#HAS LOADS OF FANFICS

[jay-wasstuff]

When I see ao3 loading 2 seconds too long:

[phantom248]

Finally got around to watching Fangs of Fortune from beginning and not just some broken clips (hurray being sick and getting some time off) and came across Ran Yi describing in pain staking detail how Zhuo Yixuan asked his help in easing his didi’s nightmares and I just thought what if Ran Yi had some place to go to? His death could have been avoided.

This spawned into an idea about how Ran Yi started coming to bureau on Zhuo Yixuan's request to see Zhuo Yichen and Xiao Zhuo gets another gege and after the blood moon and everything Ran Yi kept visiting him even when he was injured which gave him an idea.

What is the idea you may ask?

Establish a Demon sanctuary/therapy clinic!

Much more easier than establishing the hunting bureau because of Chongwu camp and the king cause he doesn't needs military order for this🤗

[saysflora]

If you ask Mush, winter is one of the best times of the year, but it seems he's one of the only people in the lodgings that feels that way. What starts as a way to take Blink's mind off of the now cold, dark months ends up being a bigger scheme than even he was imagining, and he's more than happy to take the opportunity to plan a celebration that'll have everyone raring with holiday spirit. With help, of course.

OR: Mush throws a Christmas Party.

[wetcatspellcaster]

In which a late night discussion is conducted, and a letter is received.

[youregonnabeokay-kid]

ADHD information for fanfic writers:

Diagnostic Process:

the diagnostic process is different in every country, but this is a basic overview

- an ADHD referral can come from any type of doctor, unlike referrals for other neurodivergences

- the wait list depends on where you live and how old you are. typically the younger you are, the shorter the wait

- ADHD has to be diagnosed by a psychiatrist or by a doctor who has taken a specialized course to be certified in diagnosing and handling ADHD

- most doctors will make you fill out a questionnaire about your mental health. these questionnaires involves sections about family history, personal history, and statements that you have to agree or disagree with

- a good psychiatrist won’t diagnose you with ADHD during your first visit. they will instead spend the first few visits getting to know you and the state of your mental health

- most people are assessed for depression when being assessed for ADHD. this is because depression can present itself in similar ways. if diagnosed with depression and open to medication, the psychiatrist will first prescribe antidepressants and see how those affect you before moving on with the ADHD assessment

Meds:

- most ADHD meds are taken in the morning since they normally wear off after 8-12 hours

- when meds wear off we go through what’s known as a “crash” or “medication rebound”

- ADHD crashes are pure hell which is why some people with ADHD choose to only take meds during the week or they do nothing on the weekend as a reset of sorts

- basically, when our meds wear off all of our symptoms come back at the same time and we get overstimulated to the point of exhaustion

- some people have smaller doses of their meds that they take at the beginning of the crash. this means they can prolong the crash by a couple hours

- for some people, the first time taking meds is hell. the change is very noticeable and abrupt. i wouldn’t stop talking because it was “too quiet” (it being my mind)

- your dosage is not based on body type or weight and just because you take a high dose in one drug doesn’t mean you take a high dose in all others (my ADHD meds are 10mg higher than the highest prescribed amount but my antipsychotics are .5mg lower than the lowest prescribed dose)

- vyvanse is most often prescribed to people with combo ADHD, ritalin to those with hyperactive ADHD (especially those with impulsivity issues), and adderall for inattentive (no, this is not something that is typically disclosed or well-known but if you’ve talked to enough people w/ ADHD you begin to see a pattern) other ADHD meds are available but less likely to be prescribed

- other meds are also taken into account when getting a prescription for ADHD. vyvanse is the most versatile and is usually the one prescribed if you’re on other medications

- ADHD meds are stimulants which means doctors will never give you refills (if they do, they could lose their license)

- since they’re stimulants, for the first year you have to go to the psychiatrist’s bi-weekly for the first few months, then monthly after that so they can see how you are doing

- ADHD meds are known for lowering sex drives and increasing hunger (sometimes the opposite may happen, as with most drugs, but these are most common)

- it takes about 1/2 hour to an hour for meds to kick in and many of us are able to tell the exact moment they start working

Other Substances:

