#lost an arm and died doing so but like. yknow

[elegyofthemoon]

idk how to vid edit but a mmv of lacie to "what she was here for" from fena ost would be so god tier you dont understand

#LISTEN. #I STILL STAND MY GROUND THAT HELENA AND ABEL ARE LIKE ATTEMPTS TO BE JACK AND LACIE. #you can never reach that ground ever jacie cannot be topped ever #but GOD do i crave a montage of jack and lacie moments to that song #that way i can cry harder :) (as someone who like had a throwaround about abel when i watched) #like abel sucks but also hes valid he just wanted to save his first friend and first love good for him honestly #lost an arm and died doing so but like. yknow #IM STILL KINDA ??? #about the ending of fena pirate princess and its been a month #like i just remember being so shocked when i accidentally predicted abels outcome fjdjdj #snow speaks #no no bc listen #i want jacks memories to be played w the sound of what she was here for #like i want it to start happy and then the song slowly becomes orchestrated and distorted w each twisted memory #SHAKES YUKI KAJIURA PLEASE MAAM YOU HAVE GODLIKE WORK IK YOU CAN

[gh05st]

imagine soap recognizing that you’re stressed out with your current work and he knows you guys can’t leave base so he sets up a blanket and pillows outside for you to stargaze -

| no warnings just fluff and jokes, reader calls ghost gay (real) , can be interpreted however you want (gn reader, f!reader, m!reader), can be platonic or romantic although my intentions are leaning on a romantic bond. dialogue color code: soap: light blue, price: purple, ghost: red, gaz: green(can you guys tell that i love them and want to put them all in my pocket) | • this is generally a softer portrayal of the guys, if u aren’t into that sorta thing that’s cool just a heads up •

“ca’mere lassie, wanna show you sumthin”

he leads you outside by the hand and you’re met with a little blanketed area on the soft grass , plush pillows and he’s even lit your favorite candles / incense - he lays down and opens his arms for you to join him and you both wrap your arms around eachother - your legs intertwined being as close as possible - feeling his heartbeat against you.

“i know there’s not much we can do here sweetness, and this may be cheesy but i know how much ye love random surprises, just wanted to give you a little change of routine tis all”

you scrunch your eyebrows at him saying it’s cheesy, “you do know i’m a sucker for anything cutesy you do johnny, but this is so sweet, look how bright the stars look! so pretty.”

“they look wonderful but they’re nothing compared to you bonnie, you’re my stars, my moon, my world, hell- the entire universe and you’ve made my life infinitely better”

you give him a pout and scooch up to give him a kiss, “nothing i say can be better than that, but just know i love you too and-“ you’re stuttering now and he chuckles “and- i agree but l- yknow- that- i-“ you take a quick pause and he nods at you teasingly, “you’re my world.”

the guys find you two outside and you end up finding yourself all together sharing the moment now, so of course you all have to adjust and make room.

your head is laying on soaps shoulder while he has his arm wrapped around you, price has his head laid against your legs, gaz is behind the 3 of you with his head on the same pillow soaps head is on but he’s laying on the opposite side and ghost is sitting criss cross (apple sauce ofc) by you all.

price lights his cigar and takes a deep sigh - tension leaving his body as he relaxes his shoulders .

“ya know y/n, you really do know how to bring us all together in your own goofy way.”

“WHAT?! I SET THIS UP?” soap replies and you gaz and ghost laugh.

“yeah was all him, not me cap’n! i swear!”

“ah yes, if it were you- there would’ve been tea.” he flicks the ash off the end of his cigar

soap rolls his eyes, “fuckin brits . . . never tired of the damn tea”

you don’t know how but you all end up out there all night - sharing jokes and stories, childhood memories, playfully making fun of eachother and cuddling like chumps, price asking you to run your hands through his scalp and huffing anytime you stop (like when a dog side eyes you as you stop petting them) and then quickly smiling when you continue - you even caught simon swinging his legs while you were sharing scary stories and you and gaz almost died of laughter

“that shit was gay as hell” and he just rolls his eyes and grunts

but what did it for soap was the fact that gaz starts snorting with his laugh, and you’re wheezing.

these men were known to be very intimidating scary beings, soldiers and fighters first - but ever since you joined them they started remembering to have more fun - being that they joined this line of work so early in their lives they lost most of the opportunity to just exist and be. after the shit they’ve been through in their lives, you manage to just strengthen the faith they have in humanity with your caring tendencies.

after a while you can hear price snoring and ghost lets out a “heh, the old man’s fell asleep”

price slurs out a tired “m’not sleepin- just resting my eyes soldier.”

“right, i too snore when i “”rest my eyes”” sir” gaz says,

you just shush them and giggle but lightly, not to stir price since he’s against you still, arm now wrapped around your leg.

#drabble that is very sloppy #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x you #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain price #captain john price #jonathan price #captain johnathan price #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz kyle garrick #Spotify

[ink4blotches]

Pavitr x reader angst please 🙏🙏

Everyone Loves Heroes(Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader)

I gotchu anon ;))

Got a little confused halfway with this one, so it's a bit confusing to read but bear with me because it's 1am and I'm running on Coca Cola and sour straws :D

Synopsis/Feels: Basically Y/N is this worlds Gwen Stacey, famous for a bit at the end because idk, imagine that press scene from ITSV when MJ was talking to the city after Blond Peter died, reader dies(obv), angst y ag but that's what they wanted, reader is a girl, yeah yeah you get it.

Word Ct.: 885

••••••••••

It was just a normal day. Fighting thugs, feeding stray dogs, eating vada pav, hanging out with the rare, the elusive, the literally famous, singer Y/N Singh, yknow. The norm for Spider-Man: India.

Everything was going normally. A little boring, but normally. Nobody was in a huge amount of danger, and Y/N had worn a lovely outfit, which showed she was in a good mood.

He wanted to spend the entire day with her, to not leave her side. But alas, his duties as Spider-Man prevented him from doing so.

He should've been more careful. He should've stopped and wondered why his Spidey-Sense had been going crazy all day.

But no, he made what seemed to be a tiny mistake leaving her alone.

5 hours later, he's saving a bus from falling off the bridge connecting two cities, after it unfortunately collapsed. Struggling and he can only balance one thing, since even Spider-Man can't balance a bus with one hand.

He thought everyone had gotten away. That everyone on the bridge was safe.

"Hey, look out!"

That's when his heart absolutely shattered. He'd recognize that voice from a billion miles away. It was Y/N Singh. HIS Y/N Singh.

And she was there.

He could barely keep the bus up as he tried desperately to get a look at where his love was.

"It's okay...here, I'll carry you." He watched helplessly, his arms aching from holding a bus up alone, and his eyes stinging from the wind blowing through his cracked lens.

As Y/N grabbed the kid's hand, she seemed to notice the same thing Pav did.

She didn't have enough time to carry that kid away.

So she turned, giving Pavitr a quick glance. And despite not knowing the Spider hero, she put her faith in him to save the kid.

And so, a split second before the bridge collapsed, Y/N Singh tossed the kid, then falling the the streets below.

And Pav was helpless to do anything.

•

•

•

•

Pavitr tapped one of the microphones once, then a second time, causing the feedback to ring throughout the ginormous speakers set up around town hall.

"Sorry- I've never done anything like this before. And I don't have anything prepared to say..." Pav trails off, glancing at all of the cameras and eyes on him.

Mumbattan had just lost it's most beloved singer, who was well known to be dating Pavitr Prabhakar. It was an absolute bomb dropped on the poor city.

So right now, they needed someone to tell them it was gonna be okay. That, with time, everything would go back to normal. And they would rely on her boyfriend to tell them that.

But alas, Pavitr had also lost a piece of himself. He wanted to go home and cry, maybe even beat himself up for failing to save her.

The only reason he's here is because Gayatri and Inspector Singh expressly asked him to be. So he took a big breath before just...speaking his mind.

"I'll be honest. Y/N and I have been dating for 4 years, as most of you know. And in those 4 years, I found myself more than I had in my entire life before I knew her. I was lucky to know her on such a personal level, and it's...hard. Knowing she's gone. At times she would go on tour for months, but I knew she'd be back. Now...she's gone. Forever." Pavitr paused, sniffing in to stop his nose from running.

"Y/N was an amazing person. She was an inspiration to many, a light in the darkness to some, a friend to all, as well as a daughter to Mr.Singh, and sister to Gayatri Singh. And, at the end of her life, she was a hero.."

Pav thought for a moment. He shouldn't say the next part, he really shouldn't.

But he did.

"But she was also my girlfriend. And I hate that the world took her away from me so soon. As much as it pains me to say it, I can't lie. I hate that she had to be the hero that saved that boy. We all love heroes, and we're all sad when they pass away. And that sadness passes in a few weeks for most. But to me, Gayatri, and Inspector Singh, we can't just turn off the channel and pretend it didn't happen."

Pav knew he should've just stopped there, and everyone else did too.

But in a way he was talking to Y/N as well, hoping that his message would get to her no matter where she was.

"In the end, everyone loves heroes. Until they're the people close to them. Then it's a completely different story."

Pav knew he was condescending himself. He knew he wasn't making any sense. He saw poor Gayatri burst into tears less than 10 feet away from him.

But he had to keep going.

"I just wish Y/N could've been selfish for once in her life. Prioritized herself over a kid she didn't even know so she could stay with me. But she couldn't. It wasn't like her."

Pav took a deep breath, leaning closer into the microphone for his final word.

"And that's what I loved about her."

#pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar #actsv #across the spiderverse #pavitr x you #pavitr x y/n

[mythicalmyles]

hi there ! your writing is literally like a saving grace to me 🥺🫶🏼! could i request Jeff with a younger male reader? + breeding, forced orgasm, punishment, & yandere

i was thinking maybe MC is considered super gullible and innocent. yknow, the shtick! thank you so much if you get to this!! i hope you have a great day (🫧 )

I like da way u think and im so glad ypu like my stuff that means sm i lov u🥹 hope u enjoy also i hope u dm me doing force squirting instead <3

(Name) sat quietly at his desk, headphones blaring through his ear drums. He sniffled and shuffled position in his chair before skipping a few songs before finally settling on one.

His eyes flicked to the time, 4.07 am. A breath shot out his nose as he flopped back against his chair, he should fix this. Instead he shook his head and continued staring past his computer, thoughts running through his head.

His thoughts always ended up on an old friend, Jeffery Woods. It felt like some distant fever dream, but it had happened. Sometimes he morned the loss of his old friend but fear would be quick to fill him after, the authorities had long lost count of his bodies.

(Name) wrapped his arms around himself as he felt his body tremor, dread filling his stomach. A horrible feeling filled his body, he couldn’t explain why he suddenly felt like a cornered mouse.

Hands gripping his shoulders had a scream tearing through the room, (Name) didn’t care how girly he might’ve sounded as terror filled every inch of his body causing him to lock in place.

He let out a winded yelp as he fell back with the chair, thankful for the cushioning. His eyes shot open and whatever noise he had began to make died in his throat when (e/c) eyes met blue.

Hed recognise those eyes anywhere, part of him quickly began to berate himself for thinking about this so much. “Hello sunshine.” Jeffs voice was completely different, not only was it deeper then last time they’d spoken but it held this tone of insanity in it.

(Name) knew he was fucked up, all the murders, the self mutilation it all had to go back to that day. (Name) quickly jumped up, trying to run around Jeff but failing as the other threw him onto his bed.

“Come in now, is that anyway to great an old friend?” Jeff laughed before quickly jumping on top of (Name), hands quickly restraining the younger. “Please Jeff, i didn’t have anything to do with that.” (Name) begged, eyes tearing up as he searched for anything on Jeff’s face.

