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pcrushinnerd · 1 year

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Critical Passenger--Chapter 11

Story Summary: Before he fully accepted his role as Moon Knight, as Jake Lockley he played hero and made a promise to someone who has come back into his life.

Pairings: Mostly Jake Lockley x femreader, but also Steven Grant x femreader and Marc Spector x femreader because well yeah.

Warnings: Discussion of violence.

A/N: This one just poured out of my fingers not long after I posted the last one. BTW, while sort of based on the character's history in the comics, this basically is just a product of my imagination.

last chapter ||| masterlist

The Past

Jake was born when he was 17.

It was a gang of older...well, they weren't boys technically. They were men in their early 20s who were part of a local gang on the South side. They didn't deal in the more serious stuff because other gangs owned that. So they had to prove their worth in other, more disturbing ways.

They beat up Marc one morning as he was heading to school. Left him with a bleeding nose and a couple of broken ribs as he walked into first period that morning.

Marc would answer none of the million queries from teachers and school admins. His father.... (Mom wouldn't care.) Marc wanted to deal with this on his own.

Which, to his shame, was mostly finding ways to just avoid the gang until he could think of something. Something good. He considered how he could get a gun, but he soon dismissed that idea. A gun could easily turn fatal, and he didn't want things to become fatal, only final.

So that was around the time Marc started to train after school, at a local gym where he also got his first job--access to the gym and its equipment in exchange for cleaning things and minding the place while the aging owner took more time to relax into an eventual retirement.

He thought he was ready one Sunday afternoon, when he ran into the gang a few blocks from the gym as he was walking to work. He was proven horribly wrong, as they dislocated a shoulder and managed to damage more...precious things. They'd thrown all sorts of Anti-Semitic slurs at him, so they knew who he was. Who his father was. They'd threaten far worse next time--to literally cut things off and throw them into the river.

Enough was enough.

Marc didn't remember much of it. He figured Steven, of whom he was more or less aware of on some level at this point, was behind the planning of it. The brain work behind the brutality. Who'd leave the notes he would find the next morning after falling asleep from the liquor he would steal or subterfuge into his possession, as he fell asleep to old gangster movies from the 30s and 40s, or from old TV shows and films from the 60s through the 80s, featuring tough guys whom he more or less looked up to for some masculine inspiration, since God knew his father didn't provide that at all.

The next moment came on a Saturday night. Part of his plan was seeking out the group on their own turf, adding some element of surprise to this encounter. The thugs were mostly drunk as well, or high, so didn't have that morning shine like they did in past encounters.

"The fuck--?" Was all that was said before he struck. Literally. With a baseball bat. Other weapons of choice included piano wire, bags of oranges and potatoes, and other random tools of destruction. He was bloody and bruised himself, but in the end, the other guys were much worse, though still largely alive. They'd run off, as police sirens sounded in the distance.

"Go on, all of yous!" He'd called out as their sorry asses scurried away.

They never bothered him again.

Word must have gotten around, because one morning at the gym one of the regulars, whom Marc knew was a Marine recruiter, approached him. "Hey, you're pretty tough I hear. How'd you like a new job?"

Marc had a vague memory of what happened. Figured his adrenaline left most of it a blur. He knew he won, which is what mattered.

Marc would have other moments he couldn't exactly remember. Some part of him sheepishly figured it was his alcoholism, so he didn't think much of it. Didn't want to.

The body had lost its virginity in his new persona, not long after. Marc would lose his a few years later, when home on leave one time, but this new alter knew better.

Jake would never have the body long enough to really develop relationships of his own. He was fronting largely when it mattered, when he had to.

If anything, relationships were a luxury he couldn't afford to indulge in. So, he hovered in the background, as Marc would fumble through his own, over the years. So it's not like he wasn't familiar with certain social norms, how to conduct himself, and so on, but like an experienced driver in a totally unfamiliar part of his country, he still didn't feel all that comfortable.

That didn't mean he didn't enjoy some of this romance stuff, though. Not when it made your eyes sparkle and flash him your cute little smile. Such as now, as you two sit snugly next to each other with a heavy blanket covering your legs, in the back of one of those cheesy Central Park carriage rides.

"This is so neat," you kept uttering, as your head swiveled around, taking in all the fall foliage coloring the park, at other people walking their dogs and jogging and dragging their young children around you.

Neat. He couldn't think of anyone else he'd ever known use such corny language.

Mama Joe? While she was a sweet old woman, she was also a tough old bird as well, and her brand of warmness, especially amongst those with whom she was most familiar, was generally guarded, keeping people at arms length. Probably why they got along so well.

"You okay?"

"Huh?"

"You're scowling again," you smiled at Jake.

Jake was quick to mirror your cheerier expression. "Am I?"

"Well...you were. Is something on your mind?"

A pause. "Guess I'm not used to just being a passenger and havin' someone else drivin.'" Jake eyed their top-hatted carriage driver for added effect, at the same time the man gave a brief glance back at you and Jake.

You looked doubting. "You sure? Sure I'm not annoying you again?"

He shot you a worried look. "What do you mean?"

You gave a little sigh, which, though small, weighed heavily on him. "Sometimes you just seem.... I donno...baffled? Irritated? Not for too long though--you're always quick to throw on a smile if you see me looking."

Jake wasn't sure if he was more panicked or angry at himself for letting those slip ups be seen.

He was quick to snatch up your hand. "No querida. Just...stressed from work." That wasn't a lie, in a sense. Although arguably a lie by omission, since he's never let on that technically you were part of his work.

He had worked hard to keep things discrete, normal-seeming. He'd found his chance to look through your things one Saturday you had off and decided to rearrange your apartment, so it was sort of a wreck anyway. You'd offered to go down and get some Thai from a nearby place you liked, while he'd stayed behind and offered to put some things away to lessen the workload on you. He'd snooped around through files, books, and your computer conveniently open and playing Pandora, but all to no avail. You were squeaky clean, as far as he could tell.

Maybe a little too clean, for the likes of somebody like him....

You sat silently. He could feel your eyes on him--studying, appraising--which did annoy him.

"Here we are!" the carriage driver called out, before everything came to a stop besides the spot where the ride began, where another couple was waiting to embark.

Jake was quick to hop out and come around to your side, where he helped you step out of it. He glared at the carriage man, who gave him a pointed look as he tipped him...sufficiently.

You both took off towards the edge of the park, where one of Jake's cabs was parked. His jacketed arm was hooked with yours.

"It's not a mask, by the way," he muttered, when you were just a dozen meters from the car.

You were confused at first by that, but quickly caught on. You nodded your head once. "You're not used to someone like me, are you?"

"No," he admitted.

"Does that equate to any negative perceptions or feelings on your part, Mr. Lockley?"

Goddammit. You'd gotten into the habit of using his last name a lot, and like the little love notes he'd find left in his cab, the extra home-cooked food you'd prepare and pack for him to take to work, and all the good night, good morning, and how are you texts, he was baffled beyond belief but loved it all, and wouldn't blink twice at simply dropping anyone who disrupted any of it.

He stopped walking. "Hey," he said before taking you into both of his arms and giving you a good, deep kiss. "Nothing about you bugs me. The opposite, if anything."

A warm smile spread over your face, before you hugged him and kissed him back, Central Park on-lookers be damned.

If anything, he had to admit he was falling in love with you, deeply and entirely, and that was part of the problem.

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader

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nori-the-cat · 28 days

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regarding your post about L and S being different, do you think S's hiatus is really decided by him? Or do you think it's sm behind this??

Hi love!

Hm...first I'm going to be very careful with what I'm about to say because the last time I posted something about L, his fans attacked me. I also am being careful here because some of my followers might find my opinion "offensive" or "sensitive" SIGH...HAHAHAHA...But I digress.

Please be patient while reading this because it's LONG.

I think the severity of L and S scandals are more or less the same, but different in terms of how problematic it is. By problematic I mean the things they did. L's actions were wrong and should be deemed as wrong. S's, however, is not. Because he did the things that we normal people do. However, since he's an idol, some of the things he did could've been more careful because he was a "soon to debut" idol. Hence, people were angry or disappointed at him, mainly because they wished he was more "careful". But is it his fault? That's up for debate.

Whereas L's actions happened during his active life as an idol. Hence, it angered many people and disappointed some of his loyal fans. I'm not surprised if his return as an idol or singer will take longer. He needs to do a lot of work to redeem that popularity. Similar to S, L was also careless. That's one thing they have in common.

I do think both L and S hiatus were decided by SM Ent. However, the process is probably different. I think SM probably took harsh actions for both, but in S's case, SM Ent gave him a choice. Or at least they gaslighted and manipulated him into making that decision and taking a hiatus as a choice. It probably went something like, "Hey, we know it's not your fault. But the severity of the situation has gotten out of control. We understand you're anxious and we're also worried about your wellbeing. So, what do you say about taking a hiatus? We think it will be good for you and you can take a break while we take care of it." Something along this line.

I did an astrology reading and tarot reading on S. I must say the decision to go on a hiatus was around 40% his decision and 60% SM Ent. But it got to a point that they had a mutual agreement. I think SM Ent probably "promised" something to him, which convinced him to take that hiatus. But, hey! That's just my hunch.

Now, in regards to astrology and tarot, I do notice his energy has been quite fluctuating. There was, however, a moment in his life where he felt the happiest and I'm assuming he went back "home" and was with his family. I say this because, in one of my readings, I said there's a prominent female figure who was trying to comfort him and reassure him to stay strong. I'm assuming it's his mother, aunt, or probably someone in SM Ent. Hence, the hiatus made it easier for him to go through.

Oppositely, L's hiatus was solely made by the company. I think SM Ent took the initiative to put him in seclusion. They probably thought "If we let him go, we might let something go to waste", which is likely the same for S. But, L's fanbase is most likely larger than S's. So, SM Ent took quicker action for his hiatus to save the "fandom" or in other words, their money. HAHAHAH...I'm sorry. It's SM Ent we're dealing with here. Money wise, SM Ent basically saw his worth.

For S's hiatus, SM Ent did it because, these were the options that they had in mind:

(1) they probably wanted to replace him (ouch I know.) They did have this in mind but now it's not their top priority. They did, however, almost do something like bringing in a member to a group like how they did to Jungwoo for NCT 127 and Yeri for Red Velvet.

(2) completely disregarded him and erased his existence so that they could start clean and fresh (another ouch.) Basically they're after the money.

(3) slowly but surely made him leave R**ZE. I don't see him leaving SM Ent, but R**ZE? Yes. They most likely had a conversation about what S could do. Something like in L's documentary.