- the neurons and chemicals in the body of an ADHD person are fucked. this means that many substances and medications have either no effect on us, or the opposite effect of what they are intended for

speaking from personal experience:

- caffeine makes me tired

- melatonin and other sleeping aids like dextromethorphan, which can be found in many cough syrups, make me hyper

- weed makes me feel lighter, but it never affects me more than that. i never get a “proper high” like other people (ie; i find no more joy or fascination in bright colours or moving objects than i usually do)

- while “sugar highs” in general are a myth, they’re real for people with ADHD! they stimulate our dopamine and opioid receptors which gives us a burst of energy

- additionally, people with ADHD are more likely to be addicted to illegal stimulants like cocaine because it calms them down (yup, you read that right. when someone with ADHD does cocaine their mind quiets and they mellow down instead of the usual hyper-active high that neurotypicals get)

Additional Information:

- we’re lacking some of the neurotransmitters in our brains so it takes us longer to process information, and we have “more” thoughts than neurotypicals since our additional thoughts aren’t processed out

- we get what’s called “executive dysfunction” or “ADHD paralysis” where we are physically unable to do things despite no real physical limitations (for non-ADHD folks: try putting your hand in fire. you’ll notice that you are either physically unable to or that your body somewhat restrains you from doing it. this is what executive dysfunction is like. for ADHD folks: do not try this since we’re also less likely to have self-preservation instincts)

- basically, i can sit for hours thinking about doing the dishes, screaming at myself in my head to just do them, but i’m still unable to

- we leave trails! we have so many thoughts going through our head that we forget them all the time, so when we get a thought like “i think the printer is low on paper, i should check” we abandon all tasks in favour of the new thought. however, the remains of those tasks stay where we left them, and thus, an ADHD trail is made

- we have both the worst and best memory of anyone you will ever meet. i might be able to tell you the exact outfit you wore on a specific day five years ago but i won’t remember what i ate for breakfast

- when we get bored, we get depressed. like, life is meaningless and i want to curl up in a ball and die depressed. sometimes we need someone to physically force us out of bed to get us out of our funk (and sometimes all it takes to get out of the funk is doing something fun which makes us feel ridiculous when we think about how depressed we were prior)

- since boredom is detrimental to us, we have to constantly be having fun which, in and of itself, is not fun. this is also why a lot of us end up doing shift work or working dangerous jobs

- we’re adrenaline junkies. this isn’t even a “most of us” situation, it’s all of us. the only difference is how we get that adrenaline. (some get it by jumping out of a plane, others get it by working on assignments in a time crunch)

- we’re social beings. even if we’re introverts, we thrive on social interactions. without them our dopamine plummets and we, once again, get depressed

- all silences are awkward to us. it doesn’t matter if you’re the person we’re most comfortable with in the world, silence is always awkward. or, more specifically, we feel like we need to fill it which is why we often ramble

obviously there’s far more to ADHD than just this and everything can change person by person but i hope this helps to gain a bit more of a general understanding on ADHD

[catsarehumanstoo]

what is this Mars thing

this Mars thing is also a timkon fic! it is set in the late 1920s and features kon as a former silent film child star trying to make the jump to both adult movie roles and talking pictures while also trying to work out who he is and where he comes from! also featuring tim as a surveyor for a map company (read: spy), who has a plane and a 35mm camera! i do have documents detailing exactly what camera and plane he has because i spent way too much time researching what was available then to lose that information!

it is not a no capes au but it is a low capes au - superman is very much around and kicking, but batman is not a thing bc bruce is busy doing other things (running a spy ring).

also featuring the various archaeological discoveries happening in the middle east and egypt bc tim's parents are archaeologists and i wanted to write about ur. sue me.

this one is on the backburner mainly bc as i worked out the plot i realised i needed to know more about contemporary middle eastern politics, and the more i looked into the history and politics of the region the more i realised there was more i needed to know. so it's on the backburner until i get a degree in 1920s middle eastern history and politics ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

snippet for you anyway!

