#I think he also needs a few years of normalcy before he gets roped into super nonsense

[faeriekit]

It's you and me, @arbrehoux

So, imagine, if you will:

Mr and Ms House-of-El don't have a child at the time the planet explodes. Inconvenient!

But cloning is, if something carefully undertaken, something extremely typical on Krypton. Most couples reproduce via cloning on the planet. It's very simple to arrange for a cloning device onboard an escape-pod size ship at a relatively reasonable cost (to a family whose planet is exploding)

So genetic matter goes into the tube, they plug in information meant to help their future offspring understand the planet they hail from, and they shoot the resulting embryo off into space! Whapau! 🚀

Cut to the Kent farm, where the Kents are a loving, if childless, couple, who desperately need a hobby. There's a boom outside the farmhouse. Ma grabs the shotgun, and Pa grabs the first aid kit. (It's probably just a car accident.)

And they find?? A spaceship?? In the dirt?? Like no way a spaceship landed in their corn field but ALSO look at that. That's a SPACESHIP.

Out tumbles the least adjusted, entirely nude form of a twelve year old boy. He's scared. He can't walk. He doesn't know English, and they don't know his language.

"Because he's an alien, Jonathan." "Be nice! He can understand your tone! Look, you're making him all worried! Listen, son, I hope you're not lactose intolerant, but let's get you a glass of milk and a cookie for now, alright...?"

"What if aliens can't have milk, Jon? C'mere, hun, we'll split the difference. I have some apple juice..." "What's wrong with milk?"

"It's mammalian, dear". "And what??"

Anyway, SUDDENLY there's a Kent boy mysteriously at the farm, and he's very gentle and very shy and super strong, but if any cops come sniffing around, then he's always been here and you never saw otherwise!! 'Kay??

Anyway, I think that this officially turns Superman's heroing career into a mostly after-school activity skdhhdjajsz. He can still be a reporter, it's just for his high school. Lois can be an out of state rival he competes with on an online blog or something. He and Batboy are best friends, because otherwise how can Batkid exploit his prowess for the sake of tackling so many problems no kid should even remotely tackle?? Clark gets paid regular babysitting rates by Alfred after hours of. Like. Trying to keep Bruce from fighting a full-grown Lady Shiva in Europe. He and Damian talk animal husbandry over the phone once a month.

Woe to Bruce, the Youngest One™️ 😔

Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damien oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior

[goldenlaquer]

Hey, can I ask for some headcanons, please? For Gin, Toshi, Sougo and Kamui. About how they were in a fight, separated from their so and something happened like an exposion or whatever, anyway the main point is that they thought that their so have died but later they see her alive and relatively unharmed. So the headcanons of them when they thought they lost their so and when they see that she is ok. Sorry, this is so specific and long, I'm just a slut for some angst and I love your writings

Thank you for the support and sorry for the wait! I don’t know if I’m that much good at conveying angst but let’s bring on the feels! 

Gintama Headcanons: 

Hijikata Toushirou: 

Hijikata stands on top of a pile of rubble, and surveys the destruction around him. 

His hands don’t shake. His feet are firm against the ground. His shoulders are straight and rigid against the fleeting wind. Smoke escapes him in steady stream, and when he inhales in, the dust and fire of the air sticks to the walls of his lungs like sludge. 

To the men who stop to look at their vice-commander with their ugly concerns plastered on their ugly mugs: He’s fine. 

To the Gorilla who can’t stop asking him the question every ten minutes and that, he really should take a break or else at this rate, he’ll collapse: He’s fine. 

To the brat who stubbornly stays by his side like spit-up gum on the sole of his shoe: He’s fine, damn it, so go do your job and leave him alone. 

For once, Sougo doesn’t have anything clever to quip back at him. He doesn’t need to-- the silence between them speaks better than words. And Hijikata hates what it says, so he turns back to the grey landscape, eyes darting and sifting through the mangled and charred parts to see something, anything that is you. 

Nothing. 

He reaches for a cigarette, pulls it out of his pocket like second nature. The lighter is the trickier to work. The blasted thing refuses to flicker on. Oh, the cigarette falls down. Hijikata bends to pick it up. He tries again. The cigarette falls down. He stares at it. His shoe crushes it. He’s stomping down hard. Sougo is still silent, watching. Hijikata doesn’t care. 

The facade of normalcy is gone. Here he is: Taking his frustrations out on a sad little cig, like it’s the cause of all his fucking problems, like it’s going to bring you back. Harsh pants come out of his mouth, and in another series, they’d sound like something akin to sobs, but his face is dry.

“Hijikata.” He ignores Sougo. The cigarette is reduced to paper and dry leaves scuffed against concrete. “Hijikata.” He doesn’t answer.

Okita, with an eye-roll, kicks Hijikata square in the back and knocks him off the pile. 

Sougo, what the fuck? He. Is. Mourning. Hijikata has always known Sougo to be insensitive, but this is blatantly crossing several lines and he clearly doesn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with. 

But if it’s a fight that bastard wants, Hijikata will give it to him. He leaps up from the ground, ready to hand Sougo an express ticket to hell, misty eyes narrowing in anger as he looks up

and the breath is knocked out of him in a way that years of chain-smoking had miraculously failed to do 

Standing before him, white particles clinging to your clothes, hair, and eyebrows, is the damn most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The feet move faster than he can process, and by the time his arms are around you and he’s breathing in the scent he thought he’d lost forever

“Fuck.” Because that’s the only appropriate response he can say without his voice cracking. “Don’t do that again.”

Kamui:

Loss is not a new thing. It was in the labored rise and fall of his mother’s chest, the pallidness of her white skin. The feel of his sister’s small hands, fisting in his clothes and pleadingly tugging back, her blue eyes wide and wet. It was in the looming shape of his father’s retreating back.

But there were other, worthier things to focus on. The pain in his knuckles slamming against bone and muscle. The taut stretch of his lips as he licks his wounds, tasting metal and victory. The title of ‘Universe’s Strongest’ nearly within his grasp. He didn’t have time for the weak. Didn’t have time to be weak.

Loss is not new, and yet there is something about this loss. Now, Loss is a sentient being, latching to his throat and squeezing as he grapples through the mud.

Abuto’s face is too blank and too careful. His voice is low and calm and reasoning, and he is saying things, but Kamui doesn’t listen. The words ‘she’ and ‘gone’ don’t mix, they don’t make any sense, so why should he listen? He digs and digs and digs, not hearing, he can’t, his ears and eyes are filled with the same muddy brown that must also be filling yours. Kamui works even faster, his nails splintering against the rocks embedded in the wet ground.

Hair released from its braid, trussed and caked in dirt. Pupils dilated, black swallowing blue. His face abnormally slack as he claws in frenzy, in desperation at the ground like a wild animal.

There are few things in this world Kamui can’t fight. No matter his strength, one cannot simply beat Mother Nature into submission. But there is no excuse. If he cannot save one woman from something as stupid as dirt, then what is the point? What use is his strength? He didn’t leave that tiny, rainy planet, ignoring all the things left behind with it, to become this weakling who couldn’t even manage to keep you by his side like he promised.

He’s a young brat again, helplessness coloring every pore. A damsel in distress. Someone who can’t save, but needs saving. He is no different than the baldy. Unable to keep promises. Unable to protect. Unable to do anything. Was he always this fragile? Pathetic.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. The word is a punishing mantra in his mind.

Something crashes into him. It’s not near enough to make him pause in his digging, but the something is tugging on his clothes. Incoherent, muffled shouting in his ears. He doesn’t pay it any mind because mud keeps slipping back in place despite all his useless strength and you’re still trapped, waiting for him--

“KAMUI!”

He blinks in surprise, snapping from the heavy cloud covering his mind. He’s flat on the ground, staring up at you. How he got there, he doesn’t know, but you are here in front of him, covered head-to-toe in mud and crying.

He is silent, watching as you blubber concerns and curses. A curious hand reaches out to your face in wonder, carefully tracing the path that a salty tear had made down your cheek. The familiarity of your soft skin warms his numb body and a small smile emerges from his lips.

As you sit on top of him, crying not because you are scared but because he’s such a stupid idiot, he realizes that that he isn’t all alone just yet, that there’s one thing that refuses to leave him. 

Okita Sougo: 

It’s happening again. And it honestly makes him want to laugh. 

He doesn’t believe in it, karma, but when you think that you’ve gotten used to the pain of losing someone you love, his rotten, black heart has to go and get ripped out for the second time as if he forgot, as if he needed reminding that there’s no way someone like him deserves something as good as happiness. There’s no other explanation to this shit luck other than that, for the accumulation of every filthy deed he’s done with his filthy hands and every fucking sin he has committed once and twice and will most definitely commit thrice, someone has to pay for it. 

And because Karma is two bitches and a half, that someone wasn’t him. 

There it is. The laughter finally comes out as he looks at the torn fabric in his clenched fist. It comes out harsh and hollow and, if you listened hard enough, choked, but who’s checking? Not him. Not Mitsuba. And certainly not you. 

He reported it to the vice-commander himself, voice robotic, telling how he was walking front of you when it happened, how the enemy somehow managed to predict your movements and ambushed the both of you on a bridge, how he had been unable to react in time to stop the silver flash of a knife and how the world tilted, too fast and too slow, and that there was a piece of hanging rope that he managed to snag on to with one hand and when he blindly flashed out the other to grasp at you, reaching through free air and snatching at cloth, it ripped from his fingers, and you fell to the chasm below.  Deep enough, Okita said as he looked straight into Hijikata’s eyes, that death would be quick and painless.

If nothing else could go right for him, then at least for this, he hoped, even fucking prayed, that it was painless.

Hijikata doesn’t react to the report with anything unnecessary, just a stiff upper lip and an “okay” before he walks off to stand somewhere far enough, yet close enough. For all their differences, Hijikata knows. He understands losing youthful love, and that the pity that comes with it is nothing more than steaming trash. In this way and other ways that he’d sooner eat shit than to admit aloud, Okita is grateful for him.  

He stops mid mirthless chuckle to shove the hand holding what’s left of  you up to his eyes, slanting his head downwards so his bangs cover what he doesn’t want the world to know what he’s somehow still capable of. Hijikata is tactfully looking away. Over the distance, Kondo is bellowing orders to his men who keep a wide berth from the spot where their 1st Division Captain stands. This is the only opportunity he can afford to be an eighteen year old again. Sougo swallows thickly, feeling the roughness of fabric dampen against his eyelids. 

Acutely, he hears the sound of footsteps. It is slow and steady and he thinks that they belong Kondo at first but the weight of them is too light for a gorilla. Before he can process this information further, the steps halt for several long seconds before starting again, this time faster and more urgent, lurching in his direction. Hijikata mutters an astounded “shit” but  for whatever reason doesn’t move to intercept. Okita really isn’t in the mood to deal with dumbasses but the sword by his side is already unsheathed and he’s aiming his red eyes to glare at whoever the fuck--

Arms wrap around his waist. A face burrows into his chest. His knees almost give out, but his name is Okita Sougo and he has already maxed out his whiny bitch points for the next decade. Instead, he drops his sword to cup the back of your very-much-alive head, caressing the wet silk of it before threading his trembling fingers through the strands to

sharply tug you from his chest and grasp your cheeks with one hand, squeezing your expression to that of a startled fish. 

“Now,” Okita murmers, the smirk on his lips at odds with how fucking great it feels to see you again. “What should I do with you?”

Sakata Gintoki:

Before they say anything, he knows. 

He has seen that type of expression too many times to ever forget the set jaw, the horrible attempt at stilling a trembling bottom lip, the unshed tears of eyes that can’t seem to stop roving, unable to face the recipient of bad news for more than half a second, and the pallidness of knuckles straining against skin, holding onto their clothes like a lifeline. 

He knows this expression so well he can gaze down at Shinpachi and Kagura with well-placed apathy, perfectly appearing as if his lungs aren’t threatening to collapse on itself when he notices who is not there with them, and tell them in his same old way to stop sucking on their teeth and finish what they can’t seem to get out because he has an appointment at the pachinko parlor at four and if they don’t finish up this job by three-thirty he is going to dock their nonexistent pay by 80%. It hides the rising nausea and stone weight of the stomach well. 

This time, however, his casual rudeness doesn’t make them react the way he wants them to, it only makes them fold into themselves even further. 

The thing is, no matter how many times you see it and know better than to entertain it, there’s always this one glimmer of hope, so ridiculously strong that you’d gladly pray to anyone and everyone, even if you don’t really believe, because if anything is possible then it better be possible that this isn’t bad news, or that even if it is bad news then the worst of the pinched expression is just a by-product of eating food gone bad or the pain of an ingrown toenail, that it isn’t about someone dying or dead. 

But life rarely goes like that, and Gintoki lives in an extra-shittier life compared to most people. 

When you stumble across them, hair singed and smelling of gunpowder and smoke, there is something so thick and so wrong with the air, something that makes you stop from crying out in elation at seeing the people you love most. Shinpachi is fastidiously rubbing his eyes and Kagura has her face buried against Sadaharu’s fur and Gintoki

Gintoki looks alone. And you don’t think you have ever seen him look like that, so withdrawn into himself that even if he is surrounded by people, there’s nothing that can come close to him, nothing that can ease the dull bleakness of his eyes and the defeated hunch of his shoulders. He looks like a single thread worn too thin, on the verge of snapping. He looks like nothing matters anymore. Nothing. 

You dislike it. You hate it. You hate it so much, to see this man turn into something so unfamiliar and terrifying and gut out. You don’t know this Gintoki. You want the other one back, the one who wouldn’t hesitate to smear dog shit and boogers on the back of your jacket and the one who doesn’t really mind it when you take a sip of his spoiled strawberry milk. 

So when you shout out loudly, so loud that vibrates the space, that you’re here and alive and that you didn’t, couldn’t die because how could such a measly explosion off you when there were idiots waiting back home for you, to see Kagura and Shinpachi fly to you, screaming and whooping as they open their arms wide for your hug, snot running down their noses, and Gintoki snap his head up, disbelieving at first, yet searching your form with a speck of hope that brings life back to his dead eyes, and when he finds whatever he was searching for, he goes to you on steady feet, folding his arms around the group, gaze still drinking your form up as he leans across Shinpachi’s and Kagura’s heads to bump his forehead against yours, his breath sighing out something like relief-- it almost makes you cry, or maybe it does because you can feel something wet trailing down your face.

Gintoki is silent for the most part, because Kagura and Shinpachi are doing most of the talking for him, but when he does speak, it is to say: 

“Damn, there goes the life insurance money.” 

[cherry-moonlight]

Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Two

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} This story is pouring from my veins and it’s already the longest I've ever taken to introduce a main character but, I’m a sucker for suspense and a super slow burn these days! Thank you for all the love :3

Warnings: None this time!

Chapter Two - What's That Playin’ on the Radio?

I huddled into myself, the cold definitely getting to me, unlike the way the weather affected — or didn’t affect — me in my dream. The fresh snow crunched beneath my feet as I kept on, and I began to feel stupid for acting so rashly. At the same time, I knew it was for the better. There was no better time than the present they said, and if I stayed at that godforsaken place after that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take myself seriously ever again. It was a fine line of empowered and guilty that I walked, but I knew I’d have to walk it nonetheless with the decision I made.

A of couple hours or so went by of wandering aimlessly up the road. I hadn’t realized how far apart things were in my little town without a car to take you there. It wasn’t snowing, but the sky looked as though it might open up with a flurry at any second. I was close to grabbing my phone and breaking down, apologizing to the woman who should’ve been apologizing to me instead when I caught sight of a large sign just beyond me.

“Carmody’s Car Carma,” I said to myself, cocking my head to one side.

I hadn’t noticed Carmody’s before, but as I came across it, I hoped they had a vending machine. My stomach growled; I hadn’t eaten all day, and with my nerves calming from the argument I had with my mother coupled with all the walking I’d done, I needed a snack and something to drink.

When I approached the sign, I turned down the tire-worn pathway right behind it, hoping that whoever owned the place would be kind enough to let me make use of whatever they had to offer.

The closer I got to what looked like a mechanics haven, a plethora of noises erupted from the building. The sound of a shrill kind of drill spinning relentlessly into a hunk of metal and a motorcycle being almost revved up and then cut over and over meshed together over a song on a static-filled radio I hadn’t heard before. I slowly made my way to the open garage door, finding it slightly amusing that they’d leave it open despite the freezing temperature. I guessed it was safer that way with the scents that wafted through the air.

A girl caught sight of me first, immediately setting down a spray can of red paint she had in her hand and picking up a towel, wiping both hands on it with a friendly grin as she walked up to me. She looked a little rough around the edges, her short brunette locks styled with bangs curled haphazardly around her face as though she’d been at work for a while, lost in the task at hand.

“Hey! You need some work done?” she asked.

“Oh.. No, I’m— I just need a vending machine or something. I’ve been.. on a walk, and I’m starved.”  The girl raised a brow, eyeing me for a moment. I’m sure I looked suspicious to some degree, but not enough for the way she carried herself then. She backed up, her stance becoming slightly defensive.

“Who sent you?”

Her voice was low and quiet, as though she was expecting my reasoning to be something grave.

Gee, I must really look insane.

“Nobody..” I began, confused about what she was thinking. “I can go, if you want,” I said then, turning to leave.

