn’t win, some people he would never be able to win over because they had suffered too much by people just like him – but there were people in this class who didn’t visibly hate him. Gansey grinned fully.
“I expect this discovery of identity will continue: probably until I die.” (Again) “And it was challenging to have to restructure my self-perception, but a bit thrilling, too. I thank you all for sharing so much of yourselves with me. I hope I can go forward in this life and take advantage of my outrageous privilege to do right by you.”
He glanced over at the professor, who looked rather stoic, but nodded once, eyes shining in something that looked a little like surprise and a little more like pride.
Gansey looked back to the class and nodded. “Thank you.”
He hoped he could answer questions – from the class and from himself – whenever they came.
#userjenna#oops I wrote a thing#The Raven Cycle#Gansey#sexuality#demisexuality#trc exchange#hope you like it!
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your tags concerning self-image & sexuality? spot on. it's def partly the reason for why it's so hard for me 😪 I'd like to read your thoughts about it and I wish you the very best for your life ❤️
Oh gosh ❤️❤️ thank you love, that’s so kind
You know, I said something similar to this earlier - I’m so glad to be able to connect to other people about this, but it also breaks my heart whenever I meet someone else who’s had this experience, because it can be so, so hard
I sat on this ask for a little while, because I wanted to make sure I was in the right headspace to elaborate on my thoughts more, and here we are. A serious trigger warning for eating disorders here, folks. Please be careful ❤️
So, I’ve been uncomfortable with my body since I was about 12. I was “the chubby friend” in elementary school, but I didn’t properly grasp what that meant until people started to make me aware of what that meant. Since then, I’ve been struggling with disordered thinking around food and my body, and I’ve been bulimic, with varying severity, for about 8 years.
There’s really no such thing as a ‘cure’ from an ed - it’s a constant struggle that looks different every single day, and I think the journey is made so much harder by toxic diet culture and a general attitude towards eating that’s shameful. I can’t count how many times I’ve been eating lunch with friends, and one of them has to explain why she’s having a second helping, or how many times I’ve been with a friend, and they’ve said, “I don’t know why I’m hungry right now.” And this type of apologetic and embarrassed attitude towards hunger, towards something we literally all feel, is so normalized. If there’s someone in the group who doesn’t speak this way, who doesn’t apologize for taking seconds and just eats, then usually they’re met with skepticism, or even envy.
And I think that’s because women grow up learning to compare themselves to one another, being pitted against one another. This is the body you should want, this is the guy you’re going to fight for, etc. This type of thinking has been particularly toxic for me, because my eating disorder makes itself known in harsh envy and judgement, and I know that’s not okay. I know that’s not healthy, that it’s unfair, but trying to change this way of thinking takes a lot of time and work. And this is where sexuality comes into it.
For a long time, my sexuality was something I didn’t want to think about. I knew I wasn’t straight, but my curiosity and attraction towards women was something that felt forbidden. I didn’t know who to ask about it. I didn’t want my friends to look at me differently. I felt ashamed, and so I pushed it away. I began to convince myself, because I was still attracted to men, that it was nothing. These thoughts about women were fleeting, too thin for me to grasp before they disappeared again, and that made them easy to ignore. Because, whenever I thought about being with a woman, when I thought about being kissed or touched, my entire body would recoil from it. I thought, well, that must be it. I’m not really bisexual.
Yet, years pass, and those thoughts, fleeting as they are, are like dandelion seeds: light as air, but can stick to your clothes and follow you all day long. I would see a woman in the street, in a cinema, on the subway, and I would think, Oh. She’s so beautiful. I would think, I wish I looked like that. I would think, I wish she would look at me. My battling desires to be just as noticeable and to be noticed would clash until exhausted, then melt together to make one murky pool of longing.
Strangest thing is, what made me finally understand what was at the root of this was being on Hinge.
While using the app, I had my settings open to both men and women, but I began to notice that I would swipe right on far more men than women. And then, whenever I got a notification that a woman had liked me, I would get so excited, until I went to their profile, and saw what they looked like. The longer I looked through their pictures, the longer I stared at their face, the lower my heart would sink.
Because, of course, if I’m constantly comparing myself to women, they’ll compare themselves to me, and they will inevitably find me lacking. They’ll find me unattractive. They won’t want to touch me or be close to me. I’ll be disappointing to them, because they’re used to seeing themselves.
This is disordered, unhealthy thinking.
I’ve spent my formative years hating my body, constantly comparing myself to other women, and where it’s left me is thinking that no woman will ever be attracted to me.
Knowing is one thing. It’s almost a comfort, to be able to put a name to the thing that would gnaw at my chest from the inside out while I would stare at a dating profile on my phone. Knowing at least feels like a direction I can orient myself to. I don’t know where to go, but I know where North is.
Honestly, I’ve only talked about this once before, to one of my closest friends. It’s a lot easier to say it here than to say it anywhere else. I can’t afford therapy, so I can’t talk to anyone professionally about it for now. I can’t wait on a rom-com love interest to appear at my door and whisk me away to New Zealand, or something, and make me see that the beauty and confidence were really inside of me all along ✨
It’s really the same as it always is, with ed recovery. Every day looks a bit different. Some are better than others.
The thing that is different is now, I know that I’m bisexual. I know that I’m attracted to women. It makes it feel almost a bit more forbidden, but I a way that subversive, to rip apart that competitive thinking I’ve been taught my whole life - I wish I was like her - and to turn it into something soft and awed - I like her.
Lately, when I left myself feel it, it's nice.
Thank you for asking more about this, anon. I hope that this is coherent, oh god, and that helps in some way, even if it’s just finding more of a shared experience to connect to. If you want to talk about it more, my ask box and dm’s are always open. I wish the very best for you too!