"You'll be safe, won't you?" his mother said, stretching her hand up to clasp his, reaching out of the cockpit. "I've seen the terrible things that can happen when these airplanes crash." "Most of those crashes happened when there were other planes shooting at them, Mom," Tim said, smiling at her. "I'm just doing triangulation. No guns on this civilian craft." He patted the Redbird fondly. "How much does this job pay you, anyway?" Jack asked. "I can't say it's a career I expected you to go into." "It pays enough, Dad. And I get to keep the plane after five years' service." "Well, if you're sure. You know, it's not too late for me to write to Marin, see if he can get you a job in the company." "I don't want a job pushing paper for Drake Industries, Dad. I'm happy doing this." Jack nodded and shrugged. "Have a safe flight, kiddo."

[wreckedhoney]

"WONDERFUL SHOW TONIGHT, FORREST."

a KILLER FREQUENCY Marie Campbell/Forrest Nash ship playlist on YT

"Good to talk to you again, Forrest. You know, I've really enjoyed our chats tonight." "I guess we've had some moments."

Tracklist under the cut

Is Everybody Going Crazy? - Nothing But Thieves / The Perfect Girl - Mareux / We Don't Have To Dance - Andy Black / Night Issues (Nightcall x Daddy Issues) Mashup/Remix - FuturePastPerson / "Bassically" - Tei Shi / Cold Summer - Mareux / Diet Mountain Dew - Lana Del Rey / Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty / Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer / HUSH - Ari Abdul / DTLA - Mareux / Make You Mine - Madison Beer / FEAR YOU - Kat Von D / Bad Romance - Lady Gaga / Dark All Day - GUNSHIP / Maniac (feat. Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves) - AWOLNATION

[justlikeheavenfest]

register now for access to passes, on sale this friday at 11am PT. May awaits with arms outstretched. 🫶 $49.99 down payment plans available. www.justlikeheavenfest.com

[piningpercussionist]

*a DING is heard on Kims phone* Stephen: Kim I heard what happened are you alright?

.

.

.

.

Kim's eyes shoot open as she jolts up from her bed in a cold sweat, hand flying to her mouth just in time to muffle a scream. She pants wildly for a moment, curled in on herself as her pulse pounds in her ears and her vision swims.

Eventually, her pulse slows just slightly, leaving her just a little dizzy as her vision begins to clear.

(What... just happened to me?) She wondered, moving her hand from her mouth to her chest. (... When did I go to sleep?)

She frowns in confusion, looking around the room. Without a window, she'll need to check her phone to tell the time, but things look... well, the same, but different? She didn't quite remember most of these things being placed the way they were... or this room looking quite as lived in. The dissonance is begining to make her uncomfortable, heart rate picking up once again; she tries to take a deep breath as she feels around for her phone.

Thankfully, it's resting on the bed beside her, helpfully announcing itself with a buzz. (Well, that's fortunate,) she thinks idly, flipping it open with a practiced flick of her wrist.

She blinds herself with the brightness of the sceen for a moment, reeling back; blinking out the spots, she rubs at her eyes with her other hand as she settles back into the pillows.

(What's got me taking a nap or something at... oh, it's kind of late, actually. Assuming... do I have an early shift tomorrow or something...?)

She frowns, confused- until her eyes land on the date, and she shoots back up again, one hand flying up to her hair to pull at it.

(IT'S FEBRUARY?! Did someone- did someone mess with my phone?! What the hell-)

She quickly navigates to her messages, checking her new one first. She looks it over with intense scrutiny, trying as hard as she can to figure out what happened.

(What the hell is he talking about? What do I-)

Kim taps her index finger against the side of her phone for a long while, biting her lip. She feels nauseous; something seems very, very wrong here.

I don't know what you're talking about, so I don't know?

I feel like that's not a good sign.

I just woke up; did I go on a bender or something?

After she sends the messages, and stops herself from sending any more, she backs out of their texts to check her others.

They're fairly dead, for the most part, usually; large gaps of time between them, save for her texts with Scott, Ramona, and Hollie, typically. But trying to check them, she frowns, finding a rather curious irregularity. While her texts with Hollie seemed fine, for the most part, a couple were garbled- and when she looked at her conversations with Scott, they seemed to have stagnated for a time, and then also became filled with similar, uncomprehensible symbols and spam. Worst yet was her messages with Ramona- strings of broken text climbing up the screen and blotting out the whole of it, nearly. Something in her chest twinged at that, though she wasn't entirely sure why...