Jeff giggled and shook his head. “I know that, silly.” Jeff’s tone was condescending as he stared down at the smaller boy trapped under him. “I'm not here to hurt you.. Much." He grinned and (Name) closed his eyes, his panic almost too much for himself to hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." (Name) blinked his eyes open, looking at Jeff's serious face. He let out a breath and relaxed in Jeff's grip. "What do you-" Jeff was quick to cut him off. "Don't worry about it." His thumbs lightly rubbed against (Names) wrist. "Plus, i only hurt bad people."

(Name) frowned but before he could speak Jeff continued. "I do research into the people i hurt and they deserve it, but the news would never tell you that." (Name) bit his lip, his dad had always raved on about people spying on them and that no one could be trusted.

"I would never hurt an innocent person." Jeff's face stayed serious as he lied through his teeth, (Name) ate it up. "What about your parents? Liu?" (Name) questioned, Jeff did his best to hide his aggrivation at the twenty questions he was suddenly being levied with but he sucked it up.

"Mom and dad... They. My face.." Was all Jeff said before bursting into tears, (Name) quick to hug him. "It's okay, we don't have to talk about it anymore, im sorry." Once (Name) apologised Jeff knew he had him, quick to hid his smirk by dipping his head down.

He pushed his head into (Names) neck who shivered as his breath touched him. Jeff moved his knees closer to his body, causing (Names) legs to spread around his waist. Jeff grinned as he felt the others breathing pick up.

Jeff pushed the others shirt up as his hand moved up (Names) stomach to begin flicking his nipple. A shocked gasp left him as he gripped Jeff's wrist, doing nothing to stop the stronger man. "Jeff, wait no." (Name) panicked as Jeff shushed him, his mouth moving to play with his other nipple.

A strangled moan left (Name) as Jeff's tongue circled his bud, he shook his head as his breathing became laboured. "Jeff, no." He tried to say more sternly, Jeff chuckled in response and kept assaulting his nipples.

Moans fell from (Names) lips as he tried to pull Jeffs hand away from his nipple. He paused to squeeze Jeffs wrist as his back arched and his eyes rolled. Jeff stopped only to make his way down (Names) stomach, slurping against his skin as he moved down. "Please." (Name) moaned out as Jeff pulled down his boxers, Jeff smirked.

"Want more already." A small cry left (Name) as he shook his head. "No-ahhh please stop." Jeff laughed as he easily flipped the smaller boy onto his stomach. Jeff stuck his fingers into (Names) mouth, fucking his throat for a few seconds as drool coated him. "Good boy." Jeff cooed as he pushed a finger into (Name).

A broken cry flew from his lips as Jeffs finger sank into him. "God, so tight pretty boy." A whimper left (Name). "Jeff please, you don't have to do this." (Name) begged through his moans. "I want to." Was all Jeff replied before pushing another finger in. (Names) moans raised in pitch as Jeff used his free hand to grip his hip and pull him back onto his fingers.

Jeff spotted lotion on the side table and quickly scooped it up, (Name) tried to run but Jeff was quick to dive on top of him. "C'mon baby, it's gonna feel so good." (Name) just shook his head and shivered as Jeff coated his cock in lotion. Jeff didn't waste time before pushing into the smaller, he let out a loud groan as his cock was gripped.

"So tight, so good." Was all Jeff could say before he gripped (Names) hips and began fucking him. (Name) let out a cry at the intrusion, Jeff's cock filling him more then he could bare. A strangled moan left him as Jeff roughly fucked into him, he could feel his own cock harden as Jeff assaulted his prostate.

Loud moans filled the room along with the sound of skin slapping as Jeff took him roughly. "Gonna breed you up pretty boy, fill you up with so much cum. You'd look so pretty full of my babies." (Name) gasped and flushed, his cock twitched at Jeffs words.

He shook his head though, quick to protest. "Shut up, what are you really gonna do pretty baby? I have my cock deep in this pretty little ass of yours. You're mine now." (Name) sobbed, he couldn't tell at this point if it was because of how good he felt right now or if he really didn't want what Jeff said.

"I should've taken you when i first say you, you looked so pretty." (Names) mouth opened, not sure what he was going to respond before a weird stabbing feeling filled his stomach. Panic filled him as he began fighting against Jeff again. "No, Jeff. Please, i'm begging, you need to stop please." (Name) begged as weird feeling filled his stomach and cock, he could swear he was about to piss himself.

He kept begging, instead jeff ignored him and grabbed his arms. He pulled them behind (Names) back as his hand gripped (Names) neck. Jeff gripped hard as he continued to slam into (Names) prostate, (Name) let out a loud scream as he squirted, his own liquid coating him.

(Name) sobbed, embarrassment flushing him, Jeff paused to smile in glee. "I've never seen a man actually do it!" He cheered, (Name) sniffled before turning around to Jeff. Jeff swore before gripping the others hair and connecting their lips. He pulled out and dove on top of (Name), their bodies flush together as Jeff pushed his cock back into (Names) hole.

(Name) moaned weakly as Jeff praised him, continuing to thrust his cock into the already spent boy. (Name) burned with over sensativity but it also felt so good all he could do was lie back and take what Jeff threw at him.

Jeff grinned as the other fully relaxed and submitted. "Such a good boy, so pretty." Jeff cooed as he ran one of his hands through the others hair. It didn't take too long for (Names) moans to pick up and for his to struggle again. "Not again, please." Jeff shut him up but pressing his lips to the others as he picked up his thrusts, his own climax coming close.

(Name) came again, cum barley dripping out his cock as he let out a high pitched whine. His whine turned into a yelp as Jeff suddenly slapped his ass, Jeff slapped his ass four more times delighting when tears filled the others eyes as he begged Jeff to stop. "You should've been a good boy." Jeff smacked his ass ten more times, delighting in the way (Name) tightened around his cock.

Jeff began thrusting into him again except this time he'd randomly smack (Names) ass delighting in the shout the other produced each time. Jeff stopped his slaps in favour of picking up his thrusts and chasing his release, (Name) came again and Jeff lightly chuckled as he hit his own release and pumped the smaller man full of his cum.

"Told you I'd breed you good."

#jeff the killer x malereader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x male reader #creepy pasta x reader #creepypasta x male!reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x male reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x male!reader #jeffery woods #myfic

[meow-town]

Hello~ I just found your blog and I was wondering if you could write a headcanon about dee having a twin sister, and what the rest of the family's intentions would be with her, this one wouldn't be as feminine but more than Vicky, at least thanks to glam .

(sorry if my grammar is a bit weird, english is not my first language)

Of course! Ty for requesting! (Ps, my device completely died on me the second I finished writing this, and I hadn’t saved since I started, and I lost everything :) yayyyyyyyyyy, remember to save each post regularly, kids!)

wrote this as a self insert!

-You we’re born a mere 4 seconds after Dee, and he’s still insists he’s the older sibling. Which is technically true, but he abuses that power so much!

-saying that he should be in charge whenever the parents leave the house because he’s older, or insisting that he’s the more responsible and mature.

-You have more musical talent than him though, so he can suck it.

-He gets so pissy over it, too. You could mumble a song that’s been stuck in your head recently and he’ll ‘tsk’ each time.

-Very good twin brother, however. He’ll help with homework and always put in effort in group projects (I mean, he doesn’t need to put in effort, he’s Dee, but yknow). Teachers nearly always pair you two up together. He’ll also tutor you in his free time if you ask him :)

-If anyone picks on you, Dee will stalk them on the internet for weeks just to ruin their lives. He’s not letting that shit slide.

-Glam and Victoria always tried their very best to be good parents. They never got physically punishing (except for the occasional playful punch from Vicky as a warning) and would parent as gently as they could, at least, from Glam. He’s had bad experiences in the past and doesn’t want you to go through that things he went through.

-Glam will flash his creepy stare sometimes as a way to intimidate you, but he doesn’t dare go any further than that to scare you. Victoria may seem super tough but to me she seems like she is a super protective mama bear who will tug you into her arms if you arrive home 5 minutes late. God forbid you don’t respond to one of her calls, or you’ll have thousands of other calls and texts. Your phone will absolutely blow up with texts like these.

‘Are you okay??’

‘Where are you??.?.+’

‘Come home’

‘(y/n)’

-The first time Hevay came home in his little baby basket, Dee was staring absolute daggers into him. Looking at the guy like he wanted to strangle him. Heavy just grabbed at anything he could, wrapped in Victoria’s old bandana.

-Dee would snatch his toys away from Heavy, so you had to offer him yours constantly.

-Heavy was a rowdy baby, not the type to cry constantly, but he wasn’t ever quiet and still. He’d be jumping up and down or head banging (Victoria taught him how to) almost constantly. -Heavy will send you cat videos every literal four seconds and if you don’t respond to each of them he’ll get mad.

-He is the chaos child in the family, but he’s highkey the nicest so

-Teasing Dee about Lif is literally so funny 😭

-He’ll go all red and completely ignore you for hours on end if you keep it up-

-Ches was completely clueless while babysitting. He would frantically look through the pantry thinking ‘what the fuck do babies eat? Carrots? Granola bars? Can I feed them beer?’

-He’ll also accidentally swear on front of you a ton, and pretend like he’s not at fault when one of you yells ‘FUCK’ at the very top of your lungs.

-You, Dee and Heavy all developed your swearing thanks to Vicky and Ches-

#metal family x reader #metal family #metalfamily #metal family dee #metal family heavy #Metal family dee #metal family Vicky #Metal family victoria #Metal family self insert #Metal family dee x reader #Metal family glam #metal family glam x reader #metal family Vicky x reader #Metal family victoria x reader #dee Shvagenbagen #Metal family heavy x reader #Heavy Shvagenbagen #Glam shvagenbagen #victoria Shvagenbagen #Dee Shvagenbagen x reader #Heavy Shvagenbagen x reader #Glam Shvagenbagen x reader #Victoria Shvagenbagen x reader #Metal family ches #metal family ches x reader #Metal family chive #Ches x reader #Metal family chive x reader #Chive x reader

[plumbogs]

anyway brandina time.

I've rambled before about how I love Dina Caliente and will defend her to the death etc, plus i'm a "dina was michael bachelor's young and questionable trophy wife" truther. I don't think she was ever necessarily a gold digger in a greedy manipulative sense, moreso that she valued the comfort/security found in wealth and Michael was well-off enough to provide that for her in exchange for him having a hot young wife and whatever. He came around the same time that Flamenco died, and Nighat had been dead since she was a kid, so she was entering the adult world functionally alone apart from her twin sister. I think Nina was probably jealous on some level of Dina/Michael, even if to most outsiders that relationship was questionable, because Nina just had her lameass high school boyfriend-situationship who she didn't actually want to be romantically involved with and whatever, but it still was a bit of a wedge to them for me. that's mostly irrelevant though. in turn Dina was totally jealous of Nina having Don in high school. usual sibling rivalry nonsense.

In my timeline, Michael died around the same time that Bella disappeared, so she and Mortimer ended up bonding in grief and kicked off their relationship. yknow still like, bizarre age gap but to me it's not intentionally malicious on either of their parts. BUT I do think that Mortimer as a partner did help her 'mature' in some ways, primarily because he had kids and wasn't as reckless and whatnot as Michael. She never marries Mortimer to me. She'd never be able to really replace Bella to him or his family and knows that. he has the world's angstiest verge-of-teenhood son and cassandra is literally her age. they're not about to see her as a real mom. Their relationship never really gets that deep to me, either. It gives her some time to come into her own and whatnot, be independent, etc.

Dina never went to college in my headcanon, she kinda just immediately married Michael and lived like that for a while, then lived half off his inheritance and maybe a lower-wage job of her own in the culinary industry. So sometime around her mid-to-late 20s, Mortimer also dies because he's so old. obviously that's sad for her again. With him she did have some more chances to sorta figure herself out beyond being a trophy wife, reconsider what's important to her.

