#I should've just written a little something on all these topics

[fictionz]

GDT has contributed much to weird horror society but I think the episode "Lot 36" from Cabinet of Curiosities deserves a special commendation for bringing us more storage unit horror, which is an overwhelmingly ignored horror space. It's this and Silence of the Lambs and...?

I'll tag @goryhorroor here because I do wonder if anyone else out there is recognizing how horrifying these places can be. It's a giant box of secrets! Someone's doing horrifying stuff In there.

[007reid]

omg, i’m learning to crochet and i’m just imagining crocheting spence a scarf and him wearing it all the time

JUST IMAGINE

he’d be so touched that you made something for him with your bare hands

it would be one his favourite items, ever (folded neatly in his top draw when he’s not wearing it)

it wouldn’t matter if a few chains are wonky, he’d love it either way

i just imagine derek and emily taking the piss out of him for wearing it all the time. oh but penelope absolutely loves it!

anyways- yeh i’m crocheting

- 🦕 xx

written super fast cus i got inspired and not proof read, sorry guys

also i have not crocheted or have ever shown interest in crocheting my whole life so everything i made up so plz ignore the mistakes 😓enjoy!

scarf. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

to tell you that you’re good at crocheting would be lying to you but you don’t think that spencer is lying at all, because of course for a man who knows everything about the workings of the world, he doesn’t know what a good crochet scarf looks like.

originally it was a prototype of yours, your first attempt after watching a youtube tutorial twice but spencer insists on having it, saying that it's too much yarn to go to waste and when you said that you can just pull it out, he didn't sit around to hear. he carries it around like a trophy of some sort, making a point of wearing it everywhere he goes.

your attempts of trying to tell him to knock it off, promising that you'll make another one that looks more decent but spencer says he likes the uneven lines, likes how the fluff rubs against his skin and how it keeps him warmer than a normal scarf. you think--scratch that, you know that it's all bullshit, but spencer's one immovable object to go against. getting ready to go to work together used to be your favorite part of the day but now it's just embarrassing.

embarrassing would be a wrong word. more like frustrating.

"you crocheted it in my favorite color yn," spencer defends the ugly scarf like it's his child, throwing it around his shoulder and wrapping it snugly around his neck. the purple looks absolutely offensive against the beige of his thrifted sweater, but his eyes melting and lips pouting at you made the look work. kind of. it's still fucking ugly.

"that's 'cause you bought the yarn for me spence," you roll your eyes exasperatedly. the scarf's been a conversation topic every morning since spencer saw it sitting sadly in your closet and fell in love with it. considering how spencer's entire wardrobe is made of old man clothes and unconventional colors, you would understand the appeal of something looking wonky and strange, but the scarf is a stretch.

to be honest, you think it's endearing, spencer's tainted fashion sense. it makes him look softer, heartier, like a welcoming little plush bear with his wispy curls and pink cheeks and gentle voice and worn cardigans. the scarf does fit all his criteria for a good piece of clothing so you should've saw it coming that he would hold on to it like his lifeline and you would tolerate it if he didn't go to every single person he sees throughout the day and boast about the maker of the scarf and you shrinking in the corner as he talks about you. morgan was the first to laugh about it, followed by emily.

"got the hands to diffuse a bomb but not one to crochet a decent scarf, huh?" morgan would say as he walks past your cubicle, a cheshire grin on his face. emily would chuckle. you would snap at him, "shut the hell up morgan," and then sigh. because what the hell. the scarf is so fucking ugly but spencer parades it like the queen's necklace.

you get better at crocheting--it helps you think and you would do it on the plane to new cases sometimes and threaten to stab emily if she makes fun of you--and eventually, you finish crocheting a duplicate for spencer's monstrosity of a purple scarf. this one is more in the shape of a scarf instead of one wacky-looking pasta noodle, with straight chains and the shade of purple on this one is cuter; dark and elegant. you couldn't wait to show it to spencer, couldn't wait for him to finally throw away the crusty scarf he loves so much.

the new one sits, folded neatly, on the table on his side of the bed. for days. winter rolls around and spencer wears it to fucking sleep.

"give that poor scarf a break reid," emily comments. spencer chews on his lip as he flicks through files, silent and unbothered, fingers unconsciously running through the bumpy chains, back and forth. you mumble your agreement and when he pays no attention to you like he did emily, too immerse in his work.

after work that day, you and spencer take a walk around the city, bodies huddled closely together. the first snowflake falls and spencer catches it on his finger, shoving his finger closely to your face, proud of himself. his grin is hidden underneath the purple scarf and for the first time, you don't mind.

"it melted," you tell him and spencer drops his hand, flicking at his index finger disappointedly.

"i can't wait for it to snow," he says, looking up at the grey sky.

"i can't wait for that scarf to decompose," you say, just speaking off the top of your head.

"i like the scarf," spencer quips, mood clashing yours.

"i know you do baby," you sigh, defeated. spencer's frozen fingers grasp yours and runs his fingers over the bumps of your knuckles. being so close you can smell him, soft and sweet like vanilla and old cotton and comfort. "why don't you ever wear the other one?"

spencer shrugs. "just doesn't feel the same." he adds. "and i like this purple better."

[jacks-little-jacky]

I don't know if you have done this before. Can you do a NSFW Scenario with Jack and a virgin female? like he finds out that she is a virgin and is really soft with her?

Popping Cherrys | Jack the Ripper x Reader | NSFW

No, I'm honestly surprised, but I think I haven't written about Jack popping someone's Cherry. Sigh, disappointed with myself. Good that you mentioned it, sweet anon!

Warnings: Smut under the cut, cherry popping, p in v, fluffy Jack, a bit awkward starter reader

Having Jack as your boyfriend was... Interesting. He was a touchy person, not all too aware of the concept of "personal space". Or he just really liked to invade these spaces. Maybe both.

His behavior made it obvious you couldn't keep your innocence a secret for too long. When Jack found out, he was a little surprised. Not that he thought it was bad, quite the opposite.

You felt a little odd, knowing Jack had experience. It wasn't like he ever was shy or embarrassed of his history. Even less with you and when you asked questions. If anything, he reveled in the way your cheeks heated up and you got embarrassed all of a sudden.

Thinking back on it, he probably should've made the connection of you being a virgin sooner, given your reactions to certain topics and moments. He just figured such a pretty lady would've had enough chances before him. And you probably had, he was just shocked that he was the one you'd take.

Taking the step to start having sex was something you had to initiate. Jack tried his best to be patient, settling for hugs, or an arm around you whenever he could. The tall captain did not want to put any pressure on you, if you wanted to eventually have sex with him that was fine. Having your heart was already way more than he had thought possible for himself.

Your first time happened after a night out with Jack. The mood was good and light and you already often slept together, or more like slept in the same bed together. As you settled down happy giggles and jokes were shared, playful kisses teasing upon the other's lips.

A little making out, a bit bolder than usual but nothing too new. Jack was laying down on his back, having you above him. His one hand on the small of your bag while the other was playing with your hair. His boner was poking against your ass, although this time didn't make you nervous. It happened a lot before too, Jack would always laugh and tell you to ignore it.

It wasn't like he could control him but one boner wouldn't kill him. Especially if he got more kisses.

Just today, the heat between your legs was making you bold. Not only thinking but actually acting on it. You slowly started to rock your hips back and forth on his, enjoying the hard outline of his cock and how it made you feel when it rubbed against that special spot between your legs.

Jack let out a startled groan, eyes opened wide in suprise as he stared up at you. A shy smile creeping on your lips in response. "Is this okay?", you whispered. Jack felt his throat tighten, his mouth running dry as he started nodding softly, without even thinking about it. "More than okay, keke.", he responded after a moment.

His hands slowly settled on your hips, slight pressure on his fingertips digging into the supple flesh as he supported your movements. Your breath shuddered, your lips meeting his eager ones again.

There was something nice about this, about feeling the heat and sensation of just dryly humping on your boyfriends twitching but still clothed cock. The way your lips pressed against one anothers, the shaky breaths between.

When you pulled back, Jack opened his eyes again. The golden hue almost completely hidden behind the black of his dialated pupils. Jack started up at you like you've put up the stars and the moon in the nightsky. Like you were a goddess that simply allowed him to gaze at her beauty, barely sure if he was allowed to actually grasp you, feel you.

A light chuckle escaped you. "Are you okay?", you asked softly, biting your lip. Something about how his breathing had changed, how his chest moved up and down more rapidly while his eyes started at you with a few strands of messy hair covering parts of them.

"Not gonna lie, I'm so fuckin' horny right now.", he whispered before laughing. "What kind of spell did you put me under?" "Love, perhaps?" "... You're cheesy, keke."

Both of you shared a little laugh at that. You tilted your head, pursing your lip and trying to grasp the tension from before. "So... Would you like to?..." "To...?", Jack questioned. "... Do... something... about our lust?"

Jack stared blankly at you for a long while. "... That has to be the weirdest way of asking someone to pop your cherry I've yet heard of.", he muttered before chuckling. "Yes. I'd like to, if you're sure.", he added quickly before the weirdness of the moment could force you to back out.

"I...-", you started, "I think... I thought about it for a while. Just... be careful, yeah? I'm not too sure how... to... well, what to do with myself." Jack nodded at your admission, thumb gently massaging the spot where his fingertips firmly grasped your skin earlier.

"Come here...", he whispered before pulling you down by the neck. His grasp was firm but not forceful. He tilted his head a little sideways before kissing you again, this time the kiss had more urgency and purpose. Although still a bit nervous, you couldn't help but like how delicate his one hand was running up your hip and to your back, and sooner than later you were melting into his kisses again.

As you shared more and more kisses, you felt Jack's hands slowly adventure to your sides again before going up to grasp one of your breasts. He stroked and massaged through the fabric of your clothes, ensuring you'd be fine and comfortable with the action. Then he slowly and almost teasingly pulled down the cutout of your top, his fingers grazing while your nude flesh was revealed to him.