(4) They wanted to take care of the situation. Probably legal stuff and figuring out who is behind his "downfall". Now, they're doing more work because "attackers" are attacking the members too. So this part might take a while.

I say this because R**ZE is SM's boy group in 7 years. Centre numero cinco (f*ve in Spanish) probably "did a lot" for the group to happen and SM Ent most likely invested in the boys A LOT. Hence, when S's scandal and pasts broke out, it "angered" SM and it probably made them go "God dammit! At times like this?" This was probably their thought process.

In conclusion, SM Ent initiated the hiatus, but "gave" S's the decision to make his own choices. Must I say, I did a tarot reading on SM Ent decision for him and they're still THINKING and DEBATING (poor boy.)

I hope that answers your question. 𖹭

I also hope I don't miss any points, but if I did I will probably post it.

#nori rant #nori qna

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theflyingfeeling · 1 year

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Samy's acoustic gig in a bar downtown Jyväskylä, 5.12.2022 - gig report by me ✨

First of all, anyone who saw me panicking about going to this gig last night and tried to calm me down, I want you to know that your support meant the world to me and that thanks to all of you sweet people who told me it's gonna be alright and that I should totally give it a try, I had the most fun Monday night I've had in a long long while, possibly years 💖

And HUGE thanks to @thesunsetisgone for coming with me, I would've been absolutely lost without you there with me 😭 it was so great meeting you, see you again soon!! 💕

The bar was crowded as FUCK and the music (the bar's music I mean) was so loud that it was hard to hear anything. It was kinda uncomfortable and I don't see the appeal, so I don't think I'll be going to a bar again any time soon unless it's for another amazing acoustic gig 😅

This is no news to anyone who knows Samy at all but oh my god he was so smiley and happy and relaxed and cute and 😭😭😭 he was in his element, and although there were quite a few songs I didn't recognize (until later watching the videos I filmed lol), I had the time of my life just looking at him. He is such a charismatic performer, not at all diva-like, quite the contrary; he seems super down to earth and just the sweetest person 🥺

His Samy-like humour included his typical "I don't actually know how to play this" jokes (especially when he played LS songs lol), and at one point when he got too hot and took his jacket off, revealing his beautiful red silk shirt he was like (roughly translated) "I'm supposed to be this trashmetal dude, but instead I look like some fucking magic carpet" 😂💞

Songs that he covered included You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi (lol who else), The Kill (Bury Me) by 30 Seconds to Mars, a BMTH song I didn't recognize because I don't listen to BMTH but I was told it's Joonas' favourite song (Drown), the beginning of Stan by Eminem (until he went "I'm not actually gonna play this" just before the rap part 😆 I have this on video, probably gonna post later!), and Alone by Heart

Out of LS songs he played Awake (😭😭😭😭😭😭) and 112. During the latter he made us do a fun dialogue kinda singing where he sang some parts of the chorus and we had to sing the next line 🥺

My personal highlight was when he 😭😭😭😭 he played 😭😭😭💘💘💘 he played I Will Follow You Into The Dark by Death Cab For Cutie and 😭😭😭😭 I don't think you understand, this is one of my favourite songs in the entire world and I was this 🤏 close to elbowing my way through the crowd to snog him directly on the mouth for playing it 💞

Out of context: he looked me in the eyes and told me I was beautiful

In context: he sang a Finnish song (!!!!!!!!!!!!! a rare occasion, he told us) in which the chorus goes "you are beautiful, and the world is yours" (Maailma on sun by Tehosekoitin) and I SWEAR he looked right at me one time when he sang that line, I REFUSE to believe otherwise 😤

Actually I feel like we made eyecontact quite a few times, but that might as well have been an optical illusion (or wishful thinking 😔)

He also began to sang Wonderwall like the troll he is, but then he was like "fuck no am I gonna play that song" 😆 and @thesunsetisgone may correct me if I'm wrong but it was then when he started playing The Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day and...I don't have video material of what happened next because ????? 😂

He hadn't gotten too far into the song when this 60-year-old guy (I know this because the man himself said he was soon turning 60), somewhat drunk, assumably a friend of Samy's, got on the "stage" (there was no stage) and wanted to duet the song with him, but then neither of them could remember any more lyrics, so the random man took out his phone and googled the lyrics, and when Samy looked at his phone he cracked up because apparently the man had googled the lyrics to Basket Case instead 🤣 the man was insistent on singing this song instead though, but Samy was like "I don't know how to play that?!" and then he pointed at someone in the front row like "you come up here and play this!" and suddenly a wild Mirko appeared! 😃 and then they played Basket Case with Mirko on the guitar and the whole bar sang along ✨

I would also like to thank Samy for making me cross one thing off my bucket list: the last song he performed was Livin' On a Prayer and I've ALWAYS wanted to sing along to that song in a crowd of people singing along with me, so Mr. Elbanna you really made this dream of mine reality 🙏

Damn, I really wish I had told him all this 😔 I mean, I did get the opportunity, because after the gig was over, we went to the restaurant side of the place to put on our outerwear, and Samy was there?? Right next to us???? And first we were like "omg he's right there" but just continued putting on our jackets, but then we were like "no, let's go take pictures with him!"

And so, yeah, we did 🥰 and he was so sweet 😭💕

Thank you kind sir, this evening gave me so much joy you have no idea 🥺💖

When we got out of the bar we had a minor fangirling moment ("OMG WE JUST MET SAMY!!!")...and then a couple of shabby-looking dudes came to ask if we sell speed 🤡 because apparently your average speed-salesperson looks like this:

To conclude, I had the best time and I'm so happy I went and all the panic and nervousness was SO worth it <3

I will post more videos in the LS/Samy tag later today!

#lost society #samy elbanna #my concert #ok to reblog!#(if you're ok with having my lil' face on your blog 😂)#sorry for typos i don't have the time to proofread i need to start getting ready for my niece's namegiving ceremony 💀

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

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I posted 1,658 times in 2022

That's 1,658 more posts than 2021!

313 posts created (19%)

1,345 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@baka-monarch

@brick-a-doodle-do

@.utahlive

@beckyu

@data-expunged-0

I tagged 803 of my posts in 2022

#ask - 201 posts

#talking brick - 118 posts

#nmw - 105 posts

#g/t - 92 posts

#mcyt g/t - 77 posts

#mw - 68 posts

#ask game - 67 posts

#dsmp g/t - 60 posts

#dream smp g/t - 59 posts

#brickfic - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#tbf this has nothing to do with anything cause it was the photo that looked like robert not dream himself but now dream does look like robe

My Top Posts in 2022:

Aha I’ve got something written! Finally! I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally got the motivation to put it on paper, and even more motivation to actually post it. If it does well I may turn it into an AU, but for now this is just a one shot. :]

Briefly read over, if you see any grammatical errors, nope, you don’t!

Curiosity Killed The Cat

_WC 2.4k

_TW: Mention of death, swearing

———————————————————————

Close-minded or not, the house was unsettling. It stood out like a bruise, its darkened color palette failing to blend in with the much warmer colors the rest of the street had. Various vines wrapped the house, some looking to come from the windows. Now, the house wouldn’t be as weird if it was abandoned, but someone clearly lived here. The only way to tell was through the way lights in different rooms would flip from on and off from time to time, but the point still stood — someone lived there.

Personally he hasn’t heard anyone speak of the resident leaving the home, so either they were fucking immune to eating, or some paranormal shit was happening.

Tommy had gotten hired as a newspaper boy a few weeks ago through a friend of his, who was looking for jobs himself but thought it would suit Tommy since it was primarily a quiet and easy job. He did enjoy it, sure, but it got boring.

He wanted some excitement, so excitement he decided upon.

He had tossed the second to last newspaper onto a porch when he was forced to face the dark house. There was no ominous streak of lightning when he gazed upon it’s curtained windows, but he swallowed as he looked at the growing pile of past papers. They were there when he originally got the job, so he wanted to make sure he could end the one-sided cycle before it got too overwhelming for the old house, and before it was too big of a collection; he really didn’t want to end up spending longer than he’s comfortable with while trying to clean.

He bit at the inside of his lips as he silently complained through his thoughts.

He scoffed at his worry and stepped onto the concrete path leading up to the house, at one point stepping on a flower he didn’t know could even begin to thrive on the nearly dead lawn.

Tommy placed his foot onto the first step leading up to the porch, applying pressure to make sure he wouldn’t fall through the damn thing. Once confirming he wouldn’t commit property damage, he climbed to the top slowly and crouched down to gaze at the papers covered in plastic. He brushed a bug off of one gently and picked it up, cringing at the date from two months ago.

He guessed that was the last time someone took the opportunity to clean it, since the entire street would’ve been bustling if someone came out of the door leading into the house. He took a plastic bag out of his pocket — Phil originally told him to bring it in case he decided to do what he was doing now, since he’d been bugging Tommy about it for a while now — and shook it a couple times to make it unfold. Once it did he started shoving papers in as quickly as he could, grabbing as much as four at a time while trying to make more room in the bag.

It filled up at about halfway through the newspaper, so he tied it and opened the flap of his satchel and began removing the other half. When his job was finished he stood up, plastic bag in hand as he prepared to leave. He got down one step before his phone buzzed a custom ringtone set for Tubbo only. He looked into the closest window of the house and muttered to himself, setting the bag down and sliding his satchel off. He took his phone from his hoodie pocket and unlocked his phone, scrolling through pages until he found the Discord app. He looked at the house again nervously while he waited for it to load.

tubbo Today at 8:27 AM

hey did u get to the house yet? is it still covered in the newspapers?

tommyinnit Today at 8:28 AM

yeah i just cleared it off

it’s creepy as fuck dude why’d you make me get this job??

tubbo Today at 8:28 AM

stfu

Tommy smiled slightly at his friend’s text, shutting his phone off and moving to grab both bags. When the light that once shined through one of the windows turned off, a wave of curiosity spread through him. The logical thing to do was run, but.. only satisfactory brought back the cat that died of curiosity, so clearly he should definitely be the biggest man and check it out so he can live to tell the tale of whatever he does find in there.

The bag and the satchel were rearranged to where they were hidden in a corner. He picked his phone up from where he’d set it down and he stepped onto the dull, flat welcome mat, where he felt through his hair for the bobby pin he kept in there for the usual event where he forgets his house key. Techno taught him when he was around four years old how to pick a lock, and ever since it’s his go-to thing to do, even if it’s when he’s breaking into Tubbo’s house because he hasn’t answered any texts.

He eventually found it and pulled it out slowly while being cautious of either dropping it or pulling his hair, then stretched it open so he could have a better grip on it. Tommy put it in the keyhole and pushed it around for a while, and let him say he was completely aware of every little noise that happened around him while he did it. He had to erase his progress once because he was convinced someone was coming outside across the street.