“Vic, who’s there?” I heard a male voice inquire next.

Almost immediately the girl's demeanor changed, as though she came to some kind of realization.

“Wait up,” she said to me, her voice softening. “We have a vending machine.. It doesn’t take money anymore, but I can just open it for you.”

She turned to the voice then as the man revealed himself in the garage’s entryway, holding a drill in one hand and wiping his forehead with a towel with the other. He also looked as though he’d been caught up in his work, his shirt slightly dirtied with oil and sweat on his brow.

“She just needs a vending machine,” Vic said, waving her hand for me to follow her into the shop.

He nodded his head and looked over at me with a warm grin.

“Welcome to Carmody’s Car Carma! We do the best work and have some of the best snacks in town. I’m Sir Lou Carmody, and the lady is Miss Victoria McQueen.”

He’d put on a British accent for the greeting before getting back to his work and I smiled— probably the first genuine smile I’d given in weeks.

“I’ll believe that when I taste it!” I called out jokingly as he headed back to his project. “But I’m {Y/N}, it’s nice to meet you both.”

“Call me Vic,” the girl responded then.

My hand was almost numb with the cold as I reached into my bag and grabbed my wallet. When I stepped behind Vic, she moved aside, slapping the side of the vending machine as though she were a salesman trying to push a car. The door popped right open, and she lifted her hand to stop me from offering her money.

“Your money’s no good here. No one’s used this thing in years, just don’t come complaining if you get sick,” she smiled.

Reluctantly, I slipped my wallet back into my purse and reached out for a bag of chips. Stale or not, chips never seemed to go completely bad, I thought.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be okay. My mother’s made worse.”

“Bad cook?”

“Bad everything,” I rolled my eyes.

“I get that. Coffee?” She asked then, turning around to a small counter and holding up a pot of what smelled like fresh coffee. The scent was hardly detectable through the scent of oil and fresh paint, but it was enough to get me to say yes. Besides, I’d need the pick-me-up if I was going to keep walking.

When she poured me a cup, I held it in my hands for a moment, letting it warm my skin. I looked around the space. It seemed they were doing well, cars and their parts scattered about everywhere. A red dirt bike in the corner looked like what she must’ve been painting before I arrived. It was then that my eyes landed on a small handwritten “help wanted” sign on a pole just above a telephone that looked like its wires had been cut.

I stayed quiet for a moment, wondering why they had a phone that wasn’t working; or better yet— was stopped from working. It was off-putting, but I supposed I had no room to judge, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosy, no matter how eerie something seemed.

“You’re looking for help?” I asked curiously, quickly ignoring the phone altogether.

The place was too close for comfort to my mother's house, but now that I was on my own, I was going to need some kind of income. They seemed like nice people, and I knew my way around a car thanks to a short lived boyfriend who helped his dad with his at-home projects a couple years back.

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s been just the two of us here for a while. My son’s starting to miss me,” she breathed a laugh, a nervous energy almost permeating from her.

“Well, I’m kind of looking for a job right now.. No pressure,” I chirped.

She looked me over, leaning back against the counter with her own paper cup of coffee.

“You know cars? Bikes? That kinda thing? Mostly, we need someone on the phone, too.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” I said, finally bringing my cup to my lips and sipping on the hot beverage, not bringing up the destroyed phone on the pole. “And I’ve had plenty of experience on the phone. I had to do everything for my mother, from making appointments to taxes.”

I exhaled with a quiet hum, grateful for the warm drink. It warmed me up almost immediately, like fire on ice, and I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. My day had been rough, but there was still hope. Either that, or the coffee was way too good.

After speaking to her for a while about my knowledge of mechanics, she left to speak to Lou privately. I kept my fingers crossed around my cup anxiously, hoping that maybe my day would turn around. I didn’t have a place to stay, but a job was half the battle. I could weather a few nights in the cold if it meant saving for an apartment. Or at least a long-stay motel room.

Spending the money I tucked away in the cedar chest on a room was tempting, but that was saved for a reason. I’d fallen on hard times, but unless they got harder, like Lou not agreeing to my employment, I could still save for the bigger picture. There was still hope for me. Silently, I prayed to whatever might be watching over me as I heard them murmuring to each other across the shop.

Waiting by the vending machine, I let myself relax just a bit and enjoy being out of the direct cold. The song on the radio was catchy, but had a solemn tone to it that reminded me of my life in every aspect. I listened to it, getting lost in the melody for a moment before hearing Vic walk up to me, jarring me out of my small trance.

“Welp, you’re in luck— welcome to the team!” She said, holding her hand out to me to shake it.

I gasped, jumping a bit in place as I took her hand in return, shaking it with an excitement I didn’t know I could still muster after everything earlier.

“Oh, thank you. You don’t know how much I need this right now. When do I start?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning, we open at nine, sharp. I’ll be around to help you out, show you the ropes— but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quick. Lou’s always here if you need anything after, though.”

The relief I felt was unbelievable. All I had to do was figure out where to stay. I guessed I could use some of the money in my wallet for a room somewhere— The question was where. By foot, everything was so far away, and my middle-of-nowhere town wouldn’t know what a taxi or bus was from a hole in the ground.

But at the same time, I was too glad to care for the moment, sipping from my cup and exhaling quietly. Half the battle was won. Now I needed to go in and win the war with a place to stay, and I’d be on my way to some kind of normalcy, whatever that might have felt like.

Vic led me over to the front of the shop then, and I opened my bag of chips, remembering how hungry I actually was as I lightly popped one into my mouth. The song playing into the air grew louder as we approached the radio. I smiled and gestured towards the little electronic device.

“I’ve never heard the song on the radio before— what’s it called?” I asked Vic curiously, swaying my head to the melody gently.

She stopped walking, turning around to face me with a furrowed brow, concern written all over her features as she spoke.

“The radio isn’t on…”

[isitreallyok]

Therapy, Medication, And Mental Help

I’m gonna level with y’all here. This post will likely not be quite as articulate as some of the other ones. It’s been a really rough morning, but I wanted to address this issue while it is still fresh in my mind. I have yet to ask for advice or feedback on a single one of my posts, but if anyone has any I’m definitely not opposed to receiving it on this one.

Uh oh. That doesn’t sound great. What’s going on?

I’m going to attempt to keep this as brief as possible, and it likely will still be quite lengthy, but I’m going to have to give a bit of context here as well. My current life situation has been radically altered in the last year. 2020 has thrown so many wrenches in my plans and Covid isn’t even the biggest of them. However, lets take this from the top.

When I was 9 years old my parents divorced. Not a huge deal. It happens to a lot of kids as sad as that is to say. I grew up with my mother, brother, and sister in a single parent household with a skewed picture of who my father was and didn’t want too much to do with him. Fast forward a few years, my dad moves to Idaho and remarries and has a wonderful relationship with my stepmother. I wasn’t able to visit too often, but it wasn’t horrible when I was able to make it out there. As much as I minimize the normalcy of being a child of divorce though it still had a horribly impact on my emotional well being and my mental health as a child. Many other kids throughout school came were content with their home life. They were able to enjoy being children and did not have to worry about the pressures of caring for their siblings started at a young age. I, on the other hand, was not content with where I was at in life and wanted desperately to change it.

My mother was incredibly supportive of us kids as best as she was able. She made sure that we had routine trips to the doctors, that we had what we needed in terms of food and shelter, and even got us therapy and psychiatric help. I was blessed to have that available to me as a child. Many children going through similar situations do not have access to that level of external help for a myriad of different reasons. However even though I had these things I still ran into trouble. As I was growing up my father discredited mental healthcare as a practice so I always had that rattling around in the back of my head. By the time I was 15, I decided to stop taking my bipolar and depression medications because I didn’t feel like they were helping me. This is honestly the biggest mistake I’ve made in my entire life. I continued to see my therapist, until I not longer had insurance at age 18, but I didn’t feel as if I was making any real strides there either because I had also adopted the mindset that nothing was working and therapy and caring for my mental health was a joke.

Wait. Isn’t this a place where you talk explicitly about your mental health and how to manage and cope with various aspects of it?

Why yes. Yes it is. I’ve been handling my manic depressive bipolar disorder unmedicated for the last 13 years. It has been absolute hell most days. A few years ago I hit rock bottom and realized that I needed help. The girl that I had been dating for a few years, was living with, and planned on proposing to cheated on me and I ended up moving back in with my parents because of the situation, I slept on a futon mattress on the floor for months before we ended up moving, and due to this my mental state deteriorated to the point of suicidal ideation with intent.

This is when I realized that I was wrong in my views on medication and therapy. I had been putting myself in a position where I was running people out of my life due to the fact that I was using my friends as free therapy and they drew a line and I had to respect it. There was only one problem with finally accepting that I needed to get help. That problem is that help is expensive. I had been uninsured for mental health since I was 18. I accepted the fact that I needed to get help, but the fact that I could afford it drove me even deeper into despair about my circumstances.

So what did you do? Did you get the help you needed? Clearly you didn’t give into your suicidal tendencies.

Well. Yes and no. I didn’t get the help I needed, but I managed to find a way to distract myself from the troubles of the real world. I poured myself into my job and decided that that was the time to go to college. I do understand the irony or going to college after complaining that therapy was too expensive. Believe me that is not lost on me. The difference is you can’t get student loans for learning how to take care of yourself.

Rather than allowing myself to begin working through the existing trauma in my life, I decided to put myself in a position to where I could start to try to live a “normal” life again. Whatever the hell that means. I had a routine, albeit a poor one, I was socializing, albeit minimally in my classes and typically only for group projects, and I was too distracted by other pressures to reminisce on how much I hated my life. I started taking steps that I felt like a therapist would tell me to and began working towards chasing a dream again. This felt different, but I don’t think I’d venture as far as to say it felt good. It was just a different kind of stress that I was piling on myself. I still felt like I needed help handling the day to day. Learning to cope with my bipolar unmedicated took years and the singular trauma of living with my family again meant that all the coping mechanisms I had worked to develop became even more difficult to manage and I had to once again learn different strategies to handle all the new challenges.

Instead of schooling and attempting normalcy on your own wouldn’t it have been easier to get help?

Easier? No. More beneficial? Absolutely. The hoops that one has to jump through even to get seen by a therapist nowadays is challenging enough and that doesn’t even include financial ramifications for those without health insurance that covers mental health, which most workplace insurance plans don’t. With that in mind, the benefits of getting the help that you need often are not able to outweigh the cost.

Realistically, even if I had been able to afford to get myself the care that I need I likely wouldn’t have. I have always been the type of person to do everything on my own until I have exhausted all of my options. This is not something I recommend. One of the biggest things that I want to learn to do is ask for help when I need it instead of asking after I am already at the end of my rope. Even as I’m typing this I am beyond frustrated and want nothing to do with with the stress I’m under from today and it took me hitting that point to finally open up about talking about it even though it was among the first topics I decided to address when I first started this blog. Asking for help at appropriate times is a topic all on it’s own so we’ll save that conversation for another day.

So I’m starting to see a bit of where you’re coming from, but what happened today?

So this part of the background info I plan to address more in depth in the future and will keep the context of this very brief. Remember how I said that my dad and I had a strained relationship even after he moved? Well that changed once I was about 20. We reconnected and for years spoke nearly every day and he became a close confidant and more of what most people with a healthy relationship with their father have. We disagreed on a lot of things, but we were able to understand each other. A few years ago my stepmother passed away. Even before she passed my dad was diagnosed with early stage dementia. He had been having memory issues and it felt like he was a completely different person. At the start of this year he moved back in with my family and that has been a challenge having my divorced parents living under the same room without the ability to properly communicate with each other.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up to both my mother and father bickering with each other about something related to Dad’s socks. Rather than handling it like adults they were both fighting like toddlers from what I could hear in my bedroom. This has become an increasingly common occurrence. One gets frustrated with the other, situation escalates, I feel pressured to step in and deescalate the situation, I typically end up frustrated and my mood is shot. Dad feels more comfortable talking and listening to me, Mom backs off because I get what needs to be done done, I wind up once again in the middle of a weird situation between my parents. I tolerate this because of the fact that I am able to assist in my father’s care in a way that is beneficial to his understand of what he needs and it eases the burden on other people that are trying to convey the same message with zero results. However over time this would wear anyone down and that point is where I finally reached this morning.

Rather than being able to calmly handle the situation with a level head I ended up snapping at all partied involved. I snapped at Dad for not wanting to do anything to mitigate the problems he complained of, I snapped at Mom for escalating the situation, I snapped at my sister who was just checking it see if I was okay, I ran the gambit of getting frustrated with people. Instead of handling the situation the way I normally would with patience and dignity, I mismanaged the situation and likely made it worse. 

This is where we get back to the topic at hand. I have finally managed to actually get myself on some half decent health insurance that has wonderful mental health coverage. This kicks in at the start of the year and I will be able to finally get some help with handling the fact that this entire situation has been traumatic and has left some serious scars. I’m excited but this also got me wondering about the part that I need help on.

My bipolar and resistance to most psychotropic medication had to come from somewhere, as it’s a disorder that is tied to genetics, and my mother is not bipolar. This tells me that my father, who exhibits clear symptoms of having bipolar depression, is where I got my proclivity for the development of this condition. That being said, with my father’s resistance towards getting psychiatric care, and being medicated to balance any chemical imbalances, puts me in a weird state for doing what is best for him and his care. Do I force this help on him? Do I accept that he’s not ready for it and sit idly by and continue to watch him deteriorate? With his dementia he’s less likely to be able to receive the care he desperately needs due to his inability to create a coherent thought in regards to what his needs are for the large scale rather than just being fine in that exact moment. So I truly am at a loss. This is the part where I ask for advice. If anyone who has read this far has any experience with dementia and psychiatric care I could really use some advice on how to best have these conversations with my dad. This has been one of the biggest hardships I have faced and I am getting to be at a proper loss for words in how to help the situation which as you can tell by the verbosity of this post is difficult to do.

You’re totally fine in not knowing how to handle this situation. This is a difficult situation to be in regardless of who you are. You’re doing well.

Thank you. All of that stuff is an absolute nightmare to handle and life has been absolute hell, but I hope that that helps you to understand where I’m coming from when I encourage you all to once again remember the three reminders! I know most days, including today, I need to remember them to so lets run through them together before we end things for today. You are so much stronger than you think, you are beautiful inside and out, and jinkies you are worth love, kindness, respect, admiration, and all those things you think you’re not worthy of. Lets turn today around together and kick some butt and take some names.

[maxrev]

Snapchat Shenanigans

For Virmire Week @spectrekaidanalenko​

Shepard and Kaidan overhear a convo between Ash and her youngest sister, Sarah. Shepard can't help but be curious and wants to know more. Kaidan is just the innocent bystander who gets roped into a challenge. 

Ashley grinned at the screen as she talked to her youngest sister, Sarah. A pang of loneliness and longing hit her so strongly, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She missed her mom and her sisters so damn much. Maybe after they caught Saren, the Normandy crew would get some leave and she could visit. Having had a big hand in helping raise her sisters after her dad died, she sometimes felt more like a mom to them rather than an older sister.

A call home after the fustercluck on Eden Prime was exactly what she'd needed to ground her to reality once again. Just for a few moments of normalcy and to chase away the pain of losing her entire squad. And the guilt. It wouldn’t last long and she knew it but damned if she wouldn’t ride the high for as long as she could, though. Sarah was the last one on to vid chat because they all knew they’d never get a chance to talk to Ashley otherwise.

Brought out of her reverie by the fond thought, she tuned into Sarah's conversation again. “How come you never send us Snapchats anymore? Are you too serious now, soldier girl?”

“Sarah...” Ashley sighed in annoyance. She tried to remember what it was like to be so young; she failed. “I just don’t have time for it anymore, okay? When I actually get a few minutes somewhere, I’ll play around with the app and send you something.”

Her little sister grinned wickedly, "I'll just bug you until you do!" Ashley groaned and Sarah added, "I want several. There are so many cool filters on it now! I’ll send you my favorites.”

Ashley couldn't keep from laughing, “Okay, okay, fine.”

Being silly had gotten them through the endless moves from colony to colony, the heartbreak and frustration of making and losing friends and beginning all over again, with their dad's deployments over the years. Sometimes, their mom had used Snapchat with them, first to bring some laughter into her daughter's lives and then as they began to leave the house, as a way to stay connected and have fun. It had become routine and those silly photos always showed up when Ash needed them most. Maybe Sarah needed them, too.

Thinking on the past, Ash didn’t realize Sarah was asking her something, a sly and calculating smile on her fresh, young face. oh no, this couldn't be good.

���Sooooo...you said you were serving on the Normandy with Commander Shepard, right?" At Ash's nod, she rushed on, words tumbling from her lips, "We all saw him on the news. He’s hot, Ash!"

"Shhhh!!! Sarah, stop!"

It was like she hadn't heard, “Do you get to talk to him a lot? Go on missions together and study strategies...side by side?” With every ounce of dramatics in her teenage voice, it echoed loudly from the vid. "Do you like him?” Before Ashely could even sputter a reply, Sarah added breathlessly, “Oh! And what about Major Alenko? We saw him too! I think you should go for one of them. They’re so...dreamy!” She gave a girlish sigh.