The biggest grin spread on his lips as the soft sounds of your pleasure reached his ears when he gently pinched and teased your nipple. He made sure to play gently with it, pulling at your clothes so both of your breasts would get the same amount of love from him. Picking favorites would be rude, after all.

"Does that feel good, lovebug?", he asked in a quiet whisper, his lips grazed your neck and you could feel his breath against your shivering skin. "Yeah...", you nodded. "Good", he cooed, "tell me if I do something that doesn't feel good."

The tall man kissed down your neck, over your collarbone down to where his lips would join his teasing fingers. His long tongue pressed flat against your nipple before wrapping his lips around and gently sucking. Your fingers wrapped in his hair, grip tightening and pulling at his hair causing him to groan against your perky bud.

After a few more moments, he pulled away, grabbing your top and lifting it a little to gesture that he wanted to take it off. "Can I?", he asked. You only nodded, nervous excitement bubbling in your stomach. Not a second after your given consent the clothing was pulled off and thrown onto the ground next to the bed.

Drinking in the sight of your bare chest, his eyes practically sparkled. Adoration and lust in his gaze swirling like waves in a honeyed ocean. "You're perfect", his raspy voice breathed out.

"Simply...", he started, licking his lips as his mind searched for a word fitting enough to describe you, "... divine." Your breath hitched when the word finally got uttered by him. It wasn't exactly unlike Jack to praise you, show his affection verbally too but it was unusual for him to use these kinds of words. Fancy words, as he'd put it.

But in this moment, he didn't care, didn't care that the words he spoke were unfitting for him because they were the only ones worthy to be used when putting you into perspective. What you were to him, how you made him feel.

The shy smile grazing your lips made Jack grin in delight too. He was leaning more forward, more and more until you fell back on the bed with him above you, your positions flipped. A moment later your lover had lost his shirt too, coming down to kiss you. His torso pressed on yours, feeling your hot skin against his.

The urgency shared betwen your lips was mutual. It wasn't simply lust anymore, it was need, need to be closer, closer than ever before. To be one.

Your hands explored Jack, going through his hair in a familiar motion before creeping down and over his back, nails digging little red stripes over his pale skin. Feeling the muscles flex and ripple with each of his movements.

At this point it became like a dance, like a trance. You stepped through the motions, discarding of your pants and his. Your head felt dizzy, fuzzy and you weren't even sure how it got to the point when both of you were fully naked on the bed with him laying between your legs.

Although you were very aware of it, and how it felt different from the clothed dry humping from before. The way his tip would graze your clit, pulling out loud moans. Installing a feeling deep within your loins, like something was missing. Your walls clamping around nothing in desperation. Suddenly, everything was on fire, all hot and you felt like Jack above you was a burning fire saving you from a cold snowstorm.

You moaned out for the man above you subconsciously. His name spilling from your lips and seeping into his mind. Jack would never forget, how his name sounded from your lips in that moment, echoing from the walls and burning into the deepest pits of his brain.

Although something deep within him screamed at him to push inside, feel your walls cling to him as he'd pound you into the mattress, he restrained. His lips sloppily kissed yours, rubbing his twitching cock through your velvety folds, enjoying the sensation for just a moment longer. Your mewls and moans like chants for him to keep going.

He pulled his hips back slowly, groaning at the lost sensation before chuckling at your big doe eyes staring at him. Wondering if you did something wrong, but mostly just confusion sparkling in your eyes as to why he had stopped. Why he had robbed you of this sensation that had just made you crave more.

Although cute, your expression didn't last very long. The confusion shifted when his long fingers took the place where his cock had previously been rubbing against you. Running between your labia and toying with your clit, making sure his fingers were plenty wet before slowly easing one finger in, then a second one.

His lips latched onto your neck, soft kisses placed and praise whispered against your skin. His fingers moved slowly, rhythmically. Working your hole open, preparing for the stretch.

"Good girl," he whispered, "Does it feel good?" Jack had his ears sharpened, looking out for each sound. Each gasp, moan, or mewl registered in his mind. Only picking up the pace of his fingers when he felt you relax enough, curling his fingers upwards.

His cock ached, oozing precum onto the bed as he learned what made you squirm. The tall mans lips sucked marks into your neck, moaning against the red and purple spots in lust whenever your hips bucked into his touch so eagerly.

Patience wasn't Jack's fortune but he'd finger you until his cock would wilt off if it meant he'd get to hear your pleasure like this forever. With each moan, each whine your lover got more and more eager to please. Pleasuring you to the edge, his tongue licking a long stripe from the marks up to your ear. A husky moan escaping him as he felt how your walls clenched around his fingers.

"Like this?", he whispered, tone of voice so cocky normally it'd make your eyes roll in annoyance although it was anything but annoyance that made your eyes roll back right now. "Just like that," you whined out, pleasure too great to be embarrassed by the tone of your voice. Jack nodded, kissing the side of your face softly, peppering kisses while his fingers were working.

The pace of his fingers unchanging as your walls clenched and tightened around him like they had a mind of their own. His fingers only slowed when your release hit, working you through it but careful not to overstimulate and hurt you. Slowly, he pulled them back out, smiling happily at the cute gasp coming from you.

"Good?", he asked, eyes twinkling in delight as you nodded, still a bit dazed. He let you catch your breath, realizing the situation and getting your mind out of the gutter a bit. When you looked back up at him, he couldn't help himself but laugh from your face.

Jack was licking off your release from his fingers, tongue eagerly tasting and the tall man couldn't help but chuckle when you looked at him in shock.

"What? It's good." The unbothered tone in his voice made you chuckle too. Eyeing the tall man you called your lover up, it was clear he was content, the tip of his cock leaking onto the bedsheets but he looked just as satisfied. His eyes followed your gaze before looking back at your flustered face. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on in your mind.

"Do you... want to... go further?" Now, this question surprised Jack. "Do you?", he asked, staring at your face. While yes, the tall man would die to sleep with you right now, he didn't want you to think you "owed" it to him. If he had to, he'd wait a thousand years for you. Well, maybe not a thousand, patience really wasn't his thing, but maybe a hundred. Or longer than right now.

However, that didn't matter as your head nodded yes, that you wanted to go further. Wanted him, in all ways, not wanting to wait any longer.

Jack quickly positioned himself above you again, kissing you softly. The pace was slower now, less urgent but more intimate. His body rubbing against yours, working you up slowly. He made sure his cock was wet with your slick.

Slowly, he pushed inside, feeling your arms around him clinging to him. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, making sure to watch your reaction and pause whenever it got too much for you. Gently he kissed your cheeks, your lips and the tip of your nose, soft praises uttered from his lips to soothe you.

He waited a few moments after sliding the last inches in, letting you get settled with the stretch of it. Only when you nodded to assure him, he started moving slowly. Easing himself out before pushing back in. Slowly, working it up, pulling out a bit further each time.

Soon enough both of you were moaning, lips smashed against each other and Jack had to clutch the bedsheets beside you to remind himself to keep it gentle, keep it slow, and give it to you like you deserve. The rhythm now was steady, gently rocking the bed a little back and forth. One hand beside you on the bed while the other toyed with your clit to ease you further into the new sensation.

A sly smile was on his lips, the tall man was reveling in the way of how the sounds coming from your mouth were more and more motivated with pleasure. Your lover bit his lip, doing a bit of algebra in his mind to postpone his orgasm, not wanting to bust too soon after you started properly enjoying the act of making love with him.

Only when your toes curled and he felt the familiar flutter of your walls around him, did he let his shoulders relax. Jack rocked his hips more sloppily into yours, trying not to be erratic as he worked you both over the edge. A moment after your release he pulled out, a few jerks of his hand before white streaks of arousal were painted on your stomach.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing through the silence. Your eyes stared at the sticky release on your stomach before looking up at Jack. Jack looked a bit sheepish. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me inside...", he admitted before chuckling. "I'm gonna get you a cloth."

Your lover pressed a kiss to your forehead before standing up and leaving through the door to his bathroom. Only a moment later he came back with a wet wash cloth. He gently wiped you down, peppering more kisses to your face.

"How was it?", he asked. "Hurt a little...", you admitted "I'm sorry, lovebug." "No... It felt really good after... Just, the first few moments..."

Jack chuckled, nodding. "I can imagine." His voice was soft as he pressed another soft kiss to your lips. "How was it for you?", you asked quietly. Jack looked a bit suprised before laughing.

"Do you want me to be honest, snugglebug?" Although this sentence set a bit of anxiety in your tummy, you nodded. "If I ever say something that is less than 'perfect', I want you to kill me. Because somebody has stolen my identity."

The sentence made you feel warm and fuzzy. You wrapped your arms around your lover when he laid back down next to you. "You're stupid", you giggled. "And you're cute", the tall man replied amused.

[mirza-majoris]

Weeeeeell guess I'm back into my Gravity Falls phase soooo it's just a very silly little thing but damn I had fun doing it and it was keeping me away from anxiety and school stuff X'3

Anyway, cringe incoming !

( And sorry for the formatting, I'm doing this on my phone and I'm zero at making the pictures stay steady and normal >< )

The audio is a little montage from the english sitcom "Vicious", and since I now look at it I'll write down what is written because I realise I didn't know how to manage the size of the writing ahah ><

👇👇👇

*Everyone playing truth or dare at the Shack*

Bill : Oh, I've got a good question! Tell us Stanley, have you ever had sex with a man ?

Stanley : ..... can I change my go to "dare" ?

Bill : No~ You have to answer the question~

Ford : What the hell are you stalling for, Stanley ? The only man you ever shared a bedroom with was me when we were kids.

Stanley : *F*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck, he's gonna kill me, don't say it, don't say it*

Ford : *Maybe the question is a sensitive topic... I should help him against Bill's tricky game* I'll answer for him. No.

Stanley : .... Yes. I have.

Ford : *he's like "wait, does he like women AND men ? Was my brother bi the whole time ?!"* I don't believe you !