Once he did get it, though, it was only smooth sailing from there. He pocketed his phone and returned the bobby pin to his hair after fixing it, put his hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it. The door opened with ease, and he sent one more glance behind himself before finally slipping in and shutting the door.

He turned around, prepared to start looking around, but he was only met with surroundings a good hundred times his size. In a panic he reached back, but he only hit the wooden door. He thought for a moment that he missed the knob but as he turned his head back he bit back a curse upon realizing the door had been scaled up just as much as the rest of the house.

“Fuck..” Tommy said in a whisper. He felt frozen in place while his eyes looked at every detail of the furniture, walls, floors, everything. He.. really let curiosity get the best of him, didn’t he?

The best plan of action was to find an exit, like a window. However, he couldn’t really do much when he was fucking small, now could he? Stressed, he ran a hand through his hair while he thought, every idea he had being pushed into the back of his mind like a crumpled piece of paper being thrown into the bin once it was deemed useless.

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88 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

not quite ready (i)

sup! wilbur chocolate au is here! fun fact: i wrote this while eating wilbur chocolate :DD (very good btw,,, some of my favorite chocolates even tho i don't rlly like chocolate)

okay just fyi this is a boring chapter—chapter two will definitely have a lot more angst. not to say this one doesn't, it definitely does.

alr, now have the fic >:))

tw !! ⚠️ mention of fatal vore/mouthplay, mention of vore, mention of su1c1de attempts, su1c1dal thoughts, mention/implication of dehumanization/mishandling of a humanoid, panic, swearing ⚠️ !!

words: 2180

—-—

There came a time, where the hope Wilbur had simply died down. It shattered to the ground, letting light for the intrusive, negative thoughts. They pushed any positivity firmly in the crevice of his mind, and never allowed them to simply take a look out. And because of this, there was no acceptance. He never would accept this hellhole of a home.

Essentially, a merry-go-round of hell, where every single fucking time a human comes by, they simply give him a hell-ride and walk off, not bothering to even notice the protests that come from his mouth. He still attempts them, despite knowing damn-well the type of store he’s in; if there is a human that steps foot into this building, they are looking for his kind. They’re looking simply for a treat. Wilbur, although he used to deny this, has finally come to terms with his ultimate fate, between two rows of teeth, completely content with shattering the bones and life of an innocent, who’s only flaw is a size not taller than a finger. Somehow, some way, it makes his life have a lesser value. And perhaps Wilbur has seen the truth to that statement.

So, Wilbur continues to sit, counting seconds among minutes in his head despite knowing full-well they were nothing but inaccurate to what the time truly was. But, with little but a pinhole for his source of light, and he woefully admits his breathing, he’s become plenty used to error in his technique of containing his sanity. Some days were more successful than others, where he simply paced along the rocky path the chocolates created, simply thinking and rethinking over his life, wandering down every metaphorical path, as if it could change the outcome of his current life. But, there are others, where he sits against the pinhole, with his knees curled firmly to his chest, and where his hands wrap them. Where he buries his head in his lap and simply sobs. And other, more exhilarating days, where he finds the wrath in him has become tired of sitting still and accompanies his grim thoughts.

Wilbur Soot will not deny that he absolutely despises his very existence. He loathes his size, barely the size of a human finger – making it next to futile for him to defend himself, and he often feels he’d find more peace dead than he will just simply sitting, taking in the void. Wilbur has wished so hard for it to end, but no matter how many thoughts begged the universe for it, he never got results. And he’s attempted to rid of himself, but each attempt ends in failure, where he’s forced to spend another day in an agonizing, miserable hell that is, what looks to be, a simple bag of candy. He wants it to be like that. But, alas, it is not. And he is very much still alive and sulking in the middle of the bag, just gazing at the miniscule hole, like it holds secrets he yearns to be revealed.

The lights were on – the hole was glowing a certain color that told him the store was open. Wilbur did not have a proper way of knowing how much time had passed and when, but he does understand the basics of a store. Lights on means it’s open, lights off means it’s closed. Simple.

A shadow passes the hole, blocking the light just slightly. Wilbur’s interest perks at this, but not enough to spark any kind of hope. He knows better than to assume the best for himself. He shifts his position slightly, leaning against the back of the wall as he continues to watch the small sample of the world he’s been given. Tire nags at his eyes, but he doesn’t dare sleep. Perhaps it’s because some part of him really does wonder, really does hope, that he’ll be getting out.

–

He’d first moved there not only to get away for a bit, but because he realized that his thoughts were starting to get to him. Constantly having intrusive and careful thoughts fighting in his mind, all while skimming the ground to ensure he wouldn’t be misstepping, was a task he did not enjoy. He holds no prejudice against the smaller beings, they are no less human than he, however it can get distressing to worry nearly every moment of the day where he’s doing a thing as simple as walking.

But, he finds that the streets of New York are unfortunately far more crowded than those in London. While trying to avoid hundreds of tourists coming at him eye-level, with the addition of tinies – it becomes overwhelming. Which is why one afternoon when he deemed himself frustrated and over-tired of worrying, he took temporary shelter in a store, located in a particularly odd part of town, yet still busy as normal.

It looked oddly isolated, like it was not meant to be seen by the public. He still managed to find it, though, so he wondered if it was that hidden. Bells chimed softly as he entered, almost startling the cashier in the back of the building. Tommy offered him a quick smile before he allowed himself to get lost in isles among isles, eyes scanning over the contents in the store. Ultimately, after he had circled the small store, he concluded bitterly that everything looked unfortunately unappetizing.

He returned to the middle of the store, grabbing mindlessly at a bag of Wilbur Chocolate. Hopefully he’ll feel up to eating it by the time he returns home. If he even makes it home without starting a crime scene.

Tommy ambled to the back corner, where the cashier sat at a stool, looking unusually alert of everything he did. Like he was noting it in the back of his mind. And he did not miss the small smirk under the man’s lips. Avoiding the odd look, he set the bag down on its side and patted himself for whatever money he had on him. “Ah, good choice,” The man said. Tommy nodded.

“Twenty dollars and twenty-six cents.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Twenty dollars? For that?”

Something in the cashier’s eyes shifted, and his smirk returned, this time far more curious. He raised his brow and said, “They aren’t exactly cheap, sir. I can’t go giving them out for free,”

“The…. chocolates?”

The man huffed in amusement, nodding. “Sure, the chocolates.”

Americans. “Here.” He handed the man the extra bills he’d fished from his pockets and grabbed the bag sourly. He bid a small goodbye out of habit and made his way back to the glass doors. “I hope you enjoy the chocolates, sir!”

Prime, why did he move here?

—

Wilbur no longer has the wish to be free. Deep down inside of him, the feeling of freedom would be refreshing, but the actuality of the situation has finally sat in him. And he cannot be more afraid, more unwelcoming, about what is to come. Wilbur does not want to be handled by a human, to be tossed around like some fucking toy, when he simply is not that. He knows that his fate will be sealed when he finds his frail, emotional body being crushed under the weight of two rows of teeth as he feels the life being sucked out of him completely, just because of a simple height difference. A major one, however still one that makes him human.

Wilbur is nervous as he feels the bag swaying with every step the human takes. He heard their conversation. The human had been hesitant, but only when he initially heard the price – when the god-awful cashier just had to make a little comment, that’s when he was being purchased, fucking bought willingly. Without any damn hesitation. His nails dug into the candy below him, sure to leave deep dents in it. His breathing had gone haywire since his realization, and it hasn’t gone back to normal since. Beads of tears built up in the corner of his eyes and he couldn’t help but just allow himself to sob. One final time, he will sit in this bag and cry.

Minutes after minutes pass by, and his surroundings continue to sway. The only thing he can hear is the crowded chatter of passing humans, where their shadows continue to make his natural light flicker. Wilbur wishes to scream. But, before he can develop that sudden thought, the swaying stops. And there is a gentle, quiet gush of wind as he’s set down. The movement is followed with the closing of a door.

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88 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

Favorite Dsmp duo and favorite trope

My favorite DSMP duo changes depending on what it’s for, but, for G/T, my favorite duo is easily T!George or G!Dream (or vice versa,,,)

My favorite trope changes so often!! Right now, though, I think it's a giant seeming eerie and terrifying, despite them trying to be funny/playful. And they've got no idea the tiny is scared shitless :)

(Unintentional fearplay lol)

I saw a video about Manhunt in George's POV and it was super cool so obviously I gotta make it g/t 😎 (this video should definitely be watched beforehand cause my descriptions are slacking lol)

Soooo have this lil thing :D

(also have the tiktok cause damn it’s awesome)

oh, george

tw: vore, un/intentional fearplay (kinda both), panic/hyperventilation

wc: 1614

First hunter, first to die. That seemed like a false statement, but, after having been through this very thing innumerable times, George can only stand face-to-face with agreement. While he may have had more experience with Dream as a person, he has had no change in his agility or stamina since the very first time they’d tried this rather irritating game. To go against a giant, for him, would be welcoming his demise with open arms. And while he’s done it before, he is not looking for a second death when they’re only less than half an hour into the hunt. So, he’s taken a shortcut.

Water splashed around him as his boots collided with the ground under the river rushing harshly downstream. A subtle wave of pain traveled through his body as he took a hint of damage. He steadied himself, keeping himself from falling directly into the strong water.

“Geoorge~”

George froze at the calling of his name, a flutter in his stomach erupting instantly. His hands inches to his pathetic excuse of a weapon: a dull wooden sword that he was lucky enough to craft in the short time span he was given. His breathing picked up, creating an eerie echo. George’s eyes couldn’t seem to find a resting place as they looked every-which-way, darting from cavern to crevice to wildlife as he tried to find even a clue that Dream was nearby. He’d not expected to be followed after his death. In fact, he wasn’t aware that Dream knew where he was at all, especially considering the fact that he’d looked rather busy with the other four members of his party.

“I’m gonna kill you, George!” Dream laughed softly. He sounded delighted to speak these words, like it was a pleasure to create pain for the hunter. George panted, finally pulling the weapon from where it rested on his side. His knuckles became white from the intense grip he had on the handle, but, despite the pain, he stuck to the grasp. George’s mind begged him to crouch in the small indent in the stone ‘wall’, however he knew there would be no use in hiding from Dream. It’ll simply be taunt, after taunt, after taunt, until he forces George out. That being through mental manipulation or Earthly damage. He stayed put. As if any kind of defense he attempted would truly wound the giant enough to disable him.