MEANWHILE, Brandi was also engaged and married stupidly young. She was a teen mom to me. She and skip had a shotgun wedding, had their kids, Skip wasn't the best husband anyways before died, she went into a horrendous life-ruining grief period and alcoholism. the broke kids had it rough, the social worker breathing down her neck, etc. so she had to like, get sober eventually because Dustin had enough and had to move out and get his own life together before he lost it completely. she started doing yoga or a comparative social activity, introducing her to the Calientes, and they became friends because Brandi is so friendly and nice :) Dina's still with Mortimer, etc, but they're still getting along and Brandi's life is getting together.

Then Mortimer dies, Brandi's life is together enough and the kids are not little and in need of constant care anymore (not that she was great at that stage either but this is not a brandi broke parenting analysis post shhh). She is older than Dina to me by a bit but personal development wise they're now in the same place of "what do I do now". SO naturally they bond over that. and they start kissing about it because surprise. bisexuality.

to Brandi, Dina's nice. she can cook, she's been through grief more times than anyone can count, and is like an expert in "you need to do something fun for yourself" pep talks. to Dina, Brandi's recovery and work on herself + dedication to actually being a better parent is inspirational in a way. she doesn't really care at this point what people think of her, and Dina "professional arm candy" Caliente never really had a partner yet who had basically no expectations for how she came off to other people, giving her the most space she'd ever had to figure out her own life goals and dreams. brandi's all humble and whatever. her kids are annoying as hell but a very interesting change compared to the goth kids. dina's never a mom type to me but she does end up bonding with them all. whatever. yippee

I think after getting together, Dina would probably finally go to college or get a real career for herself otherwise. I think it can go a lot of ways. Both of them can cook. I think it'd be cute for them to open some kind of diner together :) or a similar thing. bake sale lesbians. mutual mid-life coming of age. trying to pick up the pieces of their young adulthoods not really belonging to them in a way that mattered. whatever!

#plumbog headcanon #its the sort of thing i think would work better as an actual written fic tbh #but i am sooo busy right now. and i am soooo bad at writing short succinct stories that perfectly capture my thoughts in brief. #especially since as characters they are both massively flawed and it'd be a challenge to both portray their happy future lives #without coming off like i handwave brandi being a shit parent to her kids for a chunk of their lives. idk its NUANCED #or dina with her age gaps. #i did a few dina-focused chapters in my monstrous giant fanfic that kinda suggested at her arc but from the most biased pov ever. sad! #and i SOOOO regret not putting in a later chapter of dina appearing again when i was writing it. i wanted to but couldnt work it in #but now i know what that chapter would look like and im considering just putting it as a oneshot but ahsdjflhj

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞

This was a request on ao3 ✨

- hurt/comfort

- pairing: Kirk/Lars

He expected Lars to drop by his at noon.

It was the usual for them, to meet up every other day to discuss anything but work. It’s always a time Kirk holds precious, but he can never understand why Lars’s gaze on him churns a feeling in his stomach he can’t place. It’s not the first time, Kirk remembers back in ‘86 after Cliff died when Lars had hugged him so fucking tight, and all Kirk could think about is that he never wanted him to let go.

He expected Lars at noon. By two o’clock, he starts to get worried. He tells himself he’s being irrational, that it’s not unlike Lars to be late, but at the same time he knows full well Lars always calls.

He always calls.

Which is why when the home phone goes off, he picks it up on the first ring.

“Is this Mr Hammett?”

So not Lars, but the woman on the other ends sounds serious and he can’t help but swallow as his mouth goes dry.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“This is the hospital. We’re calling as your Lars Ulrich’s emergency contact and we wanted to let you know he’s currently being treated.”

Kirk hardly hears anything past the mention of a hospital. His stomach practically drops through the floor and his chest twists and tightens until he can finally breathe out a small “ what ?”

“He’s on our general ward in a private room, so if you just ask at the desk they’ll give you directions.”

Well, she doesn’t seem too concerned and for a moment Kirk thinks he might be overreacting. But still, the idea of Lars alone in the hospital make his heart ache.

“Okay thank you,” he says before hanging up, reaching out to brace himself on the desk next to him.

This can’t be real. It can’t be.

Lars has to be okay. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

— —

He gets to the hospital as quick as he can and is quickly pointed in the direction of Lars’s room.

He practically sprints down until he comes to the door.

He stops, takes in a deep breath and tries to steady himself, before he finally pushes the door open.

Lars’s eyes quickly meet his, and Kirk can’t help when tears start to pool in his eyes.

Lars looks okay. Mostly.

He’s got a bandage patched over his forehead and a cast on his wrist, but mostly he looks fine.

Kirk was so so scared that it was going to be so much worse, that he could’ve lost him, that now seeing him not so broken makes him break down.

Lars frowns, holds his arms out and Kirk goes gladly, clinging onto Lars.

“I thought- fuck ,” he sniffles, hides his face in Lars’s hospital gown.

“I thought I was gonna lose you.”

Lars brushes a hand through his.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything’s fine, I just got knocked around a bit.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Kirk says, pulling away a little to look Lars in the eyes.

“I don’t think I could live without you.”

It’s ultimately vulnerability that makes him say it, and shame quickly climbs up his neck to sear at his cheeks.

“Hey, I’m not dead. I’m okay I promise,” Lars says, pulls Kirk back down against his chest.

And Kirk realises as he sobs that he can’t imagine a world without him, that he doesn’t want to be in a world without him.

There’s silence.

Then, “I love you”

He’s never said it before. They’ve never really talked about the close bond between them, and it’s not like they’ve ever been with each other in that way.

But in this moment, without a doubt, Kirk knows he loves him.

He fucking loves him and he can’t lose him. He can’t.

Lars just smiles, softly cups Kirk’s jaw, thumbs away the tears on his face.

“I thought you’d never say it,” Lars says before pulling Kirk in for a kiss.

It’s quick but sweet, meaningful , nothing like the playful kisses they used to share with each other.

Kirk nearly gets swept away in the feeling, but after a moment Lars pulls Kirk away slightly.

“I love you too yknow.”Lars says, teeth brimming over his lips and Kirk bends over to kiss him again.

“So what did you do then?”

“Another car jumped the lights. Sent me spinning but I’m mostly unscathed. Ive broken my arm and got a concussion, and apart from a few bruises, I’m fine.”

“Why are they keeping you in then?” Kirk asks, face mashed against Lars’s chest.

“Jut for observation because of the head injury. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just a precaution.”

Kirk sighs deeply, takes in the mixed smell of Lars and antiseptic.

“Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Lars grins, presses a kiss to Kirk’s frown.

“I’ll try.”

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #my fics #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #lars ulrich #kirk/lars #kirk hammett #kirk hammett/lars ulrich

[poisonouswritings]

okay... last ask... for now.. I DON'T WANNA BOMBARD YOU SKHSKS

anywhos,

hc of Sage and MC getting into a fight where he accidentally says something seriously hurtful? Mc who deadpans upon hearing it and calmly walks out of the room they're in. Later Sage (or anyone else) goes to check on them in their room but they can overhear crying coming from the other side of the door. Yknow the vibes

IT NEEDS A HAPPY ENDING THO THIS IS HURT/COMFORT BECAUSE I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH

anywhos, thank you for all you do for the fandom ozzy! You keep the brainworms alive and well.

[Gets carried off by a giant cockatiel]

This post has a really good example of this and I'm gonna try really hard not to be too similar lol

Reg I want you to know that I've written this for Kit,, like they got into a really bad argument over something and she semi-accidentally said something hurtful so he said it was her fault Snow died and if you listen real closely you can hear my heart breaking at that part

GN!Reader, hurt/comfort, self-hating thoughts, vague mentions of (metaphorical) violence and self-harm, soft ending, kinda long

It was such a stupid fucking argument. He couldn't even remember who started it, much less what it was about. In the moment it doesn't matter. You accuse him of drinking too much. He calls you a prude. You snap that his anger makes him dangerous. He snarls that you're a coward.

Your voices are rising. There's nothing physical - no blows dealt, no blood lost - but it still hurts. That's the danger of letting someone in, isn't it? You expose the softest parts of yourself and wind up vulnerable. Beaten. Gutted by the hand of the person who you love most.

There's some part of him - that dark, gnawing monster in the pit of his chest that craves blood and destruction - that knows you will leave him. And maybe that's why he does it. So that when he sits at the bar and drowns his pain in whiskey he'll feel that it was inevitable. That he is simply a monster obsessed with his own self-destruction and there was nothing he could have done to change it. It puts flames in his blood and red in his eyes.

He knows you. The little fears that creep out of shadows, the insecurities that whisper in your ears, the regrets that refuse to rest in the graveyard of your past. You'd shared them all with him in moments of intimacy, his arms wound around your waist and your fingers combing through his hair as you mumbled your secrets. Yeah, he knows you.

He knows how to hurt you.

The words fly out of his mouth before he even knows that they're forming on his lips. And it isn't until he sees the way your shoulders stiffen and your eyes go dark that he realizes it would have hurt less if he'd just hit you.

Your lips move soundlessly for a moment. Then you shake your head just slightly and stumble like the world is spinning and run as far away from him as you can.

He feels sick to the pit of his stomach. Didn't he make a promise once? That he would never lose control of his corruption? That he would never, ever, ever hurt you?

Fuck. His head is pounding. He wishes he could tear his own throat out. He hates himself for it - well he hates himself for a lot of things but this is just the fucking cherry on top - but his ears flick as he tracks your footsteps. They move in short bursts like you have to stop to catch your breath.

A door slams shut. The fire in his veins finally turns to ice. His hands won't stop shaking no matter how tightly he balls them.

He isn't sure what prompts him to look up but he sees Felix and Anisa. How long were they standing there for? He has no idea. But from the look of horror in Felix's face and the look of rage on Anisa's, he guesses it was long enough. Before either of them can get a word out, he storms away, through a hidden passage and into the darkness that craves his damnation.

It's not the first time he wishes Elowen had killed him in Mournfall, but it's the first time he means it.

-----

The other two Starsworn know better than to intervene right away.

First they collect themselves. They've seen Sage's temper explode but it's never been like this. Never against you.

It's Anisa that goes off to find you, about an hour after the incident. She thinks back to the question she asked you oh-so-very long ago; Do you trust Sage? She remembers the way a tired smile had quirked the corner of your lips when you confirmed you did. In fact you'd seemed a little amused that she'd even asked.

Maybe it's wrong of her but she can't help but wonder what your answer would be now.

She doesn't have an ilephta's sense of hearing but she can still make out the sounds of your muffled sobs and choked wails from halfway down the hall. It tears her heart in two.

When she steps nervously up to the door she can't bring herself to knock. Not when you let out another muffled scream into your pillow. So instead she leans her back against the cold stone wall and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

It takes another half hour for your wails and sobs to subside, and even then she still hears clear sniffling. You only go silent when she taps on the door.

Her voice is soft. Sincere but not pushing. Do you want her to beat Sage up? ... No? No, you're right. It wouldn't make you feel better. She just wanted to bring a moment of levity. ... Well, look, i-if you... If you want to talk about anything... You know where to find her. And if you want her to send Sage out of Fathom so you don't have to- ... ...no. You're not that type of person. She knows that. She just... She just hopes you won't let him think what he said was okay just because he's hurting too. That's all. But you're a strong person, perhaps stronger than you realize. She doesn't mean to tell you how to handle this. She's just... She's worried about you. ...

The door creaks open. You poke your head out just enough to see her. Your eyes are red and puffy from sobbing and your voice is scratched from screaming. You thank her. She asks if you'd like some tea. You're about to refuse when a rough cough rattles your dry throat.