Stanley : It's true !

Ford : you're lying-

Fiddleford : No he isn't.

Ford : *non verbal communication with his former muse : "Happy now ?"*

Bill : *Non verbal communication with his ex wife : "I didn't know it would be your ex assistant !"*

Ford : ... and how would YOU know ?

Stanley : *dying on the inside, non verbal communication with his... whatever these two had ? : "shut it shut it shut it shut it-"*

Fiddleford : Because it was with me.

*Awkward sibling moment*

Stanley : *chuckling awkwardly* Guess you should've taken better care of your man, Sixer, ahah-

Bill : *wheeze in Cipher* well I guess Stanley was right. There WAS something knew to learn about each other !

Stanley : well I don't see why you're getting so upset, it was ages ago ! We were both young and attractive... *yes, that hilly billy was nice-looking in the 80s*

Ford : *is surprisingly upset about the fact that his brother had a thing with his best friend*

Stanley : look, you just disappeared into that big portal... Fidds was alone -and a mess because he clearly had a big crush on you-... And it was only one night.

Fiddleford : Two nights.

Stanley : ..... ...... ..... Why is your memory so vivid all of the sudden ?

Fiddleford : *staring at Ford : "That's what you get for leaving me for a triangle, Stanford Pines"*

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Birds and The Bees

A.N. I don't usually do many author's notes in Tumblr, but never, never, not once, has a fic ever been so requested, by so many different people, that I feel like I have to.

@i-love-mommy-wanda "Being that she stayed in a room most of her life- just hear me out- a oneshot - of Sam giving her the" TALK!" like birds and bees and where baby's come from I think that would be funny" @/thequeeranarchist "I don't know if you take requests, but I thought about if someone had to explain the birds and the bees to sunshine considering she probably never had been told about it. Idk, I thought about sunshine and Bucky's first time together too, but I don't know your comfortability with what you write and what you don't. And grumpy x sunshine is officially my favourite trope now bc of this series."

I don't even - I just don't even know what to say. (Please note, that as I write this, I'm quite literally giggling to myself and have quite literally reverted to my awkward 16 year old self) I get requests somewhat regularly, but this, this is the most requested topic. You guys just really wanted to know about this.

Listen, here's the thing, reading second hand embarrassment is one thing. WRITING IT? I was in physical pain, but the scene wasn't going to write itself. I tried, it really didn't write itself.

But I did it. Because I love you guys. And now, it'll be another 5 to 7 business days before I can log back on.

P.S. I know there's other people who requested it too, but I can't find the requests, but please know I didn't forget about you!

Anon's 1K Celebration

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary: Falling in love is easy, as natural as breathing, so why is talking about it so embarrassing?

"Sam," you frantically call from the doorway, clutching your racing heart, "I think I'm dying."

"What? Why? What happened?" Sam rushes out, frantically searching you for signs of duress.

You double over, hands clutching your sides, "Well, I'm not sure, but I did Google it and I think I'm having a heart attack."

Sam takes a long sigh, resting his hands on his hips in mild exasperation. At least he knew you weren't actually dying. "And why do you think you're having a heart attack?"

"I just," you dramatically clutch your chest, finally standing upright, "My heart feels like it's in my stomach, and- and I'm all sweaty, and fluttery. And I want to curl up into a little ball and die, but maybe also listen to every Taylor Swift song ever written."

"Well, that was," Sam clears his throat, "That was very descriptive."

You flop down on your couch and groan into one of the cushions, "Just leave me here to die."

"You're not dying."

You lift your head to glare at him, "You don't know."

"I do know," Sam insists. "You're a healthy, 25 year old woman, the chances of you having a heart attack are almost zero."

"But not zero," you point out.

Sam sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you up off the couch, "You're not dying, and you're not having a heart attack."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"If you're wrong, I'll haunt you."

"I'll take my chances," Sam playfully rolls his eyes, "So what were you doing right before you thought you were having a heart attack?"

"I-" you clear your throat, a furious blush warming your entire face, "I don't want to tell you."

He should've known something was wrong right from the get go. You were always so open, so honest about everything. You weren't raised under the same social contract, or any social contract, and you were still learning basic social norms and customs. For better or worse, you were the most honest and open person Sam had ever known.

So for you to be this flustered, this shy and jittery, it had to be something pretty important.

He should've left it at that. He really should've left it at that. But no, like the concerned friend he was, he pressed the topic even more.

He gently nudges your shoulder, taking a seat beside you, "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

You abruptly stand up, awkwardly chuckling. You inch away from him, jutting your thumb back to your room, "You know, now that I think about it, I'm all better, heart attack healed. Good talk, thanks, Sam."

"Come on, just tell me," Sam cajoles, patting the seat beside him. "We tell each other everything."

"I was on the phone."

"Okay..." Sam could count on one hand the number of people that had any means to communicate with you. Hell, he could count exactly how many people had knowledge of your existence with both hands.

It takes Sam a second to realize that he's too lost in his worry to actually hear what you're telling him, "... so Bucky told me we could practice-"

He already doesn't like where this is going. "Practice what?"

"Texting, Sam." You quirk an eyebrow at him, "Are you even listening to me?"

Sam suspiciously nods, settling back into the couch, "Right."

"And we've sort of been texting each other."

"Uh-huh," Sam nods along, though he gets the distinct feeling that he won't like where this is going. Not in the slightest. He physically braces himself as he asks his next question, "So, um, what were you guys talking about?"

You timidly shrug, twisting and untwisting your fingers, "Just stuff."

"Stuff?" Sam dubiously repeats. "Talking about stuff made you think you were having a heart attack?"

"Yes..." It's clear to him that you're lying through your teeth. It's clear that this is as weird for him as it is for you. You clap your hands down on your lap, abruptly standing with up a fierce blush painting your face, "You know what? I completely forgot I have to water my plants!"

"I know you're lying!" Sam calls after you as you scramble away.

"No, I'm not!" you shout over your shoulder. "I'll be back! Maybe! Probably! Definitely at some point!"

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation happening.

This whole living arrangement with you and Sam would probably be called a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation by most people. Most of the time, Sam was able to handle these things on his own.

Having grown up with a younger sister, Sam was fairly comfortable talking about and dealing with certain things. That did not mean he was even remotely prepared or even qualified to explain those things to you.

The first time it happened was about a month into living with each other.

It was just cramps. Until it wasn't.

He phoned it in to Maria Hill.

Crisis averted. Mostly.

Because a couple of months later, another of those awkward situations arose.

The second time was an awkward encounter with a barista at your local cafe.

Apparently, getting breakfast and coffee with a person of the opposite sex first thing in the morning day in and out meant that people could just assume the nature of your relationship. And it wouldn’t have been the most ridiculous assumption if it weren’t for the fact that it absolutely was the most ridiculous assumption.

Sam was just thankful that he was as certain of your feelings as he was of his own.

He'd handled that situation fairly well on his own, even if it did take several days for you two to be within five feet of each other.

And now here he was again. Sitting all alone in your living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with this. And that's when he sees it. The scene of the crime sat right before him, right on the coffee table. Your phone. 

"You forgot your-" He stops himself from finishing that sentence. Because this wasn't your run of the mill awkward situation, no, this was worse. A lot worse than some nosey barista. So much worse that he thinks about doing something stupid. An overprotective, older brother sort of stupid. He tries to rationalize it, after all, you’d left the phone right there. Right there. Right in front of him. Within his reach. What kind of handler would he even be if he wasn’t keeping a close eye on you?

“No.” Sam suddenly changes his mind, softly muttering to himself, “That is an invasion of privacy. What kind of friend-“

And before he even knows it, your phone is in his hand. And he’s clicking on your messages.

And he’s reading your texts to Bucky.

JBB: What does 'lol' mean? You: It's either lots of love or laugh out loud. Idk. JBB: What does that mean? The idk? You: I don't know. JBB: I'll ask. You: No, it means I don't know. JBB: Oh. JBB: I know you can't see me, but I'm frowning right now. You: You make me laugh. JBB: I like making you laugh. JBB: But if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it. You: lol JBB: Which version of lol was that? Lots of love or laughing out loud? You: That’s for me to know. JBB: And for me to find out? You: lol

"That was smooth as hell," Sam mutters to himself. Sam has to stop at that point. He can’t read any more. He scoffs to himself, “She’s been out a year and flirts better than I do.”

There’s a part of him that’s a little mad. Mostly about your shockingly incredible ability to flirt.

But it also grates on that older brother nerve. The same one Sarah used to love to poke and prod at when they were younger.

He's still sort of in his right mind. At least enough to know that he's out of his element with this one. There’s no way that he can approach you about this. Especially not after reading through your messages.

What even was this? Was it just harmless flirting? Was it you just trying to get out there and socialize with the few people you were allowed contact with?

Or were there feelings there? And, if there were feeling, what kind of feelings?

He rapidly shakes his head trying to rid himself of the idea. That was not an image he needed in his head.

Sam decides in that very moment, this is too far out of his league. He can't handle this. An while might not be able to handle this, he knew someone who could, someone much more qualified than he was. He dials her number right away. She answers on the third ring. 

"I need your help," Sam sharply whispers into his phone.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"There is flirting happening over here!"

Maria sighs in relief, "Oh, good, I thought there was a real problem happening."

"Did you not hear me? Flirting, Maria! Flirting!"

"So?"

"Do you know what flirting leads to?" Sam wildly questions. 

"No?"

"It leads to... other things - I don't know! And that's why I need your help! I can't deal with this!"

"You can't call me over for things like this."

"I thought you said you were happy to help!"

"I was! I am, but you're supposed to be keeping a low profile. Having me walk in and out of your front door in broad daylight is not low profile."

"So then come in through the backdoor!" Sam pleads. 

"Sam," Maria deadpans.

"I know, I know, you're right."