George looked up, taking in the scenery before he’d be momentarily visiting the afterlife. The tip of the ravine was littered in green trees, a sign of early Spring. George looked down when a branch snapped from the water, startling him out of his gaze. “George,” Dream drawled. He sounded like a child calling for a cat, or perhaps a cat calling for a mouse. George’s panicked respires returned once more, and fear laced his body once again.

He aimlessly spun at a slow speed, eyeing the rock formations above him. He exhaled shakily.

“Where, oh where, is Georgenotfound?~” Dream said in a sing-songy tone of voice, his words soft, taunting. It sounded far too close to a doll with a whiny old voice box.

George continued his mindless movements and uncontrollable hyperventilation as he stood there in nothing but anticipation. Dream’s mask, his voice, any sign of him, really. Or, just simply his demise. Perhaps a boulder or a tree. George shuddered, then exhaled shakily at the thought of being in such a vulnerable position, and still, although he told himself otherwise, kept drifting towards the only thing that could really be called safety.

George was startled into looking elsewhere for the second time, as the subtle sound of stone hitting stone resonated in the thin space. He caught sight of it instantly, watching as little more than a pebble drifted downwards from the very top of the ravine. George’s heart sunk, and somehow his deathly grip on the weapon became significantly stronger. He inhaled, trying to gather what little confidence he had remaining.

Dream laughed. And, it wasn’t a lighthearted, amused laugh. It was a taunt, with a tone so similar to the last sentence he spoke. If nothing else made him frightened, it would now be this. It echoed around the canyon a hundredfold, adding to the eeriness his repeated pants created. A string of swears flowed through his mind, just as the water did. The sound rang in his mind, efficiently giving him more goosebumps than he could grasp. Every time he thought the wretched echoes of a laugh had finally taken their leave, he’d just shudder again. Until, eventually, it did stop. As the very last, unfortunately loud, vibration of Dream’s voice bounced back and forth from stone wall to stone wall, Dream spoke up again, “Come here, George!”

A shadow fell over where he stood. George knew painfully well what was to come. He directed his worried eyes upwards, instantly dropping the wooden sword as he stared with intense eyes at the hand coming at him at a speed far too quick. “No!” George yelped, screamed, as skin was all he could see. He had yet to properly register what was happening, until four fingers were closing over him like a cage, with Dream’s thumb securing him to the palm, as if somehow he could attempt, or even successfully, make an escape.

George huffed, freeing one of his arms from the gentle, yet firm, grip Dream had on him. He drew his hand to his face, pulling up the goggles that cover his eyes. And, right as he did so, sunlight drifted back onto his tiny form, welcoming him with a ripple of fresh air. He gasped, struggling against the thumb. “Hi, George,” Dream undoubtedly grinned behind the awful mask that covered his face. “Dream, you are so annoying, put me down,” He didn’t have it in him to be scared. George’s memory was not awful, he knew that Dream had four other human’s to be worried about. He knew that, when he died, he was paying attention to them. But, now, he’s here, distracting both himself and George.

Dream tilted his hand so that it was laying flat, then positioned his fingers so he was able to give George free room to move, while still creating somewhat of a barrier against him. “Why are you bothering me? Shouldn’t you be like…hiding?”

“You were…far easier to get to.”

George rolled his eyes, shifting upwards.

Dream rose a hand to his face, gripping onto the edge of the mask to pull it upwards, only to where his mouth was visible. George scrambled back into the fingers, instantly knowing exactly what was happening. “Dream, seriously, you are so annoying. Put me down,” He muttered, trying unfortunately hard to cover the shake in his voice.

“Why? You’re just going to die if I do. I’m just keeping you safe, George,” Dream hummed, opening his maw and drawing George closer to it. He titled his hand, and even though he tried his utmost hardest to avoid falling into Dream’s open mouth, he failed, and gravity did its terrible job of making George tumble past a row of too-sharp teeth and right onto his friend’s tongue with a small groan of protest.

“Dream!” He called out, watching with a frown as he saw he now was covered in darkness. He sat up, then slowly rose to his feet. The surface under him, or rather the wet muscle under him, twitched as he tried his share at walking along it. Instead of making it more than five steps, however, he instead stumbled back down.

George yelped as he was tossed to the side of Dream’s mouth; his cheek. The very same tongue he was on just a moment before prodded at him, coating him in a disgusting layer of saliva. He groaned, “Dream, you’re actually disgusting–” George stood there, at a total loss for words as he felt a familiar feeling of revulsion circulating inside of him. Then, after a short second, his body was unwillingly being moved to a different area. He somehow ended up situated atop Dream’s tongue again, more saliva pooling under him. He nearly gagged at the sticky feeling. “Dream, please, let me out of here, it’s disgusting,” he tried.

See the full post

93 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

Hello fellow G/T enjoyers! I have come with a gift. I’m not sure if this has been done before, but I haven’t seen anything so far!

I’ve made a G/T tier list including tropes & sizes! Open to anyone, comments for this post and asks are always there if anyone has any suggestions on what to add, I’m open to all ideas! :]

Also tw this tier list includes mentions of noms

Here’s the link,,

@a-xyz-s look, I made it :D

106 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

experiment 👋😎

i'm just trying an experiment rn

if you are a dsmp g/t enjoyer: INTERACT WITH THIS POST!!

i'm doing this because a. i'm curious where those 600 people come from on other dsmp g/t posts, and b. i posted oh george and over half of the likes on it were from people i'd never seen around here,,,

the dsmp g/t community isn't dead, it's very much alive. it's just that there is a significant lack of creators (which is totally fine!). @smog-frog-0 made a good post on the consumers in this community. i'd like to talk a little about it while i'm in the mood to ramble! :]

sooo, i totally agree with smog, the consumers in this community are what keep the content coming. it's totally find if you're a lurker and get shy or whatnot, but even a like helps the confidence of a creator so much!! i can talk from experience, most of the people here are so kind and socially awkward that it's a treat for them to talk to you (/lh /pos)

^ also considering the last part of this, asks are also a hugeeeee motivation booster! chat with us! add comments!! feedback, even if it's just a few tags like "woo this is awesome" would make the next part of the fic come out sooner. (no promises, a personal life of a creator also exists,,)

i know that there are over 600 of you lovely dsmp g/t enjoyers because i have seen it! so many people!! the community is still alive, but the people are spread out over the platform. i'm sure there's a similar circle of creators just like ours somewhere else on this hellsite.

i propose an idea: let's expand. morph together. honestly the group we have on here is so active i wonder why they don't get more clout for the things they do?

seriously, just interact with this post. reblog, tell me who your little circle is, like it, EVERYONE in this community, consumer or content creator, interact!!!

also for all you lurkers, send asks! you can be an anon, so you can keep your secrecy. give feedback, prompts, questions, headcannons, checkups, anything!! we love everyone who comes into our askbox and activity.

here, smog did it, so, it's my turn!

here're the people in our circle 👀 all of you who don't like being tagged, tell me, 'cause it might happen again,

(TOOK OUT THE LIST BC IT KEPT TAGGING PEOPLE DESPITE ME ADDING A .)

SORRY THAT LITERALLY IS SUCH A LONG LIST BUT LOOK AT OUR COMMUNITY! I'M SURE I MISSED A LOT, BUT HERE'S A LOT OF PEOPLE IN MY FOLLOWING!! DSHGDS

And I'm not tagging them for clout, but because these people are fuckin' awesome and deserve a loooot of love on their work, everything they do is lovely, and they should be much more known! Anyone who see's this, please go to their blogs and give them love! their fics are awesome >:D

146 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#year in review #omg it posted the entire stories wtf #i'm so happy my writing is so high though that's awesome :D #pff the dream looking like robert pattinson is my longest that's so sad lmfao #cw vore #cw vore implication/mention #also i saw someone like curiosity 1 the other day and i was like :0 i thought that fic was buried!!!

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tonyhightowerv1 · 1 year

Text

PARIS, FRIDAY

So after two weeks here, a couple of disturbing patterns are starting to emerge, and now’s the time to get to fixing them.

First: Except for a half-hour session at a all-expats playdate a week or so ago, I’ve talked to literally no other adults beside my wife since I got here. I knew I’d be socially isolating, but this is definitely going to get to me if I don’t do something about it.

People post on Social Paris Reddit from time to time looking for people to hang out with, but they’re invariably 24 year old backpackers looking to “party.” Now, much as I’d love to do that, that’s not really where I’m going with my life at the moment, and hanging out after hours with people less than half my age doesn’t hold the same allure it used to, even when they were my actual unhalved age.

* * *

Between the pandemic, the birth of my son, and this move, my life has turned completely upside down this last three years.

As a quiz host and speaker, I used to talk to hundreds of people a week. It was great. It was literally my job to be witty, and welcoming, and to tease the smart out of people.

But then the bars all closed, and then I had a baby that required constant attention and for some reason didn’t know any mnemonics for remembering South American capitals or Best Director Oscar winners or whatever (PEMDAS, kid. WORK WITH ME.), and then we moved to another country where my knowledge of the language is… well, I won’t starve to death, but my French hasn’t gotten better since I got here.

And so I’ve gone from 60 to zero awfully quick.

Even seeing it coming, even knowing this was going to be a psychic hit, it’s still jarring.

Now, normally, I’d lean into running to just keep my thoughts in order — it’s worked every other time — but for the first time since I was a teenager, I have a recurring ligament problem in my knee, and so for the last few months I’ve also been in pretty constant pain. I have a brace, but — my kid refers to me as “The Broken Racecar”, and, well, please let that not be how he knows me.

I went to a doctor here, and for some reason he didn’t seem to understand I wasn’t able to explain to him that I’ve been in constant pain, and I need help.

His office was the most laid-back doctor’s office I’ve ever seen. It looked like a large, well-lit walk-in closet, or maybe a porn set. He took my vitals, his English was about as good as my French, and I kept bringing the conversation back to my knee, only to have him say, well, you have a brace, no?

I have a brace, yes, but —

Well then, you’re fine. You seem fine.

Look, I’m not fucking fine. I’ve been in pain every waking hour of the day since Thanksgiving. Ibuprofen isn’t cutting it. I need help.

Jo is being as sympathetic as she can, but this is clearly weighing on her as well. My role here is not to do what I’m currently doing — I’m only up writing at 4:30 am because I can’t sleep from the pain, but that’s not helpful for the stuff we need to do during the day — it’s to set up Jo’s office so she can get started with writing the two books she’s contracted to write this year.

My job is to take care of everything that isn’t Her Book Projects. Extra daycare, dropping off & picking up X from school, making dinner (Friday is Pizza Day, so that’s tonight’s meal), and keep up the house.

My job is not to get out and talk to strangers, because really, when am I gonna have time for that?