... maybe a cup wouldn't hurt.

-----

Felix goes to find Sage.

While he might not have the ilephtas impressive knowledge of Fathom's hidden passages, he does have a tracking spell. And it's using this spell that he finds Sage leaning over a balustrade, cold night air cutting against his skin, moping.

He tells Felix to leave before he's even set foot in the balcony. Felix promptly ignores him and walks over anyways.

The stand in silence for a few minutes, looking out at the night suffocating Porrima. Sage asks how you're doing. Felix admits he doesn't know for sure, considering he didn't go with Anisa, but he imagines the answer is 'not well.'

Sage buries his face in his hands and asks Felix to throw him over the railing.

Green flames flicker at Felix's fingertips. He clenches his hands into fists to snuff them. Then crosses his arms over his chest and tells Sage to get over himself. Sure, Sage did something horrible. And it's good that he feels guilty over it. But he hurt you. You are the one that suffered the wrath of his rage. You are the one that ran off with tears in your eyes. So Sage needs to stop being so damn self-pitying for a moment and do whatever he possibly can to help you. And if that means staying away for a while, fine - but he needs to put in the effort before he turns tail and runs away.

Sage's growing growl dies in his throat. He fixes Felix with a tired glare. Amber eyes are gradually come into focus. His throat is thick with angst as he asks if it's even a good idea. Won't his presence hurt you more right now?

Felix sighs. The fight drains from his shoulders and he looks out at the skyline again. The air doesn't feel quite so oppressive this time. The distant torches seem to glow just a little brighter.

He loved Rime. And Rime loved him. There was no doubt about that. But they argued - gods how they used to argue sometimes - and they hurt each other. Ugly words were gargled like broken glass in bleeding throats, tears formed rivers, pain was a currency. They were horrible incidents. Ones that Felix still shudders to remember.

But there were other things too. Hesitant touches. Whispered apologies. True remorse. More tears - always more tears. New understandings. New beginnings. They're messy and imprecise and confusing. But they were genuine.

No matter how devoutly and purely you love, you will inevitably hurt your partner. Just as they will inevitably hurt you. But if you love them enough, you won't just run away. You'll stay and pick up the pieces and try to mend them. And with any luck you'll make something stronger in the process.

Sage closes his eyes and takes a long, slow breath. The same way you taught him to do when the little beast in his chest starts to claw and gnaw and crave.

Not again. Not again.

-----

Sage knocks softly on your door. He doesn't want to wake you if you're asleep. It's late now - or early, depending on how you look at it. He'd stayed outside longer than he meant to trying to figure out what to say. All he'd really accomplished was remembering how shitty he was at stringing together sincere words.

He just barely hears you mumble that the door is unlocked. It creaks almost painfully loud when he opens it. His ears pin against his hair. His tail gives an agitated twitch.

You're little more than a pile of blankets and pillows and two weary eyes poking out of them. As his own eyes rapidly adjust to the dark, he can make out dried streaks of tears clinging stubbornly to your cheeks.

Gods he hates- ... No. This isn't about him.

You sigh softly and lift up the blankets, revealing the empty spot against your side that was normally reserved for a certain overgrown cat. He hesitates. Wrestles down a new wave of self-hatred. Kicks his boots off and half-heartedly nudges them to the side. Leaves his armor and sword on the desk and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. Slowly crawls in beside you, settling into the familiar dip in the mattress that is his and his alone. You tuck yourself against his side and mumbles that he does a much better job of keeping you warm than the blankets do, anyways.

And for a few minutes you both sit there. You mush your cheek into the broad expanse of his chest. He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

He's... Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it. You know he didn't mean any of it, right? That he was just worked up and angry and he lashed out at the nearest thing. And that doesn't make it right - it'll never be right - but he never in a million years wanted to hurt you.

You close your eyes and hum in agreement. You know he didn't mean it. But he still said it.

He knows that. And he knows he'll have to work hard to regain your trust. That is, if you even want him to....

You tilt your head up just enough to lock eyes with him. Call him an idiot. Snuggle back up to his chest.

The little laugh he gives is somewhere between relieved and incredulous. It's the first time he's relaxed in hours.

Sure, there's plenty of work to be done, discussions to be had, apologies for be made.

But you're still here in his arms. And that's enough to lull him to a restful sleep.

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #sage lesath #sage lesath x reader #fictif sage #last legacy sage #fren asks #ozzy answers #ozzy daydreams

[angelcloves]

Consider this: AU where Belos dies due to a complete fluke. Like say, a piece of ceiling falls on top of him while he's tinkering in his creepy workshop or something.

This causes all of the magic that he's absorbed over the course of his very long life to suddenly be freed from him and, well... Cue massive explosion.

The Castle? Ground zero, there's nothing left of it besides a crater. The Chest of The Titan? Totally obliviated. The Boiling Isles is now effectively cut in half. The Skull, Neck, Both Shoulders and the Right and Left Arms are on one side, while the lower Torso, Pelvis, Knee and the Toes are on the other.

Hunter is the only member of Emperor's Coven "elite" to survive... because he wasn't there when Belos blew his Castle skyward. His "dearest uncle" sent him away on a mission beforehand. Nothing more than glorified busy-work, just meant to get Hunter out of his hair for the day.

So, in addition to Belos, Kikimora, all of the Coven Heads and goodly number of Coven Scouts and Coven Guards are dead as well. Plus whoever else lived and worked in the Castle... and the Chest as well.

It's the biggest environmental disaster to ever hit The Isles.

Hunter doesn't know what to do. He's just lost everything in one fell swoop. He can't even get close to the only place he's ever called home because The Boiling Sea is rapidly filling in the area the Chest once was. He knows that no one could've survived, but he's in shock and can't accept that.

So, what do you think Angelcloves?

i know im the hunter whomp wednesday guy but i have a hard time with suffering just for sufferings sake yknow. i like light at the end of my tunnels and hurt/comfort elements. i also am not the biggest fan of killing off characters unless it really means something for the bigger plot. it has to make waves. rlly haunt the narrative. this might be someones cup of tea but on this brief alone its not really mine and thats okay i think. do your thing. it doesnt have to appeal to everyone because im sure someone out there would love this

[felikatze]

Ooo how was Silver Snow? Still have to play that one :0

okay so context is i started silver snow like. YEARS ago. two years, probably. got 3h burnout. only started playing it again for [extremely secret reasons i will reveal hopefully on the 27th otherwise please do strike me down. anyway.]

which means i played the back half of silver snow's part 2 with like, NO memory of what a slog part 1 was to replay. that is to say, with part 1 done by some... mysterious other being, who was me, once upon a time, it was great!

a lot of moments that were meant to be serious were just. so silly though. but i am NOT the first to say this. like. the magic missles. what else. hubert's posthumous "hey btw u still gotta kill these guys lol."

it's like this game FOR SURE needed another year in the oven cuz the ASSPULLS dear god. like. seteth knows the slitherers exist. at the very least, he knows that there are people who supported nemesis. so could he. i dunno. investigate those guys himself. esp when rhea actually comes back and the two start chatting w flayn and talk abt all this slitherer stuff it's INTERESTING that maybe they could unravel the mystery behind the greatest tragedy to befall them!!

that like, maybe seteth and rhea can find some closure in catching those who killed their family!! that'd be like, COOL, wouldn't it, if seteth, as deuteragonist of silver snow, and the whole church crew, could've, like, sensed that something is Off abt the imperial army, and. yknow. not. had hubert tell them.

WHATEVER. IT'S WHATEVER

i generally LIKED part 2 outside of the Magic Missle Cutscene which just made me laugh so fucking bad. i gotta admit rhea's last speech to byleth actually nearly made me cry cuz it just lays rhea bare and actually shows growth on her part. like in her captivity she very obviously had time to reflect and she at last sees her mother is never coming back, but, at the very least, all this struggle has brought her byleth, her dear child, and that alone makes it all worth it. she acknowledges byleth for who they are and she is so so proud of them. it made me tear up.

and then it's WAGRGRGRRG RHEA TURNS INTO A MONSTER NOW CUZ FUCK YOU WE NEEDED A FINAL BOSS!!!!!

i think the shadowdropped lore of "yah btw all high ranking church members get some of rhea's blood" is quite frankly REALLY GROSS? obviously it's just there so the final map has additional enemies, and is thus a consequence of the setup for the final boss also being a total asspull.

but it's. gross. for. yknow. "the lizard pope has a secret section of the church where she gives people her blood" is. DO I EVEN NEED TO EXPLAIN HERE???

also this totally dilutes that she saved jeralt's life with her blood because jeralt and rhea's relationship was obviously special and complicated compared to other church members and it gave him a unique perspectice on rhea and that HE had a crest of seiros was LORE IMPORTANT because it meant byleth had a higher chance to actually obtain sothis' power and now you're telling me that like, a whole map's worth of fuckers got the same deal for free? without the emotional baggage? hey, fuck you??

the last cutscene where rhea dies in byleth's arms and she's obviously confused and lost and dying so she calls byleth mother even after her whole speech abt byleth being byleth it. it got to me. that was actually good writing in that one.

gameplay wise it was. hm. well i certainly had fun but the final map was TOO LONG. like u need to take out EVERY white beast which means u need to circle the ENTIRE fucking map before u can even THINK abt fighting rhea. whereas in ch20 i just went "fuck this i'm killing edelgard rn" and then i could and i did.

god BLESS the fucking archer brigade (petra, ashe, and last minute addition underlevelled cyril with that one no crest legendary bow), for being the ABSOLUTE HARD CARRIES on this clusterfuck of a final map. combined they could defeat one white beast per turn with that sweet sweet EFFECTIVE DAMAGE.

i will take ashe to endgame every single fucking time and all tier list makers can eat my dust. does ur meta breaker have lockpick utility. no they dont. ashy-boy best boy i will take no arguments.

also who the fuck needs an actual tank when u have seteth. thanks seteth for insane bulk and rally def.

thank u lysithea for customary dark knight baja blasting. lysithea is always good.

ch21 was fucking Confusing bcuz i didnt know where i was supposed to actually go first and ch20 was "wow this is just the blue lions finale except WAYYYYY easier because edelgard cant snipe me."

other maps i do not remember probably because all of them were also on blue lions. i know the ailel map was and FUCK OFF JUDITH. GO AWAY.

the funniest fucking thing is how silver snow just SKIPS the battle of eagle and lion because you dont have any of the house leaders. it just skips over the dramatic midpoint that existed primarily for All of the marketing. seteth drops in. hi byleth. by the way. dimitir is dead. claude has retreated. the empire has taken heavy losses so we gotta warcrime them right this fucking moment. byleth are you in.

yeah sure thing seteth let's fucking roll. time for a false flag operation. hey what's that weird light in the sky it's -

YE OLDE MAGICAL MISSLE!!!!!

anyway yeah. three houses stays three houses. which is to say. a very mixed bag that under the line leaves me kind of ambivalent these days but i could say "yeah that was fun" again considering i have like. no memory of replaying white clouds outside of "oh yeah edelgard was there."