"I know it's a little... uncomfortable, but you just have to deal. Nick wouldn't have picked you if he thought even for a second that you couldn't handle this. It might be a little weird at first, but you've got this."

And he used to be sure that he could.

He used to be great at this job. Catching you up on pop culture? No one better than Sam. Healthy dialogue? Second nature to Sam. Ability to keep you safe? He was doing a damned good job at it if he could say so himself.

Then came the Bucky of it all.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Sam had half a mind to kick Bucky's ass for making you feel... whatever you were feeling.

Sam's only saving grace was that you'd pretty much become self sufficient in most areas of your life when Bucky came into the picture a few months ago. Since then, things were different. You were different. At first, Sam was sure it was just the excitement and thrill of having a new friend.

He could kill Bucky for making your life more complicated. For making his life more complicated.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

He's so lost in his plot to murder Bucky Barnes that he almost doesn't realize it when you shuffle back into the living room. "Sam?"

Sam's head snaps up, "Huh?"

"I said what are you doing?"

"Um... Just thinking."

"About?"

"What's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam abrasively blurts out. 

Your eyes blow wide. "What?"

"Sorry, what I meant to say was - what's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam demands with equal fervor. 

"Nothing!" you exclaim. 

"Well, I know you're lying!"

"I'm not lying!" you insist.

"I saw you two flirting over text!"

"You read our texts?" Your eyes snap over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough, it's upright and in a completely different spot. "Are you crazy?"

"No, no, I am not crazy because you two are over there flirting and- and- and flirting and I'm not ready to be an uncle again!"

Both your hands cover your flaming face as you turn to leave the room again, "Oh my God!"

Sam reaches out, grabbing your arm to guide you back to the conversation that he knew deep down just had to happen, "No, no, we are going to sit and we are going to talk about this."

"About what?!" you shriek. 

"About this! You know this. The flirting. Dating. Other things. You know what so please don't make me say it," Sam pleads with you, looking every bit as awkward as you feel. 

"No, I don't, so no, we're not!"

"You not knowing is the literal reason we have to talk about this!" Sam rants. 

You turn to try to leave again, "I'm leaving."

Sam wedges himself in the doorway, physically blocking you from leaving, "Oh, no, you're not."

You try to squeeze past him, "Oh, yes, I am."

"No, you're not!"

"Why not?"

"Because we have to talk about this."

"Why?" you exclaim with a particularly shrill tone.

"I don't know!" Sam throws his hands up. "But we are. And we are going to hate every single second of it. And then we never have to talk about it ever again."

"You swear?"

"I swear," Sam promises, raising his right hand. He gestures to the couch, "If you sit and we have the talk, we will never speak of it again."

"Fine," you grumble under your breath, huffing as you slump onto to the couch. 

"Great..."

So you sat.

And you listened.

And you did your best not to cringe at what Sam was telling you. And then it was over. The silence palpable. Your face burning with embarrassment. Sam's face burning with embarrassment. But it was over. It was all said and done. 

You both sit on the couch with your hands in your lap, several feet away from each other, not even looking at each other but staring at the turned off television before you. After many, many long minutes of sitting in awkward silence, you turn to Sam with a questioning look, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we know too much about each other?"

"Definitely starting to."

"Glad we're on the same page."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[kyliemoon3]

Why I love the Epsilon System (RvB)

I think the epsilon system from the series Red vs Blue is one of the greatest representations of Dissociative Identify Disorder in fiction (Spoliers for the show below). While obviously brought into science fiction, this is a fairly accurate representation of DID despite the fact that I'm not sure the creators did much research into the topic. So church or, the alpha, an ai based off the Director's mind, was tortured until he fractured. These fragments were then harvested by the director so he could have more than one AI unit.

So let's get the inaccuracies out of the way. The show seems to believe there is "the original" and that it is the alpha. The alpha is also as far as I know, an already fully developed mind. With actual DID, it only occurs in childhood as a result of trauma not letting the brain fully form into one cohesive self. So the parts of the brain essentially become more distinct. Honestly however I can see it being argued that the alpha is simply supposed to be the host, and that ai minds are different than human minds. Also Washington calls the disorder an outdated term that stopped being used a decade before the episode came out.

Okay that's it. Almost everything else is surprisingly accurate and now I get to gush about it! First of all, the fact that the entire thing happened because of the trauma the alpha endured is so amazingly accurate and ties both into the representation and the plot in an incredibly satisfying way. The ai fragments themselves are also quite accurate to the roles of DID alters, there is:

- A host, or an alter that is mainly out and in charge (Alpha)

- a factive, or an alter based on a real person (Beta)

- a persecutor, or an alter who attempts to harm the system in a misguided attempt at protection (I'd argue sigma, gamma, and omega)

- A little, or an alter that looks and acts like a child (Theta)

- A trauma holder, or an alter that holds some traumatic memories so the rest don't need to (epsilon)

- A protector, or an alter who keeps the system safe from harm (I'd argue delta)

On top of this beta and theta also represent alters of a different gender and age than the host respectively. And even something like alters dating can be seen through alpha and beta.

When talking with a friend about this he pointed out that eta represents fear and iota represents happiness. With that in mind and the fact we rarely see them, I believe they could act as internal caretakers by helping support the system. With eta supporting because they fear something bad might happen, and iota supporting because they want to spread happiness.

I also believe that both gamma and omega could, with more time, become reformed persecutors with them using their strengths to help the system rather than hinder it in their own way of helping. We already see this with epsilon relying on gamma occasionally when performing tasks. Omega has mostly been cartoonishly evil throughout the series and I think epsilon learning to accept and control omegas rage instead of holding it all back until he snaps would benefit the system.

Most of what we see of what the alpha system could've been if no fragments were taken is shown after all fragments but epsilon was destroyed in an emp blast. Epsilon uses his and the other fragments memories to create memory versions of them, acting just like them and letting them live on.

I love this because in most systems, there is a reason alters exist and they have a purpose that helps the system function in daily life. Epsilon while amazing, is much stronger when he has everyone else with him. He understood that this is what the alpha system should've been, and if he wants to do everything he can, having the other fragments with him is the best way to do it.

I have more to say, but I think I pretty much covered it. Epsilon-church and the other fragments are very well written and I can only hope we get a satisfying conclusion to their story in the next season. I'll also probably make a "why theta is the best ever of all time" post at some point too!

[ask--eggman]

if it isnt too sensitive a topic, would you be willing to talk about your grandfather? were studdying his work in my collage course and id like to know more about what role he played in your life

Hrmm. Well... I suppose I can appreciate the interest and how you've come to me as the best source, instead of haughty old historians that have written some silly books you might've read, who may dare claim they know as much about my grandfather as I do or feel they have anything interesting or valuable to say!

Now that the thought of all of you on that course learning about him through such ridiculous means is getting me all riled up, I feel like I can't NOT say anything now.

I never met him, I was born a little too late for that. It wouldn't have been possible as he spent most of his final years stationed in a top secret research center in space and they weren't letting just anyone up there without a good reason. MY reason obviously should've been a good one and if they wouldn't have thought so, they'd be wrong!

If only I could've been the one on the ARK with the honor of learning directly from the man himself, instead of that other member of the family who took it for granted because as far as I know, she didn't even want to be a scientist, so she was around all that knowledge and opportunity and never even took advantage. Ugh.

Anyway. For as long as I can remember, he was a part of my life, through the words of others. Being the greatest scientist of his time and therefore the most important and notable member of the family at the time, naturally he was going to be the common subject!

Especially being that I was lucky enough to be born as the son of his son. That's something I was proud of from the moment I learned, as early as I became an actual sentient being with thought. Which was earlier than the development of your average child of inferior intelligence, by the way!

So of course, I was immediately fascinated. His long, impressive, successful career as a scientist, making many groundbreaking advancements in the world of science and always striving to accomplish more immediately became one of my greatest fixations.

My father's past and business was such a bore in comparison, even if it did end up becoming useful to me later as a source of income for me to get myself off the ground and pursue better, far more interesting and valuable things. Anyway, let's not get too off topic here.

Naturally, I wanted to learn more about my grandfather in any way I could, through reading about as many of his recorded ventures and accomplishments that were made available to the public and that I could access.

A lot of it was from the news and much older books than later published garbage out there today. I was very precise and careful with my sources, only getting them from those who got their information directly, observed his work themselves and the most important and valuable of all, the things that were published by himself!

This was only as much of what was revealed to the public about his work, mostly pre-the-ARK-type-stuff because they obviously weren't sharing any of the top secret operations going on up there to the outside world. I didn't get any more access to it than anyone else, though I certainly would've deserved it.

I also had a more personal look into him with a couple of photos, though not as many as I wish. Most were from being a parent to my father and uncle but the rare few outside those fascinated me most. He had also written letters to my father, though they were quite a bit older because contact was very rare.

They didn't tell me as much about what he was getting up to on the work side of things but I was interested in learning about the person he was too. I'd perk up whenever I did find him mentioning or at least alluding to things he was working on. Or the rarest but most valuable parts of him documenting a day or two of life!

It wasn't that long until I learned of his passing. I didn't know the details, nobody told me and now I understand that it's because they didn't really know themselves, obviously, but I just assumed it to be because of old age at the time. I was disappointed that it sealed the fact that it was absolutely impossible for me to ever meet him.

Anyway, then I got access to some of his lecture tapes! I'd try to put myself there and imagine that I was his student as I watched. It really did feel like learning directly from him, the closest I could get to the real thing. It was very informative in a few areas I was interested in and very inspiring. I still hold a lot of valuable knowledge from them today.

There was nobody else in this family I felt connected to the same way. He was my hero for being a man who was passionate and devoted to science and made a name for himself by leading an impressive successful life, making an impact and being praised for his brilliance worldwide. I wanted the same! To be recognized and hailed for my own intelligence and potential I already started to recognize in myself at a young age.