(How did this even... what...)

The only "recent" message Kim can find that sparks a similar feeling is one from Julie- a reminder about a party. Curiously, the message IS partly garbled- notably, where it would be telling her what the party is for- but the date remains visible.

(New Years... has passed....?)

She sets her phone down, putting her hands over her face as she lets her thoughts swirl around. She tries desperately to get herself to remember.

(What the fuck is wrong with me? What happened? Why can't I REMEMBER?!)

[poppyseed799]

I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and there’s an easy way to make sure you’re doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence

[lost-technology]

So, I was scouring my back-files and old fanfiction . net for some of my old Trigun fic. It wasn't all terrible, I swear! Okay, so I find a lot of stuff I did 20 or more years ago cringe, but there are a few pieces that are worth it. I was specifically looking for an old fic I did featuring an original character who had chosen to try to follow the "Vash" hero-lifestyle and found himself failing at it. Finally found the thing. Found a story I wrote about Vash having a pet cat, too, mostly comedy, but definitely one you don't want to read if you scour the "Does the Dog Die?" website before you watch a movie. Yes, I used that horrible old trope in the end. And then I found some fic I wrote waaaaaay back around 20 years ago (2004, actually) that was a Rem Lives AU for anime!Rem and the anime!story of Trigun and I didn't read it all the way through, but I skimmed it, having COMPLETELY forgotten about it! I seriously forgot this thing existed, forgot the entire plotline... I remember some of my old fics, obviously, but did not remember this one. And skimming... comparing to my current Stampede-and-Trimax based Rem Lives AU WIP... What is my brain's obsession with making Rem lose a leg? Seriously, it happened twice. It was a different leg (her left in the old fic as opposed to her right in the current and unlike in the current, she gets to keep both eyes) - but... I did this thing? Twice? Huh? I skimmed to the end and apparently rehabbing Knives has started to fall in a weird love with her, too. I used to write some weird shit. Actually, considering that once when I was sick with the flu a few years ago I wrote a crossover between Super Smash Bros and the Star Wars Holiday Special because my brain was on way too much cold medicine... and I spent a good portion of 2021 writing a series of fanfics about original characters that were Galactic Horde-clones from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power being undertakers for their fallen people post-canon...um, I still write weird things. *Sigh* at least that one fanfic I do remember co-writing with an ex-online-friend turned vicious online enemy (whom I could have probably forgiven if they hadn't attacked my SO) is absolutely gone now. There was a person I used to be friends with in Trigun fandom whose fandom name initials read "MF" so I will therefore refer to them as "Motherfucker" when I refer to them... well, Motherfucker and I once wrote out an idea that they had which was a Rem Lives AU but one where Vash and Rem fell in love with each other and Vash was overtaken by a fungal infection that made him violent enough to actually kill people sometimes - it was BAD. Probably the worst fanfic I ever (co) wrote. I hope that no one ever saved that to any hard drive or media. It deserves to be lost. Please.

[osbornelius]

maybe unpopular take but as someone who loved the book as a teen and has been reading GO fic for 15 years, the only positive thing out of the heartbreak of s2 is the confirmation that no, Crowley being an angel again isn't a perfect happy ending, he would never want to be angel again cos that's not who he is, or who he wants to be ever again

Crowley doesn't need to be forgiven or accepted by heaven for them to be happy and to be together, he just needs Aziraphale - their side, no one else's

[blueskyscribeupdates]

Secure Own Oxygen Mask

Chapter 29

You go downstairs, Laserbeak still tucked safely in your chest.  The lights are on in the lab. Every week you draw up carefully crafted shifts for the scientists, and every week they fail to adhere to them.  

It is annoying, but tonight it works to your advantage.  No less than three mecha are puttering over half-finished projects: Sinthesis, Tarantulas, and the head of the Science Division, Shockwave.  Sinthesis is pointing out the inner workings of some kind of gun, which Shockwave is looking over with a critical eye—the only one he has, in more than one sense.

Tarantulas takes the chance to sidle over, held aloft by four of his scuttling spider legs.  Nor are the others left idle; in his various limbs he carries a vial of green liquid, an eyedropper, and a clipboard, while his hands are clasped around a large beaker of some pale pink, gelatinous material.  "Lieutenant Soundwave? What are you doing here at this late hour?"