Despite being alone in her corner of the bay, Ashley felt her cheeks pinken and warm at Sarah’s assessment. A furtive glance to the left and behind her showed neither Wrex nor Garrus paying her any attention. She wasn’t entirely immune to either man's 'hot factor', as Sarah dubbed it, but it wasn't a path she wanted to head down.

“Sarah, you know damn well there’s no fraternization. They’re both my superiors and I wouldn’t do anything to mar dad’s memory or make the Williams name look worse. Dad fought for every posting, remember?”

The look of excitement ebbed from Sarah’s face and Ashley fought the pain of not being able to give her little sister a hug. Maybe she’d been too harsh but...Sarah wasn’t a child anymore. Bringing her omni-tool up, she tapped a few buttons and an image of her with a silly, squashed face came on the screen.

She sent it to Sarah. “Message incoming.”

A beep sounded over the airwaves and Sarah glanced down at her own omni tool. She grinned and laughed, looking up at Ashley with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Happy now?"

"Yes! Thank you. I'm going to show it to all my friends at school...oh, and mom and Abby and Lynn, too."

Wonderful. Just the kind of thing the world needed to see about the Normandy crew right now. "Sarah, I don't think it's a good idea to be showing anyone outside the family."

Sarah wasn't listening, typing fast and furious on her omni-tool.

"Show who what?"

Caught unawares, Ashley jumped and squeaked simultaneously. When she turned to see who it was, she wished the floor would open up and shoot her into space. Right now would be perfect, too.

Ashley saluted smartly. "Uh…nothing, sir. Just having a chat with my sister."

Sarah's awed voice floated towards them, "Commander Shepard…"

He grinned and waved at the screen, "One and the same. Who am I having the pleasure of speaking with?"

Ashley stared at him. He was engaged in a conversation with her sister. Oh no, this could not go well at all. For any of them. Sarah would talk his ear off first while also embarrassing Ashley, without even trying.

"You okay, Ash?"

She squeaked again. Good grief, she sounded like a damn mouse...hadn't seen the LT either. Double shit. She was a goner for sure. Might as well go pack her rucksack and be ready to disembark at the next stop.

"Just fine, LT. Didn't mean to take up so much time on my vid call. Sarah can...go on a bit." She'd completely forgotten he and Shepard were doing duty station inspections.

He chuckled, crossing his arms and relaxing with a tilt of his head at the screen. "So I see."

Ashley turned and heard Shepard ask, "Snapchat? What is it? Don't think I'm familiar with it and I have a lot of apps on my omni-tool."

Oh hell freaking no. This wasn't happening to her. Several thoughts ran through her head, vying for attention: Sarah could not show him Snapchat, couldn’t tell him he was hot, couldn’t ask him if he liked her sister and...wait, Shepard had apps on his 'tool? As the thoughts tumbled over and over, she realized something else…

Kaidan had snorted with amusement when Shepard mentioned he had lots of apps. Turning to look at him, she wondered just how well he knew their CO. Something else occurred to her. She gazed at Shepard in a new light. He was just as ordinary as the rest of them on this ship. Easy to forget when he seemed larger than life.

Loud enough to speak over her sister’s gushing voice, Ash said, “We really need to go, Sarah. We have inspections and we’ve taken up enough of Commander Shepard’s time.”

“Oh...yeah, sorry.” She looked crestfallen.

“We have?” Shepard turned those clear blue eyes on Ashley, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Wait...he was enjoying this? What about the inspections? Protocol? Or her soon to be embarrassment. Hadn’t happened yet but it was inevitable.

“Uh, well…” She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Shepard turned back to Sarah, “So tell me how this Snapchat works.” He played with his omni-tool. “Okay, it’s downloaded, now what do I do?”

Sarah launched into an explanation of what the app was, what it did, the different filters and how to take a picture. Shepard alternated looking at her face on the screen and his omni-tool, confusion written on his face.

“Hang on.” Typing on her own ‘tool, a ping soon came from Shepard’s. “Just to get an idea of what you’ll be doing.”

Standing next to Kaidan, Ash felt paralyzed, hoping Sarah hadn’t sent him something ridiculous...or incriminating. Glancing at her CO, she was surprised to see his shoulders shaking. Oh no. Her eyes connected with Sarah’s in the vid, laughter in their depths. She had a sudden sneaking suspicion.

“Hey, LT, come take a look at this will you? I don’t think the message came through correctly.” He was clearly struggling to speak.

Kaidan stepped up next to him, looking at the ‘tool. He smiled wide, giving Ash a side-eyed glance. Shit. She was going to jail for killing her little sister. All the sacrifices she’d made in the name of her career, only to be taken out by a teenager.

The LT called her over. “Ash, can you come here? I think we need another opinion.”

Dreading every step she made closer to the two of them, she approached warily. Shepard thrust his ‘tool closer so she could see what they were looking at. It was the photo she’d just sent Sarah right before they’d walked up. In the snap, she had a squashed face and bowl type haircut.

Yep, going to be taken in for murder. Looking up at the screen, she saw Sarah looking back at her, childish glee in her eyes, a smile playing about her lips. All the annoyance drained out of her. How could she be mad at her baby sister? Turning thoughtful, she had an idea. There was another way to play this.

She smiled. Crossing her arms and leaning back on one leg, she gazed at Shepard and said, a challenge in her tone, “Yep, that’s me, playing with Snapchat. Bet you can’t do any better than that.”

Hearing Kaidan choke on a laugh, she knew she was on to something. Shepard stood up straight the look on his face enough for her to know he was going to take the challenge.

He affirmed her assessment, “You’re on.”

The next thing Ashley knew, all three of them were in a Snapchat war. From behind them, she could hear Sarah struggling to suck in air between wheezing. When she could speak, it was to egg them on. Before long, all of them were giggling like idiots, tears rolling down their faces, doubled over in laughter. They couldn’t continue, unable to even hold their ‘tools up to take photos anymore.

When they could finally breathe, they looked up. The looks on Garrus' and Wrex's faces had them falling into fits of laughter all over again. One by one, they slid to the floor, piling against each other in a tangle of limbs, trying desperately to come back to some sense of normal.

Sarah’s voice ghosted over their heads, “Hey! Where’d you all go? Are you still there?”

Shepard spoke up, “Still here Sarah. We just...needed a break.”

Ashley stood up, smiling fondly at her little sis, still wiping tears from her eyes. “Time to go, sis. I’ve got work to do. Enough play time.”

A pout formed on her lips, “But...I want to see the snaps. I was so excited.”

Feeling the LT and her CO stand up behind her, Ashley started to say something but Shepard beat her to it. “We’ll look through them and see which ones actually turned out. I think all of us were having trouble between the laughter. Okay, Sarah?”

If her face lit up anymore, Ashley figured she could light the colony. “Yeah, that’d be great!” Then she smiled shyly, “I could...uh...send you all some of mine, if you want.”

“That would be really great, Sarah,” smiled Kaidan over Ash’s shoulder. “We better let you go now. Thanks for the fun.”

She nodded and cut the feed. This call was going to cost Ash big, she knew it. She just wasn’t sure how much, beyond the credits she'd have to pay for going over her time limit.

Turning, she regarded the two men with a suddenly serious face. “I can’t thank you both enough for making my little sister’s day. I just want you to know, I didn’t plan this and I’m sorry things got out of hand.”

Their smiles died quickly, replaced by confusion. They looked at each other, then back at her. “Ashley, we enjoyed this as much as you. We all need to let loose and laugh. Don’t worry about the length of the call and you certainly aren’t in trouble. In fact,” Shepard added, “next time you plan on calling Sarah, let me know. I always need new apps.”

Relief surged through her and she let out a deep sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll do so. Just remember, she really loves to talk. And loves her apps. You might get more than you bargained for.”

Kaidan groaned, shaking his head. “Which means I’ll be busy fixing his omni-tool and cleaning it up as per usual.”

Feeling more like she fit in than ever, Ashley grinned. He probably would be. She’d seen first hand their CO wasn’t very tech savvy. The one area she’s seen him fall short in.

“Well, we’d better get back to it. Keep up the good work here. Your station is clean, organized and the weapons are working better than ever.” Shepard clapped her on the shoulder and he and Kaidan turned to leave. How he even noticed with all that transpired, Ashley didn't know.

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” she called after them.

His lips twitched with humor at the nickname. Ash knew she was going to enjoy this posting after all.

[bapydemonprincess]

Can you tell us more about reaper ambrose? (I am sorry if the question isn't specific I am bad with asking questions)

AWW YOU!! QwQ Thank you so much for asking! 💖💖💖💖 I love my poor tragic boy!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of a character committing suicide.

I got very very curious early on about Ambrose getting so desperate to get supernatural powers he’d try becoming a reaper. I held off for a long time due to my focus being on I guess.. “canon Ambrose” getting a demon of his own as a boyfriend eventually! And I do love love LOVE those two SO much!! 🖤🖤🖤 But my mind still kept wandering back to this concept, and I just didn’t know HOW it would happen... I can’t remember when or what triggered the idea, but mainly I knew the biggest issue Ambrose had to prevent him from trying THIS out was his mother being capable of uncovering what the fuck he was doing the second he’d dare anything... So he’d need something to keep Sebastian from REACHING him.

Once he was full on in the mindset, and determined to get this done, Ambrose came across a nearby town... where a very old church was. Every day he’d come around, hovering, seeing the times it was in service, seeing how many went to it, and when they all left...

Finally, in a very quiet part of the night, sometime past 3, Ambrose slipped into that church himself, along with what he knew would be the best way. Fast, if done right. And Ambrose had certainly studied for a while on how to do everything right. 

He even set some wards down too around the area. Much less obvious than the church itself such a salt, and sage and thyme plants. As well as a few drawn runes he knew to be useful and real, from some tomes he’d been given by his dear aunt Hannah.

He then set up a chair, and started tackling the rope he would be using.

He knew there were many possibilities of this failing, as he assumed such tactics always had a 50% chance of going wrong, at least. But... he had to try. This was his only chance.

As he tightened the rope firmly around his neck, Ambrose took his last deep breaths, before stepping off the chair and letting gravity do its job.

It indeed worked fast. Faster than even he would expect from such a tactic. But as he lost the ability to properly breathe, felt everything go black, and nothingness embrace him just like when one suddenly falls asleep, his last thought was likely a muddy brief comment like “finally.”

Of course, this lead to a strange scene the next morning, of a man in a black suit pacing and hovering around the church, looking increasingly disgruntled. No one had ever seen this man around here before...

The priest came out, to address him.

“May I help you sir?”

“Yes, I know this may seem out of the blue, but please.. check your attic.” The man seemed to stand tense and yet vibrating with some held back emotion, deep chocolate eyes looking watery as well. His chest rose and fell frantically.

The priest, of course, stood there a few seconds, confused. But having a feeling deep down that this was not a matter to be taken lightly.

“Alright, I’ll go see. Please wait here.” The man responded finally, hand held up, as if instinctively trying to sooth though he had no idea why. Not yet.

Within the next half hour, the small town old church became a very riotous location, as a young man was found, having hung himself in the church attic, and surrounded for some reason by salt and plants. The body was brought down, and the people inside went into an uproar, but the priest did not stop to put the poor young man’s body somewhere inside, he dutifully and almost mechanically walked back out, coming back out to the man in the black suit, who automatically erupted with sobs and shot forward to take up the boy’s body.

The priest then noticed another new person nearby. A man who distinctly looked Eastern Indian, and clearly had a connection with the other man. He rushed forward as well, to embrace the other, tears also already streaming down his face.

Despite their emotional state, the taller man looked to the priest, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he choked out, “thank you for finding him.”

The priest then automatically offered them help in getting him to a hospital, but they denied, trying to get away from the scene as fast as possible. The priest was left with many confused, concerned and hysterical church goers, and could only stand there, briefly pray that the couple got through their grief safely, and tried to go back to his audience to calm everyone.

Over the next weeks the Michaelis family was quite hysterical, specifically Sebastian and Aarushi themselves, becoming unstable and trying to find some way to get Ambrose back. Sebastian, of course, being so stubborn and well.. block headed that he tried going to the reaper realm himself.

Of course this lead to Miss Grelle Sutcliff rescuing his dumb ass from getting skewered by death scythes.

But the bleak madness didn’t end there. Sebastian resorted to requesting Hannah, the powerful matriarch demoness and Grelle herself to doing whatever they could to get in contact with Ambrose, to find SOME way, even if he was now permanently a reaper, to get him back home.

Hannah... refused. She tried calmly explaining to Sebastian that it was out of everyone’s hands, including hers. If Ambrose chose this, then it was up to him on what he did next. He was a full grown adult now technically after all.

And as much as Grelle did seem level headed too about this, deep down she was in fact rather upset, and that feeling came out over the next few days as the reaper went to work herself and really got to see how things were on that side.

Ambrose was being handled like any other new recruit. At least it seemed like it. However, as many many reapers now knew of the famous demon from England Sebastian Michaelis, and somehow word had gotten out at some point that this was his son, the level of normalcy handling this particular new recruit was quickly lowered to vague stink eyes and thin lips, others keeping their distance as if this young man would lash out.

And of course, the older reapers like Mr. Spears were not really helping, considering he certainly had no soft spot for that demon nor any offspring of his.

Eventually, with Ronald Knox’s help, Grelle managed to get a moment alone with the familiar gloomy boy.

They had never been as close as Ambrose had been to Grelle’s wife; “Aunt Hannah”. But as Ambrose grew up, his maturity showed as he had learned to show her respect, seeming to.. understand where she came from with her own mental issues and suffering. Not to mention on occasion the two had gotten into fun little battles. Chainsaw vs rapier. It helped the youth get out the extra bit of aggression and anger he’d had no where else to put.

But this little reunion only ended up being a shouting match, as well as almost getting a bit too physical as Grelle found herself grabbing the boy by his crisp new white shirt lapels and asking him basically if he knew “how much he’d just screwed himself over.” And also “how dare he do this to his family, his older sibling precious Aarushi, his poor sweet dad Agni, and his long suffering mother Sebastian!”

This only ended with Ambrose locking up, face going neutral, newly emerald eyes going dull.

He wouldn’t take this, even if it was from his “Aunt”.

....

Time goes by. I really am not sure what kind of scythe to give Ambrose eventually, I feel that will be like the LAST thing I figure out as its one of the most difficult orz;;; As well as, on a lesser scale, his glasses. But I assume they’d just be basic black rectangle ones. A bit on the thin side.

And then eventually he gets picked on for his long-- and now getting messy from not being taken care of --white hair. Some are horrible insults, some warnings that are pretty valid about going out and reaping souls and making sure his hair isn’t in the way.

Eventually Ambrose resigns to wearing it up in a basic hair band. Nothing really special. He just.. doesn’t care.

He hasn’t been getting sleep. Which reapers apparently still need, and yet some tell him its pretty normal. Eventually he’ll learn to adapt. But for now, there are dark bags under his eyes...seeming permanently situated.

Finally, after what seems like a full year of this reaper business, Ambrose has another visitor.

His mind whirs with who. A human he knows like his dad somehow coming over? HE BETTER NOT BE A REAPER TOO. Or... or mum... No, he knows mum already tried. He KNOWS mum would fail every time, either by getting skewered by scythes or dragged away by someone who cares about the demon actually living.

It turns out to be Hannah.

And Ambrose... doesn’t know what to think. The first possible thing is.. is... HOW?? But then he remembers: VERY POWERFUL OLD MATRIARCH DEMON, so maybe it isn’t so strange for certain highly ranked demons to contact grim reapers???

But now the familiar voice of his aunt his speaking, addressing him in that quiet, deep voice he hasn’t heard in Gods know how long...

And the surge of emotional turmoil finally rears its ugly head, after so long being docile. He wants to break down sobbing. But there is a part of him fighting frantically to keep a serious, empty face on.

But then he sees. He finally notices...

Hannah Annafellows is crying.

Tears stream down her dark skin while she still smiles welcomingly to him. But her lips are trembling, and now he notices her hands in front of her, clasped together, are shaking as well. She is still in control, but also letting her sorrow and happiness show.

"I didn't think it was as terrible as Grelle made it out to be, and yet..." She chokes out, and then bites back from saying any more for a moment.

Ambrose wonders if.. she means the situation in general.. or his appearance, or...

“You.. You are so burdened with sadness. So much heavy sadness it covers you like a casing. And you are clearly torn up. And... and... oh, my little corvus...” She gets out, and her head slowly shakes a bit.

And now Ambrose is shattering. Why.. why does she have to explain? Why does she have to--

“You are trying...even now.. to hold on. I know this. But... you feel... deep down as if you’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Hannah’s voice went rapidly to a whisper at this. A fast, frantic whisper. As if she only had so much time now to get this out.

“And indeed, it is something irreversible, Ambrose. No power on Earth, nor any other realm can truly reverse death. Many have tried. For millions of years many have tried to. And keep trying to. I know this.”

Ambrose’s mouth started to part, but his aunt continued.

“But it was not a mistake you have made, Ambrose.... It will never be a mistake.”

The boy’s eyes widened, as Hannah shook her head again, and still smiled.

“It was simply an action you felt you needed to take at the time.... That is all. It was human nature. It always has been. And never a mistake. Not by someone like you, little one. Never someone like--”

“S-STOP IT! STOP IT HANNAH!” The boy suddenly screams. Then, quieter, with a cracked tone. “Stop... please.. stop.”