He helped me realize my passion and who I wanted to be, I knew I needed to be a brilliant scientist too! If he could do it and become so famous and renowned, so could I! Finally, people would focus on and talk about me in the way they really should, remember my name and hail me for my genius and skill as I deserve! He gave me the hope and the desire to work hard and achieve my goals.

And so I started setting my own goals and trying to create my own things. I wanted to be a great scientist just like him but of course I had to eventually stray from the trail of his footprints and take my own path, to prove my independent genius and potential. It allowed my intelligence, knowledge, and experience to continue to expand. And look where I am today, now I'm the greatest scientific genius of all time!

But decades later we would cross paths again when I recovered his diary. I was thrilled to get my hands on something so precious and valuable and finally learn from him on truly the deepest most personal level, where I'd learn about the research facility and a top secret project he was working on and decided to get some use out of it!

That didn't quite go as planned in the end and I ended up finding out things I wish I hadn't as he'd planned to destroy the world, including his own grandson... To find out after all those years that the very person you held such deep admiration and idolization for was almost the one who caused your destruction... I don't want to talk about this any more.

Well, there you go. Some information from someone much more knowledgeable and actually equipped to speak on the matter.

[kitkatopinions]

I think it was a mistake to make RWBY a grand epic adventure with relics, maidens, gods, and a supervillain. Keep the show within the simple and fun academy setting with a monster of the week style formula. With the occasional field trip to other places to freshen things up and meet new faces. As bad as the writers are, this would play to their strengths and not their weaknesses. Instead of bloating the cast and inventing new ideas only to never revisit them all while failing basic worldbuilding. Simplifying the story and limiting concepts to dust, aura, and semblances would also save money too. What do you think?

For sure. If we were talking about different writers, I'm actually one of those people that has no problem with the big changes RWBY underwent.

Back when V3 and V4 were new to me, I was totally on board with the changes! A good show can go through a... I don't want to call it a genre shift, but at the very least a plot shift. Things go from 'Ruby Rose and her friends attend a combat school, but there's something brewing under the surface' into 'Team RWBYJNROQ are on a world-saving adventure quest that will take them all over the world searching for magical objects while opposed by an immortal villain.' And to me, that's fine... Except that the writers couldn't handle that strain and couldn't manage to turn one into the other.

They're some weird combination of writers who plan and writers who fly by the seat of their pants, as in it feels like they have some things set that they want to do but never know how they'll get there and then just fumble to do it. This is a pretty bad thing when the show actually relies on things like magic system and world building now. A loose magic system was fine when it was 'Team RWBY has super-powers, they're in school to help them use it to destroy giant robots' but it's not fine when it's 'Team RWBY want to use the magical staff to save Penny and make a magical route to Vacuo and have to use the specific magical rules to do it and then they fall into a magical world that the gods came from.' That requires care and attention and lore-building, all things that the writers aren't good at. And big overarching plots are great, but not when the writers can't seem to actually get anywhere with it, can't seem to remember to have the mains learn and grow in significant ways, can't seem to keep track of who knows what, and can't seem to make their writing choices have any real significant impact.

I say this all the time, but the reason I have so many problems with the writing in RWBY isn't the thing itself, it's the fact that the writers don't understand what they can and can't handle.

This is why if a RWBY rewriter or fixer is like 'here's how I'd handle serious topics like XYZ' or is like 'I still plan to kill Penny/Pyrrha' or 'I'm definitely still including Maidens/Relics/Gods' or even does something like have Oz in Jaune's head or something, I'll caution them to be careful but I have zero problem with it actually because there's very little that I think a skilled and passionate writer can't do well (this is also why I'm never gonna be a 'stop making live actions' girlie.) But as for the RWBY writers we do have, yeah, they really should've stuck to what they were good at, the slightly more low stakes fun with an underlying tension somewhat episodic monster-of-the-week thing about teenagers and their fun little dramas. I'm not even trying to say that badly, I think I would love it! But instead what we got is a hot mess of jumbled half-complete ideas that are badly written at best and actively offensive and harmful at worst.

What a bummer.

[the-owl-tree]

What about My Pride? The uh YouTube series, I think the writer was problematic somehow but that might be a thing to mention and also I’d like to see your thoughts

It's on the list! My shorter, more concise thoughts are that while I appreciate it as very much a labor of love with some talented artists and voice actors on the team, the actual story and writing is disappointing, tone deaf, and downright infuriating at times.

I guess rattling off my issues (spoilers included):

I found the central handling of disability and Nothing's character to be poorly thought out. Needing multiple abled bodied characters to get her moving, it feels like there was little research done in trying to depict a character like her.

I hate that her name stays as "Nothing" and that an abled bodied lion lectures her about accepting it. Terribly thought out scene. I'm a she should've changed her name to Everything truther.

The central gay lion romance that the series is based off is pretty poorly written with very few sprinkles of endearing and fun moments between them unfortunately. Hover is...mean? She's a terrible partner and I was genuinely upset that her not sticking up for her girlfriend all because she missed idk a lion recital (something Hover?? canonically should not give a shit about???) was scummy. it would be one thing if Hover was meant to be in the wrong...but she's not depicted as that?

The two spend so much time apart, you start to get kind of annoyed at how much gay lions were part of the marketing and then the gay lions! weren't there!!

Didn't care for it!!

I actually liked the world and premise. I enjoy unfair and cruel societies, I like the idea of someone working to change the system (though I very rarely see the execution of that I like, very rarely will stories depict the actual necessary actions for confronting a society like this: tearing it down entirely and building something better).

I hate Feather. Them pulling their punch and not killing him was lame.

Nothing's brother being the twist villain should have been set up better, it doesn't hit the same way it could have had the series planted the seeds earlier on. We have no reason to understand why he would act this way, he was doing just fine better? Why not set up tensions when we meet the group of young male lions?

I don't like that the only real importance Nothing holds isn't because of something about her in the present, but the importance of her able bodied past life. Her ending with her wanting to die is...bleak because I don't believe she has recognized her own worth.

Poor handling of abuse. I disagree with the notion that trying to give depth to abusers is in itself apologia, but the show is trying to like....idk how to say this properly but it wants to "both sides" Nothing's mother's treatment of her, ya know? I found it really icky.

Uh I think I could say more but you'd have to give me a specific topic to bite onto or I'll keep meandering lol but I didn't care for the show but I do feel for fans of the show who are stuck on a cliffhanger. I hope the creator releases the rest of the story plan at the very least.

[bcolfanfic]

"they like me too? are you sure? is this a prank?" for the mutual crush prompts? feel free to alter it however you want too :)

going oc crazy here bc i haven’t actually written em yet and i wanna lol. so. wyatt and micah <3 young vets au wise that’s nash/helen’s son (ev’s step son) and the bucks son. rachel and i’s rule of thumb for the OC kids age gaps is “whatever serves the story” LMAO. but here wyatt is 22 and micah is 19. meadow and bry are curt/ken's twin girlies.

/ / /

meadow biddick

wyatt told me something super interesting last night (:

Micah rolled his bottom lip inwards, exhaling as he tapped his thumb against his screen. Wyatt had mentioned in passing the other day that the "New York gang" was getting together over the weekend.

Really, he should've known that would only end in someone in his business. And it should've been obvious who that someone would be, but that was here nor there.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and looking out the window. Wyoming was home- and didn't think he'd actually like living in a big city all that much anyways. But he'd been home from school for a few days and was already itching to look at flights, just for a weekend. Just for Wyatt.

Which was silly, really. Wyatt was probably glad to have him out of his hair, be back in New York with his family and his city friends.

They were friends- friends that did things as he'd put it trying to explain to Josie when she'd prodded. But it wasn't anything more than that, and never would be. No matter how he felt about it.

meadow biddick

but if you wanna know what you have to venmo me 3 dollars.

micah

no. just tell me.

meadow biddick

he missessss you. was talking about how how he's hoping you guys come up here for new years. i wonder why...

Locking his phone without replying to that, he forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen. Plopping down across from Josie- he didn't think he looked in any sort of mood until caught saw her squinting at him.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"You look mopey, missin' your boyfriend?" She asked with a little laugh under her breath, punctuating it with a kissy sound.

It made him itch in a way only his sister could make him itch.

"He's not my boyfriend." He said inhaling sharply, glancing back down the hallway where he'd heard at least one of their dads getting out of bed a few minutes ago.

He hadn't told his either of them about the turn of events with Wyatt over the semester, and as far as he was concerned Wyatt hadn't told his folks either. Felt more awkward than it was worth when they were just hooking up anyways.

"Hey dad, by the way I started having sex with Blakley's son. Just thought you should know."

Absolutely not.

Josie hummed, bobbing her head from side to side and finishing her bite of Cheerios before she shot back. "Maybe in that delusional little head of yo-"

Micah interrupted her with a groan, pressing the sides of his hands into his eyes and tearing them away abruptly."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Good morning always works too y'know."

John looked like he was holding back a laugh, ruffling Micah's hair as he reached over him to grab the cereal box. "If you guys are gonna do this all break we're flipping a coin to send one of you to Wisconsin with my ma."

Josie rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "If Micah would stop being such a pussy about-"

"Josie STOP."

That seemed to get the message across at least, Micah figuring he looked pretty damn panicked when she mouthed "sorry" at him with what appeared to be a trace of genuine guilt in her eyes.

"New topic." John said, clearing his throat as he set his bowl on the table and sat down. "Been talking to Uncle Curt and the New York gang about comin' up for New Years. You guys interested?"

Micah watched whatever guilt he'd seen in his sister vanish in all of three seconds.

"Oh I think that'd be wonderful." She drawled, and Micah pushed his foot into her ankle under the table. His phone buzzed before he could opine himself, a new text from Meadow waiting when he turned it over from where he'd had it resting in his lap.

meadow biddick

also i was being an asshole but i did get him to say he really likes you. so do with that what you will.

micah

we grew up together, i'd hope he likes me

meadow biddick

that was very obviously not what he meant. bry asked if he had a crushhh and he got all red faced and stupid.

someday, you'll thank me

[powderrblue]

it used to go question and then answer (when we were younger and it was easy)

title from hello world by the front bottoms

Hadlee flopped down on the couch.