#asks#anon#whew#tw: eating disorder#tw: ed#sexuality#sorry for being embarrassingly personal asdfjjdkf#but this actually#felt really really good to talk about#although it's hard to properly express how this unfolds in my mind#tried my best
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F:NV OC as a companion
General
Name: Mason Shepherd McCoy (in-game, appears as:) Mase
Location: Grub n’ Gulp rest stop
How to obtain: Pass either a Guns check of 70, Confirmed Bachelor, or pay 200 caps to hire him. Will not follow if idolized by NCR or Caesar’s Legion.
Companion Wheel
I think we should travel together: “We make a pretty good team, huh? Sounds good.” / (With ED-E) “Sure- uh… what’s with the floating… metal… orb? Actually, it looks kinda cool.” / (With Rex) “Travel together? Yes. And I’m not just saying yes because I want to pet the dog.” / (With companion) “Are you starting up a caravan or something? Looks like you’ve got enough company for now.”
Use Melee: “That’s not… {sighing, grumbling} Fine.”
Use Ranged: “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Open Inventory: “Ya know, my bag’s already kinda full. But go ahead.”
Stay Close: “I’ve got your six… uh, Six.”
Keep Distance: “Sure. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Stealth: “Let’s get the advantage while we’re unseen.” / “They won’t see it coming.”
Back Up: “Right. Sorry.”
Be Passive: “Good call. We should scout our enemies before engaging.”
Be Aggressive: “Shoot first, strategize later? Not my style, but all right.”
Use Stimpak: “Ahh… I can feel my hands again.” > “{relieved} Thanks. I owe you one.”
Wait Here: “Fine by me. I’ll just… be checking over my rifle while you’re gone.” / “Don’t get into too much trouble.”
Follow Me: “O Captain, my Captain.”
Send to the Lucky 38: “Isn’t it a little stifling in there? {sigh} All right, but I’ll be waiting for you.”
Send Home: “I see. No worries. I’ll be at the Grub n’ Gulp, let me know if you change your mind.”
Injured: (HealthHalf) “{pained} Getting pretty rough here.” / “{out of breath} Could use… a stimpak? Maybe?” (HealthQuarter) “{dying} Didn’t… picture it like this.” / “{dying} Can’t- can’t see.”
Death: {Death Noise 2}
Aggression: Aggressive
Confidence: Brave
Assistance: Helps nobody
Karma: Neutral
Perks
Scout’s Honor: All lever-action and bolt-action rifles do an additional 15% damage (stacks with other applicable perks)
Inventory
(Unavailable via trade) Mason’s outfit, Mason’s bag, Ranger brown hat / Mason’s rifle / (Available via trade) Whiskey x 3, Stimpak x 2
Quests and Recruitment
General information:
Mason can be found at the Grub n’ Gulp Rest Stop. During the day, he will be found wandering around the premises, at night he will be sitting by one of the fires. While sitting, his unique rifle will be unequipped and laying beside him. It’s marked as an owned item, but it can be stolen. If you steal his rifle while detected, Mason will become hostile. If you steal the rifle undetected, it will change Mason’s dialogue. Both outcomes lock you out of recruiting him.
Completing any quest that isn’t affiliated with a faction while Mason is in your party will acquire +1 ‘like’ point. At 3 points, dialogue about Mason’s past will become available to the player. At 5, dialogue that triggers Mason’s companion quest will become available.
Mason will leave if 3 Caesar��s Legion quests are completed while he is in your party. A dialogue will be initiated after 1 quest, warning of his dislike for your actions. You can convince him to stick around, or decide to part ways if you profess your allegiance to the Legion. After the third quest completed, Mason will initiate dialogue and tell you of his disgust at your deceit of convincing him to stay. He will leave the party and no longer be able to be recruited by the player.
Alternatively, NCR and other faction quests can be completed without accumulating any dislike points. However, if you reach ‘idolized’ with the NCR, Mason will initiate dialogue saying he’s uncomfortable getting involved with politics. He will leave the party and only be able to be recruited again if the player’s NCR reputation goes down. (Anything below ‘idolized’ will allow him to be recruited again, this includes mixed reputation like Good-Natured Rascal, or Smiling Troublemaker, etc.)
If the player has completed Mason’s companion quest, he will continue to follow the player into the Independent Vegas/Yes-Man questline. If the companion quest is not completed, Mason will leave the party leading up to any Second Battle for Hoover Dam questlines, regardless of faction.
Recruiting:
Mason is a busybody that feels a sense of duty towards accomplishing jobs he’s commissioned for. For this reason, he finds the Grub n’ Gulp a convenient location – lots of travelers and caravans, often times needing an extra pair of hands, rolling in and out of Vegas. If the player has 30 completed quests, proving themselves of a similar mind to running jobs, the dialogue to recruit Mason will be available, no other requirements necessary.
If the player has less than 30 quests completed, you can convince him to travel by either a Guns check, a Confirmed Bachelor check, or by hiring him as a guard (200 caps, one-time payment).
Mason has a proclivity for rifles and other ballistic weaponry, and if you can impress him enough with your knowledge of firearms, he will take to you and agree to tag along on your journey. Similarly, one can pass a Confirmed Bachelor dialogue and try to appeal to Mason by offering him company. In Mason’s introduction dialogue, he makes it apparent that he isn’t one for making friends, and a male player character can test this knowledge with Confirmed Bachelor, asking him if he’s really happy being so lonely.
If all else fails, you can pay 200 caps, promise him a share in all loot, and hire him. All methods result in the same outcome of recruitment.