#feli speaks #long post

[isa-ah]

big long bluhhgg under the cut lol <3

idk i woke up in my feeilngs this morning so i figure its worth like. talking about i guess. i havent really gone over this again in a couple years so like. yknow. my life story or whatever

so my mom was a kid when she got pregnant and bc of that my grandma took over raising me & even as my mom grew up and moved out i staid put bc as far as i was concerned, my grandparents were my real parents. my mom went on to marry a guy and have two other kids, who she treats like her only kids lol she has her family unit, i have mine, fine. whatever.

when i was a little tiny thing my grandfather was a truck driver. hed only be home once in a blue moon but hed always bring back the coolest little things for me from his buddies and travels. (he had a LOT of stories, about long haul truck driving, being a shrimper til his boat capsized and he nearly froze to death, being stationed in okinawa, all the way back to being raised by an incredibly abusive drunk who ended up blowing his brains out. he used to get all starry eyed in a way id never see him otherwise when hed talk about how cool his dad was, taking him as a young boy to all the local bars. hm.)

my grandmother had a plethora of stories to the same. her parents were both prisoners of war; my great grandmother would tell me about eating snails off the toilets for nourishment while she was in the concentration camps, and my great grandfather idealized the american soldiers that liberated them so greatly he ripped his family up and moved to america the moment they were freed. they would eat hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner nearly every night "like a real american family." they had two kids together- my grandma, and her little brother.

her father enlisted in the american military when they landed here and so she was an army brat. she never got to set down roots really, and was deeply bullied by her peers and beaten to the point of having scars to show me in her late fifties. shed detail the horrible things he did to her, and how it pushed her to sitting in a bathtub alone one night, trying to slit her wrists when a warmth brushed up her back and asked gently against her ear; who do you think will have to clean this up? and after realizing it would be her little brother, she picked herself up and marched on.

(its funny. at one of my lowest points i had nearly the same experience.)

her father would go on to cheat on her pregnant mother, accusing her of infidelity and abandoning her with the baby, my grandma and her brother, and marrying another woman the moment the divorce finalized. the children he would go on to sire with her would create a wide rift in my family of in-fightng and nastiness, as his children believed without doubt that my grandmothers little sister was a bastard and not one of his own.

(at my grandmothers funeral, her sister would confront their ancient ninety-something father, lost almost entirely to his alzheimers as he clung to his wife and cried, with a DNA test proving she was always his daughter. it was really bad.)

my family is known for that in fighting now. the hedrics vs the brodeurs vs the nothern virginia family vs the florida family vs the- on and on and on. always fighting, bickering, cutting people off at the arm. nastiness. its how i was raised, to be angry and cruel, and its difficult to maintain sometimes.

so on we go- my grandfather developed diabetes too severe to keep trucking, and so he lost his job. he sat down in his recliner in front of the TV when he got home from work for the last time and in that recliner he sat til the day he died. nearly twenty years, and id say he left the house maybe a dozen times. no friends, no trips, only attending holidays that were hosted in our tiny home and only speaking to people who were there to visit my grandmother. he would wake up around 9pm and the sound of his tv would blare through the wall of my bedroom until nearly 4pm when hed toddle off to bed. i still cant sleep in silence.

my grandmothers diagnosis wasnt far behind; breast cancer. likely from some hormones shed taken decades prior before the effects of such things had been seen. she was scared, but she was strong, and her best friend moved down from massy to live a couple minutes up the road and help us on the daily. his name was jimmy blackbar, but we always called him jimmy black bear because he was a huge man with a frothy mane of black hair. from then on, we did everything as a unit; every errand, every outing, he even joined my karate dojo when i was forced to learn self defense following the abduction of a local girl.

and on life went. doctors appointments, whispered conversations, attending every susan g komen for the cure event in a wide radius around where we lived. we volunteered relentlessly; my grandmother wearing the "survivor" shirts, and me, a tiny thing in third or fourth grade, pushing her wheelchair and wearing the "caretaker" shirt. jimmy always in tow.

there came a week where we hadnt heard from jimmy in a few days and so, upon leaving the dojo to head home, as we passed his house i asked if we could check on him. my grandmother placated me, saying a man needs his space, and clearly he did bc he hadnt been at practice. just let him rest.

now, that was fair enough. while we did nearly everything together- even spending the autumn in massy with his mother once, arguably one of the most beautiful memories i have as my grandmother and i fed the koi out back then laid in a hammock for hours staring up at the orange and yellow canopy above- he had an explosive temper and had lost it frequently on the both of us. i loved him, but god he could be scary, and hed whip shit at you if he was particularly hot. maybe that was all he needed then, a little space.

a week later my mom picked me up from elementary school and burst into tears in the parking lot. "its jimmy, baby. his heart stopped."

hed had an aneurism and they found him face down on the floor of his bathroom. hed been laying there like that for days, clinging to life; hed been laying there, even, when we drove past a few days prior. i never forgot that.

life went on. it felt empty without him, and i started living up to that caretaker role more and more. heavy lifting, picking, moving; echoed even in my late twenties with my crippling sciatica. every doctors appointment, medication change, every cup of coffee. i was on call.

"jo-bear." "lucy." "goose." "trouble." "brat."

like clockwork, eternally being called up. can you do the dishes? laundry? sweep, mop? can you get this for me? can you help me? can you get my meds? and the less enjoyable; my shingles are flaring, can you put this on there? my drainage tubes are clogged, can you help me flush them? my port needs to be accessed, can you administer this?

why, you ask, would a 13 year old be well versed in clearing, accessing, and administering to a port in their grandmothers chest? well, easy. the nurses we paid to drive well out into the boonies to do it for us said it was too far. it fucked up their schedules. it was a waste of gas. and so they looked around at our home, tiny, with only a woodstove for heating, nicotine dripping down the walls and bare cabinets and pantry, and then they looked at me and asked; do you want to know how to do this instead? and dutiful, because i was a caregiver, because thats what everyone told me, i learned.

being poor is hard. being poor and sick is impossible. the cost of chemo, radiation, insulin, the gas to drive back and forth nearly five hours round trip to visit the hospitals, the doctors- we would only go grocery shopping once a month. my grandmother got social security and my grandfather got disability. wed bundle up what money we could and drive out to the nearest city to buy staples in bulk and pray. it meant i spent most of my childhood eating cereal for meals, or scraping together mayo on bread, or just outright nursing ketchup. i honestly can only remember maybe three instances of my grandmother cooking for me, cooking her special mac n cheese, and my mother told me years later that she always wondered how i got enough to eat.

the local food bank helped, i guess. a small church in town would gather the things the stores were about to throw away, like expired or moldy produce and bread, and then lay it out on the tables and have us all stand around them with our hands at the ready. theyd count down, then call "go!" and we would scramble to gather up anything we could reach to take home. it only happened once a month, so we tried to make the best of it.

after years of battling, my grandmother finally got the formal title of "remission." shed done it! it wasnt easy; there was mishap after mishap, infections, complications, her chest was a mutilated plane of ridges and folds that had at one point burst open and sprayed blood across the bathroom mirror as she screamed my name and sobbed for my grandfather. but finally, she was in remission.

for a few months, anyway. she began to grow uneasy, asking doctors for advice, for scans, because she could feel it encroaching. they all told her she had no insurance and was just paranoid from her battle. it took her months to finally find a doctor that took her seriously enough to humor a scan, and by then the cancer was everywhere. her ribs, her spine, her skull; it was everywhere.

the only person who took the news harder than her was my grandfather. he didnt want to watch her die, so he decided to do everything in his power short of killing himself to make sure he died first. his insulin shots were regular, but his sugar intake was not. he refused physical therapy, stopped going to his doctors appointments, and left our house to smell like the decomposition of human flesh as his feet began to rot.

"rot" sounds like a strong word. the decay was really happening; dry and wet gangreen, his toe coming off in my grandmothers hand at the lightest tug, and an extended hospital stay in which he was deeply deeply lucky not to succumb to sepsis. it was bad. but he was alive.

my mental health had at this point deteriorated to such a point i wasnt sleeping anymore. my grandmother was put on ambien, and as such began sundowning; wandering the house like a brittle confused ghost of a woman. she had dropped weight as she went back on chemo, rapidly dipping from 300lbs down to nearly scraping the bottom of 100lbs. she was shaped like a paper doll by then, wide from the front but she would turn to the side and disappear. i could hold my elbows around her. her head was bald and her feet were cold. she had a soft spot on the top of her skull that malformed her head where the radiation had eaten away the bone alongside the cancer. the knot on her forehead persisted.

she would never recall what she did at night, and while at the time i was indignant- i wasnt sleeping because she would call in a slurred haze to cancel taxis that werent due for several more hours but she thought had never shown up at all for doctors appointments she needed; she would fumble with the locks trying to wander out into the snow in the middle of the night, confused; she would yell my aunts name at me and berate me for trying to coax her back to bed; she would pull down what meager things we had in the kitchen and slurry them, ruin them, then blame me come morning; or, worst of all, she would simply find a place to stand. at the oven, by the small yellow light of its hood, staring into space for hours unresponsive- how dare she not remember how hard i had to work, how tired i was trying to keep her safe, and blame me for it too? it wasnt until reflection years later that i realized her denial was probably born of fear.

the ambien was my own waking nightmare, but it wasnt the worst of it. with my grandfathers rotten feet and my grandmothers mindless stumbling, falls were frequent. i had to be alert. i had to be ready. i never know when one of them would fall wrong and crack their head open on a corner. the mental image is as potent to me now as it was as a child, terrified in the half second of bone chilling silence that would come between the staggering of someones steps and the thundering peels of a body clattering sprawled across the floor. id be up and out of my room in a heartbeat to help, lifting people bigger than myself on pure adrenaline alone back to their seats so i could assess them.

the emergency squad, as you can imagine, was well acquainted with us. most falls had to be documented at least, hospitalized at worst, and so they would begin to come out every few months- then weeks- then days. they knew all of our pets by name. they regarded me with warm sadness. i think they must have said something to my grandfather, as in the thick of it hed tried to pack me up and throw me out. "this isnt a place for children," but if i left theyd have no one left. who would pick them up? check their medication? call the doctors, the emergency line, the taxis? who would make their coffee?

and so stubbornly i staid. i was a caregiver, after all, i was trained by the nurses and professionals who couldnt be bothered. i had to stay. i had to stay. i had to stay.

i stopped spending time with any of my friends beyond taylor. i stopped sleeping over with family. i stopped making day trips. eventually, around 13, i dropped out of school entirely.

i was falling asleep at my desk every day, horrified every bus ride home that id walk in to blood and gore and death. i was too distracted to learn anything and too afraid to really enjoy myself anyway. school wasnt an escape anymore when i was needed so desperately at home.

and so i stopped leaving the house really altogether, unless it was to go somewhere with them or to visit taylor (my rock). id thought at the time that her mother was my saving grace, the only adult in the world who understood me, who would drop everything to help me. i found out later that she hated me, and only did it to martyr herself to her peers and daughter.

as my grandmothers health declined over my teenage years, my grandfather became more erratic. he would throw fits, thundering around the house, slamming shit and crying, yelling at me because, "i'm dying too! im dying and nobody CARES! im dying and no one will even MISS ME!" as i sobbed and tried to reassure him. "my WIFE is DYING and theres NOTHING I CAN DO!"

and at the other end of things, my grandmother; wailing behind locked doors that my grandfather didnt love her anymore, that she was hideous, mutilated, she wasnt a woman anymore nevermind a human at all. i would lay against the door and beg her to unlock it so i could hug her, hold her, promise her that wasnt true. she never did let me in.

and so on life went. winters were always the hardest; we only had a woodstove, so my room was nearly perpetually the outdoor temperature. id sleep bundled in layers, wearing three pairs of socks to try to keep the frigid ache out of my feet, bundled up right up to a hat and hood over my head buried under three blankets to try to keep in some of the heat. it only worked so well when i was up and down all night anyway, looking after them. my grandmother was so withered she hardly produced her own heat anymore, and my grandfather had lost all feeling in his feet; often, hed find, they were resting against the broad side of the fireplace and burning, or the dogs were chewing on them. it was bleak.