And now he’s just standing there, wiping tears and snot from his face after taking off his glasses, on the back of his jacket sleeve.

Hannah quietly steps closer then. Closer, and closer, as the boy hunches in...

And finally encircles him in her arms.

Hannah continues weeping too. They both do. While she practically tries to hold him as close as she can, without full on scooping him up like a babe once more. She rocks though. Rocking them both in place while she speaks soothing things now in demon. Her voice slower, and calmer. And her tone gentle and musical with the language of Hell that Ambrose knows himself so well...

He grew up with this. Many times he had to be soothed by songs and gentle words. Not only by Hannah, but...

Another sob wracks the boy.

He misses Mum. He misses mum. He can’t see mum. He CAN’T. But he misses mum...

He’s mumbling this outloud, brokenly.

....

Eventually things do calm. Eventually they can sit and talk lightly a bit.

And eventually Hannah also decided to grab a brush from thin air and brush the boy’s unruly long hair....

It’s a bit out of the blue... but it is another soothing act.

And when Hannah seems satisfied, instead of letting the boy return the simple hair band to it, she produces a pure black ribbon from thin air, and ties up his hair in that. 

I got the idea for that with this picrew letting me put Ambrose’s hair in a ponytail with a black bow.

.........

Sooooo that’s mostly all I have for now on Reaper Ambrose!!! I.. feel bad about all the angst, I really do, but I love exploring this different take all the same! I hope you liked it too, dear!! 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you again for the ask!!! >w<

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Four | Circus ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Orochimaru ] [ Verse: Fabulous Freaks ]

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Humans have, for uncounted years, enjoyed making spectacles of things strange, obscure, frightening. To gawk at what is different is to take comfort in one’s normalcy.

But few ever think of what it must mean to be different.

“Over here! Hurry up!”

Panting in panic, a young boy is wrestled forward, the canvas sack over his head barring breath and vision alike. Rough, chafing rope holds his wrists behind his back, a hand dragging him forward by an upper arm.

He has no idea where he is, or why...or who has brought him here. Around him, a cacophony of noises only make him all the more confused, a plethora of conflicting smells burning his nose. Smoke, food, dung, perfume.

...where is he?!

Why?!

Then something changes. A door is heard to open, he struggles up several stairs, and then it closes behind him. Everything cuts off. The noise, the smell...the abrupt change makes him stagger.

“...take it off. Let’s see what we used all this effort on.”

The canvas is whipped from his head, and the boy flinches, stumbling back a step. He’s...in some kind of wagon. Cluttered with photographs, props, and other paraphernalia he can’t begin to recognize. And before him, sitting on an elevated chair with one leg atop a knee, is a person.

He...can’t tell if they’re a man or a woman. Porcelain-pale skin is made all the more striking by dark eye makeup, the person in question looking down at him appraisingly.

Like a steer for slaughter.

“Ooh...he really is ugly, isn’t he?” The stranger gives a venomous chuckle. “No wonder he was abandoned. Who could stand to look at a face like that…?”

Taken aback at the sudden cruelty, the boy flinches. He wasn’t abandoned…! His grandmother, the last of his known family, had died a few months ago, leaving him alone. He’d taken to the streets, but...they were cruel to all, let alone someone so...so…

“What is your name, boy? Do you even have one?”

Glowering half-heartedly, he hesitates for a long moment. “O...Obito.”

“Obito...well, welcome to your new home, Obito.” The stranger gestures outward with both outstretched arms. “A humble traveling circus. Fitting for someone like you, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t my home! You kidnapped me!”

“Mm...yes, yes I did. But tell me, boy...what do you have to go back to? Look at you.” Taking up a cane, they prod at his ribs. “Thin as a rail, dirty, sickly...you’ll simply wither away if you stay out in the gutters. Why not stay here, with others displaced like yourself…?”

Obito steps back from their touch, still glaring. He knows this...person has a point. He’s been eating garbage and refuse, avoiding the cruel looks of strangers. Nothing but a miserable, fading existence. But...a circus…? “...w-what do you want with me?”

“To put you on display! To take what makes you odd...and let it turn you into a star. I have many oddities just like you. People who are different. That amaze, frighten, or confuse onlookers. People come from miles around to see our little family of freaks. All you need to do is stand and be gawked at. Do that, and I can guarantee you meals, a cot to sleep in, and a place to call home. More than fair, don’t you think…?”

Obito’s nose wrinkles. “...I already get stared at…”

“But you get none of the perks, do you? Why let yourself wither away, embittered and alone, when you could thrive, knowing that this hideous face is no longer reviled, but revered! It’s so simple, Obito…” The cane lifts, catching his chin and forcing him to meet the gaze of his captor. “...so just say yes. Or...I can dump you back in the gutter. It’s your choice. So make the right one, hm…?”

Chin trembling, Obito tries to logic his way out of this...but in truth, he knows he should agree. He has nothing left. Nothing. Would it really be that bad? To trade his pride for a chance at living? “...f-fine.”

Lips curl into a cruel smile. “Perfect…! Take him to the others, let him...settle in. We’ll introduce him to his new life in the morning.”

The same brute who dragged him takes out a knife, earning a flinch. But he only cuts the rope, letting blood and feeling flow back into the boy’s hands. Wringing them gingerly, Obito realizes he has little else to do but follow.

Now unblinkered, he takes in his surroundings once they leave the wagon. They’re behind the tents and attractions, animals sulking in cages and people milling about. Clowns, acrobats, beast tamers...all looking far less bright and animated than they do when the spotlights are on.

“This way. No lollygaggin’.”

Flinching, Obito follows the man into a tent.

Within, several cots are already strung up and occupied. They all look like adults. “Toward the back is an empty one. Go get some shuteye, you’ve got work to do in the morning.”

Stepping aside and eyeing him warily, Obito does as suggested and heads toward the rear of the tent...which goes dark as the flap falls behind the exiting troupe member.

He freezes, trying to let his eyes adjust.

“Pssst! Over here!”

Startling, he sees a light bloom ahead: dim, but visible. Like a moth to a flame, Obito hurries toward it, stumbling over things on the ground before reaching the very back of the tent.

Atop one of the cots is a person draped with a thin blanket, hiding their visage as it drapes low over their face. A pale, dainty hand holds aloft a candle. “That one there is empty. Just across.”

About-facing, Obito finds the empty hammock behind him before turning back to the other figure. It’s rather small...maybe someone close to his age? The voice is also diminutive, quiet and soft. Obito assumes it belongs to a girl. “W...who are you?”

“...just another one of the freaks,” she replies. “You must be new…”

He hesitates. “...yeah. I’m Obito.”

“...Ryū.” Slightly, her head tilts up, and though the shadows are deep beneath the blanket, the light nonetheless catches a pair of silver eyes. They flicker, and Obito can tell she’s studying his face.

Ashamed, he glances aside, hiding the deformed skin that stretches from brow to chin, ear to nose.

“...you don’t have to hide, you know.”

“...everyone stares…”

“But here, to be weird is to be normal. We all have something different about us. So when you put us all together...it’s really not so weird anymore.” Lifting her free hand, she pulls back the blanket.

Obito stares.

Like some kind of ghost, her entire form is colorless. Snow-pale skin, grey eyes, and every hair he can see completely white. “...they call me Specter when I’m performing. Kinda obvious why, huh?”

“But...you don’t look weird,” Obito protests, forgetting to hide his face. “You’re so pretty!”

She tenses, clearly taken aback before she brings the blanket back over her head. But he still sees the rosy blush in her cheeks. “...I’ve never seen anyone else who looked like me...except my mama. When she died...I got taken here. I’ve been here since I was four.”

“Four…?” He wilts - at thirteen now, it’s quite the difference. “...my gran took me in when I was a baby. My parents died when our house burned...everyone thought I would die from my wounds. But I didn’t. Now I just...look like this.”

Ryū’s gaze lifts. “...they’re scars…?”

“Along my whole side down to my thigh,” he replies bitterly. “Everyone else called me a freak...but Gran loved me all the same. When she...w-when she died, I had nowhere else to go…”

“And that’s when Orochimaru found you.”

“Who?”

“The ringmaster. They take in anyone they think will get more people to come to their circus.” It’s Ryū’s turn to sound bitter. “They tell us we’re a family, but...it’s all a lie. No one is happy here. We’re just ways for them to make money…”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“Where can I go? I’ve been here almost my whole life, I know nothing else. The only talent I have are the dances I had to learn...what use is that to anyone? And none of us get to make any money...we have nothing. It all belongs to the ringmaster. Including us.”

Not having an answer, Obito chews the scar along his lip in thought. “...someday, we’ll leave. When we’re grown! We’ll figure something out, right?”

Her gaze falls. “...someday.”

The pair fall into a somber silence, the wax of the candle starting to wane. But before it dies, Ryū lifts a hand. “...may I…?”

Looking back up, Obito hesitates...but then steps a little closer to her cot.

Gently, she lets a few fingertips trace along the ridges of the scars. They even extend up into his hairline, leaving him with lopsided locks.

Her dainty touches make the skin tingle, and Obito has to repress a shiver. “...ugly, aren’t they?”

“...no. They’re strong,” is her rebuke. “...they show that you lived.”

He has no retort for that. “...I-I should...try to sleep.”

Letting her hand retreat, Ryū offers, “Just do as you’re told, and you won’t have any trouble. And if you need any help, just ask me, okay?”

“...okay.” He moves to the empty cot, kicking off his shoes and struggling to lie down without being tossed back out.

Only once he goes still does Ryū extinguish her candle.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the waning circus evening keep him awake. So many unknowns, so much to fear. But...he has a dry place to sleep. Something over his head. Food to eat.

And...maybe a friend.

He can handle this...for now. But someday, he’ll escape. And he’ll take Ryū with him. He doesn’t know how they’ll do it, but...they will.

Someday.

The next morning, the same man that dragged him here wakes them at the crack of dawn. And Obito sees the others who occupy the tent: the rest of the malformed. A set of conjoined twin boys, another with extra limbs, a woman with a bearded face, and a man with just one eye in the center of his head are just a few of the people subjected to scrutiny.

Along with the rest of the troupe, there’s a hurried breakfast before they help in carrying out the preparatory tasks of upkeep. Cleaning up garbage, setting up props and tents, hauling in supplies from the train...whatever it takes to be ready for another wave of guests.

Once that’s done...it’s time for their real work to begin.

Led to a long, narrow tent, Obito balks at the sight of cages. And like trained dogs, every one of the so-called freaks takes their place within one.

“The hell are you waiting for? Get into place!”

Obito feels a push at his back, nearly stumbling as he’s forced toward a small, empty crate. Once inside, the door is shut...but not locked.

“Remember...look alive, ladies and gents! Don’t leave the guests disappointed.”

...and so it goes.

For hours and hours, people parade through the tent, gawking and pointing at the unfortunates within. Small children hide behind their parents, whose noses wrinkle in disgust. On and on and on it goes.

And then the worst possible happenstance comes to pass.

Shuffling past his cage, a pair of young people stop. Obito, despondent, looks up as he hears his name uttered in question.

...he knows these two.

Staring at him in horror, a boy and a girl meet his eyes, full of questions they can’t bring themselves to ask. For a long moment, the trio stare at one another...before the boy beyond the bars urges his feminine companion away, the pair of them whispering to each other before fading out of sight.

He’s never felt so humiliated.

Only once the daylight starts fading is the tent closed, and the cast freed to have their evening meal. Legs sore from being so confined, Obito winces and hobbles behind the rest of them.

Only Ryū waits for him.

“...I heard two people say your name,” she murmurs softly, noting his look of shame. “Did someone recognize you…?”

“...yeah,” he replies, tone warbling. “Now everyone will know.”

“...we’ll change cities, soon. I’m sorry, Obito.” She offers a hand, gently leading him back to where they’re fed.

But her day isn’t yet done.

“You...perform?”

“Mhm. I tightrope walk,” Ryū confirms. She’s changed into a white leotard and leggings, hair bound up tight behind her head.

“Can I see…?”

“You can stay by the back entrance - I think you can see from there. Just don’t let anyone spot you, okay?”

“Okay…!”

Tucking behind a barrel, Obito peers out as Ryū’s act is announced: Specter, the ghost of the circus who defies gravity itself. Up a ladder she climbs to a rope tied between two of the main poles of the largest tent. Barefoot, she makes her way out, balance maintained as she walks, flips, and seems to dance. With each stunt, the crowd gasps as the rope sways.

...there’s no net, should she fall.

Obito watches with bated breath, both fearful she’ll stumble, and yet entranced as she remains upright. But when the act is done and the applause sounds out, she’s still safe.

He sighs at last.

“That was amazing…!”

Giving him a glance from her cot that night, she ducks her head with a demure smile. “...thanks.”

“Does everybody do more than sit in the cages?”

“Some do, but not everyone.” Ryū considers him. “...do you have any special talents you could do?”

That makes him hesitate. “...I dunno.”

“If you find one, maybe you can get an act. If you do, you get out early to prepare.”

Well, that’s all the convincing he needs! Any less time he has to spend in that tent, the better. So when no one is looking, he starts practicing with throwing knives.

It takes time - they change cities more than once before he’s any good at it, and several more before he’s confident. Presenting his new talent to the ringmaster, he’s given a secondary slot to perform.

...and so it goes. Days blend into weeks, to months, and then to years. All across the land they travel, the circus torn down and put up again and again as the train takes them back and forth.

Soon enough, Obito is no longer a boy. After years of lugging supplies and pitching tents, he’s gotten far bulkier than his scrawny childhood self. Easily able to pack just about anything, he performs feats of strength for onlookers, including smashing a bell with a weight propelled by a hammer strike.

It earns him the stage name the Burned Beast.

And all the while, Ryū keeps up her acts. She too blossoms, growing into a young woman and becoming one of the most popular acts of the circus. Posters bear her face, and she’s often toted around on Obito’s shoulder to gain more attention before her act every night.

But it’s not just her talents she’s lauded for. While her ghostly appearance puts off some, it brings in others.

Needless to say...most back down when Obito looms up behind her, glowering them all back like mice before a hawk.

While he’s made a friend or two beyond Specter, the pair remain closest with one another. Ryū tends to any injuries he gets, gently keeping him in tip-top shape. And Obito serves almost as a guard whenever necessary.

And neither of them have forgotten their wish to someday escape.

They often speak of it long into the night, ruminating and reminiscing: discussing what they’ll do once they’re free.

The only question is how to do it.

Staring out at the darkening horizon one night, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems like it’s going to rain tonight.”

“Really?” Ryū joins him at the mouth of the barrack tent, pinning up her hair as she glances out. “...well, it should be fine. We’ll be inside for the rest of the night.”

As she retreats, Obito keeps up his vigil. Something doesn’t feel right.

...but they have a show to put on.

Over the years, Ryū’s act has grown and evolved. Nowadays, she’s packed in on Obito’s shoulder, waving to the crowd until he throws her straight up to cling to a pair of hanging ropes. Twists and turns see her travel up and down the lengths until she finds her way to the tightrope.

And at Obito’s insistence, he remains below, ready to catch her should she fall. For a time, everything goes as per usual. Ryū wows the crowd with her stunts and agility.

But as the act switches to its second phase, the wind begins to pick up, rain pelting the canvas of the tent. And in the air, thunder rumbles.

It’s not just rain...it’s a thunderstorm.

Watching Ryū, Obito spares glances to the entrances. The weather is blowing in, causing those on the ends of the stands to huddle inward. Light flashes as bolts fling across the sky.

...this isn’t good.

And then, with a mighty clap, a streak of lightning hits the top of the tent...and flames begin to spread in spite of the rain.

Panic.

Circus people and guests alike scatter, scrambling for exits as the fire eats at the structure.

“Ryū!”

Huddled atop her rope, Ryū looks down to Obito and his open arms. “I-I -!”

“Jump!”

Steeling herself, she does just that, landing in his grip with a grunt.

He runs.

Like tinder, the rest of the circus is going up in flames. Canvas is quick to catch from flying sparks. Wagons erupt into fireballs. Cages are opened to let animals free, people fleeing into the rain.

“Obito!”

Still carrying her, he ignores her calls. Into the barrack tent he barrels. “Grab your things!”

“But -?”

“This is it! Our chance to run!”

Panic pales and pinches her face. “Where?!”

“Anywhere! We can’t stay here, it’s all -!”

With a crash, a flaming beam collapses atop the tent only feet from them, tongues of fire reaching eagerly for anything and everything it can reach...and blocking the way out.

“Run!”

Hauling her bag of meager possessions as Obito does the same, Ryū follows as he slashes the rear panel of canvas with a knife he’s kept hidden away from his act. Neither of them look back, fleeing toward the tracks where the engine - trying to avoid the spreading flames - begins to move.

“Get on!” Tossing his bag, Obito turns to Ryū, picking her up and setting her within the car.

“Obito!” She reaches a hand, hauling him up as he lands halfway onboard. As the locomotive begins to pick up speed, they watch the flaming carcass of the circus fade into the darkening distance.

...shocked silence falls over them both.

They aren’t the only ones who ran. Several others huddle in this car, and the rest are just as occupied.

No one finds the ringmaster.

Claiming a corner, the pair of them hunker down, clinging to their bags and trying to wrap their heads around the devastation.