Companion quest: “Funny How Time Slips Away”
After meeting the requirements, Mason will have segmented dialogue about his history. He will tell the player of how he left home as a boy, and made his way in the world by starting work early on in life. He never intended for his leave to be permanent, but the longer he was gone, the more he felt returning was an impossibility.
Mason never had any blood relatives, but there was a group of people that made a community out of their shared loss, and built themselves up as a makeshift family, and began to thrive as a salvage scrapping and farming village. He left them behind, reluctant to let anyone get too close to him, and still feels regret over this decision. But either his pride, or his shame, has prevented him from returning.
The player will get the quest “Funny How Time Slips Away”, and can then agree to take Mason back to key places that he first visited after leaving his former home. (The Mojave Outpost, the playground near the drive-in theater outside of Primm, Goodsprings.) Mason will initiate dialogue after each visit, and speak about his memories for each location.
Once all locations have been visited, and all dialogue exhausted, Mason will initiate another dialogue, and speak about his urge to return back to the village. He will warn the player that his absence might take awhile, and that the village is on the eastern fringes of California – a few days walk out. The player will have the option to either encourage or discourage him to return.
If encouraged, Mason will leave the player, and be gone for 5 in-game days. When he returns, he will send a message to the player via courier, saying that he’s waiting in the Goodsprings saloon, and to come see him soon. (This is delivered in a similar fashion to “ED-E My Love”.) Upon meeting, Mason will thank the player for encouraging his trip, and say he thinks he made peace with both his former home, and his decision to leave.
As reward for quest completed, Mason will divulge that the scrappers of his village gave him some schematics for his rifle. He will then give his rifle to the player as a show of thanks, and tell the player not to worry about his combat prowess, as he can now make another rifle.
With the upgrade, Mason’s Rifle fires an extra projectile that consumes no ammunition, and has a base damage of 72, with a DPS of 93.6, making it the highest damage and DPS unique Hunting Rifle in the game. It has a built-in 3.5x scope, similar to its cousin, the Paciencia. Unfortunately, it cannot use Hunting Rifle modifications.
If discouraged, Mason will still give the player his unique rifle, thanking the player for their input, but it will not be equipped with upgrades. Its base damage is 52, with a DPS of 72.8, making it the same damage as a standard Hunting Rifle, but higher DPS than the Paciencia. The rifle, in this state, is the same one you can steal before ever recruiting Mason.
After this, Mason will use a normal hunting rifle, or whatever weapon the player equips him with, and will be unable to craft another unique rifle, making him less powerful than the alternative outcome.
Ending Slides
If their personal quest is never completed…
Whatever Mason was trying to run from by keeping himself busy, it caught up to him in the end. Work could no longer silence his inner turmoil, and so he wandered into uncharted territories. He was never heard from again.
If the Courier sides with Legion…
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to stay) Mason saw the signs of the rise of Caesar’s Legion, and quietly took his leave of the Mojave. He wandered out north, into untamed lands, looking for respite, but ultimately learned to live each day on constant guard. Thoughts of the Courier filled him only with regret…
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to return home) Though the Courier helped Mason find home, in the end, Mason only felt the sting of betrayal. He returned to his home village in California while there was still time, and warned his family of the Legion victory. With great sadness, they packed up their belongings, leaving behind many things they could not carry, and fled north, in search of new lands to settle.
If the Courier sides with NCR…
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to stay) At first, the rise of the NCR gave way to many job opportunities. Mason returned to the Grub n’ Gulp, keen on taking up new offers for work. But as the NCR settled more into the Mojave, the work grew scarce; NCR gave more power to larger companies like the Crimson Caravan, requiring work contracts and full-time employment. Eventually, this new trade system pushed Mason out of the Mojave, in search of freer opportunities.
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to return home) As the NCR settled into the Mojave, work around Vegas began to dry up, and the Crimson Caravan absorbed most smaller, independent companies. Without a task to set his mind to, Mason decided to return to California – to his home. At the village, Mason took up full-time weapon repair, a welcome addition to the farming and salvaging, and grew to be at peace with the NCR rule.
If the Courier sides with House…
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to stay) With the rise of Mr. House through his securitrons, business and travel around the Vegas area grew to newer heights, and Mason found himself preoccupied with many different opportunities.
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to return home) Mason returned to his former haunt at the Grub n’ Gulp, and took job offers as they came through. Business slowly increased as the NCR withdrew from the Vegas area; Mr. House’s rise to power making Vegas a veritable boomtown. He often found time to make his way back home to California, and share new repair and salvage techniques that he picked up from his different employers.
If the Courier makes New Vegas independent…
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to stay) The chaos that ensued in the larger Vegas area shortly after its declared independence, drove away all semblance of organized trade. Riots became the new norm, and Mason soon found himself being called upon for different assistance. Medicine delivery, and treatment of the injured skyrocketed, and Mase was not of the proper mindset, nor skill-set, to help with the turmoil. In the end, he found it best to leave the Mojave behind.
(Completed “Funny How Time Slips Away” and convinced Mason to return home) The chaos that ensued in the larger Vegas area shortly after its declared independence, drove away all semblance of organized trade. Riots became the new norm, and Mason soon found himself being called upon for different assistance. Because the Courier had helped in his time of need, Mason persevered and applied all knowledge that he could to help Vegas re-establish calm and civility. After order was restored, business and trade were slowly re-introduced. Mason found himself at home in this new independent Vegas, but, even so, he made it a point to occasionally visit his family in California.
(I know there are different variables for each ending, like upgrading the securitron army, etc. But this was already getting so long, I just left it at the choices in Mason’s questline.)