She didn't know why she couldn't stay home. Something about being around her adopted family felt like bringing back the dead.

And hell knew she'd seen enough of that for a lifetime.

That was how she found herself in the old, crowded house again. At midnight, there usually were only around two or three people in the living room anyway- especially depending on who was controlling the TV remote.

A few of the newest actors Hadlee had only ever written files about were asleep facing the television.

Randy, though fully awake in the chair opposite her, hadn't commented on her return.

"Beau told ya, didn't she?" Hadlee finally found herself asking, desperate for any kind of distraction. Communication. A lot of things she couldn't name.

"I guessed you would be back anyway," he admitted in return. "There's easier things than Showfall that you don't come away from the same."

Hadlee's mouth felt dry as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I should've been able to go back, all I did was sit at a desk-"

"Yeah. And write out serial numbers for dead people. For five years."

"Processing antemortem records, technically. And filing autopsy reports."

"That just sounds worse," he argued his point, staring at her with an unreadable expression. If the topic hadn't been so serious, Hadlee would've laughed.

After pausing to think for a moment as though following the current conversation to every possible outcome, she shrugged to dismiss it entirely and laid down on the couch. "Your boss is great, by the way."

A scoff resounded in the room, though apparently Randy decided to humor her after a moment.

"I know."

Another pause added a short lull to the conversation.

"I met Maria a little bit ago, too." Hadlee stared at the ceiling, imagining shapes in the pattern. "Small world."

It took Randy a second to process the full extent of that implication. He nodded with a noncommittal shrug.

"Think they need a babysitter?"

The older leaned back, his gaze following Hadlee's own to the ceiling. "There's practically a waiting list ready to babysit that girl at Maria's beck and call. I would guess no."

"Mm. Bummer," Hadlee said. "Ava's an okay kid."

Randy knew that.

Randy could remember, too, when Charlie had been as small as Ava was now. Sometimes the little girl's voice would almost bring him back to the day he'd met the nearly red-haired kid in the makeshift movie set cabin.

Sometimes he heard five-year-old Charlie laugh when he listened to her.

Sometimes he wanted to go back. Always, he knew it wasn't right.

Shaking his head to clear it, he realized Hadlee had turned around to face him. There was no pity in her gaze- just understanding. Probably more than Randy wanted to think about.

Without a word, she plucked the television remote off the coffee table that was barely even a coffee table anymore. The screen flicked to some nature documentary, and Randy couldn't help but instinctually relax a bit.

Nature documentaries were one of the few things that didn't feel horrifying to watch. There was no acting. No effects that could have been real. Just a voice reading nature facts, the animals, and greenery the likes of which no one in Showfall had seen since their introduction to the mall.

He'd never entirely expected to be appreciative of the genre, but he wouldn't be one to turn down the distraction it offered.

"Thanks," Hadlee finally said, staring with a cloudy expression at the wall beside Randy. "For letting me stay and everything. Helps being around people who get it."

Randy nodded. "Still thinking about Paislie."

It wasn't a question.

Hadlee's head tipped forward, coming to rest on her knees as her shoulders began to shake.

"I could've saved him."

I could've saved him.

That was what Randy had said to the doctors the night Charlie and Sneeg literally tore each other apart.

I could've saved him.

Henrik, lying in a puddle of his own blood with countless scars that he'd thought would be gone the next day.

I could've saved him.

He still thought it every time he saw Maria.

Randy didn't have the heart to deny the thought to Hadlee. If he did, she'd probably deflect it back onto him anyway. That was most definitely on the list of conversations Randy was not ready for.

Before he could make a move to try to offer comfort, she managed to pull herself together and shove her choppy black curls away from her forehead.

His own scattered thoughts latched onto the small but constant comfort Beau's family was.

"I bet the girls could use some help with everything tomorrow. Bringing dinner out here."

Hadlee looked up with a shaky grin. "Thought you said they're drowning in babysitting volunteers."

"Yeah, yeah, well." Randy held out a blanket for Hadlee to take. "If you'll be here tonight anyway. You know Beau likes your company."

The younger scoffed lightheartedly. "Probably not."

"I would know," Randy returned, moving a pillow on the couch beside Hadlee.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you took offense at that."

Randy scoffed in turn. "Alright, that's enough emotions for a week, and you look as tired as I feel. I'll drop you off in the morning and Beau can get you to college if you're feeling up for it."

Hadlee nodded, hesitating before offering one more quiet "thank you" that she wasn't even sure the other heard.

"There she is," Hadlee found herself saying the next morning as she scooped Ava into her arms and spun around with her. "Look at you, gettin' up early."

"Mama's still sleepin'," the curly-haired girl declared before climbing onto Hadlee's back.

Hadlee had, at some point that morning, decided to walk to Beau and Maria's place. There had been no point in calling for a ride or waking up anyone at the other house.

Another voice from the patio made Hadlee look up.

"Morning, Hadlee," Beau called to her. "I was just getting ready to start breakfast."

"I'll help," Hadlee said with a nod. "Brought some coffee."

Beau smiled. "You know us too well. Come on in, come on. Take off your coat and stay a while."

Hadlee shrugged her backpack off, handing Beau a cardboard takeout drink holder so she could turn her attention back to Ava.

"Are you goin' back to school?" Ava asked, pulling Hadlee's hair slightly as she pretended to put it into a ponytail.

"Probably," Hadlee grinned, playfully fluffing the five-year-old's curls.

"And I'm going to kindergarten."

Hadlee nodded. "You're getting so big already."

Beau offered Hadlee a quick but comforting hug before turning to peel Ava off Hadlee's back. "If you wanna get some of the waffles out of the freezer, I'll get this one ready for school."

"Can Hal go with us?"

"She's gonna stay home for a while. She'll be back with me to pick you up, remember?"

"Nah, it's fine," Hadlee said. "If there's room in the car, I can go."

Beau glanced over. "You're sure?"

"Unless it's a bother, I-"

"Oh, you know it isn't," the older cut Hadlee off. "You can take one of the sweatshirts in the entry closet, it's awfully cold to be wearing a t-shirt."

Hadlee shot her a grateful smile, though ultimately decided to at least start on breakfast first.

It hadn't been easy to find time to build up her wardrobe again. With her family's memories of her erased and everything she had before Showfall either distributed among her siblings or gone entirely, even the government funds were only going so far.

"You feeling okay to try going to classes again today?" Beau asked, breaking Hadlee out of her trance. Ava was nowhere to be seen, presumably picking out her own outfit for the day as many five-year-olds would insist on doing.

"Not sure yet," Hadlee admitted. "Might just go outside and watch them or something. I couldn't stay home last night, either. Left a note and slept at the other house."

A gentle hand moved to rub her shoulder. "You know you're welcome to the futon in my office, at least during the day. It's not the best, but it's comfortable enough to do classes in."

"Thank you," Hadlee murmured, not trusting her voice as emotion threatened to choke it out entirely.

Beau gently slid the toaster closer to herself. "It's nothing. I'll take care of this. Go get something warm on, okay?" She paused, waiting for a nod from Hadlee before continuing. "Maybe we should go out today instead. The professors won't give you trouble."

"I know," Hadlee said. "Maybe. Sounds nice."

Beau offered an encouraging smile. "Consider it done, then. Right after-"

As though on cue, Ava slkipped out into the kitchen, shirt inside out and shoes on the wrong feet.

"Want some help with those shoes, Ava?"

Hadlee laughed a little as the little girl firmly shook her head.

"Backwards Thursday it is," Beau confirmed.

Hadlee did find a blue jacket she liked, and breakfast continued with little else happening. Ava mostly continued her chatter, though neither of the adults there minded. By the time several recountings of jumbled antics from Ava's class had been described with exaggerated detail, the drive had been completed.

Beau's usual 'listen to your teachers, we'll be back in a few hours' talk followed, and Hadlee watched as Ava walked to the group gathered around her teacher.

"Thinking about going anywhere in particular?"

Hadlee looked over, hesitation flickering in her eyes. "Not- not really, I guess. Not yet. It's been a few years."

"That's fine."

"House first?"

"House first."

Hadlee had never regretted any two words more in her whole life.

"Hadlee, I need a phone now."

"What's wrong?"

"No questions, just hurry."

Hadlee was ready to panic. Beau's voice barely sounded like her. It wasn't her. The calm but firm woman Hadlee had begun leaning on was only scared now. No matter how much Hadlee didn't want to be, she was beginning to realize why.

"What happened?" Randy's voice cut through the fog in Hadlee's mind for a second, but it didn't last.

"It's Maria. Don't ask, I don't know any more than you do. Come on."

"I'm sorry, I should've stayed home, I'm sorry," Hadlee heard herself say without any idea who she was saying it to.

"Hadlee, I need you to tell me where they are." Randy again.

Hadlee could feel a strong, painful grip on her arms that nearly left her sobbing before she realized it was from her own hands.

"I don't know," she managed to say, fighting the shuddering feeling in her spine. "I promised Pey, he told me and I promised, I should've-"

"Hadlee, stop," Randy interrupted, and she could swear he was shaking as much as she was.

Her brain was repeating the same thoughts, how she could've stayed home and stopped Maria, how she could've saved Beau from this, how Randy was probably more scared than Hadlee herself was.

And yet she couldn't bring herself to say a word.

First Henrik, then Paislie, now Maria, just like the eighteen-year-old had guessed.

Hadlee didn't move from the waiting room floor.

Randy stayed by the door too, likely waiting for any news.

The silence was deafening.

It could've been seconds or hours later that Hadlee heard a voice she didn't recognize, hurried questions from Randy intermittently cutting in.

"-was three minutes ago."

"Is her wife still here?"

"We left her to process everything for a moment."

Silence returned, during which Hadlee made an effort to open her eyes even a little to see what was happening.