“...it’s really over...isn’t it?”

Obito gives her a glance. She seems far more upset than he expected. “...yeah. It is.”

Clearly frightened, she leans into him, Obito not hesitating to wrap protective arms around her frame. “...I-I can’t believe it…”

“...we’re free.”

She looks up, expression slowly slackening to wonder. “...we’re free…”

“No more cages. No more ringmaster. Nothing. We can go our own way, now. Just like we planned, for so long…!” Carefully, he takes her face in his hands. “...no more Specter. No more Burned Beast. Just Ryū, and Obito.”

She softens, bringing a hand up to rest along his wrist. “...together.”

Eyes flickering over her face, Obito lets himself smile...and then do something he’s wanted to do for quite some time now. Lowering his own, he slowly - hesitantly - brings his lips to hers.

There’s a moment where she stiffens...but then she goes lax in his hold. It’s a slow, chaste, somber thing...but when they pull apart, they reconverge into a warm, comforting hold.

There’s no telling where they’ll end up now, with their pasts now up in cinders. But wherever it will be, they’ll be there together.

     So this is uh...very angsty x’D I don’t think it’s at all what Meg prolly pictured but it’s immediately what came to mind for me kjhdjfgdg      Circuses are, in some ways, not very great places. They’ve improved over time of course, but many still abuse animals, and even people still. Oro is our ringmaster as their actions in Oto could be seen as something similar: gathering up people who don’t fit in to “profit” off of them. So while they can be fun, my mind immediately went to the darker side of them mostly because of Phantom of the Opera but shhh.      ANYWAY, I could’ve fleshed this out more but I’m on a bit of a schedule ahaha~ So parts might seem a little rushed, but I tried ;w; That said I really enjoyed writing this one. Angst isn’t ALWAYS my cup of tea, but when I have a craving for it, it’s lots of fun x3      Thanks for reading!

[heeres-suffering]

Be More Alluring: a Personality Swap AU

[pic description and source will be at the bottom of this post, under the read more]

Start of summary:

“You need to be more alluring.”

"... don’t you mean attractive?”

“I do not. Your attractiveness is adequate, Brooke; if you want to mask your apparently latent queerness, you have to make them want you straight. Isn’t that why your step-father defended you?” 

Brooke Lohst is a loser.

But you know what? That was okay.

She always knew she was a weird one. The intensity of her affection for puppies, picture books, and near-constant daydreaming has lasted well-past a normalcy she can’t seem to grasp; when coupled with her inability to befriend anyone (besides the similarly self-identified loser Michael Mell), it’s not a surprise the rest of her peers have left her behind.

However, there were... ah, worse things in her life to worry about then some mild bullying. She liked her passion well enough, and all of her true insecurities went largely unnoticed, so any insults or weird looks rarely lingered in her mind. It’s not like she was a constant target either, which helped a lot. All in all, she just planned to hunker down, wait out the awkwardness of High School like everyone else, and move on to the rest of her life... 

Except.

When Brooke develops a crush on a girl she’s never talked to, after years of avoiding fairy tale romance and trying not to think about the inevitability of marriage (or how finicky her attraction to boys is in the first place), it feels like her whole world is about to cave in. She’d do anything to make sure her parents, especially daddy, never find out... including buying an edible super computer from the loudest, tiniest guy in school.

End of summary.

Alright!

Hi, hello, it’s Mod Seb, and here’s an AU I’ve been rolling around for a few days! You are free to do with this concept whatever you want, but I wanted to introduce it with a good chunk of the info I’ve already worked out in my head.

So. As the CWs are... too numerous, I’m going to go with a blanket “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” label and encourage you not to read the rest of this if you have any big darkfic triggers that could be upset by mere mention; this isn’t a fic tho, so descriptions of anything awful won’t last long. 

Although, I will mention upfront that Brooke isn’t a binary lesbian. I know the description might read like I’m setting her up to be 100% homosexual; she’s bi with a strong preference for girls, and anyone who presents soft enough in gender or appearance. If it wasn’t for the end-game pairings, her unfamiliarity with smaller details/history of the LGBTQ+ community, and general “gay newb” status, she’d likely ID as a bi lesbian!

(ships and everything else under the Read More)

Okay. That out of the way, there’s quite a number of pairings; I’m pretty sure it’s a super polyamorous and sexual AU, though you’re free to change this list as much as you’d like:

[bolded are end-game ships. italics physically hook up at least once. strike-through means they were in a relationship but break-up in some way before the ending. (H) stands for healthy, while (T) is toxic and/or noncon. underlined characters are pining for the other and may never confess their true feelings]

Brooke/Christine (H), Brooke/Rich (H), Brooke/Jenna (H), Brooke/Michael (H), Brooke/Chloe (T), Brooke/her Daddy (T), Brooke/Squip (H), Brooke/Jeremy (soft T at first bc of mirrored canon-compliant manipulation, H later on), Brooke/Squip/Jeremy (H), Brooke/Squip/Jeremy/Rich (H), Rich/Moses (H), [insert every form of Rich/Mo/Squip/Jeremy here] (H), Jeremy/Chloe (T), Jeremy/Michael (H), Michael/Christine (H), Michael/Christine/Mr. Heere (H; no, seriously), Madeline/Brooke (H)

This is, of course, a role swap AU where Brooke and Jeremy trade places based on my personal lore for their home lives. I always have some pretty fucked ideas as I don’t imagine MB is a great place with great adults, and I pick and choose which parts of canons I use and which I don’t. 

There is no definite ending planned in mind as this isn’t an outline; it’s meta (or an imagine or w/e) for an AU that you’re free to do whatever with. 

So,

The big difference is that Brooke was picked by Michael, while Jeremy was picked by Chloe. Jeremy is trans and hadn’t come out yet; if Chloe had known he was a boy, she wouldn’t have grabbed him. In contrast, Michael’s never gave a shit about potential friends genders.

Jer and B’s personalities... are altered some. Not ALL the way, but kiiinda fusing into their roles, kinda tweaked (I'll get back to that).

The main point of this for me was Brooke/Squip/Jeremy, with B/Jer having a MUCH stronger focus than in canon, and a really bad Chloe acting as one of the major villains.

Michael gets roped into Chloe’s shit, even tho he's still generally a good guy here, bc he's worried about B and thinks she can't properly take care of herself.

While B DOES have a strong crush on Christine, she’s the opposite of the Squip’s “goal”; that’s (obvs) masking, or making passably digestible, her queerness.

Her Mom and step-’Daddy’ have reacted to her friendship w/ ‘openly gay moms, also very flamboyant and GNC’ Michael... poorly.

Michael thinks the solution has to be “act as aggressively yourself as you can, and if they reject you, you know me and the mom’s have a space for you”. This works for him bc he’s permanently hyper-visible, what with all of his own marginalized identities. But, not only has she flied under the radar in comparison to him for years, he doesn’t know everything about her life.

In fact, he doesn’t know most of it. She’s very good at hiding things.

Meanwhile, Jeremy, one of the more popular ‘boy... ish’ (we’ll get to this, too) people in school, is mid-psychosis and self-destruction. He actually has schizo-affective disorder--as is the case with all of my versions of Jeremy--which he needs medication for. Combined that with so many bad influences and trauma, he can no longer fully control himself or his life.

The way he handles this (badly) is to ‘whore around’--which, besides being Chloe’s pet, is kinda why he’s so popular. Nobody respects him, but he’s viewed some form of favorably.

Jeremy is in a relationship with Rich, but he won't let him get as close/protective as Rich wants; Mo and Rich were doing their own man-whoring (but healthy, just droppin’ panties and making dudes and chicks swoon--yeah, Rich is out as bisexual, this is a very ‘the Squips are a good thing’ AU) to gain their standard reputation, but in the course of that, they got together with Jeremy and it became... complicated. Both of them are very "nnn" about how bad his life is for Jer.

The way that their personalities are altered is... okay. To explain this, I have to talk about my characterization of canon-Brooke and Jeremy in relation to this, starting with Brooke:

I imagine B as just a liiittle below the line of "all the way there" for sorta-similar reasons to Jeremy here: trauma, and Chloe (which is why that’s what Jeremy gets in this, it’s just WAY worse when compounded by everything else). She’s also--like me, and like almost every character I write as a result--autistic, in a near-permanent state of “not enough accommodations” and over-stimulation. This leads to a lot of dissociation and a very wandering mind, as well as being perceived as a bimbo or dumb blonde or w/e misogynistic bullshit is projected onto her by the boys she dates (she’s also much more down the middle bi outside this AU).

So, going back to how she is for this AU: she's actually not super nerdy, despite the close connection she and Michael have. Honestly, it’s their general neurodivergent weirdness that bring them together, and so she’s mostly adopted her nerdy interests through him, whether directly a thing he likes, or finding a whimsical variant that fits her tastes.

Obviously, unlike Jeremy, she doesn’t mind being called a loser. She does any insinuation she might be queer. This including anyone who calls her gay or a dyke.

She has too much Cis Male Trauma (unlike canon, where it comes from both cis angles) to really entertain the idea of a Traditionally Male Partner. This means she skews HEAVILY towards hard GNC guys at the very least, and generally finds herself most interested in the idea of enbies and women. she's also not super into butches tho, bc her trauma mixing with her sexuality has latched on to Strong Masc People Are A Threat. 

An expansion on her interests, in canon and otherwise: animals, ASMR/sensual service work (including massages and stuff), spending hours just sorta sitting by herself and letting her imagination wander, fairy tales, and YA-and-under fantasy books.

(Here, she tries to avoid het or f/f romance... except that, this past year or two, she’s started really like m/m stuff--esp after getting REALLY into drag shows, which she could enjoy safely since girls like Chloe have gotten into them too; in canon, she’s a romance fanatic)

Now... this is one of the really darkfic element; she's fucking her step-dad. 

She does this so that he doesn't walk out on her, her mom, and her little sister*. Her mom has a good-enough job as a standard office woman, but he makes enough to pay the rent on their nice townhouse and all the bills she can’t. So, after he expressed interest in Brooke and then casually mentioned he could always just leave if she wasn’t comfortable, she reluctantly entered a relationship with him

(* = her sister is currently know as her brother; he’s like 12 or 13, and started showing signs of trans/queerness which have been Heavily Discouraged. Brooke worries about him a lot)

((I didn’t use she/her pronouns bc I’m not entirely sure he would change them? This is an OC Oli created at the beginning of our interest in BMC, and we haven’t worked on him at all since, so how his characterization will be is up in the air))

Canonically, Brooke's "in love" with her daddy, which is a self-imposed delusion; if she actually addressed it, she’d says she’s well aware that’s not true, but it's so much easier to pretend when you’re cornered like that. Brooke’s life blows.

She’s a lot more honest to herself about hating him here; still, she tries to be as polite and generally-friendly as she can, doing what he says whenever he wants.

OKAY, THAT’S BROOKE. If any of that is badly described or potentially-offensive, it’s just bc I glossed over SO MUCH DETAIL, even in that amount of it!

So. Jeremy.

I don’t have to go over him much and we’re all mostly aware of how I feel about him and also I don’t have the energy to do this again--

(just... read my fics The Devil at your Door or hello yesterday or something... eyyy actually do that, my ao3 username is Sedusa, blah blah blah ANYWAY)

--but basically: He's still very nerdy, like, he’s super into film as well as video games (which is another constant for me), but after being largely ignored in elementary, he's been trailing behind Chloe at her orders since they were in 6th grade. As a result he isn't very open about... any of his interests.

In 7th grade, he came out as trans to everyone. Chloe was furious, but at the same time, intrigued; this was around the time Chloe gets her own... ah shit I gotta go into that too--

--yet another hc of mine is that Chloe gets a Squip on accident around this time at a party (there was one in a “”candy bowl””), and from there, she claws her way up the ladder. I... will not go into that much, but her Squip was crippled by the drugs and alcohol in her system, and therefore largely at her mercy. She’s used his power to manipulate certain things about herself and to sharpen her focus on popularity to the point she’s full-blown Alpha Bitch.

Man, I’ve had to go on so many tangents, I apologize.

Anyway, she drags Jeremy around as a punching bag. She constantly mocks Jeremy's transness, even though she usually calls him by his correct name and pronouns.

This has made the rest of the school follow her lead, hence why I said “boy-ish”; he’s popular, he’s technically ‘well liked’, but nobody really takes him seriously. This is compounded by Chloe’s refusal to let him dress in 'dorky' casual clothes, and, as he’s both too poor to afford designer clothes and also generally hates popular guy fashion, he has to wear the hyper femme clothing Chloe specifically tells him too/

As such, people call him a boy but largely see him as either an idiot, a slut, an attention seeker, or all of the above.

So of course, in Brooke's place, his neurodivergence is more prominent than ever; every day he slips further into this psychosis and self-infantilization haze, as his his mom leaving, his dad severely depressed, Chloe's sexual violence, and other repressed trauma (see: my fic hello yesterday on ao3) all weighing on him. This makes him INCREDIBLY regressed, like, all the time by Junior year.

And then Brooke's Squip (IE: canon Squip) falls in love with Jeremy extremely fucking hard. He pushes her to date him as a way to compromise on her queer desires, since Jeremy is technically a boy, and certainly a few other straight-ish girls have hooked up with him in the past.

WHEW. That is a fucking lot. To wrap this up, lemme go over the interpersonal relationships not already mentioned, and what directions I think it takes.

First off, Madeline has a more prominent role, as I quite like her tbh; she’s a sex worker, she has her own Squip, she’s one of Chloe’s most hated enemies, and she gravitates towards both Brooke and Jeremy. She’s also Actually French, Chloe’s just weird.

(Anyway she prolly sees through Brooke’s straight act and asks her why she’s pretending to be a good little cishet. It rattles Brooke.)

Chloe is scum. This bears repeating. She DEFINITELY rapes Brooke at the Halloween party, and becomes obsessed with her, along with already being obsessed with Jeremy and Jake. 

Jake, by the way, has a lot of regressive behavior and impulsiveness bc he’s been in an abusive relationship off and on with Chloe for years now.

Speaking of Jake, moving on to his best bro: Rich doesn’t set himself on fire. He’s having a good time with his Squip.

But.

He IS set on fire at the Halloween party.

Instead of the Smartphone Hour being about Rich's instability, it's actually about the mystery of Someone Did It To Him But No One Saw Who It Was, They Were Disguised.

The answer relates to the fact that Rich and Brooke are ALSO hooking up, after she’s already with Jeremy, bc he Properly introduces her to him and the three of them hit it off really well.

(She initially wasn’t interested, but while Rich is loud and still kinda abrasive, his Squip doesn’t drive him to act like a bully--and in private, his nerdiness is really obvious and he’s extremely gentle with her and Jeremy. Add to that that he’s bi and trans*, when Brooke connects best w/ queer men over cishet one, and it off-sets his masc-ness enough to make him an Exception.

* = I always imagine him as trans. See: all of Vanceypants fics.)

Sooo... the culprit is actually Brooke's daddy, who sees her with this obvious heartthrob and Cannot let that be.

Chloe convinces Michael that the Squips are Very Very Bad and has him team up with her to force Brooke into drinking Red, with the intention to convince him to kill himself after to get him out of the way, bc she’s really going nuts at this point.

Eventually, he snaps out of it when he and Christine get together (he’s thought he was Full Homo all of his life, but Christine’s prolly genderqueer-ness makes him realize “oh shit, I’m bisexual”) and she starts to question why he’s acting the way he is towards Christine.

He also definitely has a crush on Jeremy and during his time with Chloe he kinda tried to flirt a little but couldn’t really... he’s not up for dating someone as sexually active and a push-over as Jeremy is in this.

However, when he snaps out of Chloe’s manipulation, he and Christine approach Mr. Heere to convince him to straighten up and help Jeremy and also bc they really need an adult to successfully fight Chloe.

This requires a month+ of Christine getting him to see her psychiatrist (the one who prescribes her ADHD meds). Jeremy spends the majority of his time staying with Chloe, and very rarely comes home to gather things or to make sure his dad is eating/still alive, as much as he can remember to in his own haze of mental illness. Anyway, point is, he doesn’t know Christine and Michael are there often... not that, in the course of growing close to Mr. H, they both fall for him hard and it becomes one of my stranger OT3s.

(God, Jeremy goes through a lot of shit in this, tho.)

Pre-Squip, Jenna was kinda-sorta Brooke’s friend--or, well, friendly. However, she’s actually full blown “oh my God she’s wonderful” in love with Brooke.

Brooke isn't aware of that, esp since Jenna tries her not to be around her a lot. She's also trying to hide her own queerness, bc she’s a trans woman and she knows Chloe finding that out would be extremely dangerous.

Eventually, Chloe succeeds in making Brooke take the Red months after canon usually ends, w/o Michael’s help. If you’re curious, Red doesn’t affect her normal Squip bc she’s had him too long and a lot of his receptors and stuff are damaged, so it’s the second one she gets in canon that turns off.

This plan backfires, however, as Brooke’s Squip comes back with a physical body w/ help from Rich and also-bodied-now Moses.

With a body, and shenanigans, Mo and Squip take out Brooke’s daddy too. His life insurance more than makes up for the loss of his income, as it’s a sizable amount. Now that Brooke feels more empowered and strong, she overrides her mother’s neglectfulness and takes control of the household w/ her boyfriends*, comes out as queer, helps her sister transition, and begin to heal from all of this trauma.