I wouldn’t mind getting back on learning French — that seems like a good use of my time, certainly better than writing these missives before the house wakes up — so maybe that’s useful. If I can’t get out of the house to shoot pictures or interact with this new city I now call home, the least I can do is widen the hole I have to climb through.

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lady-stormbraver · 1 year

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I posted 2,012 times in 2022

That's 1,044 more posts than 2021!

53 posts created (3%)

1,959 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kyber-hearts

@brown-little-robin

@lovesodeepandwideandwell

@starcrier

@swinging-stars-from-satellites

I tagged 1,364 of my posts in 2022

Only 32% of my posts had no tags

#in a galaxy far far away - 88 posts

#looking for lovely - 73 posts

#batfam - 60 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 52 posts

#snadger.gif - 42 posts

#jason todd - 41 posts

#encanto - 35 posts

#oc: violetta - 34 posts

#humans - 27 posts

#kenobi - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#deeply kind characters are compelling to me and i think it's because it's so hard and so antethical to what much of the world calls strength

My Top Posts in 2022:

okay mutuals, y’all have convinced me: I’m watching Free Guy. will update!

21 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

nobody asked for this, but y’all should know that Sleeping At Last - Instrumentals is an absolutely lovely study vibes Spotify playlist. it’s gotten me through many a coffee shop homework and midnight study session over the years.

plus— the quietly hopeful and ethereal vibes of all sleeping at last songs. so calming and peaceful. 10/10 would recommend for all your light, dark, or light-in-the-dark academia needs.

68 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

May I,,, offer you another chapter in these trying times?

A rough summary:

Bruno: Hola Casita :)

Casita: *smacks him upside the head with a tile*

72 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

if you are in education, therapeutic services, or any form of childcare...

please,

please

don’t give up on a child just because their challenging behaviors are scary and draining.

don’t give up on a child just because it seems like they’re not communicating with you.

don’t give up on a child just because they have greater (or different) needs than the other kids.

don’t give up on a child just because the work is hard.

and for the love of all that is good, don’t give up on the child on their FIRST DAY in a brand new environment with communication barriers.

no child is unreachable! no child is incapable!

but you have to give them TIME to become accustomed to New Things and New People, and you have to give them TIME to learn and grow in the areas you see needs-- especially if they don’t understand how to communicate with you yet, oh my gosh.

look, i get it. i really do. i know it’s hard. i know it’s exhausting. i know you’re crawling towards the weekend and feeling defeated.

but if this child was your child, wouldn’t you want someone to be in their corner?

wouldn’t you want someone to, at the very least, give them a fighting chance?

if you care about children, and i believe you do, then you have to be willing to do the hard work. you have to be willing to try all the resources you’ve got before throwing in the towel. you just HAVE to.

yes, the work is hard. yes, the days are long. but it is worth it.

your words and choices now will impact so much of how they see themselves in the future.

please, please be careful with these precious souls.

107 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey!!

i don’t know who needs to hear this, but being gentle with yourself is not admitting defeat!!

choosing to:

1.) take a step back from doing all the things while running yourself ragged and

2.) focus instead on doing fewer things in a healthier manner

…is actually really rad and wise of you!!!

it is perfectly okay to take your time!!

you haven’t failed. and you don’t have to be perfect. nobody is holding you to this standard but you, dear one.

you are free to just breathe, and be, and grow at your own pace.

and we’ll make it. i promise. 🤍

136 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #aww i love that the people I reblog most from are friends old and new 🤍#pfft cracking up at my top ten tags though #over 40 jason posts what EVEN #called OUT #it’s been a good year to be dumpster raccoons with you all :)

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sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

Text

I posted 891 times in 2022

That's 319 more posts than 2021!

221 posts created (25%)

670 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@topguncortez

@sweetlittlegingy

@bradleybeachbabe

@sunlightmurdock

@unicornships

I tagged 529 of my posts in 2022

Only 41% of my posts had no tags

#jake seresin - 178 posts

#jake hangman seresin - 160 posts

#top gun maverick - 108 posts

#top gun: maverick - 103 posts

#better man universe - 101 posts

#gingy writes - 83 posts

#top gun - 83 posts

#gingy answers - 72 posts

#jake seresin x reader - 64 posts

#glen powell - 60 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#i want you all to know the hot and heavy make out scene will be living rent free and taking up my entire brain

My Top Posts in 2022:

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mom

✦Word Count: 5.2 k

✦Warnings: Ansty, Fluff, slight smut (Jake calls himself daddy once), pregnancy, deployment, sad Maty

✦A/n: I have tried to post this like 8 times, it better work. I'm sorry for the wait guys, I hope you like it! Lots of love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The low ache in your back had become a constant; leaning down to pick up the second batch of laundry, the six-month belly just out of the way. Rising back up, one arm carrying the laundry, the other caressing your more than noticeable bump.

You feel a sharp kick, pressing your palm back into the spot, you can feel Little Miss move, pressing farther into your hand. A laugh falls from your lips, she wasn’t even here yet and she was stubborn just like her father.

The pregnancy came as a surprise, though you weren’t trying to avoid pregnancy, it still was a shock when you found out. The four pregnancy tests you’d taken, after being nauseous every morning for a week, proved that your family was about to grow by one.

The shock of it all, couldn’t stop the nerves from kicking in.

Your pregnancy with Mathew hadn’t been easy. Your nausea lasting the whole 40 weeks, making it hard for you to maintain a healthy weight. You ended up getting weekly IVs from the hospital and being up on two different nausea medications.

In the first trimester, this time nausea hit you hard and at all times of the day, the bathroom had become a second home, and Jake could barely handle it. Constantly at your side, holding your hair or rubbing your back. Mathew had been ecstatic when he found out, though the now six-and-a-half-year-old, had a hard time seeing you so sick.

Even having a conversation with your belly, telling the baby that they needed to be nice to you.

That was before you found out that you were having a girl, and thankfully the nausea had calmed after your fourteen-week mark, making your days actually enjoyable.

You’d been able to find out the sex of your baby just before Jake deployed when you were twenty weeks, and you’d both been thankful he could be with you in person to hear.

He’d been overjoyed when you the doctor told you. The smile never left his face on the drive home. Telling you, now that you had one of each, the next one could be a surprise.

You’d smacked him and told him, you wanted to get through this one before even thinking about another. Jake had only given you a teasing smile and kissed your hand, resting it in his lap for the drive home.

That was a month ago now, and all three of you were missing him terribly. Right after you’d found out you were pregnant; Jake had taken to talking to your stomach nightly. You’d told him that the peanut was too small, but he hadn’t cared. Holding nightly conversations with them, ranging from stories about flying, to what had happened during his day.

You’re sure that Little Miss had gotten used to her daddy’s voice, because now without his nightly talks, she has taken to becoming very active during the night. Mathew was having quite the time with Jake being gone as well. The first week he had cried every night and though his tears had slowed, the month had been wearing on the little guy.

Thankfully school kept his mind busy during the day, and Lacey had promised to call if he got upset during the day. Summer vacation was just around the corner for Maty and though he loved second grade, he was so excited about the year ahead. He was going full-time on base and Auntie Lacey, Bob’s wife, would be his teacher for third grade.

You were thankful for the relationship the two of you had developed over the last 2 years, she’d become one of your closest friends and was always there to help with Mathew.

When she found out that you were expecting and that the boys were getting deployed, she took up a permeant residence in your home. Taking over pick up and drop off completely, saying that your house was on her way to school anyway.

Your house was in fact a good bit out of her way, but you weren’t about to argue with the woman. Bob might have been quiet and shy in public, but his sweet, loving teacher of a wife, was anything but.

Lacey, like her third graders, was an endless ball of energy. She was the most positive person you’d ever met and extremely organized. But when she decided that something was going to happen, then it was happening. Her stubbornness rivaled that of Jakes. A fact that had you cackling, when the two of them bickered.

Placing the laundry away, you head back into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on before you start on dinner. Music streams out of the speaker on the counter, a playlist that you’d made after Jake threw you into the world that is 90’s country, on a trip to Texas. You’d fallen in love with the music, on a night out and always listened to it when Jake was gone.

You hum along to the beat of Brooks and Dunn, swaying your hips along to the music, hand resting on your bump. Little Miss takes to rolling around, clearly enjoying the music.

“You like that one sweetpea?” The song changes and she rolls again. “Your daddy’s gonna be pleased with your taste in music.”

You grab the strawberries out of the fridge, singing along to the music. Your mind wandering, sure that Jake and your little girl would have the exact relationship stated in the song.

“When she was three years old on her daddy's knee, he said you can be anything you want to be. She's a wild one, runnin' free.—”

See the full post

1,312 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

Better Man Universe Masterlist

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dad!Jake x Y/n Son (Father/Son Relationship)

★ Fluff ❊ Angst ✓ Smut

✦A/n: Requests are open, for this universe. As well as TopGun fandom and Outer Range Fandom

Better Man Song Rec Playlist

Spotify Playlist Masterlist

Everything You May Need To Know

Epiphany ★✓

You Can Call Me Babe For The Weekend ★❊✓

I Don't Need Your Closure ★❊✓

Better Man ★❊

I Don’t Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends ★❊

Just Come Home ★❊

The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine ★

Autumn Leaves and Pumpkin, Please? ★

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone ★❊✓

Tis' The Damn Season ★

I Couldn't Ask For Anything Better ★❊✓

Something That Will Haunt Me When You're Not Around ❊

SNAPCHAT SERIES

Part 1

Group chat:

Wrong Chat

Brownie Fiasco

Tis’ The Damn Season

Baby Daddy

Instagram:

Meet Josephine

Jacob Grant Seresin *que swoon*

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1,451 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

Better Man

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 6.7K

✦Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of SA (previous relationship), self-hate, shitty schools, bullying, possible thoughts of suicide (on explicitly stated). Please let me know if I missed something.

✦A/n: Repost, the original is no longer showing up for me. I’m not sure what happened, if your seeing double I apologize.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The incessant buzzing coming from your pocket continues, as you listen to Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates go over mission plans. Attentively listening and marking down any changes that need to be made to the paperwork.

As the admirals Administrative Service Manager, you held the responsibility of keeping all things “Top Gun” in order: including incoming pilots, flight schedules, and the newly permanent Dagger Squadron.

You subduedly shift silencing the buzzing, again focusing on Cyclone and Warlock.

“I want a new set of recruits coming in, with Maverick training them.” Cyclone gives you a pointed look. “I want him to be on board by the end of the week. You both, can go over applicates and find those best fitted.”

You silently nodded, jotting down that you need to draft a letter for Mav and get it to him before Wednesday.

“With the success of the Uranium Mission, DC is going to want to see what else the Dagger Squadron can do. I want them flying new drills and layouts every day. Draft up a few different sets of flight plans, get them on my desk by Wednesday morning.”