"We're going home."

Randy's expression sent a chill through Hadlee. She'd only ever seen him like this once before.

"Can I stay with Beau?"

The older looked as though he were gearing up to yell -or something, it was hard to tell anymore- before he sighed. A nod was the only gesture she was offered.

"I'll take the car home."

And just like that, Hadlee found herself alone in the waiting room.

Nurses walked back and forth, every once in a while glancing up at Hadlee as though they weren't sure whether or not to address her.

She felt just as lost as some of them looked when they sent millisecond-long looks in her direction.

Just hours before, she'd been thinking about college. Her family. Ava.

Ava.

That little girl's mom wasn't coming home.

Her mom wasn't coming home and she would have every right to blame it on Hadlee once she was old enough to know what happened.

Hadlee's brain felt clouded over, any sense of time gone.

"It's time to go."

That was Beau.

Her voice sounded different from how it had this morning. Expectedly so, not that that helped.

It was a different Hadlee had never thought she'd have to hear, she thought as least this family could be safe and happy.

It had been months and still the shadow of Showfall loomed over the whole family. That was the realization that made Hadlee want to scream until her voice gave out.

"Don't apologize, honey. We're going home."

Hadlee looked up. Had she said something? Fuck, existing had never hurt this much.

"Ava's with Niki and Cade tonight. They offered to take her until the house gets put back together."

"I'll drive," Hadlee offered suddenly, walking as close beside Beau as she could for what little comfort she hoped it was worth.

It was the least she could do at this point.

Beau didn't answer.

The only sounds on the way back to the house was the car engine and the barely audible sound of crying.

Fourteen hours after they'd left to follow Maria, Hadlee pulled Beau's car back into the driveway.

At some point during the night, Hadlee threw more waffles in the toaster. She knew neither of them were hungry, but eating would at least give both herself and Beau something constructive to do. Neither of them felt like sleeping. Or maybe they did and just refused to tell the other.

Either way, she was practically delirious with grief (defeat?) and confusion by the morning. Confusion, though, mostly for the sake of the fact that she hardly even knew Maria. Confusion because she felt like her emotions were already running dry.

It at least offered her the one small mercy of being able to hold herself together for the older woman's sake.

Without that, she was sure Beau's attempt to apologize would have sent her spiraling.

After that Hadlee had been sure things couldn't get worse.

She had been wrong.

The sun had only been up for a few hours when a knock on the door came. Hadlee's dampened hope that it would just be Niki or Charlie or anyone she knew was drowned out as her eyes met yet another unfamiliar face.

Hadlee could only listen, at a complete loss as the officer told her Randy didn't make it to the house.

He'd offered to show her and Beau pictures of the car.

The younger just shook her head.

No matter how hard Hadlee tried, there were no right choices she could make with the options given to her. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how Showfall must have felt for the ones who weren't lucky enough to just have a desk job.

Hadlee had left the house after the cop car did, promising Beau not to go farther than the woods behind her house, promising to come back.

Whatever domino effect had attached itself to Beau's family had come full circle in one last violent tragedy of circumstance.

Hadlee had made it through Showfall for five years. She'd made it back to her family, made it back to college. She'd thought the last survivors would have made it, too. She'd thought Beau's family would heal, as painfully slow as it was.

Now it was gone save for Ava, and Hadlee's own world had never felt closer to ending.

[tsukimefuku]

Thanks for answering my ask. If you don't mind me asking (again), who are your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....

I always get to thinking HARD on this, trying to remember every favorite character I've had my entire life, and trying to put them in order of favoritism. I will just put every character I remember first and go from there, lol. They're not in order of importance. Also, this is based in a sense of storytelling, mostly (I hate Makishima in Psycho-Pass, but I appreciate him a lot as a character from a writing and story-telling perspective).

Shirley from Haunting of Hill House. I love the flanaverse with all my heart, and I adore Shirley because she is an incredibly well written and an actually flawed character who learns to grow past her stubborness and self-righteousness in a beautiful and very realistic way.

Makishima from Psycho-Pass. This villain is my favorite kind of villain: the one that, to a certain extent, you can agree with. He brings extremely important debates in the world he's inserted, and since I currently am studying AI applications in criminal law, well, safe to say I rewatched psycho-pass recently.

Abra from Doctor Sleep. I mean, can I get a hands-up for female characters that are incredible, amazing, badass, without having to resort into masculinization themselves, like doing things by force or violence? Abra is smart, witty and solves her problems using just that. I simply love her, so so so much.

The obvious one (1), Nanami Kento from Jujutsu Kaisen. I really like that this character is someone very dutiful, orderly and rule-abiding (in a universe in which the rule creators - Jujutsu Society - are a bunch of pieces of shit, for that matter) and yet, he's not utilized like "the annoying prick". He adds a much-needed dimension to how characters overall receive and react to the universe of Jujutsu Kaisen and Jujutsu Society's shortcomings.

The obvious one (2), Higuruma Hiromi, also from JJK. I'm a complete sucker for characters that are broken idealists, but never lose their ideals completely. Also, even if he appears very little in the manga, I feel like he might've given the first push on Yuji to learn to separate what is his responsibility and what isn't. From a criminal lawyer perspective, responsibility for your actions is paramount in deciding how to live your life, and I feel that his conflicts were incredibly well written overall.

Ginoza (Psycho-pass): This is the case of a rule-abiding character in an unfair and unjust universe with shitty rules. So, yeah, he begins like a pain in the ass. What I love about him, though, is his evolution to becoming much more than that and finding peace. It's a beautiful character arc.

Diane Ngyuen from Bojack Horseman. I love how they explore her and her relationships to convey how depression can take a hold of a person's life, but that someone is not their mental ilness, their depression, or even the traumas they suffered in life. We can find the joy to live even if we can't attribute any meaning or reason for the bad things that happened to us. We don't have to do that in order to heal. Sometimes, shit happens, and it's okay to let go.

Angel Dust from Hazbin Hotel. Angel is in my favorite's list, but in my opinion, he should've been a she. The way this character was masterfully pieced together to convey such delicate topics like abuse and overt-sexual-behavior as a coping mechanism had me with my jaw dropped for the entirety of episode 4 - but these themes are usually more pervasive in women. Also, the performance aspect of it all (sexualization as trying to please someone and make the cycle of violence stop) is something very intense for women in our society. I think we'd have more layers to an already GREAT character if this character was female.

Fleabag. Firstly, I love how this character is a complete lunatic. But on a more serious note, I LOVED the beautiful and sad way Fleabag's grieving process over the death of her mother was portrayed. Grieving in not always pretty - I'd argue it's typically the opposite. Grief is UGLY most of the time, and I like how Phoebe conveyed that on-screen with a character that is so much more than her grief - she's smart, witty, knowledgeable, charismatic, egotistical, impulsive, flawed. Just mwah, chef's kiss. I'm a sucker for well written and layered characters.

Retsuko from Aggretsuko. I haven't watched season 4 yet (and don't think I'll ever get around to), so I'm stating this with only having watched until season 3. What I like most about her character is how you can be (and celebrate being) someone that wants mundane and simple things. She wants peace, a good job and a marriage. She doesn't chase a grandiose purpose - and it's OKAY to not be someone that aspires for anything beyond a comfortable and happy life. Life can be fulfiling, even if you're not chasing a grand purpose. I can totally vibe with that.

Fukuchan🦉

[commiemartyrshighschool]

When I was on the fence right before I took this job a seasoned older writer with a great voice said to me "you don't need a mentor, you need an editor."

The reason I was on the fence is because when I had just a couple technical questions before accepting the job offer the guy I had interviewed with and built a little rapport with responded by saying he had put in his two weeks notice, and that I should get in touch with the person taking over the role. His last day was also my first day.

That should've been ample warning.

Because not only did I not get a mentor (which as an early career journalist I'm now realizing I do in fact need!), I didn't get an editor either. After that meeting I've been in the same room as him five, maybe six times, almost always involving him either telling me a story about looking up his third grade teacher's skirt or telling me a young girl "deserved" a concussion for being at a Boy Scout camp.

And as much as I started dreading those conversations and found the handful of perfunctory zoom calls useless, I've been reduced to single line emails as a sole mode of communication. I know for a fact he will not read the second line of emails in most cases, because when he asks me for the information contained there-in and I copy and past the exact same line in reply it is the first time he has ever seen it.

If I insist on getting acknowledgement or approval of a story (he's furious when I pursue a topic without letting him know or if it changes focus away from his own bias, so I am reluctant to even lay groundwork for stories that might get canned) he'll get annoyed that I've sent so many emails.

Given how poorly we are communicating I looked into his twitter to find out a bit more about the guy, and apart from his obsession with prop comics who didn't even think their own work was that funny it's mainly his work moonlighting elsewhere that skirts conflict of interest and features shittily written op-eds espousing worse opinions, spreading anti-vax conspiracy theories, claiming that Patriot Front is a "Soros funded false flag," all leavened with a weird mixture of Anglophillia and thirsty replies to well muscled conservative men and male fetish models, on what was until recently a bluechecked account explicitly linking him to our publication

I could probably tolerate a handful of these things, particularly him telling dudes to take their shirts off, but it's crossed the line into repeated and dangerous disinformation spreading that I think reflects negatively on the publication.

He's done almost nothing to show me the ropes or teach me about the beat, in fact actively discourages me from developing a beat by rejecting any topic that's too "similar" to one recently covered at the start of the week and then assigning me coverage of something exactly the same by the end of it. When I do get introduced to anybody through him it's a persistent PR flack he's just tired of dealing with.

And you know what it's all made me paranoid. I totally AM reading too much into every email and overthinking them. But while my insane reads have turned out right on occasion the bigger issue is I'm worried I'm slowly losing my ability to interpret other people's messages.