(* = Rich and Mo move in, as does Jeremy eventually, after graduation; Jeremy gets a psychiatrist and a therapist and prolly has to go through some intense outpatient care and possibly a stay in the hospital, before finally making major breakthroughs and looking like himself again. The five of them are now happy and in love.)

Chloe, after her arm gets twisted by the Squip’s protective presence so thoroughly, gives up on Jeremy and Brooke to focus on Jake. This too gets abandoned when Rich and Mo help him cut her off, and so she stays in her own popularity bubble, bitter, until graduating and going to a community college in a different state.

All in all, things work out well in the end, but getting there is a long, difficult process. This AU fascinates me immensely and feels like a great way to examine some of my really dark headcanons about MB, as I think it’s a town similar to Derry in Stephen King’s IT--as in, just chronically The Worst Place Ever, with this, like, miasma of low-key despair around it. People adjust and don’t question it, which is why so much of BMC is this flippant dark humor in the face of some highly questionable shit.

I’m so sorry this post is so long (I’ll be uploading it to AU under my usual Sedusa account, as metas like this are more than allowed), but I really adore these characters and the way they can be twisted around, so I had a lot to say!

Thank you for reading <3

-mod Seb

image description: virtual-like stairs pointed forward and bathed in neon yellow and blue to represent Brook and Jeremy, which I’ve modified from the original blue-only design.

source: x (link description: a free Wallpaper Flare image that I found off Google Image’s “filtered by ‘labeled and reuse with modification” feature) 

[detectiveran]

Part 3 of Dark ShinRan AU! Please!!

Alright, so I deleted the sorta sequel I had written because I didn’t like it that much. So, here’s Part 2, hope you like it, anon! Also, it’s a dark!au, so be forewarned of some disturbing imagery.

Shinichi, like every other human had his ups and downs. On a good day, his thoughts were filled with the course work he had to complete, the football practice he had to attend and how to spend more time with Ran. A normal boy with a normal routine. 

Bad days were the problem. On those days, he tended to avoid interaction and would want to stay by Ran’s side even more. She could talk to him, ground him, tame the beast, so to speak.

He understood his nature but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try to keep the monster locked in as much as possible for everyone’s sake. He did enjoy killing in that moment but afterwards, the guilt crushed him. Well, if he were actually honest, the guilt nipped at him. Thoughts like the victim being someone’s family or caretaker or a loved one would rush in and he would sympathize with whomever’s loved person he had stolen. After all, he would think, Ran would be devastated if I died too. The sympathy didn’t last long though because he never killed an innocent person. For him, it was more like community service. 

He had a monster inside him and if that monster could help eradicate a wretched soul, who was he to complain? He did help in making the city safer. Sure, it was through unconventional means but didn’t the motivation posters and speakers babble on about embracing oneself and not denying who they actually were to fit into society’s standards? He was just following them.

On that rainy day, the weather matched his mood. The thunder rumbled on and the sky was grey and his thoughts turned darker and darker as the day progressed into the night. He sat still on the sofa, not even daring to move a muscle. He took deep breaths in and tried to calm his mind down.

No, he didn’t need to go out.

No, he wasn’t actually hungry.

No, he will not be stepping one foot out of the door. 

But, oh, wasn’t there a poster of missing girl pasted right around the corner? Shouldn’t he try to help find the girl?

Blood. Blood. Blood. I need blood.

No, missing kids are part of police’s work, not his.

Poor kid. You’re just sitting still while who knows what is happening to that girl.

SHUT UP! He wasn’t putting one single step out of his door and that’s final. Where’s Ran? He needs Ran. 

Ran. Ran. Ran. I need Ran.

Shinichi curled his hands around his thigh and brought them up to his chest, rocking back and forth. Fuck, why was he like this? He knew what he did was wrong but his thoughts would always take control over him. However hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself. It made him feel like an animal locked in a cage. He had no control over his body. It was him who always whispered thoughts about murder and dead bodies. He felt like an animal. Just stripped down to bare instincts. His thoughts on nothing but his unending desire to kill, kill, kill, just kill. 

Tears pooled in his eyes and he breathed in a choked sob. He didn’t want this. He just wanted to be normal. To not have this itch of watching someone’s blood be spilled. Why couldn’t he be like everyone else? 

He whimpered, letting the grief taking over him. He always, always felt split into two. There was nothing cohesive inside his head, except for Ran. Apparently, both Shinichi and him agreed on loving Ran, which made Shinichi feel even more awful. He was a monster, for god’s sake. Could he really love Ran if he didn’t value human life? Wasn’t that the basic of actually being a human being? Being empathetic to other people’s lives? Was he a human? He surely didn’t feel like he was.

The shrill tone of his phone going off brought him out of his spiraling thoughts and he picked it up with a shaky hand. With blurry vision, he saw Ran’s name flash across the screen and the vice grip around his chest loosened. 

Ran would help him. She would make him feel alright again. 

He blew out a breath before answering it, trying his best to make it sound like he wasn’t breaking down in his parents mansion all alone. “Hey, Ran. What’s up?”

His eyes closed as he heard her voice, “Hey, Shinichi. Where are you right now?”

His eyebrows furrowed when he heard the background noise. Was she out? In this weather? “I’m at home. Why? Where are you?”

“Ugh, I’m stuck at Dad’s client’s house. Apparently, there was an emergency or something because they found some pretty bad evidence of the victim being a child molester,” she spat in disgust. How awful! Taking advantage of a kid’s innocence like that. People like him were the worst.

His voice stuttered as he replied, “Oh? Who’s this victim?”

This is bad, bad, bad. He didn’t want to talk about criminals with Ran right now. Not when he felt like he could rip his heart out just so he could stop feeling this intense pain.

“Hiroka Akigawa,” she spat in disgust. “The family painted him at some sort of messiah but then the daughter was going through some of his stuff because she missed her father and she found this envelope and when she opened it,” she took a deep breath through her clenched teeth to let the words out, “she saw… pictures.” Just the thought of that made her fill with rage.

But Shinichi didn’t hear a single word after Ran had said that name. 

Hiroka Akigawa.

The man he had murdered a few days ago when he had talked to Ran. Shinichi knew what the man was. A child molester. He knew and that’s why he had killed him. Less trash in this already messed up world. 

But more importantly, a liability. A liability to him. His mind raced as he went through every detail of the murder. He was always, always careful but double checking never hurt anyone. That was the reason why he had never been caught. And he planned to keep it that way. If he was to be ever found, they would send him to jail because murder was wrong, however good intentioned those murders might be. And then he wouldn’t be able to see Ran whenever he wanted.

No! Anything but that!

Ran was his only thread to normalcy. He knew for sure that if anything or anyone kept Ran away from him, Shinichi wouldn’t be able to survive. The monster would take over. He knew.

And so, he went over Hiroka Akigawa’s, a child molester’s murder in his head. He had burned the ropes he had tied him with in his fireplace. He had made sure to do the same with the gloves he had worn. He had thrown the knife away after he had made sure to wipe his prints off clean. He wasn’t going to make a newbie mistake of keeping the evidence with him. That’s how you always get caught. 

Slowly, he calmed down once he realized that he wouldn’t be caught in the cross hairs of this child molester’s murder. He has been killing people since he was sixteen. He was a professional after 4 years of doing this and not getting caught, especially with the new and latest technology. It definitely helped to be majoring in Criminology, that’s for sure. 

He zoned into the conversation and caught the tail end of Ran’s rant as she raged on,”… I mean, they are kids, for god’s sake! No one should lose their innocence at that young age!” She let out a huff as she finished. 

Shinichi smirked, finding her comment ironic, as he had lost his innocence when he was six too. And he could understand why she was outraged. He definitely felt stripped of any innocence he had possessed before seeing those photos.

“Very true. It’s messed up that anyone could that,” very ironic coming from a murderer but hey, at least he didn’t sexually assault kids. That was a whole another level of fucked up-ness.

Ran sighed on the other end, exhaustion seeping through, “Sorry, I unloaded on you. It was just awful to see those pictures and I automatically thought of wanting to call you, sooo… I just did,” her voice grew sheepish as she admitted that.

It was unfair how much of a roller coaster she put him on. Hearing those words made his heart soar. Ran needed him as much as he needed her. She wanted him to comfort her. And just like that, he felt as if he could breathe. Shinichi was in control again. 

“You can call me anytime you want,” he said softly.

“Thank you, I love you,” she answered back.

A smile broke through his face and for the god knows how many times he was thankful to have her in his life. “I love you, too.”

“See you later when I reach home?” she asked.

He answered without any hesitation, “Yeah. My place?”

“Okay, see ya. Bye!” 

After he had hung up the phone, he let his limbs relax. Ran would be coming in later. She would make everything better. He would focus on her and would just forget about the wretched feelings curling in his belly. 

Yes, Ran would make everything better. 

[huntertales]

Preview: Waving The White Flag. (Sacrifice S08E23)

Episode Summary: With Crowley poised to undo all the good they've ever done as hunters; Sam, Dean and the reader find themselves cornered. But with Kevin's help, the Winchesters and the reader bound into one last play against the king of hell. However everything comes with a cost. What must the three sacrifice to seal the gates of hell for good? Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,931.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Fifteen minutes until midnight.

You stared at the clock on your phone while you sat in the bunker’s library where you had been almost all night, trying to figure out the lost list of people you saved over the years. Wondering who might be next on the chopping block. There were so many people you met over the years, so many lives you saved from death. It’d be impossible to track every single one of them down and warn them for the danger they might be in. You had no idea of knowing who Crowley was going to target next. He could pick someone you saved from six years ago, he might want to choose someone you helped out on a case five months ago. There were an endless possibilities for how this was going to go down and who could be on the chopping block next. But you had a feeling there was a method to all of Crowley’s madness. 

You put yourself in the demon’s shoes to try and get into his frame of mind to figure out what he was doing. It might have been a brilliant idea to tediously compile a list of people you and the boys had saved over the past eight years and go after them. Any monster could pick a name out of a hat and pick them off one by one. It took a true mastermind to hit the hero where it hurts the most. Crowley was targeting people that meant something to you, or had an impact on your personal life. That way it hurt just a little more for you when you couldn’t stop their death in time. Or your first true victory of saving someone's life ended with failure almost a decade later.

Tommy Collins was someone you met when you took your second real case you and the boys worked on together that had some real stakes involved with a life on the line. It was also your first real taste of what kind of danger you would be putting yourself into if you decided you wanted to become a hunter. While it was terrifying, the hunt concluded with a happy ending for you and the Collins siblings after they were reunited. Thanks to you and the boys Tommy and his family were given a chance to live a peaceful life. At least for the past eight years. Until a certain demon decided to sniff him out and kill him. 

You didn't get the chance to meet Jenny Klien, but you had a feeling she was a nice girl who deserved a better outcome than the one she was given. And as for Sarah...Crowley did that just to spite all of you. She was someone Crowley knew he would be able to get under your skin, not only for the short connection shared with a certain someone, but for the life she was able to create for herself. She was everything you wanted your life to turn out, and now she was dead. 

While Crowley had set a pattern with going after people he saved, you had made a few friends along the way that were still alive. You made a few phone calls around to make sure they were okay. Charlie Bradbury was occupied with a video game she claimed hadn't been able to tear herself away from. She told you everything was okay on her end. No hex bag around the place she was crashing at. Josh was fine as well, working a lot lately. You told him to keep an eye out for any kind of strange activity after briefing him on the game Crowley was playing with you and the boys. Garth was first call you thought to make after he was still keeping an eye on someone who was most likely on Crowley's kill list. The hunter kept reassuring you Kevin was perfectly safe, even putting the kid on to let you know he was still breathing. 

When you got back to the bunker after losing Sarah and getting the call from Crowley, you were devastated at how it turned out. Because for a moment you thought things weren't going to turn out exactly like how you had been fighting for. Six months of Kevin translating the tablet and three of them completing two of the trials would have been for nothing if you did what Crowley wanted. You were doing this to put away the monster who killed three innocent people who thought they escaped from this lifestyle for good. They were given a few years of normalcy before it was all taken away, because of the people who saved them ended up being the reason why they were killed. 

You were used to people dying because of you, and at the hands of a demon no less. Crowley thought the routine was predictable. The same formula was recycled over and over again for the past eight years. He wanted to change things up, broaden his horizon of his pool of victims he could choose from. A hunter doesn't have much family. What they lacked in loved ones they made up for in people they saved. And you saved a lot of people...people who were in danger.

You had a twelve hour window from when Crowley promised you he was going to kill someone. The ritual to cure a demon only took eight hours. All you needed to do was get your hands on a black eyed freak, pump him full of purified blood while chanting some Latin and finish it off with a bloody high five to complete the final trial. You would be able to solve both problems without having someone fall victim after time ran out. While it sounded so easy, you knew there was no way you could execute the plan. The king of hell promised you his goons were strictly off limits from you. And you had no time, no clue, how to track down a knight of hell you managed to let get away. You were back at square one with no way out of this. 

It seemed like you and the boys were backed into a corner with no way out but to surrender. You thought that was how all of this was going to end. Throwing in the towel for the sake of doing the right thing. But that wasn't your style. You wanted to go down fighting. Dean was on your side with this. However not everyone had the confidence in yourselves like you did. Sam was always the one who tried to boost morale when things looked bleak and hopeless. But even he knew how screwed you were. He was thinking about the big picture. Not only for the sake of the people but those who weren't on the best of terms with the king of hell.

“What happens when Crowley gets bored of picking off people we saved?” Sam raised an important question that had been burning in the back of his mind since last night. "He made it quite clear he wants to see Y/N dead." 

“He didn’t exactly say that.” You jumped into the argument to defend yourself from the younger Winchester’s prediction. You looked up from the phone screen to see Sam was staring at you with a frustrated glare at how you were taking this. You rolled your eyes and placed the phone back down to the table. "If Crowley wanted me dead he would've done it already. But it's too predictable. And besides, I don't stay dead. He would rather pick off people and keep all the demons locked up because he knows that would piss us off. It's his end game." 

“Besides, there’s gotta be some kind of loophole around this.” Dean said, pulling the conversation back to where it needed to be. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Crowley said he wasn’t going to let a demon anywhere near us. Maybe we can have someone summon a crossroads demon. Trap that one and presto—Crowley and all those black eyed sons of bitches go away forever. I’m sure business is going on as usual.”

“Who, Dean? Crowley knows everyone we’ve ever saved. Pretty sure he knows all the hunters we’ve worked with, too.” Sam busted his brother’s idea before he could elaborate more. Dean gave the man an annoyed look from how he was treating every single one of his ideas. It was at least something to think about. Sam thought it was stupid to put someone else’s life on the line, which was exactly what all of you were trying to stop. “I mean, how are we gonna do that? Find someone down on their luck and somehow persuade them to summon a deal and sell their soul?”

"Hey, that's not a bad idea. It might be stupid enough to work." Dean said. His brother shot down the idea with his infamous bitch face you knew too well. Sam was getting to the end of his rope, and it was only a matter of time until he gave up for good. "What the hell do you want us to do, Sam? I'm not backing down from that bastard. We came too far to give up. There's gotta be a way out of this." 

The conversation on how to save the day fell into silence when none of you agreed on what the right thing to do was. Sam really didn't want to back down and thrown in the towel after months of hard work you and Kevin put into this. But it felt like there was no other choice. The younger man began to slowly pace around the room as he glanced down at his watch to see the time was ticking down to the next deadline. If none of you thought of something in the next minutes the body count would go up to five. Crowley hadn’t given you the courtesy call about the last person he picked off. He wanted the three of you to sit and wonder who was going to be next, just to make you feel even more trapped. So many directions you could be pulled into, and no way of knowing who could be next.

Your eyes jumped away from a spot in the library you had been staring at after getting lost in your own thoughts when you heard your phone vibrate, the noise echoing and moving slightly around from sitting on the table. You still had several minutes until someone was scheduled to die. Unless Crowley was getting impatient following his own rules and wanted to move things along faster. 

"What is it?" Sam asked you. "Is it Crowley?"

“No. It’s just a notification from a pregnancy app I downloaded a while back. Wanted to remind me that I’m officially six months pregnant today. Whoopie freaking doo.” You muttered the last part to yourself in an unenthusiastic tone of voice, tossing your phone back down to the table. “You think after six months of dealing with this tablet business it’d be over by now.”...That you would’ve had everything planned out. 

Six months of dealing with runaway prophets and the king of hell stealing your tablet. Angels coming back from purgatory and being toyed with by their own kind to get a hold of an angel tablet. All these months of dealing with this business, you had tried to keep a strategy going. You wanted to be one step ahead of the enemy with the future in mind. You had that all set out. Until someone threw a wrench in your plan. A thought that didn’t hit you before and screwed it all up. For some reason all of this sounded familiar to you. Having a plan set out, trying to execute it...only for a thought to make you realize that it wasn’t going to be easy as you thought it was going to be. You needed to think quick on your feet so you can achieve everything you ever wanted. No matter the price you had to pay. 

"There's no way out of this. Crowley knows that. He's got us right under his thumb, exactly where he wants us." You spoke up all of a sudden, the realization hitting you. You felt your lips stretching into a smile, wondering why you didn't of going this route sooner. "We're desperate. I mean, there's no way out of this unless we do what he wants."