#fallout#fallout new vegas#fnv#oc shepherd#this is definitely an au version of mase's character#i can't picture him having home or a family in his canon form#that type of stuff scares him too much
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Promise (YoonMin)
AO3 Link Here!
Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi
Genre(s): angst, hurt/comfort
Written for Printed Melodies at @yoonminficrec
Tags: angst, self harm, eating disorder, trigger warnings, hurt/comfort, getting together, no smut
Summary: Jimin has some trouble dealing with things in his life. Yoongi is there to support him.
Word Count: ~3.4k
A/N: Please, please please heed the t/w on this one guys. It talks pretty candidly about self harm, EDs, and other mental health concerns. It is 100% in the realm of fiction and I’m making no assumptions about the mental health conditions of any member - but I know that even fiction can influence us as readers so please proceed carefully. 💜
Part 1: 2014
Yoongi hated doing the laundry. It wasn’t his job anyway; it was Jungkook’s. But of course the sly youngest had won the right to no chores for two weeks, which meant Yoongi got saddled with it.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the members kept their dirty clothes confined to the baskets littered around the apartment. They had a basket in every room and three in the bedroom, surely they couldn’t be hard to miss. Apparently they were, Yoongi learned, as he pulled the fifth crumpled t-shirt from under Namjoon’s bed.
He moved over to Jimin’s determined pile of laundry - six inches from the nearly empty laundry basket - and began to pile it in.
He scowled at the pair of boxers in his hand, noticing a copperish stain. Maybe Jimin had nicked himself shaving. Yoongi made a mental note to teach him the cold water stain trick. He picked up a pair of sweats, patting the pockets by habit. Feeling a bulge, he reached in and withdrew a small wad of gauze, stained through with blood and wrapped up with athletic tape. A sick panic set in. Was Jimin injured and hiding it? He thought back to when he’d been hit doing his other job, how he’d hidden it for so long for fear of reprimand or worse. Young pocketed the gauze and went back to his task, making a mental note to sit down with Jimin later on.
Nearly a week later, Yoongi sat in their small living room, eating a granola bar and scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Music was playing from the speakers against the wall, and Jimin had moved some furniture back and was dancing to the beat.
Yoongi was trying not to care, he really was. But Jimin’s movements kept catching his eye. The smooth twist and shifts of his body, the soft pants of his breath as he measured his air intake, the soft tap of his bare feet against the faux wood floor; Jimin was mesmerizing.
He stopped when the music faded, the room silent save for his heavy breathing. When the next song began, Jimin padded over to the couch and leaned across Yoongi, snagging his glass of water.
“Did you watch?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. You did well.”
Jimin smiled shyly, downing the water and flopping down across from Yoongi. He swung his legs up, resting his feet on Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi sighed, trying to look annoyed. His gaze wandered up Jimin’s long, bare legs until he reached the bunched fabric of his shorts at Jimin’s thigh.
“Jimin, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Yoongi cleared his throat. “Have you been hiding any injuries from us lately?” He tried to speak slow and measured so his tone didn’t sound accusatory.
Still, Jimin scowled. “No. Why?”
“Well, I… I saw some bloodstains and I found the bloody gauze.”
Jimin pulled his feet off Yoongi’s lap, sitting upright. “Did you go through my stuff?”
“No, it was last week, when I was doing laundry. I’m not mad, I’m just worried.”
“Just… Stay out of it.” Jimin snapped, shooting up from the couch. Yoongi sat up just as quickly, shocked by Jimin’s outburst.
“Jimin—”
“Leave it!” Jimin said, storming off. The door to the dorm bedroom slammed, startling Yoongi out of the dumbfounded shock he’d been sitting in. What the hell had just happened?
Yoongi rose, following Jimin’s path. He pushed open the bedroom door, anger beginning to twist his stomach into a painful knot.
“Where do you get off screaming at me like that?” He snapped, slamming the door shut behind him. Jimin startled visibly, looking up at Yoongi. His eyes were puffy and wet from tears. Yoongi scowled. “What’s going on, Jimin?”
“It’s hard to talk about,” Jimin mumbled, staring at his hands on his lap.
“I’m here. I’m not mad.” Yoongi approached him carefully, settling onto the bed across from him. “What’s the secret?”
“I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Are you hurt?”
Jimin shook his head no.
“So what was the blood?”
“I… Do it to myself,” Jimin whispered, so quiet that Yoongi thought he must have misheard.
“You what?”
“Don’t get mad,” Jimin pleaded.
Yoongi softened his tone immediately, knowing he would need to broach this as gently as possible.
“Jimin. Look at me, okay?”
When Jimin looked up, Yoongi offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
“Since we started training?”
“No, before. As a teenager, really. It just got worse during training… And a lot worse now that we’ve debuted.”
“Why?”
“Stress, I guess.”
Yoongi nodded. “Where?”
“My hip…. It’s… A safe spot. No one will see it.”
“That’s why you don’t like showering with us.” Yoongi chuckled. “And here I thought you were just a prude.”
Jimin laughed despite himself, sniffling. “I’m sorry I snapped.”
“Don’t be. I would have to. What do you cut with?”
“Just a razor.”
Yoongi nodded, looking down at his lap. He took a steadying breath. “Jimin. I want you to stop.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know. But I want to help you.”
“It’s not hurting anyone. I don’t go deep, and I can still dance, and I—”
“Jimin. It’s hurting you. Don’t you see?”
“It’s better than what could be happening,” Jimin muttered.
“Hey.” Yoongi reached out before he really thought about what he was doing. He stroked his thumb over Jimin’s jaw, smiling. “Don’t do that. You don’t even know how perfect you are. The pain you feel? It’s real. But you don’t need to hurt yourself physically in response.”