I could kvetch about the rest of the company too, but I don't see the point. The department that makes money is the event planning portion of the business that massages local egos with awards ceremonies. I'm not sure why but people keep buying ads that go into a PDF only print newspaper as well too. A lot of that is just small biz/media bullshit, but it doesn't help that there's this nexus of dysfunction and fascism that's the majority of my dealings with my coworkers.

[hellfireconfessions]

Gonna make a “bad” guri take. A lot of people are applying fiction to reality. Just because someone writes about something does not mean they condone those actions irl. I personally have written some very dark fiction. But I think those actions that I wrote about are deplorable.

Now granted, the things I have wrote have only ever been posted to Ao3 where shit like that can be properly flagged/tagged and labeled as nsfw. Guri shouldn’t have posted that doc to the group and I don’t think anyone should be defending that. But to imply they are a pedo/zoo/groomer for writing a piece of fiction that includes those things, however minor they may be, in my mind shows a general immaturity in people, and an inability to remove fiction from reality.

I think it’s also important to note that English is not their first language. And the way they write stuff has always sounded off. I think they try to make their writing more flowery to make up for the fact that their phrasing can be a bit off and stilted. Which can lead to a large gap and misunderstanding of how things are supposed to be interpreted. They have routinely said things during gameplay like “I don’t know how to say this in English” because the translation from Spanish to English isn’t one to one.

That’s just my hot take.

the writing take is more nuanced than people give it credit for granted, for that point i think end of day it winds down to what people individually think. Writing CAN have these topics and theres alot of stories that use it well while still making it known that the action itself is bad. Guri has made this point themselves using Game of Thrones, while i personally think it doesn't validate the writing i can see WHY writing about pedo/zoo topics is not being treated as cut and dry as the action themselves.

I think the questions come down to 'Are these problematic situations shown in a positive light?' and 'Could this story be written differently without the problematic situations and still be the same story?' These are topics that unless you know how to incorporate them into your story without promoting/supporting the actions themselves, shouldn't be touched in general.

I personally put very little weight into the language barrier because even after native english speakers have explained why it's recieving backlash Guri is just doubling down on what they really meant. When people come with screenshots and direct quotes though it's hard to deny that the writing was excessively explicit, especially with a server that had minors. Basing it only off what i've seen through the blog, Guri's apology post here while not perfect english does show really good understanding of words, just not conjunctions. People are responsible for their own actions and will be judged for those actions regardless of actual intent, they might not have meant for it to come off creepy but *it did* in a server with minors

Not sure where Guri is from but theyve acknowledged that they know minors shouldn't read the story and that they knew the server had at least a few minors. Thats recognition that they are aware minors shouldn't read a story like that but still posted it there which is one of the bigger problems, censoring isn't enough in that situation it should've been regulated to a 18+ only viewing area if at all

[espies-galaxy]

For Me This Is More Than A Major

Dear World,

I am going to talk about something that has been weighing on my mind for many, many years. You see, I am a mass communications major with a double emphasis in journalism and integrated communications, I. LOVE. WHAT. I. DO. I love all the writing; I absolutely live for all the projects. Just the same as anyone in any other major.

So yet here I am, and when someone asks my major, and they hear mass communications, they just make a sound, not even words, just a scoff-off sound, which is basically the universal sign for 'oh, that is so easy.'

Well, listen up to all you people who dog on anyone who studies mass communications. I write articles, I am a journalist, and I am aware that newspapers are dying out; trust me, we learn about it, but guess what? Someone still needs to write the articles you read online. Just because the paper is dying, not my major is.

Not only am I a journalism emphasis but also an integrated communication emphasis. Do you know what an integrated communication person studies? Here is an exact excerpt from my universities page on integrated communications: "The Integrated Communication emphasis includes the disciplines of advertising and public relations and is designed to prepare students for all aspects of communication and promotion that help accomplish such goals as selling products and services, advocating on behalf of causes, issues, or individuals, and representing organizational reputations to the greater public."

I study public relations, I learn how to develop webpages, I learn how to do graphic design, I learn how to not only sell advertisements but also create them.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are majors that go more in-depth with those topics, except for public relations.

Yes, I am aware my classes are "easy" or "really basic" I don't want you to worry, your sweet little head. I know it is not the most challenging major out there, but here is a news flash. My degree could care less about your grades or where you studied. They are far more worried about your abilities to carry out the specific tasks given to you.

My freshman year, one of my professors told me that we will be told our major is easy or that it is pointless, but he then turned around and said those people are the mediocre people in this world. In OUR WORLD of mass communications, you see, there is no room for mediocre people. You are either exceptional, or you should change majors because, much like doctors, lawyers, etc., we don't have the room to mess up. Your PR rep can't screw up cause they are the one who is there to make sure you're in check.

Let me emphasis on one phrase, "THERE IS NO ROOM FOR MEDIOCRE," so how about a nice little back story.

As far back as I remember, the one thing I always loved doing was writing; when my dad worked as a web designer for the local newspaper, he would bring me home the little journalist pads for me to play with. I would take down scores at my sister's soccer games, and I would then "report" the game. I was meant for what I am doing now because back then, I sure as heck was just going off what I knew from television. But somewhere down the line, it got beat into my mind that that is not good enough. Not from my family either; they supported my decisions.

I finally got to college, still convinced that mass communications was a joke. So, I was a language major, Spanish, with minors in French and political science. I finished my first year, and I felt so trapped. I knew I would never be at the level needed to be a successful translator for an embassy.

I reevaluated my life.

And here I am, in my senior year of college. I am graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in Mass Communication with a double emphasis in Journalism and Integrated Communications.

Sincerely,

The Girl Who Should've Listened To Her Heart From The Beginning

(originally written by me on September 19, 2016)

[nohj3]

"All molehills look like mountains when life shoves your face in the dirt."

This is a line i wrote back in highschool, that i literally never absorbed. I wrote it as an obvious logical conclusion to people trying to tell me i was making a lot of problems seem bigger than they were.

I wrote a lot of lines like that at the time, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, i simply shut out everyone who ever tried to talk to me about things i honestly should've talked about. Because it was... Easy. Easier than facing my problems. Simply out talk others, out write others, showcase i already have a perfect understanding of the situation to a level beyond what they were prepared to even provide, And then Just... Don't actually listen to my own self.

But this line, This one was special. Because it was heard.

I stated it in response to a comrade-in-academia, And she... She loved it. She thought so highly of it. She asked me where i quoted it from. I was so stunned by the effect of her enthusiasm, i could utter nothing save "my brain". the piercing yet expressionless gaze of a human processing, was all i could see on her face. She didn't fully believe me.

"Write something for me," Her command caught me off guard, "I wanna see if you really can write like that."

"I uh... Don't think that's something someone can just like... Do? I gotta have something to write about, You know?" My excuse as legitimate in its technicality, as it was obvious in its evasiveness.

"Ok. Write about... Hmm... I don't know. What are you feeling?"

"Absolutely nothing," i lied, unwilling to admit the horrors kept barely contained by my skin thin attachment to the social conventions i barely understood. "I could show you something i already wrote. I-if that's fine with you..."

"Ok. What do you have?", she asked, barely containing her enthusiasm through lightly stimming the edge of the table.

As i began to sift through my ludicrously overstuffed And breaking apart backpack, i came upon a realization. She can judge me based on what i wrote. Keeping that in mind, i skipped over my primary writing notebook, knowing full well everything in there would easily betray my self-destructive tendencies. Skipping my stories written for school, skipping my stories written for my shows, skipping my stories written for myself. Nothing. There was nothing left.

I looked up from my skimming, hoping that maybe i took so long she got bored and wandered off. Her eyes, gushing with the feelings of excitement and anticipation, that her body didn't seem to know how to express properly, stared at me. Patiently. Trembling. I suppose she must really like reading subpar written works.

Hesitantly, i pulled out a story i wrote for a school assignment. Nothing weird. Fully sanitized. Boring prompt. Hoping maybe i would disappoint her and this entire social engagement would end. Dreading that maybe i would disappoint her and this entire social engagement would end.

She read slowly, Carefully, Concentrating more on how i wrote than what i wrote, speaking eventually to say, "you use waaaaay too many commas. I feel like every sentence should have been like... 3 maybe 5 sentences? Also your handwriting is so bad, so is mine though. Also this paper sucks. Terrible topic. Also-"

"S-srry...," i interjected, the feelings of inadequacy interwoven into every syllable, "i don't know what you were expecting. I get lucky sometimes, but usually i just suck and am bad."

"No! Nono!! I didn't mean to upset you!," she exclaimed, "i think you're really good, i would..." Her eyes distracted by seemingly nothing in the air, as she trailed off. She clearly wants to say something, but is hesitant. Scared even. She's avoiding feeling her current emotion by being pulled towards something, anything, else.

An out.

I needed little justification other than the thought i shouldn't impress or impose upon anyone. I slipped out through the corner of her eye. Whatever she wanted of me, i clearly wasn't capable of providing. I'm nothing, Insignificant, Meaningless.

All the emotions of the situation becoming blurry and faded in mere seconds. Replaced by the all familiar, all encompassing, all potent, wall of self-hatred and self-disregard. Of course, it was stupid to think for even a second that i was happy someone cared enough to ask about my interests. They weren't even caring, probably just pitied me. A kindness i don't deserve, and it is simply morally correct of me to have removed myself so she doesn't have to taint her functioning deserving emotional psyche with my ugly presence. I've got to be more careful to not let my desires and needs, drag others into such a state as to fool themself into thinking i am worth their time.

The then-normal omnipresent depressive crushing darkness, i possessed such high quantities of, was strong, but in this one instance it wasn't strong enough to fully delete everything. Her eyes. Even today, those eyes are such a core memory, They burn in my brain. Pure unfiltered excitement. Because of me. Me. I loved it. I wish to see it more.

I'm so motivated, to see that look. To impress. To excite. Its scary, but it's also... It gives me life. Humans are such cute creatures, I love them. I want to see them happy.

Nywys, i was just reminded of that phrase, And i guess i wanted to talk about it. Sue me.