"Yeah. And?" Sam wondered why you were repeating information that was made pretty clear since last night. It was the argument all of you had just a few minutes ago after trying to solve the problem at hand. "Where are you going with this, Y/N?"

"Sammy, what is it that we do best?" You asked him. He thought about your question for a moment, wondering what kind of answer you were fishing for. He shrugged his shoulders, admitting a sign of defeat. "Making deals with demons. So let's do it." 

"Crowley said all demons were off limits to us." Dean said. You tilted your head to the side slightly and gave him a look, knowing that wasn't the point you were trying to make. "You want to take the deal with Crowley? That's exactly what the prick wants. He wants us to cave."

"Exactly. Crowley wants us vulnerable because that's how he can make us do whatever he wants. So let's keep it going. Long enough to turn the tables and corner him." You went on, telling them about the only play you had left against the demon. "Dean, was there anything more portable in the dungeon? Like, I don't know, handcuffs? Something marked with the same symbols on the chains?" 

"I think so." Dean recalled. "What is that big brain of yours coming up with, Nancy Drew?"

"I'm thinking....let's make a deal with the king of hell." You told the boys. "But on  our terms." 

"He'll never cave unless we do what he wants. And if he finds out it's a trap, we have no way of knowing how he'll react." Sam said. You knew he was trying to be helpful, but he wasn't looking at it from the angle you were. "It's too risky." 

"Crowley might be the king of hell, but he's still a businessman at the end of the day. He can't resist making a deal. Besides, he dealt with a desperate pregnant woman before. He'll think this is history repeating itself all over again. And it is...but I've got other negotiations." You said. Both of the brothers thought about your plan for a second or two, wondering what might go wrong if Crowley caught on to what you were doing. "Boys, we've had a demon at our disposal the entire time. It's just a matter of getting Crowley to fall for the bait. What do we have to lose?"

You had a lot to lose if you didn’t follow through with this plan exactly the right way. One little slip up and Crowley would surely figure out what you were trying to do. But with time running out quicker than you thought, you and the boys had no other choice. This was your last chance at doing the right thing. You grabbed your phone from the table and punched in the three digit number to reach the king of hell. The phone rang a few times before you were greeted by the demon in that annoying accent of his.

“You have less than one minute before a very dear, attractive, and slightly tipsy friend of yours snuffs it.” The demon greeted you with an update on his activities for the evening. 

“Call it off, Crowley.” Dean ordered to the demon who was on speaker, slamming his hands down onto the table to prove he wasn't playing around. Crowley curiously wondered why he would be doing such a thing. Dean was still apprehensive about this plan when his gaze fell over to you, as if he was wondering if you still wanted to go through with this. You slowly nodded your head. "Because it's over, you son of a bitch. We want a deal." 

“Thirty seconds.” Crowley warned all of you. 

"We stop the trials, you stop the killing." Dean reiterated the demon's negotiations he set for all of you. 

“I want the demon tablet—the whole demon tablet.” The demon told you another part of his deal that you knew, making it quite clear before all of you tried to do anything stupid. 

“Fine, but then the angel tablet comes to us.” The older Winchester decided it was only fair to ask for something else in return. Crowley was taken aback by the hunter’s greediness, wondering on what grounds all of you thought you deserved such a thing. “On the grounds that you’re a douchebag and no douchebag should have that much power. Deal or not?”

“First, I need to hear two little words,” Crowley wasn’t going to let this be easy. You bit the inside of your cheek when you heard his final negotiations if you wanted this to work. “I surrender.” 

The boys exchanged an uneasy look at the final terms of agreement. It wasn't in your style to sink so low and beg for mercy. But what other choice did you have other than to cooperate? You quickly reached for the phone before the next person could bite the dust. You made the words clear as day, showing Crowley you were waving the white flag. "I surrender." 

[Next Part]

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[thetriggeredhappy]

9 “My head hurts.” for Speedingbullet ~ also you're now my new fav fic author

thank you very much, you’re very sweet!! (warnings for me being mean to scout again)

9.) “My head hurts.”

Sniper really didn’t intend for things to go the way he did. He really didn’t mean any harm. Honest.

Before he joined the team, Sniper was aware of the concept of pranks and whatnot, sure, but he’d never really been subjected to any, or done them to other people. He didn’t go to college (a place where, allegedly according to Engie, pranks happen a lot) and he didn’t technically finish his last year of required schooling and even before that the closest thing to a “prank” that his classmates would do was essentially beat him up. Black eyes and bruises and bloody noses were their idea of a hilarious after-school activity to rope him into.

But on the base, he was introduced to actual pranks. The inside of Demo’s eyepatch being coated in syrup while he’s asleep, Soldier’s helmet being covered in dozens of sparkly stickers, plastic wrap over the door to the kitchen, things like that. Things that were actually a bit funny and not anything worse than annoying and inconvenient to the person being pranked.

At some point, Scout, main prank-maker of the team (years of experience under his belt, apparently) had tried to get Sniper. Salt in the sugar bowl. He’d sat down with coffee, the terrible “acquired taste” stuff that Spy occasionally drank because he mysteriously couldn’t find the normal stuff, and put a spoon’s worth into his mug to make it more bearable. Stirred it. He hadn’t noticed what Scout’s expression was until he lifted the mug to take a sip and made eye contact over the rim. Absolute interest in what Sniper was doing, just a smidge too much to be normal, and no focus at all on the bowl of cereal before him, which just wasn’t normal.

He took his sip, and it was only with that suspicion in the back of his head that he managed to keep from making a face at the taste of it. And then Sniper had a choice to make, and he did so quickly.

He drank the entire mug without flinching. Scout’s confusion rose with every bob of his adam’s apple.

“Something on my face?” Sniper asked neutrally when he put the empty mug down again, the very picture of normalcy.

“Uh,” Scout said, and shook himself from his shock, “I, uh, no. No, you’re good.”

A few beats passed, then Scout picked up the sugar bowl, glancing down at it. He hummed to himself, tipping a bit into his cereal, then putting it down and taking a bite.

He choked immediately, then looked up at Sniper, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “Oh, fuck you.”

That had been the beginning of a little prank war between the two of them.

Scout had done plenty of things. A glitter bomb from an envelope that looked just like the envelopes they received with information for contracts. Taken about half a dozen stray cats from the nearby town and put them all in Sniper’s camper while he was in the base doing laundry. Replaced all the cans of beans and soup that he had stocked up in case of emergencies big or small with cans of brussel sprouts. Given Engie twenty dollars to make a tiny little device that made a little beeping noise every two minutes and fifteen seconds, and promptly hidden it under Sniper’s mattress, driving him bonkers for a total of an hour and a half before he finally found it. It was worth noting that Sniper did lock his door, the little bugger just knew how to pick locks apparently.

Sniper’s major form of retribution for most of the pranks was to act either like it didn’t bother him or like he enjoyed what Scout did. He ended up cooking the brussel sprouts for dinner one day, and talked to Scout about how friendly all the cats were and what their names now were, and Scout was clearly extremely annoyed to see Sniper acting completely normal when he went to battle the day after the beeper incident. But for pranks like the glitter bomb, which left him in a sparkly uniform when he went to dinner, he did feel the need to deliver actual retribution.

Which is why he put an armadillo in Scout’s room. And a small non-venomous snake in Scout’s room after he then started locking his door. And the friendly owl that liked to pester Sniper for snacks in Scout’s room through the window when he asked Demo for help moving his door slightly closer to the floor. He just found that Scout tended to react a lot to animals and kept running with it.

Also he broke Scout’s door once, but to be fair that wasn’t part of a prank. That was a different thing. Which was only tangentially Sniper’s fault technically sort of. He apologized. He got a second glitter bomb.

And admittedly, their little prank war had died down a bit after that, mainly because they’d gotten on somewhat friendlier terms somehow during the mayhem. He wound up talking to Scout occasionally, the younger man just sitting himself down when Sniper was making a campfire or otherwise sitting outside his camper and doing things. In return, sometimes he tried to say hello to Scout when he passed him in the rec room. But then Sniper had suddenly been faced with what he thought was the perfect opportunity.

He’d been out doing his shopping, having headed to a bigger town to get some more specific things that he needed that weren’t easy to find elsewhere, when he’d seen it. The energy drinks Scout chugged like water most of the time, big palettes’ worth of them. Three different flavors, although he’d only ever seen Scout drinking two.

And next to them, the same three again. He walked closer, pondering if maybe Scout would appreciate getting a bulk package of the drinks instead of having to do a twice-weekly run to the store in town to buy a few six-packs. And he’d picked up one of the packs, looked it over, and noticed a little blurb written on it.

“Caffeine-free!”

The plan hit him almost immediately, and he moved to start piling cans into the cart he’d gotten.

From there it was simple—a trick he’d learned years and years before from an oddball “friend” to sneak alcohol into concerts. Sealed drinks being all that was allowed, he learned how to open cans and close them again without it looking any different. It was the work of an afternoon to empty out the cans of Bonk! into the sand (both the Cola and the Fruit Punch flavors just to cover all his bases) and replace them with the caffeine-free versions. Then he waited for the next time they did a supply run, and put it in with the rest of the groceries.

But then, things got… strange.

Scout was fine that first day, a Friday, not particularly groggy at all. During the lunch break in the middle of the day he chugged a good bit more of the soda than even he was usually known for, and didn’t eat anything else, but otherwise acted about the same.

By Monday, things had taken a significant dive.

He first noticed that Scout was almost late. That was extremely strange for him. Scout was usually among the first to report, and would mingle and pester the rest of the team. But instead, he was dashing in five minutes before they were headed onto the field, sleeves not even rolled properly and one shoe untied, looking completely out of it. He stammered an apology, then set about fixing his whole situation.

Through his scope, Sniper kept cursory track over the team so he’d be able to know whether someone could feasibly be passing by or if it was a spy. And what he saw of Scout was funny for a little bit, but quickly grew worrying, and then terribly guilt-inducing.

Scout was fully off his game, running erratically but in a way that was clearly unintentional, getting his attention diverted by sounds of gunfire only to miss the sounds much closer to him. His chatter on the comms was limited, and Sniper caught sight of him getting gunned down over and over and over again.

When the mid-day break was called, a bit earlier than usual, his first sighting of the kid since that morning was of him sitting on a crate, elbows on his knees, head held tight in his hands, talking quietly to Medic, who looked extremely concerned about the situation. Within a few moments the scene had brought over Engie and Demo, and everyone looked fairly grim.

Spy noted the scene happening, then glanced at Sniper, and his posture went rigid at Sniper’s expression. Presumably it was one of guilt, because that’s what was rapidly overtaking Sniper.

“What did you do?” Spy asked sharply, voice a hiss.

“Nothing,” Sniper said quickly, defensively.

All at once, Spy was stood just behind him, a hand on his shoulder, the other holding a knife in the bend of his back, cutting through the stitch of his vest and pressing hard enough to make Sniper’s heart skip a few beats. “Interesting answer. Because our local little idiot has been feeling horribly, terribly under the weather all day, and this is rapidly becoming the sort of problem that gets him in trouble with noteworthy individuals,” he said, voice the kind of lighthearted that made Sniper aware that he was probably about to be killed if he so much as stuttered. Then the weight of what Spy was saying to him sunk in, and he paled in realization. Scout could get in very real trouble for such a drop in numbers. Very, very real trouble. And in their line of business, bad things usually happened to those who got in trouble with their employers. “I just found it interesting, the way you were staring at him just now.”

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he managed, voice hoarse. “Really, I didn’t!”

“I’m going to ask you this exactly once, bushman,” Spy said, voice low now. “What. Did. You. Poison him with?”

A pause. “Oh! No, no, mate, you’ve got it wrong, I—I didn’t poison him! I just—“

The slightest bit of additional pressure from the knife.

“Really! I just switched out that caffeine nonsense he drinks for the same stuff but without the caffeine. It was just supposed to be a prank, I, I didn’t think he would get like this. Figured he’d be a bit groggy and that’s all!”

Spy swore to himself under his breath. “You’re an idiot, bushman,” he hissed. He shoved Sniper a step forward. “Go explain to him what you did. Now.”

Sniper did walk over.

Medic had moved away to talk quietly with Demo, but Engie was still there, sitting next to Scout, a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up as Sniper approached, giving him a little, worried smile.

“Er,” Sniper said, fidgeting with his hands for a second before just sticking his thumbs into his pockets. “Scout, can I talk to you for a mo’?”

Scout hummed out a little noise like agreement.

Sniper glanced at Engie again, who took a moment before he realized what Sniper meant and went to get up and give them space. He gave Scout one more pat on the shoulder before he went.

Sniper took his place, hands to himself. “Er. So… you’re not doin’ so well,” Sniper tried.

Scout groaned, shoulders sinking further. “I dunno what the fuck is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m fuckin’ dying over here.”

“Yeah?” Sniper asked, guilt corroding at him quicker by the minute.

“My head hurts,” Scout started. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up. My hands won’t stop shaking and I can barely reload a gun. I didn’t sleep at all last night or the night before that or the night before that and I can’t get a good breath in and I feel like I’m five fuckin’ seconds away from freaking out. Just the usual gunshots and screaming make me start shaking even worse and basically I fuckin’ hate everything right now an’ wanna die. I felt like shit all weekend too but it’s just getting worse and worse.”

Sniper swallowed hard.

“And I dunno what the fuck the issue is, I—I only ever start gettin’ shaky and gross feeling whenever I go without getting caffeine for a few days, and, and I’ve drank like three cans and kept ‘em down and everything and I—I dunno the fuck else to do,” Scout said, and there was an underlying kind of distress, dismay, panic, misery that made Sniper fold in on himself.

“Didn’t realize… you needed it that much,” Sniper said carefully.

Scout sighed, his breath leaving him almost explosively. “Yeah, because I didn’t want nobody to know. Only the Doc was supposed to know, because we kept tryin’ all kinds of meds but none of ‘em worked right, and we figured out if I just drink a fuck ton of caffeine it works better than most meds. So he found some stuff with a ridiculous amount of the stuff and now I drink it all the time or I can’t think right or do anything.” A second sigh, and Scout looked like he was trying to melt and sink into the ground. “And now everybody knows that I’m a fuckin’ idiot who can’t do shit or think right without drinkin’ enough liquid energy to give a bear a heart attack. And I’m maybe having the worst day ever and I just wanna go curl up and down half a bottle of headache meds and try and sleep until everything stops sucking so much.”

Sniper was pretty sure he was going to keel over dead.

“But hey,” Scout said, a dreary, sarcastic attempt at optimism in his voice, and lifted his head enough to look at Sniper, and he hadn’t noticed earlier, but his face was pale and his eyes had bags and circles under them that may as well have been bruises they were so dark. “At least you’re over here. Talkin’ to me. That’s really not like you. Good to know you give that much of a shit about me to come listen to me whine.”

Sniper had to look away, squeeze his eyes shut.

“Anyways, you said you wanted to talk to me?” Scout asked, putting on a terribly brave face despite how objectively horrible he was feeling.

“It was me.”

A pause. Sniper couldn’t look up. “What?”

“It was me. I switched your Bonk! out for some caffeine-free rubbish.”

Another, different pause. “You what?” Scout asked, voice quiet.

“It was meant to just be a prank,” Sniper said, head falling to his hand. “I thought you’d get all drowsy for a little while, be sleepy and a bit off your game and confused. I didn’t mean to make you feel this sick, and… and I’m sorry.”

Silence for a good minute or so. “Snipes, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Sniper nodded. “I’d deserve it,” he conceded, glum.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sniper got shoved, and was sent sprawling on the dirt. “You fuck! I can’t believe you!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sniper tried, sitting up.

“God damn it if you weren’t so cute I’d break you right now!” Scout exclaimed, bat in hand, red-faced and positively fuming.

“You think I’m cute?” Sniper asked, a bit surprised.

“Not the topic of conversation right now! You’re a bastard!”

Sniper fell back onto the dirt, staring up at the sky. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You owe me,” Scout declared.

“I know.”

“Big time,” Scout added.

“I know.”

“You’re takin’ me out after we clock out today and you’re buying me more soda and then you’re getting me dinner,” Scout finished.

“That sounds fair.’

“…Fuck you,” Scout said once more before he stormed off.

Sniper remained on the ground for another few moments, silent.

“…Cute?” he repeated to himself quietly.