now, throughout all of this i had tried my best to stay positive. id been raised in a southern baptist church that i had, at the height of my faith, been visiting four or five times a week. if anyone was going to help me save my grandparents, to be a good caregiver, it would be god right? even if no one else on the planet gave a shit, at least he would, right? at least, so long as i was good, and pure, and holy. no drugs, no alcohol, no self exploration, no expressions of sexuality- nothing. i did absolutely nothing, but try to focus on being a good christian and taking care of my grandparents.

at least, until the tension between my desperate dysphoria and my faith hit a breaking point when a gay couple joined our church and the pastor threw his sermon out the window to preach hellfire and death to faggots. they left in tears in the middle of the sermon and i was spun out and listless thereafter.

i dont honestly remember much from the time i dropped out until nearly 18. i was accused often and loudly of being a drug addicted whore, a liar, a slut, of being inappropriate with my grandfather, with my brothers, entirely baselessly, all thrown at me as a confused and hurt child by my family. it was my first real point of contention with my identity. while id gotten away with looking entirely ambiguous and using male names, male haircuts, male clothes, male interests and male friends to soothe my permeating wrongness at being called a girl, puberty was not kind to me. and with the unease over my gender and sexuality with seemingly no out (as who in a small christian town would have informed me of trans mens existence?), and with the deeply seeded feeling of utter failure as a caregiver whos patients were dying in front of them, and with the loss of my faith that had taught me near lethal levels of self hatred, i had no idea who i was anymore. no name felt right. no role. no place. i was nothing and no one.

and then my grandma died.

it wasnt a surprise. shed been declared "dying" twice before, and had survived. and while shed finally been moved to live with her son as he was right up the road from the hospital a good two and a half hours from us, and had been formally enrolled in hospice, and had withered into the skeletal apparition of a woman, i dont know how serious any of us could take the finality of her, once more, being declared "dying." she wouldnt live to see sunday. it was wednesday.

we went to visit her that day. she lay near motionless in bed, her voice soft and airy. id felt sick, nauseous, unsure of what to even do with myself. i laid with her. i held her. i told her how much i loved her. but the reality of it just kept bouncing off of me. i said my goodbyes, temporarily, until we visited again on saturday- i told her wed be back soon. and i walked out to the living room.

my mom and uncle talked a while longer, and so a good fifteen minutes had elapsed before we turned to actually leave. from her room down the hall i heard her calling. "i love you." and i was so exhausted, so callous in that moment, that from the living room i called back, "i love you too!" rather than taking that opportunity to see her one last time. we were coming back after all.

well. we didnt make it in time.

my grandfather had been hospitalized for the last week or so nearby, and his visit the night before ours hed told her gently, kindly, that she didnt have to keep holding on. it was okay to let go. wed be okay. and so she had, only a few hours after he left. i never got to see her again- she was cremated too soon after.

i have never, never forgiven myself for that. for not going back to see her when she called to me. i had no idea then what it would mean for her to truly die. to never see her, hear her, speak to her, hold her again. never. i didnt know any better.

my grandfather didnt find out until twelve hours later. my grandmother died november fourth, 2014, at around 4am. we visited him in the hospital as a family that same day, around 4pm, after wed all figured out what to say. when he saw us walk in the door, grim and pale and together, hed started hitching as if to vomit or sob or both before anyone had said a word.

after they told him he screamed at us, berated us, why would we wait so long to tell him? why wasnt he there for her? why didnt we call? and as he screamed his kids left one by one until it was only me at his bedside as he broke down. i held him in my arms as he wracked sobs and spit and sweat into the crook of my neck and clutched my shirt like he was a dying man himself.

i spent hours in bed with him, and every nurse, and every doctor who came through to check on us thereafter, and every aid at the nursing home he was sent to recover in received the same monotone greeting; "my name is roland brodeur, and my wife is dead."

i was alone for the week after. i didnt know what to think, or feel. relief, more than anything, at the time. it hd been so hard for so long to try to keep her together, keep myself together, keep our family together; no longer did i need to be up every night to make sure she wasnt hurt. no more wailing and vommitting in the bathroom. no more port flushes, or bandages, or wigs, or hair chunks in the food, or laughter, or her smokers cough, or the way shed say my name, or,

my grandfather successfully broke himself out of that nursing home three times in the week thereafter. only once did he reach the street without falling, and while he had no idea how to get home, he began walking anyway. they caught him, of course, but he was discharged soon after.

and so it was the two of us. wed never been exceedingly close, but without my grandmothers boisterous personality to fill the quiet crevices we began to spend more time together. it was slow; her memorial service was very very hard on us as i, 17, had tried to play host to people twice or thrice my age, and hed refused to come then changed his mind too late and missed it entirely; but we began to spend nearly all of our time together in the living room.

finally, for the first time in my life, he began to take his health seriously. she was dead, and he was alive, and i was still here. so our diets shifted, and he began attending his doctors appointments and bringing home small items for his physical therapy. we were going to be okay.

i turned 18 that december. the holidays were solemn; i was driven out to my aunts where my grandfather had promised to soon follow, but he never showed up. i spent christmas crying to myself, surrounded by family, and he spent it alone in our tiny rotting house.

come new years eve, he, taylor and i sat around trying to enjoy ourselves. this would be a fresh start. this would be a clean late. a month out from her death, maybe we could recover. taylor went to bed, he staid at his post in front of the tv, and i found things to occupy myself until i got tired enough to sleep. (it was hard, sleeping).

come 4am, i crossed the hall to get ready for bed and to say my goodnights to my grandfather. even at a distance though, i could tell something was wrong. he was pallid, sweaty, head hung and eyes glazed. i rushed to his side, turning on nearly every light in the house in the process, trying to get his attention.

he replied in garbled quiet syllables. i called my mom. she told me she was coming. he had a seizure. i called the emergency squad.

and so i staid there, kneeling in front of him and holding his hand, promising over and over again that i was here, im here, im here, im here, theyre coming and im here, its okay, im here.

they arrived nearly simultaneously; bursting through the front door to see what was wrong. over the course of their visit they realized his sugars were off the charts and pumped some insulin into him. as the levels came down he came back to himself, his vision and speech clearing until he was shrugging off their concerns and even cracking a joke. the tension began to ease. hes okay.

and then he had another seizure.

there was a beat of absolute silence before he sucked in a breath and the medic in front of him dropped to his knees to check on him. he was okay. a little out of it, but responsive. thank god.

and then he had another seizure.

and this time, the breath didnt follow. the medics voice pitched up as he repeated his name over and over again, calling him, checking his pulse, his pupils, and as a flurry of yelling began my mom started screaming at me to go to my room. i was gutted, breathless, silent, staring at my grandfathers limp body as the medics swarmed back through the front door and began using the paddles to try to bring him back.

i did relent to my mothers keening, stumbling numb back to my bedroom to where taylor somehow slept peacefully. heavy with grief already weighing in my chest, i crawled up her body and fell face down and sobbing into her stomach. i didnt know what else to do.

the ambulance took him to be air lifted. they did everything they could. he was dead before he ever left our property, though.

the image that still stands out to me was of my mother. it had been with my grandmother too- id been sleeping on her couch as she paced through the living room, crying quietly into the phone, and as i woke up, i knew. and here to, she was on her knees on the living room floor, sobbing and begging god not to take both of her parents so soon. i held her while she cried and told her it would be okay, even if i didnt believe it myself.

its a long drive from so far out in the sticks to reach the hospital. the wait seemed even longer once we were there. they stuck us in a quiet side room, isolated, seemingly endlessly. my mother and i had been crying on and off but taylor had remained stony faced and strong for me. it was only when i looked to her, feeling nothing but coldness in my soul and whispered, "i dont want to be an orphan." that a single tear rolled down her cheek and nothing else.

i think in all the time this happened, taylor was the only person who ever held me.

when the doctor finally arrived, it was with the news we all expected. "im sorry," as he handed my mom a box of tissues, "we did everything we could. he was dead long before he arrived here."

he lead us to see my grandfathers body. it was surreal, to see him laying there, tinted purple and bruised all over. his eyelids were ruddy, and the hand id been clutching hours previous was like ice. his skin still somehow pliant, while his joints had begun to stiffen. i just stood there and held it for what felt like hours. my mother told me later he looked like he was smiling, but i never saw it.

and so. on life goes. my mom drove taylor and i back to my empty terrible little home and dropped us off. we milled around, exhausted, but sleepless. she helped me rearrange the furniture to put less of an emphasis on my grandparents favorite places to sit, as they were plainly visible from my bedroom doorway and the torment was endless as my head turned to smile at them every time i left to use the bathroom. it was awful. when taylor had to leave, i was just left there, alone.

i had failed as a caregiver. i had failed as a grandchild. i had failed as their youngest. i had no one in the world in that moment. that winter was bitter, and i couldnt bring myself to be present enough to keep the woodstove lit. the animals and i all froze for it, but i could barely climb out of bed. no heat, no cable, nothing to comfort me left beyond my own meager devices. i had the first two hobbit movies on dvd and so i stuck them into my xbox and they played nonstop on loop for months. it was the only way to fill the silence. the only voices i could listen to. i dont remember eating a single thing. my family just left me there. i was no ones responsibility, and so i would be no ones burden. as an adult i learned they all felt so guilty over what id been put through they didnt want to face what i would have become after that.

it was in this time the nightmares really began. there was one, one specific nightmare, in which i was in my house in the dead of night with nothing but pitch black outside, and i would run door to door trying to keep them locked and the horrible cruel things outside at bay. i never did see them, whatever i was desperately trying to hide from, but it was omnipresent and i was terrified of it.

at every turn the doors would again be unlocked and open. the latches would give at the lightest tug. the darkness would seep through the cracks. the only variables were my grandparents, like props- sometimes they were there in the living room, unresponsive to me as they stared into the television. sometimes only one of them. sometimes i was alone. but over and over again i had this nightmare, every single time i fell asleep. regardless of the time of day, of if i was sleeping or napping or just resting my eyes, i had this nightmare. and i had it for nearly three and a half years thereafter. sleep deprivation was my only solace from it, driven to such an extent that i began having prolonged hallucinations and severe paranoia.

my only solace was after the pipes froze and burst in our little cement basement. they couldnt justify leaving me there much longer, so my aunt told me- just another two weeks. if i staid in the house she would come to get me to move in with her. at that point i was so happy just to have an out that i begged my neighbor to periodically stop in on the remaining animals in the house so i could go stay with taylor until it was time to move.

my aunt called me LIVID when she found out. she berated me at the top of her lungs for disobeying her. maybe that should have been a red flag, but i was so consumed in my own self blame for my grandparents death that i assumed she was right to feel that way.

i got little say in what was kept when we went back to clean the house out after. in fact, i got almost nothing of my grandparents. to this day, all i have is my grandmothers favorite hoodie. somewhere in the process, the cleaning solutions we had been using must have gotten in my eye because the pain was bad, and the effects would be lasting.

living with my aunt was a nightmare. she was unyeilding; scolding and punishing me for not getting out of bed because the infection in my eyes was so bad i couldnt see and it hurt to have any light hit them. insisting it was my fault i was left nearly half blind, and that my lack of recovery was because i wasnt trying hard enough. (i was told later i had had severe chemical burns and infection that have left my corneas riddled in holes and craters, and severely light sensitive. all of it could have been fixed with a single doctors visit in the worst of it.)

and on it went; i had no time to grieve, as she forced me out the door and into terrible fulltime jobs. they became my only reprieve from her, as any time i was home i had a chore list of no less than four hours worth of cleaning that she would accuse me up and down of lying about on the daily. shed gaslight me, set traps, pull gotchas, until i began to believe her. i genuinely thought i was making up the hours id spend working on cleaning, that i was a lazy liar, and that i deserved the slow recession of any right to food in the house she imposed.