“How do I fix it?”
Yoongi let his hand drop, taking Jimin’s in his own. “I’m here. Until you can handle it on your own… If you ever can… Let me be your rock.”
“Yoongi-hyung…”
“Please, Jimin. You’re too special to me to watch you do this. No matter how it feels for you, please… Don’t throw yourself away. You matter so much more than you know.”
Jimin stayed quiet, his dark eyes searching Yoongi’s face. Yoongi leaned a little closer, his heart thudding in his chest. His gaze darted down to Jimin’s full lips, moving back up to meet his gaze, his own expression a question mark. Jimin’s mouth parted when the understanding seemed to hit him. He gave a barely visible nod, the permission Yoongi was waiting for.
He closed the gap between their faces, their lips striking awkwardly at first. They fell into a rhythm quickly, mouths moving together, quick intakes of breath when the other shifted to reposition. Yoongi dragged Jimin closer, smiling against Jimin’s mouth when the other gave in and allowed himself to be pulled entirely onto Yoongi’s lap.
Yoongi pulled back, his breathing quick. “Don’t throw yourself away,” he repeated.
“I’m scared,” Jimin admitted. Their foreheads bumped lightly when Jimin pressed closer to him.
“Let me help then.”
“How?”
Yoongi remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. He nodded to himself. “You said you use razors?”
“Yes.”
“Give them to me.”
Jimin jerked back, his face twisting in horror. “Hyung—“
“Trust me? I won’t tell the others. I’ll keep your secret. But if I have them it will be harder for you to use them. You’ll need to come to me. I’ll hide them. And then we can talk about what’s going on or just sit and take your mind off it.”
“What if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll try something else.”
Yoongi reached out, grabbing Jimin’s hands. He twined their fingers and squeezed. “I won’t make you promise to stop. But I’m asking if you’ll make me a promise to try.”
“You promise you won’t tell?”
Yoongi shook his head. “No. I promise I won’t unless I can’t help you further. And even then, I’ll only tell the member you trust me to tell. I won’t share it with everyone, and I won’t share it with our company. I know this is scary.”
Jimin nodded, hanging his head.
“Jimin… When we kissed… That wasn’t… I mean— You didn’t do it because of all this, right?”
“Are you asking me if I like you, Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asked, his lips turning up into an impish smile despite the tears shining in his eyes. Yoongi huffed a little, shaking his head.
“You’re impossible. Yeah, I’m asking that.”
“I have for a long time. I knew you were… More of a free thinker when it came to sexuality but I was scared… I didn’t wanna mess up the group.”
“If we…” Yoongi trailed off, his mouth turning down in thought. Jimin waited patiently. All the members were used to this; Yoongi was a smart man, but he calculated things, and the best thing to do was wait for him to finish those calculations and let him speak his mind.
“I like you. You and I are… Pretty equal in the group, I think. And I don’t know that we would do anything drastic even if this didn’t work. I wouldn’t. The group is everything to me, and even a breakup wouldn’t jeopardize that. Do you feel the same?”
“You know Bangtan is my life,” Jimin said. Yoongi nodded.
“I want to date you.” It was a statement, not a question. Yoongi was putting himself out, baring himself to Jimin and making his desire as known as it could be.
“You do?”
Yoongi nodded.
“Should we… Tell people? The group?”
Yoongi tilted his head a little. “Kiss me again while I think about it.”
Jimin grinned at his statement and leaned forward. Their lips met gentler this time, less rushed. Yoongi pulled Jimin close and laid down with him, their mouths moving lazily as their hands slid over one another’s bodies for the first time, and certainly not for the last.
Part 2: 2016
“Hyung?”
Yoongi looked up from the notebook he’d been scrawling in. “Huh?”
“Can we talk?” Jimin was shifting from foot to foot, his hands wringing in front of his stomach. Yoongi’s carefree smile slipped away immediately into stoic concern. He knew that look. He set the notebook aside and rose, setting his hand on Jimin’s lower back. Without a word, he guided him toward the bedrooms, meeting Namjoon’s gaze pointedly for the briefest seconds. Namjoon frowned a little but nodded.
Over the years, Jimin and Yoongi had worked out ways to deal with Jimin’s anxieties and other problems that arose between them. It was Namjoon that had become their middleman, a safe, unbiased opinion if things were too emotional or heated. And it had worked splendidly. Though, even Yoongi had to admit that Jimin had been tense lately, and he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe he finally would.
Once in Yoongi’s bedroom, Jimin turned, shoving the door shut. He slammed his mouth against Yoongi’s in a hungry, desperate kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck.
Yoongi kissed back, sliding his hands over Jimin’s slender hips. He brushed the delicate skin, a pang of hurt going through him when he could easily feet the hit of Jimin’s hip bones despite the musculature of his boyfriend.
“Jimin,” he whispered when Jimin pulled back to breathe. “What’s going on?”
“I missed you,” Jimin whispered, hanging his head. “We’ve been so busy with the album, I’ve barely had time to hold your hand let alone anything else.”
“I know. Come lay in bed with me. We’ll make time to be together now.”
The two moved silently to Yoongi’s bed, slipping under the covers and stripping out of their clothes. The warm blanket and firm, bracing mattress was a far cry from the moth bitten, sagging mattress Jimin had lost his virginity on years back, when they had to hide in closets and sneak out to cheap hotel rooms to make love and get time alone. It didn’t matter then, and didn’t now. Yoongi knew Jimin loved him deeply, no matter what.
Yoongi traced the old scars on Jimin’s hips, noticing the jut of his hipbones and the faint outline of his rib cage.