“Of course, sir. Two days will be more than enough time to draft up three or four, and I will have a handful more done by next Monday.” You trail off as your phone starts buzzing again.

Pausing to grab it while Cyclone and Warlock keep chatting, you realize that it’s Mathews school calling. Raising your hand in a silent gesture, you glance up and ask if you can be excused for a moment. To which Cyclone nods, signaling to the hallway.

Rising up, you not so slowly, make your way to the door and press answer. Miss Clarks voice rings through your phone, telling you once again that Mathew has been called to the office.

“Miss Benjamin, you need to come in. Principle Davis wants to talk to you immediately. Mathew is fine, though he has been placed in the corner and will not be allowed recess time.” She mutters harshly.

You slowly shake your head and lean up against the wall, “What happened?” you question. Waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “I know that Mathew is not the only child at fault here. So, I’m going to ask again, what happened?”

You know that your sweet Mathew would never hurt someone without probably cause, and even then, it’s unlikely. Though this is the first call you’ve received from the school, you’ve been in three other times for words with the principal. Discussing another upper-class student that had been picking on Mathew.

The same excuse being thrown in your face that, none of the teachers saw the bullying and that Mathew was lying. Though the last time, Mathew told you that the other boy had pushed him and scrapped his knees. Markings on his knees, you saw during bath time, that night confirmed that he had been pushed.

Each visit you had, the school ignored you and claimed you to be an overprotective mother.

“Mathew hit another boy, Miss Benjamin.”

The statement shocks you at first, but then you question why Mathew hit him.

“Well Mathew says that he was hit first, but no one saw it.”

“You’re telling me, that my son was hit, then defended himself, and you didn’t think to lead the conversation with that information.”

Pushing off the wall you start to make your way to your office. “I will be there in 20 minutes.” Grabbing your purse, leaving the paperwork knowing that you will be coming back to the office enviably.

“Also, Miss Clark,” your voice steadily rises. “Get my child out of the damn corner.” You all but yell before hanging up on the woman.

Stepping out of your office and running into Lt. Bradshaw, you bounce off him. He grabs your arms steadying you, as you apologize.

“You okay there, Y/N” He questions quickly realizing how stressed you are.

You can feel the frustration seeping from your bones, tears lining your eyes. Working to steady your breathing, in any possible way to avoid crying.

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1,553 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

I Don't Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dagger Squad vs. Davis

✦Word Count: 2.8 K

✦Warnings: Protective!Hangman, Angry!Hangman, Protective!Dagger Squad, Asshole Guy, Failed Drugging, Jake hints at killing people...

✦A/n: The Dagger Squad finally gets ahold of Mathew's old Principle. They really hate the man, we all do tbh! Day 2 of 500 celebration!!!!

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

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1,616 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You Can Call Me Babe For The Weekend

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 15.4K

✦Warnings: Fluff, slight smut angst, mentions of abuse (previous relationship), self-hate, protective brother Bradley (let me know if I missed anything.)

✦A/n: This is out two days later than I planned, but you asked for a long part. So, here it is! I'm pretty proud of this one, it was definitely writing from the heart. Much Love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

You were ecstatic that the work week was over, you were even more pleased that you had gotten off work early. You had finalized all the flight planes for next week and had already started prep for recruitments. You’d only been back on the North Island for 4 months, but time had flown. You had gotten into a comfortable rhyme, working under Cyclone and Warlock, even forming a “friendship.”

You and Warlock got along great, and you considered him a good friend, though you and Cyclone still had your moments in which you completely disagreed with each other. Most the time it was a contest between the two of you, to see which of you would break first.

For the most part, your work life at Top Gun couldn’t have been better. You had also heard from your father that Commander Kazansky was pleased with your work, and how quickly you had the office back up to naval standards.

Your life outside of Top Gun, well just outside of the office, was great as well. Bradley had introduced you to some of the other pilots, who welcomed you into the small group with open arms. You had even created a pretty strong bond with one of Bradley least favorite people, Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Bradley had a talk with each of you when he learned that you had been hanging out in the beginning. Bradley had made the point that he didn’t fully trust Jake, and thought that it would be better if you avoided him. He was convinced that Jake was going to hurt you, even more than you already were.

You had told Bradley that you were in fact a big girl, who could take care of herself and that you didn’t think Jake was like that. You also promised Bradley, that as of right now, you had no intention of getting in a relationship, and that Jake was just a good friend.

That was 3 months ago and though Bradley had let up a little bit, he was still holding strong on his big brother position. Ready to defend and protect you at all costs. It was honestly hilarious how serious he took it. Though you were extremely thankful in knowing that he would always be there if you needed him.

You knew that the group usually got together at the Hard Deck for drinks every Friday and you, luckily, were going to be able to go as well. Your parents had offered to watch Mathew over the weekend, claiming that they hadn’t seen him in forever.

They had just seen him on the prior weekend, when you all got together for Amelia’s birthday, but who were you to deny them of the little munchkin. Mathew was already 2 and a half, quickly changing from your baby into a little boy, and they wanted to get as much love in before he got too active for them to handle.

You hadn’t told Bradley or Jake that you would be coming out, just in case plans changed, and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Pulling up to your parents’ house you went to get a sleeping Mathew from his car seat, the drive wasn’t long from base only 30 minutes, but he was due for a nap, and he’d been teething morals. Meaning he hadn’t been sleeping well and was grumpy all the time, the extra sleep time was greatly welcomed.

Situating Mathew on your hip, you grab his bag from the passenger seat, and he wakes slightly. He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and falls back to sleep, just as your mother comes out to meet you.

“Hello sweetheart, let me take that for you.” She takes Mathew’s bag and goes to give him a kiss on the head. “Has he been asleep long? Your father is just in the kitchen, he’s so excited to have him all weekend. Got’s all sorts of plans.” She gives you a teasing smile, poking fun at your father.

“He fell asleep on the drive and daddy just loves his grandbabies. Don’t make fun of the poor man, he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he’s retired.”

When your father found you were moving back, he decided that needed to retire. Claiming that he needed to be able to help you with Mathew. He most defiantly didn’t expect all the open time he had, which led to him doing all sorts of home improvement projects. The newest being, the sandpit and playset in the back yard.

He claimed that the kids needed it. Though Amelia was ten now, and claimed it was for babies. While Mathew was still too small to play on anything, fully by himself.

You were thankful that your parents were so involved in Mathew’s life and wouldn’t complain at their antics.

“Honey, Y/n is here, and you need to turn down the TV. Maty is sleeping and I don’t want that football game waking him, it’s a rerun anyway.”

Rounding the corner, you see your dad; he had been making lunch, though when he sees you, he quickly comes over to take Maty out of your hands. He gives you a quick kiss on the head and goes to lay Mathew down in the play pen that they kept.

“Thank you so much for watching him, Mom. It really means the world and if you need anything just call.”

She gives you a nod, while putting the bag away and unpacking the frozen snacks you had brought.

“Sweetie, you seem to forget we raised you and Penny, both troublemakers.” Your dad lets out a chuckle and starts on lunch again.

“Me and your mom have everything that Maty could need, I even got teething gel today. Now you get out of here, you’re making me miss the game.”

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1,705 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#I feel like they should be Gingy’s year since August #because that’s when I started writing #the life of gingy #year in review #tumblr2022 #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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lockoutkey · 1 year

Text

I posted 6,232 times in 2022

2,486 posts created (40%)

3,746 posts reblogged (60%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@harley-the-pancake

@sparrowsocks

@lockoutkey

@wildcardjoey

@juststarsandthemoon

I tagged 2,993 of my posts in 2022

#key asks - 1,287 posts

#timetraveler artist writer - 122 posts

#crumchysocks - 103 posts

#harley the pancake - 83 posts

#wildcardjoey - 73 posts

#nicholaspwildeblog - 65 posts

#the royal bat snake - 65 posts

#nach0 - 54 posts

#ok ish hermitcraft headcanons - 47 posts

#key liveblogs - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#instead of sedating him they just do that thing moms do with babies and like wrap them in a blanket so they can’t move their arms and lets

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

KIWIFARMS LEAKED THE INFO ABOUT MANATREED HOLY SHIT

259 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

Every server has their own Death, and they all meetup for tea and cake once a year. It was to discuss their jobs, how they were handling the deaths on their servers. At least, that was the excuse. Honestly, it was just a game to some of them.

Cleo loves the meetup because she gets to meet the newer Deaths. They pop up more often now adays as more Players start their servers. They’re scared of her, why wouldn’t they be. Not many control two servers, and even less servers like hers. News had spread of what a last life death was like. Of what’s her death was like. Of her revenge.

Kristin finds everyone amusing, how little her fellow Deaths know. How little their Players know. Her husband has learn so much from her, from the Deities that inhabit his world, and from the tragedies he’s faced. He was so different from other players, keeping Death at arms length until he embraced her. She hoped he never truly joined her.

Foolish was nervous in front of his friends. We’re they still friends? He had thought so at one point. Then he ignored his past, tried to forget, and look what happened. Dream had ruined so many lives when he could have fixed it. He was Death, yes, but he was Foolish in so many ways.

Jimmy is new and not quite ready, but slowly learning. Everyone is calling him a canary and he thinks the nickname is pretty. Every Death intimidating in their own way and he was shocked to see Cleo there, waving languidly at him as he entered the room for the first time.

Noxite stood from his chair at the front table. All eyes turned to him and he smiled. They were so young and thought they knew so much. If they did, maybe they could keep their players away from his games. They couldn’t. “Shall we begin?”

350 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

SCAR ON MCC THIS ISNT A DRILL

466 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

the queen when she tries to get to heaven but god reminds her she colonized the world

499 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i only know riverdale through the mutuals but this is what i’ve gotten

9,578 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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bigassheart · 4 years

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I’ve seen a couple posts about how everyone was wildly out of character and totally inconsistent this season and I’m just like... were you guys paying attention?

1. Luther

Arguably the biggest shift in character between the two seasons, but it makes sense. Luther spent a year fending for himself and thinking his entire family was dead.

This is the first time in his life that he had to hold down a job and actually live on his own. It was literally his first time living out in the world among anyone other than his family, and you can see in his reactions with the other characters from that life (the boss, his landlord, those kids that idolize him, and the waitress) that it has really mellowed him out. It has allowed him to be more normal, despite being very much not normal. You can see the way he’s so much more comfortable in his skin. Literally the only times he looks uncomfortable is when he’s fighting people, shirt off and body on full display. He’s still not comfortable with that, but he’s not trying to hide under huge overcoats anymore. He has people in his life who accept him for being a little weird, but really do treat him normal.