"Seeking Shockwave."  As Tarantulas' legs shift and tilt, smoke wafts out of the vial and its contents tip towards the rim. "Reminder: safety protocols mandatory."

He follows your pointed stare as a single drop spills out—accompanied by a smell so acrid that even you can taste it—and begins eating through the floor.  

"Ah." Hastily he brings the vial level. "Well, since you're here perhaps I can interest you in a demonstration of what I've been working on."

You are Soundwave, Third-in-Command; you tend to all the matters which Starscream thinks are beneath his notice, and which actually are beneath Megatron's. Yet as you stand there, feeling tired and compressed, you long to say no.

You make a gesture. "Continue."

"I've been studying the natural defenses of creatures native to this planet, and their offensive mechanisms as well.  This," he taps one claw against the beaker of pink goop, "is but one of the transorganic compounds I've developed. You see, when I add the correct portion of proteins . . ." 

Using the eyedropper, he adds three sizzling green drops to the beaker.  Tarantulas encourages the chemical reaction by stirring vigorously with a glass stick; it meets growing resistance as the concoction changes to a milky hue and takes on a semi-solid state; when he finally pulls the stick free, it is trailing thin, white, tacky threads.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Tarantulas' mandibles clatter excitedly. "A totally new substance!"

You look at the white threads.  "Purpose?"

"The possible applications are endless!" he says, suspiciously vague.  "Look over here, I've been using the webbing, as I call it, (the temptation was too great to do otherwise, ha ha ha,) to hold all my tools—" 

Sometimes the scientists forget that the purpose of their research is not to satisfy their own curiosity, but to win a war.  "Query: military applications?  Webbing: can restrain Autobots?"

He hesitates.  "Not yet, per se, but with more research and development that is certainly a possibility.  Its tensile strength is already significant compared to its diameter, here, let me show you—"

And with a forward jerk of his head he opens his mandibles and spits a mess of thin white threads into his waiting hands.

You recoil.  Your hands jerk upward and you must resist the instinct to activate your subsonics to push away a threat, perhaps a carrier of disease.  From within you feel Laserbeak's incredulity and disgust mirroring yours, although there is a note of delight too; he can't wait to send a video to the other cassettes and force them to witness this.

"Query . . ."  But the only query that springs to mind is That was intentional? You put that in your chassis? And you already know the answer to that.

Your reaction has not gone unnoticed. Tarantulas wilts, his spider legs curling towards his body and his long, thin fingers twitching as he alternately stretches the white threads thin and scrunches them into a ball.  He stutters something incoherent about the practicality of transporting work materials as you look at the beaker.  Its contents have mostly been converted into a wad of white, but traces of the original solution roll along the bottom of the glass.  The pink coloration strikes you as familiar.

"Query." This time your voice is firm. "Production of material: requires energon?"

"Er, of course.  It's such a highly reactive substance, almost any experiment uses—"

"Energon: precious.  Experiment: nonessential. Results: unusable.  Tarantulas: will cease."

Tarantulas' legs pull him back.  "You can't be serious!  Science does not come with a timetable! Please, if you'll just let me bring this project to fruition—"

An unfamiliar anger flares within you, starting in your spark and burning outward. Laserbeak agrees; he lends control and focus as you step forward.  Your vocalizer thrums with uncontrolled reverb.  "Energon: PRECIOUS."

Though Tarantulas cowers back, you read the resentment on his face.  "But—"

You issue him ten demerits.  Not all at once.  Individually, at increments of two seconds.  His legs twitch erratically, his hands fold to his chest, still full of white string.  It smears over his biolights, tacky and half-hardened.  Disgusting.  You half hope he keeps arguing.  He has already lost privileges to the recreation room, flavor additives, and 'the good seats' in Astrotrain.  If he chooses to lose more, so be it.  Experiments are not the only things that can be denied energon.

"Soundwave!  How good to see you." Shockwave is suddenly hovering at your elbow, either having noticed the altercation or having been pinged that one of his underlings is racking up demerits. "And what brings you to my humble domain tonight?"