“What did you want to talk about, Jimin?” He asked.
“Just this,” Jimin said. He pressed gentle kisses over Yoongi’s shoulder.
“May I ask about something?”
“Mhm.”
Jimin’s hand was tracing lazy patterns on Yoongi’s stomach.
“Have you been eating well?”
The hand stilled. “Why do you ask?”
Yoongi shrugged the shoulder not commandeered by Jimin’s face. “Just an observation.”
“Of?”
Yoongi traced Jimin’s hip bone. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.”
Jimin sagged, visibly relieved. “I was afraid you were gonna say I’ve gained,” he admitted.
“Jimin. You’ve lost a lot.” Yoongi emphasized.
“I’m dieting.”
“Hm. Why?”
Jimin looked up, clearly confused by Yoongi’s statement. “Why?”
Yoongi remained silent, watching Jimin.
“Well, to... I was getting big.”
“Says who?”
Though Yoongi tried to keep his tone neutral, he knew something sharp came out with the way Jimin diverted his gaze. “Fans.”
“Jimin.”
“What? We’re nothing without them, aren’t we? If they don’t like me—“
“If they don’t like you they can fuck off,” Yoongi snapped. Jimin’s eyebrows shot up. Yoongi took a breath, steadying his emotions before speaking again. He knew he needed to be calm with Jimin, and getting angry would get them nowhere.
“Look, if they love you, why should they care if you gain a few extra pounds? You’ve been beautiful since debut. Prior even, but I’m biased.”
“You are biased. It’s just a diet.”
“It’s more than a diet, Jimin. Everyone’s noticed. You don’t look as well as you used to.”
Jimin scowled. “How do you mean?”
“Just that you look ill. You’re beautiful, but you… I mean look.” He pushed the blanket down and traced over Jimin’s hips. “I’m afraid if we make love I’m going to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Jimin whispered.
“You understand my point. Jimin… I know it hurts to hear people call you names. Trust me. But their opinion shouldn’t negate your self worth. And your worth to us… To me. I asked you years ago not to throw yourself away, remember?”
“Of course I do,” Jimin whispered.
“Well I’m saying it again. Don’t. Not over something like this. You feel alone and singled out by these comments… But you aren’t. I promise you.”
“What do you want me to do.”
“Just work on it. We have to diet, you have to work out, I get it. We all get it. But no more skipping meals for days. You think you hide it well, but you don’t.”
“I’m just not hungry.”
“Because the thought of eating makes you ill, right? Of getting too big and they won’t love you anymore?”
Jimin’s silence gave Yoongi the answer he was waiting for.
“Well, I love you,” he said softly.
“No matter what?”
“You know the answer to that, Min.”
Jimin stayed quiet, fidgeting with a loose string on the bedspread.
“Hey. Hey, I’m not yelling at you. I’m worried. You put so much pressure on yourself. To be an amazing dancer, an amazing singer, caring, optimistic, funny, sexy, beautiful... Where’s Jimin in all that? You already are all of these things. Sometimes the real you just gets lost in the added show of it. And sometimes that added junk strips away at you until you’re only bone.” His fingers brushed over Jimin’s slender arm.
“I know.”
“You know you matter, right?”
“I know.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise to try. To talk. I won’t waste what I am.”
Yoongi smiled proudly. “I love you, Jimin.”
“What?” A small, teasing smile played on Jimin’s lips. Yoongi rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“You know what I said.”
“No, no, I think I missed it. What’d you say, hyung?”
Yoongi sighed theatrically. The rarity with which he professed his love was an inside joke between the two. Jimin knew he was loved; Yoongi’s actions showed that more than enough. But hearing it was nice too.
“I said, I love you, Park Jimin. Happy?”
“Incredibly. Kiss me?”
“Never have to ask.” Yoongi pulled Jimin closer, twining their fingers and pressing their mouths together. Jimin seemed to melt next to him, tension leaving his body more and more the longer they shared soft kisses. Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t perfect, and the path they were on was stressful and scary for all involved, but he hoped he could offer enough comfort to keep their heads above water.
Part 3: 2018
“You’re not mad, right, hyung?” Jimin asked. His voice quavered just a little, showing Yoongi just how deeply his approval was concerning Jimin.
He crouched down, looking closer at the vibrant black letters on Jimin’s ribcage. They were swollen, the skin red and angry surrounding them. “Did it hurt?”
“Yeah, a bit. I wished you were there… Wanted to hold your hand,” Jimin admitted.
“Who’d you go with?”
“Jungkookie.”
Yoongi nodded and rose. “I’m only angry about one thing.”
“What?” Jimin whispered.
“That you didn’t take me. I wish I could have held your hand too. It’s beautiful, Jimin.”
Jimin’s entire face lit up with a cheek splitting grin. “Really?”
“Yes. It looks nice. They did a good job.”“Ah, I’m so glad you like it!” Jimin hugged Yoongi tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Yoongi chuckled and pressed a kiss against Jimin’s neck, rubbing his back gently. “How long will it take to heal?”
“A few weeks.”
“So when can I make love to you?” Yoongi felt Jimin’s lips curve into a smile.
“Is that a concern?” He teased.
“Well… My boyfriend just got something added to his body that … Frankly looks incredible and… Really sexy. It’s a concern.”
Jimin pulled back, chuckling. Yoongi could see his eye roll without even looking.
“Any time you want. Just have to keep it off the mattress and don’t rub or touch it. Be gentle. It’ll be fine.”
“Then come to the bedroom with me,” Yoongi said, twining his finger’s with Jimin’s.
“No.”
“No?”