my most beloathed of chores was dishes. every night after dinner, of which i was allowed to eat less and less until not at all, i would have to come down to clean up after the families meals. her pampered chef knives were her prized possessions, and her rules for cleaning them were strenuous. the closest ive ever come to killing myself was standing in that kitchen, over her sink, with one of her favorite knives pressed into my wrist as the depths of sorrow and grief id had to pave over to maintain what she wanted me to do began to crumble.

the only thing that stopped me was the gentle realization that if i killed myself here, the first person to see it would be one of my younger cousins. that that would be something he would never be able to forget or move on from. its the only thing that stopped me.

i would go on to climb the railing of an overpass at around 1am in the dead of a december night. i was bitterly cold, having no winter jacket, a two hour walk from home, being punished by my aunt because the job shed hoisted upon me had kept me later than she felt like coming to get me. so i had no choice but to walk on broken feet after nearly twelve hours of standing, with no winter clothes to deal with the whipping icy winds, and no street lights or sidewalks to follow. i couldnt do it anymore. i was so tired, in so much pain, with only blame and alienation from my family. i just wanted to die and be done with it.

two rungs from flipping my legs over the railing, movement caught my eye. at the far end of the dark overpass was the vaguely visible outline of a golden retriever whos owner was walking it down the long road i had to walk to get home. and i thought, maybe, if i could pet that dog, maybe i could keep going. maybe id be okay. the road was across a wide flat area, prepared for development that had yet to start, so the visibility was a near quarter mile in the moonlight. and so.. slowly.. i stepped down and began to trudge on.

yet, when i reached the end of the overpass, they were nowhere to be seen. there was nowhere to go, mind you, but forward; there were cliffs to either side of the overpass that went down into the highway, and then this single stretch of road forward with no trees or houses for the duration. they had simply vanished. i still dont really know what happened.

and on i trudged. nothing else to do but survive day to day under my aunts open hostility. i wasnt allowed to eat family meals, no, but then rules came about keeping my own food in the house. it would be doled out to my cousins and uncle if i dared to, and food in my bedroom was prohibited. the best i could do was hide a few cereal bars between my mattress and the wall for the days i couldnt eat at work. it was miserable.

"just get over it. youre bumming everyone else out." told to me, six months after the death of both of my parents. no one had asked me if i was okay in that time. no one had held me. no one had told me it wasnt my fault. taylor was the only silver lining i had. she was always there for me at a moments notice, she kept me sane, and god i love her so much. i dont think i would have survived it without her.

i managed to scrape by until i met Lo, the man im due to marry next month. this was nearly seven years ago now, but i still remember the nervous jitters the first time i packed a bag and bought a train ticket to make my first solo journey from virginia all the way down to florida to meet in person. id go on to make the 20 hour trip frequently, falling into his arms and having the brightest points of my life, only to be left sobbing and wracked with fear the morning of my return to my aunts home. it was hell. but i was starting to find reasons to pull through.

even if my aunt had outed me as trans and gay while i was visiting him, effectively burning my bridges with most of my family behind my back and then lying to my face about it for weeks after. my mother wouldnt look me in the eye. my extended family has never once spoken to me since. my own brothers wont come to my wedding because im a faggot, rooted in the reaction my mom had to this and how its grown nasty and dehumanizing since.

(i have a very strong feeling that the majority of the years i spent this way are locked up tight in an alter who hasnt fronted in years. i frequently broke down over depersonalization and being convinced i truly wasnt myself then, in a way i have not felt since. i really cant remember most specifics, but the cadence alone would give it away, i think. at the time i was too afraid to face it head on and define what was happening to me, but in retrospect im nearly positive.)

and so on i trudged. my aunts aggressions would gradually grow over time, until a night where id let my guard down around my brothers visiting us and shed gotten me by the nick of my hoodie and dragged me down my the throat to hiss and growl and snarl nasty things to me over an argument wed had days prior. shed blocked me from the internet and ignored my very existence in the elapsing days. it all came to a head with this interaction, a nasty game of parroting that i was lucky to have her, that i love her, that im grateful she forgives me for the things i do, and punctuated with a hug i was forced to initiate. when i told my coworkers the next morning, in tears, i was told if she put her hands on me once shed do it again. i told my mom the next day i needed her to come get me right now.

the day we went back to get my possessions was the last day i ever spoke to my aunt. she was purple in the face, veins stood out against her forehead and screaming wrathful nasty things at my sobbing mother about me as i tried to gather my things- thrown into a haphazard corner of the garage after id pleaded with her to just leave my room untouched and let me organize and gather my belongings.

my mother hyperventilated on the drive home, and told me through gritted teeth that shes worried my aunt may have been abusing me. i told her exactly what she had done to me, and she had to pull over to stomach it. a week later she told me my aunt was trying to get in touch and i should go ahead and give her a call. (the betrayal and fear i felt in that moment was rivaled only by my mom freely inviting her over to visit without warning me first.)

my mother would ask often when i was planning on moving out. she didnt want me there, that was plainly clear, and the raw edges of my recent outing didnt help. i was given a mattress on the floor in the kitchen, in plain view of everyone at all times, covered in ants with the cat box beside my pillow. my only reprieves were times i spent with taylor or lo, anywhere i could find to be that wasnt her home.

lo was already planning a move with his mother to phoenix by this time, as neither of them could afford a place of their own, and so i was invited along. i dont think ive ever said yes to something so quickly in my life.

phoenix ill elapse; i spent two years making a three hour commute to a job that did horrific things to my mental and physical health. my sciatica was so aggressively hurt by the ways in which i begged my managers for accessibility that they refused that i would often collapse off of numb lightning struck legs, scattering anything i was carrying. my longest shift worked there began at 4am and ended at 12:30am. twenty and a half hours. i got two thirty minute breaks, a single compensated meal, and had to work the next day.

tensions with los mother, a deeply traumatized neuro divergent woman who wasnt aware of any of the above, finally hit a fever pitch and over the course of a week we were rendered homeless, sleeping on taylors floor. while her mother welcomed us in with open arms, her nastiness was prevalent and constant. bitter and put upon by our very existence under her roof. we were kicked out later so her transphobic boyfriend would be more comfortable coming over to visit.

from there we landed a disgusting single room in a frat house in maryland that hadnt been properly cleaned in the years preceding our arrival. it was so bad we left within a month to move in with who would later turn out to be an absolute psychopath of a woman in a slightly nicer house. after a year of trying my best to be friends with her she turned on us, blew up our living arrangement, called the cops on us, got the wifi cut for a week, took all the locks off our front door so we couldnt lock her out & eventually got us evicted entirely. why? because i asked her to buy some food for her cats because in the weeks she hadnt been home and id been taking care of all of her animals (not that shed asked me to) theyd run out of kibble.

and that rounds us out to now. los mom drove up to get us, two years out from phoenix and a lot of self discovery later, were now out here in the sticks of alabama. lo and i have been together nearly seven years now and were slotted to get married next month, so life really has begun to look up for me, but man. sometimes its all just so fuckin much. i went through so fuckin much and for what? yknow? my family is still shit. i dont speak to my aunt, my mother and brothers refused to come to my wedding, my grandparents and jimmy are still dead, and so my entire world has been condensed down to a handful of friends- taylor, elliot, ofc my fiance- and really nothing else. i dont really feel like i have any family anymore. its a grieving process still, to accept that, loss after loss like that, but it gets a little easier every day.

& anyway if youve ever wondered why i have a system, i think it oughtta make a little more sense now. lol.

#in which isaiah spends 3 hours writing out the most boring story youve ever read in your life #if you have any triggers theyre probably in there somewhere! watch out lol! #fuck knows if this is even accurate my memories and perceptions of my life are absolutely fucked #did you know cptsd eats holes in your brain and ruin things like memory and comprehension #on top of having segmented alters that carry so much of it themselves like. man. idk #thats rough buddy! lol

[phantomdecibel]

Something I noticed is that Polites is like. The most stubborn and Eurylochus is the least.

Granted this could be because Odysseus is the captain so he kinda HAS to let him do what he wants (until mutiny) but still, he’s the least set in his ideals and doesn’t hang onto them quite as strong as the other two. (As proven by him changing his mind during Scylla.)

And also something I noticed is that Polites is the most reasonable person in their trio?? Like people say he’s the himbo and the heart but I’d make the argument that he’s also holding quite a lot of the brain cells. (He trusted the lotus eaters and they didn’t lie. Sure they omitted a detail, but they do also have an actual parasite for a brain. Not to mention, it was probably the only food for a long distance since the lotus eaters were just humans who were probably starving as well.) (contrast this with “Mutiny” Eurylochus and “Darkest moment” Odysseus who were being just completely unhinged.) (granted they did just have to see their friends die and then relive their deaths in gorey detail via underworld shenanigans but I digress!)

I know right!! poli is stubborn and persistent where euryl is much more likely to give in and stop nagging, only euryl is much more /vocal/ about it when he does have something to say, where poli voices his disagreements to odys in private and much more gently (or at least, that’s how it seemed in full speed ahead and open arms; euryl questioned odys outright but dropped it almost immediately while poli waited until they were alone to talk with odys).

Although I’d think that being second in command to odys captain position would come with more liberty to question him; that’s euryls job, to keep the man in power in check and provide a second opinion (although tbh I have. no clue what I’m talking about that’s just what makes sense to me haha–). Too bad poli dies early – I would have liked to see how he would have reacted to odys saying “don’t question me or everyone dies” lmao (I want to say that he would not have stood for that, but we’ll never know *sigh*).

The way I see it, and bear in mind that I haven’t heard all the clips yet haha and Epic is only a fourth of the way finished, euryl has a very… do what is best for the majority, save as many people as possible kind of mindset – and morals don’t necessarily have a place in that when peoples lives are on the line, while poli more has a strict sense of morals that he tries to do his best to follow, though I do think he’d be willing to compromise on them when lives are at stake

I definitely agree that poli seems like the most reasonable out of the three of them but to me in more of a… he seems a bit better adjusted to not being at war kinda way than the other two yknow? Odys n euryl are expecting a fight no matter what, they see the world as more of a kill or be killed kind of situation, where poli seemed to have recognized and come to terms with not being constantly waiting for a fight. He spread tgat a bit to odys before he died, and odys then tries to spread that to euryl. Personally I think they’ve all got a number of braincells – even if odys lost his while giving away his name address and social security number. Odys managed to win a war while keeping every single one of his people alive and while I’m sure he didn’t do it on his own, he had to be using his braincells haha. Maybe they’re just tired from carrying the war–

#you’re gonna have to give me a minute to answer ur other asks lol I just got off the phone and I’m starving I need f o o d– #lovely to hear ur analyses as always :D #admittedly– haven’t heard darkest moment yet but I’m a sucker for characters just going. off the fucking rails so that’s next #on my to listen list (once luck runs out is capable of /not/ being looped in my brain 24/7 lmfao)

[reaperkiller]

okay so SO i am still losing my mind but i had to run in here to ask something... so this bit "if he wasn’t dead, he’d be blushing" (lost my mind), i am so curious over this!! so because of things i know that like not all autonomic responses are just Gone, but are there other things?? like do his pupils dilate? i can't recall if you've ever mentioned like palms getting sweaty knees weak arms are heavy mum's spaghetti? or like heart rate going up? (i think you have but i'm not sure, anyways) i am just soooo curious to know more about like the actual physiological side of jason being dead 👀👀

EHEHEHEE i love this question i have been thinking about it all day. lord forgive me for i am about to never shut up again.

so first of all were it not for the fact that he was Up and Moving the way he is, he would very much appear like he'd been dead for a bit, maybe an hour at most. like a Fresh Corpse. so if someone caught him sleeping, they'd think there was a corpse in the bed, whis is Not ideal. especially bc he's such a heavy sleeper next to nothing would wake him up. which would lead to a very funny scenario that i probably have to write at some point <3 ANYWAY. now to properly answer the question fghfjgh

he is basically a reanimated corpse, a soul possessing a dead body - there's nothing going on in there, his body isn't actually his anymore, he's just the pilot. no breath, no heartbeat, pupil dilation, anything like that. it's like his body is frozen in time, but he's still forcing it to move. that doesn't mean he doesn't get the sensations though, like in his soul, it still feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest sometimes, when nothing's actually happening, which makes him forget he's dead sometimes. especially when he's around marcus. he always feels alive. figuratively and literally. i need a minute.

he can't bleed or anything, he can still get very badly injured and still feels pain, but he has a much higher pain tolerance, so it would take a significant amount of damage to knock him out of commission. another thing that i will write about one day because i like being evil.

his hair still grows idk how that works but i'm keeping it in there because i want him to have as many different hairstyles as possible. this is my world.

he can drink, he gets thirsty sometimes, but he very rarely if ever gets hungry or needs food. he also very rarely needs sleep, and would much rather go without it anyway, but it does help him heal up a bit faster. the only issue is he is very scared to fall asleep, in case he. dies. or something. yknow. AHAH im so normal about this.

and a very important detail which is making me So insane and i need to talk about, is the ring that he has to wear at all times. you know, the onle ruthie oh so kindly gave to him that one time. it's what binds his soul to his body, and it could very much work on anyone's body, given the opportunity [thats something im gonna think about/write about some more bc. i'm very curious as to how that would work if the wearer was still alive]. so if, for whatever reason, the ring got removed?? his body would pretty much unfreeze, and his gunshot wound would reopen and he'd bleed out and die! which isn;t very fun, and something he'd like to avoid at all costs.