He puts the slightest emphasis on my.  No doubt he is rankled that you punished one of his mecha, but he has enough sense not to express it directly.  You tamp down your anger;  Shockwave does not deserve demerits, even if his subordinates are lacking, even if he has ignored the work schedule (again).  It is his nature to be jealous—he is a mech who has lost much—but he does his best.  You are both professionals, at least.

And truly, he is brilliant.

"Soundwave: requires assistance.  Requests Shockwave: examine blueprint, make alterations."

"Certainly!  Anything for our illustrious Third-in-Command."  His tone is jovial, leaving you the option to take this remark as a joke or seriously.  (You do not care much either way.)  "I can pencil you in next week for fifteen minutes, or for an hour in two weeks.  I apologize for the wait, but I'm simply swamped . . ."

That won't do. "Affirmative.  Soundwave: will assist Shockwave.  Soundwave: will conduct census of experiments. Soundwave: will locate excess energon use.  Soundwave: will—"

Shockwave interrupts your droning. "On the other hand, there's no time like the present, is there?"  He puts a hand under your elbow and gestures with his gun-arm.  "Please, join me in the privacy of my office."

He sweeps you past Sinthesis, who keeps their head studiously close to their work, and away from Tarantulas, who is swelling like he might explode.

You pay them no mind, though you do access Tarantulas' file and add a damning tag:  Not a Team Player.

[futurefind]

//lays on the floor thinking abt ferdiereabert. thinking about how rea represents the worst of their failures/mistakes. thinking about how they represent the cause rea -gestures vaguely- for. thinking about how their respective pursuits (hubert and ferdie aiming to murder for and nurture for the sake of protecting rea, respectively; rea aiming to... essentially be left alone to self destruct and be forgotten bc its easier) are mutually exclusive even though their wants are the same (being together)

also thinks about the raw crack / humor angles of edelgard checking in on how the rea-mance is doing to ever exasperated, deadpan, and/or teacup breaking responses

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[beatriceportinari]

the way this scene was filmed it's so funny you'd think tom was like 2 heads taller than nate i love it

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

i feel like people forget that sometimes characters in fic are written like that because it's a reflection of real life.

people have sex without setting boundaries. people have unprotected sex without talking about their sexual histories or producing recent sti tests. people play with kink without discussing it ahead of time or establishing a safeword. they have anal without 'enough' prep or lube—they may even prefer it like that.

and none of this is really a fantasy. it's all pretty normal. you can feel that it's inappropriately normalised, and you'd probably be right! but it is normalised: one study found that 58% of female undergraduate students on the campus studied had been choked during sex. 20% of those students said that they'd never been asked if it was ok; another 30% said they'd only sometimes been asked if they consented. fully half! (non-paywalled journal article on choking during sex here, including these numbers.) despite a rise in stis of all sorts, condom use is declining. (pdf link to the full text of this study about declining condom use in the us; aidsmap article about an australian study with similar results.)

even when people do talk about things—sex or anything else—they communicate imperfectly. 'yeah, but don't go too far' is consenting and setting a boundary, and also relying that the person you're talking to has the same metric for 'too far' that you do. for some people, 'the trash needs to go out' is a neutral, factual observation; for others, it's a request that the person they're speaking to take out the trash.

even when people understand each other perfectly, people react unpredictably to things sometimes! we behave irrationally! people laugh uncontrollably at funerals, or get angry at the straw that broke their back rather than the enormous load they were already carrying. they get scared and lash out at people trying to help them. when hurt, most people do not instinctively reach for therapy-approved grounding exercises and 'i feel' statements.

pretty much any bad choice that characters could conceivably make is a choice that people make in real life, on purpose, all the time. people do things that can have catastrophic, life-changing effects because it felt like a good idea at the time, or they're leaning into the vibe, or they just didn't think about it all that much, or an infinite number of other reasons.

fiction isn't intended as a guide on the best, safest, and most responsible ways to live your life, and fanfic isn't any different. it's not a narrative flaw to let characters do things that are messy or harmful or downright stupid—it's a reflection of what people are actually like, and not something that authors should feel they have to apologise for.

[justlikeheavenfest]

register now for access to passes, on sale this friday at 11am PT. May awaits with arms outstretched. 🫶 $49.99 down payment plans available. www.justlikeheavenfest.com