Jimin shook his head. His hair fell in front of his eyes, making him look much younger, especially with the sly, almost pixie grin he was wearing.
“Why not?”
“The tattoo wasn’t the only surprise I had for you today.”
“What’s the other one?”
“The song I’ve been working on. I’m almost done with it. I wanted you to read the lyrics.”
“Really? You haven’t let anyone touch that except Namjoon and Rabbit-hyung.”
“Well, now that it’s almost ready…. I want you to tell me what you think.”
Yoongi nodded, his attention entirely on Jimin. He walked way and dug around in his bag for a moment, withdrawing a folder. Inside, he pulled out a few sheets of paper and handed them to Yoongi. Yoongi sat down on the couch, immediately beginning to read.
He could feel Jimin’s gaze on him as his eyes slid over the words on the page. If it was anyone else, he would have snapped, told them he needed to concentrate and to back off. But Jimin was always his exception.
The words on the page screamed in Jimin’s voice. His pain over the years, the healing and aches, the smiles and love and sadness. Yoongi could have picked this out of a novel as Jimin’s. He could feel his own neutral expression slipping despite his best efforts not to let it, as he read down the page.
Even if you feel like you're alone, don't throw yourself away.
The words stood out like bold font on the page. Yoongi could hear his own voice, his words, the ones he whispered to Jimin countless times over the past five years. He looked up at Jimin, his vision blurring momentarily with tears.
Jimin shrank back. He tugged his shirt on carefully, worry crossing his face. “Is it... bad?”
“Jimin... Oh Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He set the paper down and rose, pulling Jimin into his arms.
“It’s almost as beautiful as you are... It’s your voice, perfect for you. You used my words.”
“They saved me. A lot more than even you know, hyung. I thought... Maybe they could save someone else too.”
“Jimin.” The name was more of a breath than a word. Yoongi closed his eyes, letting Jimin pull him into a gentle kiss.
“I love you, Yoongi-hyung.”
“I’ve always loved you, Jimin. I’m glad you gave me a chance,” Yoongi whispered, pressing their foreheads together.
“I’m glad you didn’t let me throw myself away,” Jimin responded simply. Yoongi’s heart swelled at his words. He didn’t think Jimin would ever know how thankful he was for that too. And for everything he had now, with the one he loved.
#yoonmin#printed melodies#jimin x yoongi#jimin x suga#yoongi x jimin#suga x jimin#min yoongi x park jimin#park jimin x min yoongi#angst#mywriting
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le rules:
1. Themes might very with this blog. It’ll typically be SFW, but there will likely be dark themes, violence and swearing.
Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.
I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.
That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.
I’m of age.
2. I’ll pretty much interact with anyone, including canon, AU, Crossover, and original characters.
If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.
No godmodding or Mary-Sues, please.
3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.
I have a lot of blogs. Pretty much an understatement - so I’m pretty busy with stuff, and it’s all dependent on what muse I have. Motivation and life also exist.
Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.
Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.
My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.
Additionally, if I don’t end up responding to an ask or something, the case might just be I don’t have the muse for it, or I’m not interested in the thread. Apologies!
4. Shippings? I honestly don’t ship much with Ford, except maybe Fiddauthor. Not sure - depends how things work out, but I’m not actively looking for ships for him.
Please don’t force anything on my character in that regard.
I do not ship incestuous ships. Please don’t follow/interact if you do - since I roleplay Stanford specifically, seeing that stuff makes me especially uncomfortable.
The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.
This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.
If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!
Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.
5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately.
6. About reblogs…
I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.
I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC posts, so please don’t do that.
A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.
I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.
If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!
7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:
I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.
Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.
Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡
If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.
If para roleplays are not your forte at all, it’s not recommended you roleplay with me seriously. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.
8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities, you’re free to hit me up with any starter meme prompts I reblog.
Starter calls? HIT ‘EM UP, FRIENDS.
I reblogged a starter meme? Send something! If I’m interested, I’ll answer it!
I generally default to post-canon, or whatever verse might work for a starter - but if you have a specific one in mind, please tell me!
If you’re going to respond to an ask, please make a new thread. If it’s not feasible at your end, I’ll do it for you - but I don’t generally roleplay through that format.
I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length matches mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;
In that sense, I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I don’t like to leave anyone hanging.
IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.
9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:
If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main! You can check my relationship page to see what spots are free!
Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.
Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!
Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.
Also, friendship/family relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me so don’t feel scared about asking for them. Chances are, I’ll always be down!
10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!
Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!
IM-ed me and I haven’t responded? Social anxiety is a jerk and it’s exhausting for me to communicate sometimes. Know that I’ve seen your message and will get around to it eventually!
Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.
11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:
Trim their posts.
Don’t spam reblog memes.
Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!
12. On threads…
If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.
Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.
13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything my character might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.
14. The mun can be absolutely TERRIBLE at breaking the ice. If she follows you, she’d like to interact - but she’s super nervous about approaching people.
15. These rules may be subject to change.
Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.
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Da Rules:
Hi, this is a bit lengthy - but first, thank you for checking out this post! It means a lot to me and I hope we can interact! <3
1. Themes might vary with this blog. I’m typically SFW, but keep in mind this is NEGADUCK. He’s not morally sound and will certainly not be nice to everyone who has the unfortunate opportunity to come across him. Be prepared for dark themes of that nature.
Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.
I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.
That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.
I’m of age.
2. I’m a little selective, so I might be a pretty picky when it comes to who I interact with. I’ll interact with anyone, including canon, AU, Crossover, and original characters - as long as they’re literate/write para.
If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.
No godmodding or Mary-Sues, please.