So is he a little less uptight and mission focused? Yeah. Because he can finally see another life, and it’s the life that he honestly did want in season 1 but felt like he couldn’t have because he was number 1 and he had a responsibility to his dad, his family, and the academy to be the leader. Having a year on his own frees him of all that.

But he also spent all that time thinking his family was dead and feeling so guilty about it. You can see in his very first interaction with Vanya, where he suddenly feels that responsibility again. He brings a gun, not knowing what’s going to happen and, despite what he told Five, he absolutely does still have that lingering feeling of responsibility. But then he sees Vanya and she’s not a threat and everything he has been holding in for the last year comes out. Because he does feel guilty as hell for what he did to Vanya, but also for the fact that his actions pushed her into causing the apocalypse. He spent a year with the knowledge that he did that and thinking that his family was dead because of his actions.

He’s willing to listen now because he spent a year living in a world where his actions killed his whole family. And now he finds out that that didn’t happen and he has a second chance. Of course he’s going to take it!

2. Diego

In the first season, Diego finally admitted that he wanted to be close to his family and that he cared about them and wouldn’t leave them again. He confronted the guilt about leaving, which he had previously denied. He realized the difference between revenge and honoring someone’s memory. But despite all that, he never confronted the reason why he, a grown-ass-man, wandered around the city as a leather clad, mask wearing vigilante.

So when we see Diego show up in 1963, that’s still who he is. He wants to be that hero and he finds an answer for how to be that hero in the first several minutes that he’s there. So he takes it. I mean, what else is he going to do? His family is gone. Maybe they’ll show up again. Maybe this is it. Either way, he’s on his own like he was before, so he’s got a duty to be the hero he has chosen to be.

And then he meets his dad again. Everyone keeps telling him he has daddy issues, and they’re right. He absolutely has daddy issues. He’s still trying to simultaneously prove that he’s good enough for his dad, but also doesn’t need Daddy’s approval. Except he does need it. He still desperately craves it and he feels gutted when his dad denies him that approval, even falling back into the stutter he had as a kid.

Now, despite the way we joke, Diego is not dumb. He is so observant and he makes some of the most poignant statements about his siblings and the way they see the world. He sees the people around them and he understands them, but he has never been able to completely turn that gift inwards and see those same things in himself. In this season, Lila breaks through all that and he finally sees himself in her at the end.

“Do you know how hard it is to trust people when your whole childhood was bullshit manipulation? Then why would you do that to me?”

Diego sees himself in Lila, in her failure to break away from her mother despite the fact that he knows she wants to. In the final episode, he sees that she is just like the rest of the siblings, but she doesn’t have to be. None of them have to be stuck with their daddy issues, because they have each other. They can support and care for each other. It’s the last step of the growth he started in season 1, moving beyond his tendency to define his life and his family through their father.

3. Allison

Throughout season 1, Allison struggled with whether or not to use her powers, but it was all centered around getting back to her daughter. When she appears in 1961, that motivation is effectively removed. She thinks everyone else is dead. She thinks that she is stranded in the past and that she will never get back. She finds a group of people to support her and before long... she finds her voice again.

It’s no coincidence that Allison’s first spoken words in the series come right after she gives Ray that pamphlet with a bunch of added notes. She finds her voice in the civil rights movement. She finds her power there. She finds a way to help change the world, to change reality, and she does it without her powers.

This is something she struggled with through the entirety of season 1, feeling inadequate for using her powers to get what she wanted, not knowing if anything was real or earned. Now she has the chance to earn everything without those powers and she is thriving.

And then she is forced to use her powers again. It all turns out fine, but now she’s showing off and experiencing all over again how good it feels to have power. She spent two years in a world where she was denied equal treatment, where she could be arrested and assaulted for any reason those with more power came up with. And now she feels that power... She doesn’t have to wait for people to give her respect. She can demand it. But the pain is still there, and it’s not enough to just be respected, because these people have hurt her. They almost killed her husband. They have used their power to cause pain to her and all those who look like her time and time again and now it’s time to understand what it’s like to be powerless, to be hurt and to be unable to stop it and...

And it’s scary. It’s scary to have that much power, to see how you could become the kind of person who uses your power to hurt others. And she knows that her power has hurt people she loves and suddenly she’s right back where she started.

Only not entirely.

She doesn’t shy away from her powers in the final fight. She is obviously still finding that balance and I would expect this struggle to continue for her in future seasons. Power can be addicting and Allison’s power is so strong. She knows the danger there, but she also knows that sometimes it’s needed despite the danger.

4. Klaus

Klaus is an addict. He finds obsessions to bury himself in to avoid dealing with reality. In season 1, he buried himself in drugs and booze. When he shows up in the 60′s, he finds a new drug to bury himself in: adoration.

Klaus is so impulsive and it’s not difficult to connect the dots of how one thing leads to another until suddenly everything is out of his control. Honestly, that’s the story of Klaus’s life, no matter where he goes. And then something changes. He gets tired of his cult and leaves. Except... that’s not really the reason.

After all this time, Dave is still the love of his life, and he knows he has an opportunity. He knows where Dave will be at this one time and he knows exactly what he has to change to keep Dave alive.

He also knows that Ben is going to have thoughts about this.

I know some people were disappointed that there wasn’t more Klaus and Ben bonding this season, but it makes sense that there is tension there. I think a lot of that tension comes from Ben’s circumstances, which I’ll discuss later, but Klaus is also not responding to that tension well.

They are fighting more than ever (not that they ever didn’t fight in season 1, where they spent much of their time being snarky to each other and Ben literally punching Klaus in the face for being an asshole), but the fighting is about something new this season. Ben wants his own life and Klaus is not in a position to give Ben what he really wants. We also learn that he has been carrying around this guilt for the last 17 years about forcing Ben to stick around as a ghost. He forced this half-life on his brother and now that it’s not enough for Ben, Klaus doesn’t want to deal with it. So he avoids and deflects and snarks and we see the toll on their relationship. We see it in the way he tries to deal with his plans around Dave entirely on his own. He focuses so much into that last ditch effort. He’s already in such a low place before this, so when that fails, we see him snap. We see him give up and crumble. And Ben falls back to his old role, trying to save Klaus from himself.

But the tension isn’t gone and Klaus’s guilt isn’t gone. We see it again when Klaus finally agrees to let Ben possess him. Klaus has always been afraid of his powers and being possessed is just as terrifying a thought as being surrounded by the dead. And yet he gives Ben that chance. It’s the last good thing he can do at that point.

I do wish we had gotten more closure for Klaus and Ben’s story. I think Vanya’s reveal could have been given a little more time, but that’s not really a problem with inconsistent characterization, so we’ll save that for another post.

5. Five

OK, who would argue that Five was out of character or inconsistent? He’s obsessed with stopping the apocalypse, is willing to cross a lot of lines to save his family, and constantly frustrated by his family’s failure to go along with his plans. This is textbook Five.

What I loved about this season was that we got to see Five finally meeting his father again. They interact as two adults, not as a child trying to find away to become his own person, frustrated by a lack of trust from his father. It allows Reggie to see Five in a different light and to actually provide advice in a constructive way, something he has almost never been able to do when viewing them as his children. But despite outward appearances and despite the fact that Five is a grown man, he still sees his father the same way he always has. He doesn’t register Reggie’s advice as advice. He hears that he’s striving beyond his abilities and that maybe he can only travel in seconds. He hears his father telling him he can’t handle time travel. That’s why he doesn’t try to actually take the very good advice until the very end.

An old dog can still occasionally learn a new trick and Five proves that true.

6. Ben

As I mentioned earlier, Ben is chaffing at his ghosthood. Maybe it’s because Klaus has been sober enough to keep Ben around solidly for 3 years. Maybe it’s because Ben is no longer spending all his time trying to keep Klaus alive and sober. Or maybe it’s the fact that he has finally found someone that he actually wants to spend time with. Whatever the reason, Ben wants to be alive this season.

Again, as I mentioned, that’s causing some tension. Ben doesn’t want to be tied to Klaus, but Klaus is ignoring that because he feels so guilty about it. Ben doesn’t want to admit that he was too scared to go into the light on his own, so they’re at a bit of a standstill.

And then Ben gets the opportunity to be alive again, if only for a while. And in a lot of ways, it’s wonderful! But it’s not the same as being truly alive.

So when the time comes, when he’s faced with that light again... he’s not afraid. He knows that it’s time to move on. He knows this isn’t where he should be, but he also got the chance to be there for his family. He misses them, but he got to talk to Diego and Vanya. He got to save Vanya. He got to save Allison and Diego and Klaus and Luther and Five and the whole world! So while he would have stayed, he’s not sad about leaving anymore, and he’s not afraid.

7. Vanya

OK, she was a little out of character because... you know. She had amnesia.

But aside from erasing her past, the amnesia allowed us to see Vanya without the anger and resentment that plagued her for all of season one. Vanya was always someone who was kind and loving, someone who cares enough to leave peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches out for a missing brother for years. Someone who knows the pain of not being seen and who will always take the time to truly see other people. She’s someone who wants to love and to be loved and to protect those she loves.

That was all here, with or without the memories. And as soon as the memories came back, so did the guilt and fear about what she had done, what she had become, terrified of what was inside her in a way that she was not when her powers first surfaced. But Ben is used to being afraid of what’s inside of him. He knows she’s not a monster and is the perfect person to explain that to her. And this time around, she has experienced the love and care and attention of her siblings (and Sissy) to back up those words. That’s how she finally accepts them as truth, how she finally accepts her power as a part of her.

Overall, there are things that I wish this season spent more time with, but there was nothing that I felt was out of character or wildly inconsistent. The characters still struggled with all the baggage from their shitty childhood, their fear of their powers, and the guilt in their past. Some struggled in new ways this season and some continued old struggles that had never fully been resolved. The season felt very different than the first, but it still felt like the Umbrella Academy. It was a good mix of new and old and a good mix of feel-good moments we have all been waiting for and frustrating and sad moments that just come with having a complicated family. I loved this season. And now, I’m going to go re-watch every episode.

#tua s2 spoilers #tua season 2 #tua analysis #The Umbrella Academy #tua #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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cdelphiki · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday:

more unnamed Clark & Billy fic, Billy’s first morning at Clark’s. This is quite literally what I wrote today, so it’s what I’m sharing. I’m trying not to share the best/most emotional parts before I post. I’m kinda laughing at myself for totally making up Clark growing up on hoe cakes. I have NO CLUE if that’s even a Kansas farmer thing, but my grandma makes them and she’s lived on a farm 60 years (granted: in NC) so now Clark is making them.

Clark’s night ended up being busy.