#oc tag #OC ALEX #it's similar for eric ruthie + aisling. but they're more like ghosts than reanimated corpses so there's some Minor Differences i guess #N E WAYS!! LEAH THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK MWAH #IT'S MAKING MY BRAIN GO RBRBRBRBRBRB also. knees weak arm #arms spaghetti. and so on

[iamanonniemouse]

PART TWO OF THE ANSWER TO @hideyseek‘s ASK

(for this wip asks thingy)

okay PHILLIPA FIC

so I wrote a gen phillipa fic also for @mizunoir back in :double checks: 2020! and honestly it’s like one of my absolute all time favorite fics i’ve written. seriously. it was inspired because mizu asked what i thought phillipa and james would do post-inception!

anyway then i saw mizu’s art for the reverse big bang last year which HOT DAYUM and i am also still so fucking fond of phillipa and gen phillipa fics and so my brain just started writing a fic because thats what it DOES

basically phillipa goes under to meet/learn more about/talk to her mom after she learns about how her mom died but shes an inexperienced dreamer and gets lost down there and arthur and eames go after her :waves hand vaguely:

In the dark, the bandits come. They don’t look like bandits—they dress in suits and slacks and fancy hats. But beneath the careful grooming, they’re liars and thieves who creep around the edges of her home with shiny-sharp eyes.

They’re bandits, her maman says. And they’re here to take her away.

So every night, they lock the doors. They bar the windows. And her maman holds her close, wraps her up tightly in long, willowy arms so the bandits can’t steal her in the night.

The bandits whisper, though, their words sneaking in through the tiniest cracks. Phillipa, they say, over and over again. Phillipa. We’re here. Phillipa. Come with us.

Pippa curls closer to her maman’s warmth and says, “Tell me a story?”

Her maman hums and kisses the crown of her head. “Once, there was a woman who fell in love with a dreamer. He was a brilliant man, with a brilliant mind, and together they explored everything the world could offer.”

“But something went wrong,” Phillipa says. She loves this story, no matter how many times she hears it.

“Something went very wrong.” Her maman sighs. “He fell in love with his dreams, and he forgot the rest of the world. When the woman tried to remind him of the truth, he refused to listen.”

“So she had to leave him behind,” Phillipa finishes. “Maman?”

“Mm, ma cherie?”

“Why didn’t she stay with him?”

“Because it would have been a lie,” her maman says gently. “And she couldn’t bring herself to love a lie.”

Phillipa nods sleepily and feels her maman tuck the blankets tighter around them. “Sleep, ma cherie.”

But in sleep, the bandit’s whispers follow her. Phillipa, Phillipa. Come here. Come home.

 I realllllly want to finish this. yknow. someday.

#mousie rambles #omg i get asks now #fic #my writing

[transmortifried]

tagged by @catgirl-kaiju for this ask game, who had better appreciate how hard it was to copy all these questions on mobile

What was your last…

• Beverage: last night's ice water with black cherry drops added that i took my pills with this morning

• Phone call: took a call for work, which is like 90% of what i do for a living

• Text message: i think it might have also been a work thing?

• Song you listened to: postmodern jukebox's cover of lovefool, which came up on a playlist i had on in the background and then i had to track it down

• Time you cried: a while ago. it's personal.

Have you ever…

• Dated someone twice: i'm only still in contact with one of my exes

• Kissed someone and regretted it: yeah

• Lost someone special: that's personal as well

• Been depressed: hon we're on the depression website, what do you think

• Been drunk and threw up: haha yeah, my 21st birthday, it was really bad. i STILL can't drink tequila

In the last year, have you…

• Made a new friend: i'd like to think so!

• Fallen out of love: nah

• Laughed until you cried: yeah of course i like to laugh. might've been the pride flag ohio flag incredibles post that did it last.

• Found out who your true friends are: pass

• Found out someone is talking about you: please, people are always talking about me. i'm hot as hell and unpredictably awkward, it keeps them guessing

General

• How many people on your fb list do you know in real life: who the hell still uses facebook

• List three of your favorite colors: red, charcoal grey, and stygian blue

What was your first…

• …surgery: unless getting teeth pulled counts, none

• …piercing: earrings, but that's boring. it went septum, then navel, then eyebrow

• …best friend: someone i went to elementary school with. we don't talk anymore but we've been through some shit together. we were roommates for a couple months too.

• …sport you joined: i was forced to play baseball as a child against my will and spent the whole time being as bad at it on purpose out of spite.

• …vacation: probably a trip up to the smoky mountains?

• …pair of trainers:

• i don't care enough about shoes to be able to answer this

Right now what are you…

• …eating: taco bell baybee! steak crunchwrap with chipotle sauce, grilled chicken 5-layer burrito, and a chalupa that i got for free

• …drinking: large baja blast no ice, see above

• …about to do: sit at work wondering if it's gonna rain again because if it does then i can leave

Your future

• Do you want kids: nope!

• Do you want to get married: maybe!

• Ideal career: independently wealthy and unemployed!

Which do you think is better…

• …lips or eyes: i'm gonna say lips because eye contact makes me uncomfortable

• …hugs or kisses: kisses

• …shorter or taller: *thinks about my two 6 foot girlfriends* no comment

• …older or younger: slightly older, and yet i keep being the slightly older one in my recent flirtations

• …romantic or spontaneous: this is a false dichotomy???? spontaneously romantic

• …nice stomach or nice arms: tough call, but i'm gonna say arms

• …sensitive or loud: LOUD. i love it when a woman feels like she can just talk atound me yknow?

• ...hook up or relationship: relationship. i'm literally no good at hookups

• …trouble-maker or hesitant: trouble-maker for sure!

Have you ever…

• …kissed a stranger: yup!

• …drank hard liquor: twice a week, yeah

• …lost glasses/contacts: not permanently

• …had sex on the first date? jeez i had to think about it but i have. would have preferred to finish the movie though.

• …broken someone’s heart: maybe? we didn't keep in touch.

• …been arrested: nah, but i've been given the Official Warning

• …turned someone down: yeah

• …cried when someone died: hey what the fuck

Do you believe in…

• …yourself:

• …miracles: yeah i mean there's pretty concrete proof of magnets existing

• …love at first sight: nah that's just thinking someone's hot. love is a process that takes time to develop

• …heaven: nah

• …Santa Claus: no i'm not five and for real i hate christmas, least favorite holiday by a decent margin

• …kiss on the first date: i can't imagine this being a big deal to anybody. literally cannot fathom it

• …angels: nope!

i am tagging...

YOU

[transgenderer]

@kata4a tagged me

What was your:

Last beverage: coffee this morning, unless water counts. im gonna have some cranberry juice with lemon soon. so good Last phone call: i dont have phonecalls often! probably IT at my job. maybe a tinder dude like a week ago Last text message: tinder dude ive been talking with, he seems cool so far Last song you listened to: golden jackal song! what a great song. Last time you cried: like a week ago i cried right after work in the bathroom. not sure why

Have you ever:

Dated someone twice: my first boyfriend! we broke up and then briefly got back together a couple months later. god. that relationship was bad in such a boring way, i was just desperate but wasnt particularly into him Kissed someone and regretted it: not really? i mean. ive had bad kisses. but its never caused like Consequences Lost someone special: like, they died? nah. i alienated my long distance best friend when i was in like 9th grade and havent talked to her since. bummer Been depressed: lol Been drunk and threw up: ive never thrown up AFTER getting drunk but for some reason last year i vomited on the WAY to the wine garden. i think i overexerted myself or something?

List 3 favorite colors: hmm green, orangey-pink, like teal/turquoise

Last year, have you:

Made a new friend: hmm. sort of? ive gotten much closer with people i hadnt been close to before. idk if ive like properly befriended any totally new people? idk. its ambiguous Fallen out of love: i mean, sort of aidan? i was never really in love with him :/ Laughed until you cried: i think so? idk if i do this Found out who your true friends are: is this code for "been betrayed"? weird. i havent been betrayed Found out someone was talking about you: my friends talk abt me sometimes i love it :) i love it when people talk abt me. i love it when ppl on here mention talking about me irl. Anyone on your fb friends list? facebook more like fakebook

General:

How many people on your fb friends list do you know in real life?: (facebook fakebook)

Firsts:

First surgery: when i was a baby i had my thumb stuck at a right angle! they had to like. cut a tendon First piercing: i dont have any piercings! First best friend: girl from preschool who lied all the time. so weird and bad First sport you joined: i did t ball when i was real little First vacation: my parents took me to hawaii when i was reallly little i think

Right now:

Eating: pbj for dinner :/ Drinking: just water I’m about to: post, I guess (i second kat)

Your future:

Want kids: hard no Get married: hopefully! Career: hopefully math PHD and then yknow. do something with that. probably not in academia

Which is better:

Lips or eyes: hmm, lips probably, i dont usually look at eyes lol. i feel like face is about the hole tho... Hugs or kisses: probably hugs? kisses are nice too but theres something so safe... Shorter or taller: taller :/ kind of a woman moment Older or younger: older, double woman moment. gender Romantic or spontaneous: this is a weird dichotomy. spontaneous i guess? Nice stomach or nice arms: arms! love arms Sensitive or loud: sensitive Hook-up or relationship: relationship! or at least, yknow. more than once Trouble maker or hesitant: troublemaker

Have you ever:

Kissed a stranger: depends if you count tinder boys i barely no Drank hard liquor: yeah Lost glasses/contacts: ha i dont need glasses. fucking poindexters Sex on first date: literally dozens of times Broke someone’s heart: yeah... :/ Arrested: nope! ive been like, accessory to a felony tho (cooking DMT) Turned someone down: loads Cried when someone died: i think my great grandma? Fallen for a friend: yeah...

Do you believe in:

Yourself: i guess? idk really know what this means Miracles: ofc not Love at first sight: i mean...idk, i feel like this is weirdly undefined as a concept. like, obviously you cant KNOW someone on first sight. you can know someone after a first meeting, mabe... anyway you cant love someone you dont know Heaven: lol nah Santa Claus: no? Kiss on the first date: yes? Angels: no