This is bound to happen given Negaduck’s character, but this rule goes especially in fights. I will tread carefully in these and give partners fighting chances, so obviously I expect the same. i.e, don’t assume all attacks hit, keep dodging, etc; all that. Keep in mind Negs does not put up an easy fight, though.
Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!).
As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.
I’ve worked through a majority of Negs’ media, including his episodes, comics, and even small comics. That said, there are a couple I’ve missed (that are in another language) - so if I miss anything in reference to them, forgive me.
I haven’t completely finished Darkwing Duck, either, so as far as unrelated references ago, I might miss a few things.
3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.
I have a lot of blogs. Pretty much an understatement - so I’m pretty busy with stuff, and it’s all dependent on what muse I have. Motivation and life also exist.
Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.
Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.
My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.
Additionally, if I don’t end up responding to an ask or something, the case might just be I don’t have the muse for it, or I’m not interested in the thread. Apologies!
4. Shippings? Eeeeh, with Negaduck, I’m picky about them, depends on the muse and/or proposed relationship. Long story short: he’s an outright jerk so don’t expect much from him.
If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.
I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.
The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.
This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.
If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!
Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.
5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my characters if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately.
6. About reblogs…
I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.
I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC posts, so please don’t do that.
A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.
I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.
If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!
7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:
I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.
Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.
Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡
If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.
If para roleplays are not your forte at all, it’s not recommended you roleplay with me seriously. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.
8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities:
I’ll have a permanent starter call somewhere for you to hit up; honestly though, if you’re a mutual? Pls feel free to hit it up.
I reblogged a starter meme? Send something! If I’m interested, I’ll answer it!
If there’s a verse you’re interested in, please specify.
If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!
I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length matches mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;
In that sense, I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I really don’t like to leave anyone hanging.
IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.
9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:
If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!
Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.
Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!
Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.
Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me - Negaduck is generally a terrible person, but if you hmu, I’ll see what I can do.
10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!
Unlike the evil duck, Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!
IM-ed me and I haven’t responded? Social anxiety is a jerk and it’s exhausting for me to communicate sometimes. Know that I’ve seen your message and will get around to it eventually!
Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.
11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:
Trim their posts.
Don’t spam reblog memes.
Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!
12. On threads…
If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.
Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.
13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything Negs might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so. He’s a chainsaw crazy villain; mun is not.
14. The mun is TERRIBLE at breaking the ice. If she follows you, she’d like to interact - but she’s super nervous about approaching people.
15. These rules may be subject to change.
Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.
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Rules~
Updated: [06/05/2019]
Hi, this is a bit lengthy - but first, thank you for checking out this post! It means a lot to me and I hope we can interact! <3
1. Themes might vary with this blog. I’m usually SFW with this stuff, but there might be dark themes, swearing, and other things of that nature. Depends on the muse, sometimes, too.
Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.
I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.
That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.
I’m of age.
2. I’m a little selective, so I might be a pretty picky when it comes to who I interact with. I’ll interact with anyone, including canon, AU, Crossover, and original characters - as long as they’re literate/write para.
If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.
No godmodding or Mary-Sues, please.
3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.
I have a lot of blogs. Pretty much an understatement - so I’m pretty busy with stuff, and it’s all dependent on what muse I have. Motivation and life also exist.
Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.
Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.
My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.
Additionally, if I don’t end up responding to an ask or something, the case might just be I don’t have the muse for it, or I’m not interested in the thread. Apologies!
4. Shippings? I’m down, if the muses are of a similar age.
If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.
I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.
The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.
This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.
If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!
Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.
5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my characters if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately.
6. About reblogs…
I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.
I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC posts, so please don’t do that.
A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.
I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.
If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!
7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:
I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.
Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.
Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡
If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.
If para roleplays are not your forte at all, it’s not recommended you roleplay with me seriously. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.
8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities:
Starter calls? I usually have one for each of my muses! I’m still adding links, but please check out my museroll for starter call links or the tag corresponding to them until you can find that muse!
Additionally - muses that are under the ‘researching’ section typically mean I’m not entirely confident about them yet or I am still bingeing their source material, so do keep that in mind, and be patient with me if I happen to miss a reference or two.
I reblogged a starter meme? Send something! If I’m interested, I’ll answer it!
PLEASE SPECIFY THE MUSE. I won’t know what to do if you send something in and there’s no muse attached to it. If these are general asks and my character is currently on the dash, I WILL assume you’re addressing them - and I don’t want to disappoint people!
This goes for verses, if you so desire - but there will ALWAYS be a default to the muses which is what I tend to go for.
If you’re unsure what muses I have, I have a mobile list up in the description.
If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!
I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length matches mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;
In that sense, I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I don’t like to leave anyone hanging.
IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.
JUST because I don’t use a muse often/you don’t see them on dash, doesn’t at all mean I don’t want to use them! If you’re interested in roleplaying with a slightly inactive muse, then honestly - shoot! Chances are they could use more threads and I’d be overjoyed if you gave them attention. (Although sometimes it can be a case of HAVING muse for the muse.)
9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:
If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot with particular characters, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!
Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.
Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!
Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.
Also, friendship/family relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me so don’t feel scared about asking for them. Chances are, I’ll always be down!
10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!
Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!
IM-ed me and I haven’t responded? Social anxiety is a jerk and it’s exhausting for me to communicate sometimes. Know that I’ve seen your message and will get around to it eventually!
Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.
11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:
Trim their posts.
Don’t spam reblog memes.
Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!
12. On threads...
If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.
Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.
13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything my characters might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.
14. The mun is TERRIBLE at breaking the ice. If she follows you, she’d like to interact - but she’s super nervous about approaching people.
15. These rules may be subject to change. I’m new to multimuse stuff.
Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.
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