The blizzard dumped two feet of snow on Metropolis, even though the forecast had only predicted 15 inches, so much of the night was spent helping with clearing snow and making paths for emergency services.

Faucett City, on the other hand, didn’t get nearly as much snow as Metropolis. They just had brutally cold temperatures, causing everyone to go inside and stay there. Meaning Billy was able to spend the entire night asleep, without having to worry about doing any Captain Marvel business.

Clark still checked in on him often, turning his ear to the apartment to see if Billy was still asleep or not.

Thankfully, he always was. Once he’d finally gotten to sleep, he stayed that way, and Clark was glad he’d found some peace. Heaven knew the kid deserved it.

It was nearly 9am when Clark’s work finally lulled, and he was able to head on home for the day. And when he slipped through his fire escape window, Billy was just barely stirring for the day.

“Morning, Billy,” Clark said cheerfully, when Billy opened his door a minute later and glanced over at him. Clark had already zipped out of his uniform, and was sporting a pair of sweats. He still needed to shower before he could get dressed dressed.

And decide if he was going into the office at all.

Billy blinked at him and simply stared for a solid few seconds before Clark could see his thoughts actually engage as he finished waking up. He smiled, half-heartedly, and mumbled, “Good morning,” back at him, before shuffling over to the bathroom.

So Billy was not a morning person.

Good to know.

Maybe getting food into him would help with that.

Clark went about making a good, hardy breakfast, the way his Ma taught him. She had always been a fan of a big breakfast in the morning to help start the day off. It’d been a staple for him, as a kid.

Now… now he was lucky to eat a bowl of cereal in the morning. Usually he grabbed a granola bar, or maybe a banana on his way out the door. Weekends were the only time he ever bothered breaking out the skillet and frying up an egg.

But that morning, he made all the stops, right down to the hoe cakes Ma liked to make them. They were easier than biscuits and easy to heat up again for lunch.

Clark had yet to succeed in making biscuits. Most likely, he needed Ma to walk him through it one day when he was back home. No matter what he did, they never turned out like her’s.

Hoe cakes, on the other hand, were hard to mess up. And were the perfect side to the eggs and bacon.

Billy moved back to his room at some point while Clark was cooking, and holed himself in there for quite a while before finally emerging again, fully dressed in the same sweatshirt and jeans from yesterday just as Clark was spooning out the last two cakes to fry up.

“Awake now,” Clark asked, as he placed his batter bowl in the sink.

“Yeah,” Billy replied, his slight smile shining through his voice. He walked across the apartment to the kitchen, and leaned up against the island behind Clark as he added, “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

#clark kent #billy batson #superman #shazam #captain marvel #i have decided this will be a one shot series #and the first one shot is almost done then #and will likely be over 10k words #probalby 12 #thats my guess now #we'll see how accurate i am #im at 9k right now #it will start with clark telling billy his ID and end with billy agreeing to move in with clark #i gotta come up with a name #eep

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liesoverthec · 3 years

Text

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

#911 fox #911 canon character details #athena grant #bobby nash #chimney han #hen wilson #maddie buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bathena #madney #henren #buddie #userac #hey yall if anyone else wants to be added to these tags let me know #im happy to do so #I feel like I have v little for Bobby here sorry :/#I’ll work on getting lots for him next time

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nothorses · 3 years

Text

Top Surgery Journal

I figured it was time to share my top surgery experiences, so folks can potentially learn from them! I'll be updating this as I have more to add.

For context, I am in the U.S. (specifically Washington state), and a legal adult. A lot of my process may not apply to everyone.

Getting Coverage

The first step to scheduling top surgery is getting insurance coverage for it. Talk to your insurance first to figure out if they do cover top surgery, and what you need to do in order to obtain coverage. Oftentimes it won't be listed officially on your plan, but you can get coverage as long as you can prove you need it.

I was lucky enough to have good insurance with trans healthcare included, so all I needed was a letter from my PCP, and a letter from a behavioral health counselor specializing in gender dysphoria. I didn't need any diagnoses, any specific length of time on HRT, any particular presentation, etc.

(If you live in Washington, state law requires that top surgery be fully covered under Medicare. It might be worth it to check your state's laws as well!)

Referrals

I tried to schedule with a surgeon myself, thinking it was my responsibility to get the documents sent over and everything, but my PCP actually referred me when I first told her I had gotten coverage from my insurance.

I ended up going with that referral because the other surgeon was so hard to get ahold of, but my PCP did also send a referral to the surgeon I'd chosen before. I recommend going through your PCP for referrals first, as it takes a lot of the workload off of you- and they'll likely write a referral anyway when sending the documents needed for coverage over.

You may also find that the surgeon you talk to has different requirements than your insurance before performing top surgery. A referral from your PCP might bypass these requirements, but be sure to call them yourself and double-check. Your surgeon's office is supposed to call you to schedule a consultation, and they may not call you at all if you don't have all of those documents in- which means you can be left in limbo indefinitely, not knowing you need to send them more than you already did.

The Consultation

I was able to get a consultation about 5 weeks after calling, which was great! The consultation is your opportunity to ask the surgeon any questions you have, for them to evaluate your chest and what methods might work for you, and for you to see their results (most surgeons do not post result photos online for privacy reasons).

Come into the consultation with all the questions you have written down somewhere, so you don't forget. I asked:

If I could see photographs of his top surgery results

Which incisions he thought would work for me, stressing the things that were important to me: minimal recovery time, no free nipple grafts (I wanted to keep mine, but without risking a failed graft), and minimal chance of needing revisions

What my recovery would look like for the recommended incisions

Whether I will be getting drains (ideally, yes: drains reduce recovery time and the risk of needing revisions)

If he's had patients who have had complications (failed grafts, infections, need for revisions, etc.) and what he's done to reduce the chances of that happening again

My surgeon's results looked good (scars were even and symmetrical, healed nicely, etc.) and he answered my questions really well, so I was happy to go with him!

He recommended the fishmouth method for me, because recovery time would be minimal, there would be no need for nipple grafts, and my chest was small enough for it to work really well.

Scheduling the Surgery

My surgeon didn't have a very long waitlist, but it still took about 3 weeks for the clinic to process my request with my insurance (yes, even though I already had coverage). Once they'd processed that, they called me with a window of time I could schedule within; after a few months, insurance would no longer cover the surgery.

I got an extension, as I was working an intense summer job that I couldn't really take a few weeks off of to recover, then scheduled my surgery over the phone. They asked if I wanted a pre-op appointment, and I declined, as it'd mostly be information covered in the consultation or that could be given to me over the phone.

Preparing for Surgery

I wasn't given a check-in time for the hospital until about 2pm the day before, but they finally did call me and give me some instructions, including:

My check-in time and place

The hospital's phone number, to give to my ride/caretaker in case they had questions

That I was not to bring visitors (cause covid)

To bring my ID, insurance card, and credit card

That I was not to eat or drink anything after 12am that night (I did drink a bit of water with my meds, which they seemed fine with)

To shower with antibacterial soap the night before, and the morning of the surgery

Not to wear hair or skin products like deoderant or gel

Not to wear any jewelry, or anything else removable that wasn't just a clothing item.

When I checked into the hospital, they had my fill out some paperwork including the name and number of my ride and caretaker (which could be the same or separate people; they called the ride number when it was time to pick me up, and the caretaker number with detailed updates on my progress). Then they had me change into the hospital gown and answer some medical history questions, prepped me with an IV, and had a nurse, both anesthesiologists involved in my surgery, and my surgeon check in with me for more information and to answer any last questions I had.

I was told to use the bathroom about 20 minutes before I would be going under for my surgery (to avoid needing a catheter), and once I did, they injected some anesthetic into my IV and I passed the fuck out.

After Surgery

I showed up to the hospital at about 9am, and the prepping ended around 11am. The surgery was scheduled to end at 2pm; I wasn't conscious until about 3pm.

They had me use the restroom again (I passed out on the floor of the bathroom because it was way too soon, lmao), and I was in and out of sleep until I finally used the bathroom on my own at about 5pm. At that point I was a lot more lucid; I had some toast and pudding, and the nurse called my caretaker to go over post-op instructions with us both.

After that I dressed myself, was wheeled out to pick up my pain meds at the in-hospital pharmacy, then hopped in the car with my ride (the wonderful @lillia-pad) at about 5:30pm.

Recovery

I have a pretty high tolerance for anesthetic, so I was mostly just tired during the 36-ish hours the anesthetic continued to wear off. I didn't experience any nausea or lightheadedness either, but I was given an anti-nausea patch behind my left ear, plus some anti-nausea meds, just in case.

My post-op regimen sort of looks like this:

Take 1-2 tablets of oxycodone every 4 hours (for pain)

Take 2 tablets of laxative meds twice a day (cause pain meds cause constipation)

Empty drains twice per day, and record how much was in them

Get up and walk around every couple of hours to reduce the risk of blood clots

Ease into eating again: start with clear fluids, and work up to crackers/bread/etc., to avoid nausea and vomiting.

Lay down propped up on plenty of pillows, and only on your back (no side-sleeping!)

Keep the compression binder/gauze on for the first 48 hours, then remove them to shower as needed (but put them back on after!)

I was pretty lucid by the third day post-surgery, and was able to scale my pain meds down pretty quickly from 2 tabs on the first day, to 1 tab for the next two days, to 1/2 tab. Meds are much more important at night, when there's nothing to distract you from the pain- don't be afraid to ration them for nighttime.

Oxycodone also definitely causes drowsiness, so I took a lot of "oxy naps" about 45-60 minutes after I took my meds, which last between 20 minutes and 2 hours depending on how tired I am.

I have my post-op this week, so I will update this post with more details on my scars and healing then!

#top surgery #trans #transgender #ftm #transition #trans men #trans man #transmasc #transmasculine #nothorses #resources

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lululawrence · 3 years

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

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howelljenkins · 4 years

Text

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way.

@sleep-deprived-athlete

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet.

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years.

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch.

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect?

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious.

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school.

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home.

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen.

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?”

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence.

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell.

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again.

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were.

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,”

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,”

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage.

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed.

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top.

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all).

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,” You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats).

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options.

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,”

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line.

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi.

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine.

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer.

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face.

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air.

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you.

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery.

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position.

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it.

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.”

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again).

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth.

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!”

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting.

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,”

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats.

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore.

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any.

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go?

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend.

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently.

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it.

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one.

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!”

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field.

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket.

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend.

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,”

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too.

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week.

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name.

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring. They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah.

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest.

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks.

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes.

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah.

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room.

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team.

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.”

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills.

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.”

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.”

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe).

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

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