[fairygal11]

The Fate of America Rests in our Hands

Today is the big day America. The day that determines the fate of our country. It determines the future of America. Our dreams, our futures, our generation. It will determine the timeline of our entire lives upon the results of the Election. My name is Megan....Megan Ryan and I speak from my heart. I am a 32 year old with Mild Autism (Aspergers). An otaku, introvert, a hardworker with a big heart who cares about her family, friends and loved ones out there. I've never voted before-NOT A SINGLE ONCE in my entire life, but this year I voted because I can't stand to see what our Country has become under this....this Tyrant of a President this year. Before this crisis started with COVID, everything seemed normal for January and February, just the usual normal life and enjoying the best Anime Milwaukee Convention weekend of my life despite having a small ear infection and seeing My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising in theaters. It was normal until....March when COVID struck and was a menance at a mild level. We thought it might go away, but we were wrong-Due to the rise in cases, everything began to shut down including jobs over time even my library. We were temporarily laid off until late Summer when we got COVID guidelines and services were returning to normal with some major changes to how we did things at the library, but we adapted and worked together to help the community and keep the patrons safe-we even ensured that the books were quarantined and purified before they were checked in and shelved. But before going back to work, you cannot imagine how hard it was on me during those long 5-6 months being off temporarily because of the virus. A lot of reflecting, refocusing and rediscovery of myself: Physically and Spiritually. You know this was my 5th year at my library, a major milestone for me and I had plans in mind to celebrate it: Anime Milwaukee 2020 and My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising were the only celebratory I was able to do and go to. The others I had in mind: Midwest Gaming Classic, participating in Independence First's walkathon again, go to the Maker Space Festival, the usual festivals like Summerfest, Germanfest, State Fair, seeing Lupin the 3rd the first in theaters, kickstarting the Anime Club at my library with Alex and Courtney, getting the PS5 (Accomplished to get-when I celebrated my first year of working I bought a PS4 with my anniversary money so the PS5 reflects that kinda thing in a way). But my biggest milestone and greatest thing I wanted to do.....was asking my best friends like Nadia, Cory, Alex and a few others if they wanted to hang out, grab a star bucks or play a video game at a geeky bar or tavern like the Sword and Shield Tavern (Which sadly closed down due to COVID and I never got a chance to see it or be there). I'm not much of a talker in reality, but I try my best to improve my conversation skills and form proper sentences then having it juggle about because sometimes I see the lines in my head, but they don't come out the way I want them, but I take my time to get them out the best I can. I guess at times it also depends on the environment: At home I'm normal speaking, at a convention or a place of interest I can speak like an extrovert. I guess it kinda varies-like I'm an omnivert. Anyway during those months I kept busy like watching shows (even those to catch up on), baking calzones and different pastry recipes that were easy and simple to make, exercising and recovering when I accidentally got Runner's Knee from overexerting myself, reading as many books as I can even getting a lot of kindle books due to libraries being closed for the time being and did a lot of writing-even took some zoom classes like SOcial Skills, Mindfulness and Creative Writing. I had to keep myself busy somehow and figure out how to get some normalcy-some balance back into my life. Try to figure out a way to keep to my routine or rebuild my routine when you don't know what to do when your locked down in your own home and dealing with your inner demons and struggles, when you feel like you have not much energy then you always did...when you feel isolated even if your home with your family. So many emotions swirled around, so many different thoughts-It felt as though for awhile...I was in the abyss, but I always had a rope of light to help me out. A Light of Hope that I kept in my heart so I didn't fall into despair....telling me to not give up and keep going forward and keep fighting. Keep finding a way to keep your light glowing. Don't let the darkness gets to you...don't let the world and the COVID monster get the best of you because your a survivor. I even began to apply for self-care to myself both physically and mentally-For there were times I worried about what would happen if the libraries don't open or if they start cutting people if things got very worse? There were so much that filled my head at the time even worried about the safety and well being of my loved ones out there if they were alright. There was a lot I went through, but I survived and grew during those Lockdown times and you wouldn't imagine how happy when I learned the library was opening back up and letting people come back even myself. I returned in August and started learning the new procedures in the back room, at first it was a little tricky, but then I got the hang of it-course I kept the instruction sheet to keep on hand in case in my notebook. I feel as though I've grown a lot through this crisis: Physically and Mentally. I learned that it's okay to take my time and I shouldn't rush, it's okay to feel how you feel and let it be known, that you shouldn't be afraid to let people know how your feeling. I had that fear of having people worry about me-I know when I wear a mask on my face as I follow the guidelines to protect those around me, underneath the mask, there is a smile, but at times it can be sad. Sure, I can get overwhelm, but I have to give myself a breather to calm down and clench my Tourmaline stone I keep with me in my pocket to remind me to calm myself from whatever unsettling thought is trying to invade my mind-even when it comes to all of this.....So I want to apologize if I ever had a slight puffy red eye or ever worried anyone out there when I felt a little overwhelm at time and needed to take a breather. I do my best to be strong for those around me, I do my best to be there for those I love, I do my best to help in anyway I can and I do my best at what I do at home and at work. Doing my best is all I can do, but I put all my best into what I do and making sure I don't overdo it. Anyway, I've chosen to vote because this is very important for not just me, but for everyone out there....I chose to vote so I can help make a better future for us. I cannot stand to see anymore lives taken from this world-The young and the old, 200,000+ in the USA and growing and many across the world? Do you know how many dreams that is? TOO MANY that were taken too soon and unfulfilled due to that MONSTER OF A virus! And what about the people who couldn't see their loved ones when they were infected? How many people were unable to see them for one last time? How many were unable to see the birth of a new life brought into the world? How many have been unable to see their loved ones or grandparents, but only through zoom or a video chat program? How many milestones and celebrations were stolen? How many events were cancelled because of the virus? How many jobs were taken and the cut offs that ruined the lives of the employees that worked at those jobs for so many years only to be laid off completely? How many holidays were ruined? How many trick or treaters missed the chance to trick or treat this year? How many will not be able to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas together this year? HOW MUCH MORE IS TO BE TAKEN FROM US!? HOW MUCH MORE YOU ORANGE DEMON!? YOU DEMON IN A FAKE HUMAN SKIN! Because of that TYRANT in office who did nothing to curb it back in January or did anything to keep it under control and look where its got us......He believes fiction then Scientific Facts. He thought it would go away...AND HE SAID RECENTLY TO IGNORE COVID. You can't ignore Covid-because its like a broken pipe, you can't just duck tape it up and leave it be-CAUSE sooner or later it'll burst and flood the basement of a foundation and cause it to sink. That's what TRUMP did to America-HE PUT DUCK TAPE on the COVID pipe, only for it to blow up and flood our very country.....You can't ignore a problem and expect it to fix itself, it'll only get worse. And I don't care what anyone says: I DON'T CARE WHAT THE TROLLS SAY! I don't care what TRUMP'S BRAINWASHED minions say! I DON'T CARE WHAT THOSE SHEEPLE SAY! I have a RIGHT TO SPEAK MY MIND because I'M NOT AFRAID TO SPEAK MY MIND OR LET YOU KNOW WHAT I feel in my heart! I know what's right or wrong and I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IS HAPPENING in politics and I don't like politics very much or never got involved with them, but what I've seen and heard from A PIG-MOUTHED man is a pile of fertilizer-WHAT HE IS DOING with his court of corruption of Republicans is wrong! HE DIDN'T DO nothing, he didn't solve problems, he didn't help anyone out there, he's all talk and no bark! He's a bully! And if there's one thing I can't stand above else is a bully....AND I am taking a STAND AGAINST THIS BULLY by voting for the RIGHT PRESIDENT who'll clean up his mess. If your like me, America, please think carefully when you vote today. Your future along with the future of your loved ones, children, grandparents, yourselves and family.....THEY REST in your very hands. Do you wish to have a president who will do all he can to restore our country or do you want a president who'll continue to destroy our land until its nothing like a Mad Max wasteland and were fighting over supplies? This is our home, our country. WERE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, NOT THE DIVIDED States of America. We shouldn't fight each other, we should stand together and take back our country from COrruption and chaos that Trump has sparked over these months. Were all human beings, no matter where were from-This isn't the time to be divided, but united to do what's right. For the future of AmericaFor the future of our childrenFor the future of our generations to come before usFor our dreamsFor our freedomFor ourselves Election Day 2020 is very important for us all. Look in your hearts-Do you want a bright future for yourselves with Biden or a dystopian future under a Dictator like Trump?..... Thank you for reading this and I apologize, but I really needed to say this to let you all know how I feel deep down about this whole Election Mess.

[momtemplative]

Unblinking Eyes.

It’s an unsettling thing for a child to see their parent really, truly cry. 

I’m always telling my kids that there are no shortcuts through our emotions, we have to walk straight through. But for them to see a vulnerable, lost, weeping woman where their mom used to be—that’s a different story. 

However, we sometimes don’t get to choose when we’ll be summonsed by Big Emotions. Especially during a pandemic. This is a story about that. 

One morning a few days ago, Ruth and I went for a walk.  It was creeping up on wild-hot temperatures but the morning chill still lingered in the trees and on the grass. Ruth wanted to take a different route and I agreed, a new path was in order. We wound up heading towards Opal’s school, the same track we’ve tromped countless times to drop off and pick up Opal over the last five years. I wasn’t thinking about playgrounds (which have been off my radar for months); I was thinking of the extensive row of well-established Russian Olive trees along the parameter of the soccer field. The shade, the potential to run, skip, hop, like dogs doing agility training.

We were met with two big signs saying PARK NOW OPEN. How welcoming, I thought. Then, our eyes simultaneously turned to the playground, Opal’s playground, which, during the average school year, is usually teeming with children. Even during COVID, when the PARK CLOSED SIGNS loomed large, I’d still see a handful of kids playing out there when we walked by.

There it was, in all its glory, baking in the sun (I could practically SEE the germs shriveling to dust and falling to the ground with teeny screams of demise). Outside has always been my safe zone. Add sunshine and social distancing and NOTHING can touch us. The magnetism toward that playground was raw and real, and not just for Ruth, who wanted desperately to play somewhere that was not constrained in the parameters of our walls and fence. But for me, who craved an iota of normalcy.

Can we go on the playground mom?? PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAASSSSSEEEEE???

I paused, like putting the fork down between bites, and thought it over—Ruth’s eyes on me again like an unblinking owl.

YES.

How goddam remarkable it felt to be able to use that word with my child, who has been getting the same pull-chord reply about most things for the last many months. Sorry, honey, we need to wait until the virus is over. Sorry, honey. Sorry, honey.

After 20 magnificent minutes of climbing the rope structure (everything else was too hot) and pretending the ground was lava, we saw another kid approaching from the distance with his grandma. It was time to go anyhow, Ruth’s cheeks were scarlet and slick with sweat. An area on the back of my neck was sizzling from sun exposure. (I was not thorough with our sunscreen.) Ruth wasn’t happy about leaving, but she seemed to understand that our turn was over, now it was this little boy’s turn. That’s how playgrounds work now—in shifts.

We took our time back through the shady pathways beneath the Ponderosa Pines on one side, Russian Olives on the other. No bugs yet to taint the crisp pockets of air. We held hands and skipped and scampered and hid like squirrels. There was joy. There was freedom.

As we made our way back home, Ruth noticed a plastic straw on the ground, red and white like a straight candy cane, and she grabbed it before I could stop her. Yuck! I said. That’s trash, baby! No touching. (In our former life, I encouraged picking up trash and throwing it away, but now all I can see is a conduit of dangerous germs. How confusing this all must be for a child!) After our beautiful, sun-sanitized play session, it was the thought of the germs on that straw that hovered over me as we walked back home with our hands-in-pockets so we wouldn’t touch our faces. 

When we returned home, Ruth was delighted to share our morning adventure with Opal. I won’t go into detail, but to say that Opal was displeased would be a wild understatement. Jesse also said he felt like we should talk about these things as a family.

These things. I hadn’t realized that an empty playground, first thing in the morn, in the blazing sun, when the world was opening back up again and people can actually sit in restaurants, was “these things.” The troubled feelings from our household eclipsed a marvelous, playful morning. It made me realize the complexities of this whole pandemic, how we all grapple individually with what feels right and no decision is simple. 

I was in a whirling phase of fresh emotion that screams FUCKIT FUCKIT FUCKIT. How can we possible get it right?? 

I managed to get the girls lunch and to get Opal out the door (she and Jesse had already planned to head to Boulder), a few tears leaking out as if from the bulging edges of a levy, pressure building. I got Ruth set up with a show, safe and sound, and hustled down the hallway into the guest bedroom to utterly brake down. 

The tears weren’t for the playground, or for Opal and Jesse’s unfavorable reaction to us going. The tears were for the months of feeling trapped in a web of rules and regulation that only half the people are following. The months of maintaining some semblance of normalcy for the girls while also saying, sorry honey, can’t do that right now, and the soul-exhaustion that brings. The months of tightness in this house, and at times, asphyxiation. The countless emotions that needed to be closed up and stored for later, like a stunning array of brown bottles, lining the shelves of an internal world, an emotional apothecary, until life provides more breathing room to sift through it all.

To my surprise, Ruth was standing in the doorway watching me sob, naked, but for a pair of tighty-whitey cotton panties, silent as she’s ever been. I wiped my eyes with my hands, gave her a tender smile and waved her over to come sit on my lap. She wanted to sit facing me, like she wasn’t comfortable taking her eyes off me.

Hi sweetie. I bet it’s tough to see mom crying like this. But even grownups have Big Emotions. And sometimes they don’t come at an easy time. Having her little body there was nice, I’ll admit. The tears slowed. 

It will pass, honey. Don’t worry. There was more room for my breath. We gazed at each other for a handful of long, slow seconds— it was as if she was taking in this new version of me, holding up the visual of Beloved Mom next to this collapsed and slick-faced woman.

I said, May I hug you? She leaned in wordlessly, hid her face in my neck—right at the tangle of muscles that give me trouble—those tiny arms around my chest. I was conscious of my hands being too cold on her back as I gently rubbed along the grooves in her spine, fragile as a string of pearls.

Thank you, I said.

She took my hand and we walked down the hall to where her Rapunzel show was blaring to an empty room. Strange-but-perfectly, Michelle Obama came to mind, like the image of an angel or an archetype, so I switched it over to PBS where Michelle was reading, “Oh the Places You’ll Go,” by Dr. Seuss. I hadn’t read that book since high school, but it spoke directly to my insides, as things seem to do when you are ready to listen with your whole being.

By that point, I was still a little peculiar—as if I’d woken up from a long nap in the rain—but settled enough in my own skin, my own pressure valves safely in tact. 

Of course, I wasn’t thinking of it at the time, but every one of these unrehearsed instants is a moment of modeling for our kids. I wasn’t trying to hide my emotions from Ruth, they just felt larger than what I was comfortable with sharing with her tiny, inexperienced being. But it happened anyway, and Ruth got to see that I was finding my way through, bumps and all. And, most importantly, Ruth got to see that I came out the other side, fully intact, ready to tell the tale.

And ready for a hard drink.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.          —Oh the Places You’ll Go, Dr. Seuss.

July 5, 2020

[drink-n-watch]

Back Rank Mate : A checkmate that occurs when your king is trapped behind a wall (usually a wall of your own pawns) on the back rank, and a queen or rook attacks on the back rank.

You know, I think I’m just going to reiterate my thoughts from last week – OMGWTFBBQPURPLEMONKEYDISHWASHER. What the heck is this show doing to me? All I know is that if I was to exist in the Promised Neverland universe, I would be pretty safe since this show has melted my brain. Hyperbole you think… maybe a smidge.

Still, I am grateful that Crow is here to keep me from completely losing it and you’re grateful too. Trust me. He makes these posts! Also, let me apologize in advance for this but I took an unreasonable number of screencaps again. If this post has been loading for  minutes…that’s why… sowwy…

But before we get started, how are you Crow?

Well, for starters, I’m bold this week! And for another, there’s no way I’m getting through this review without dropping some spoilers, so everyone beware!

Come to think of it, “everyone beware” is pretty good advice for anyone watching this show! Purple monkey indeed!

everything’s fine!

I’m just trying a little small talk to ease us in because this week got heavy! Unlike the usual light hearted slice of life comedy The Promised Neverland usually is….

This level of removal from reality is a different perspective for you! Looks like the show’s getting to you — and I certainly understand why!

If you’ve read our reviews before you know this, but it’s spoileriffic. If you don’t want to know what happens, please come back after you’ve watched episode 9.

oh no! not spoilers!!!

Last week ended on a double whammy courtesy of Moma as she broke the leg of one of her beloved daughters without hesitation, while gently announcing the execution of a beloved son. And this week brought us straight back to that devastating scene adding a few new details to the mix. I must say the impact was not lessened by repetition!

Just in case the show didn’t twist the knife quite enough last week!

If last week it dawned on me just how outmatched the kids were, this week the kids are starting to really realize it as well, and it’s heartbreaking. Don and Gilda were being held together by the other three but now that they’re seeing them unravel, they are left rudderless and very very scared. The juxtaposition of the bright sunny day and soft green grass, and the dire straits the kids are in made everything just a little sadder, don’t you think?

The imagery was great — it was almost taunting our heroes with a false normalcy.

the ephemeral nature of life is both tragic and beautiful 

The scene went from Don, Gilda and Ray barely holding it together to a cool and composed Norman sweetly comforting Emma. I thought “this child is terrifying”. The composure…the strength. The sheer loyalty to Emma that he would consider his own life immaterial as long as she’s fine. Honestly Norman is one impressive young man.

Did you see what Emma did the instant she woke up? She reached for him. That gesture was heartbreaking in its simplicity; in the trust it implied.

I saw – I screencapped

And then, his mask slipped. When finally alone, it became apparent that Norman was far from fine. He was horrified and lost. He did not want to lose his life. All of this was shown in a quiet patient scene. The emphasis and emotion expressed through long shots of nothing much. The lack of motion letting the emotion shine through rather than any overt display. I quite like that! So it turned out that Norman was just pretending for the sake of his friends. And I thought, Norman is a supremely impressive young man!

You could see the moment his will snapped. He had been pushed past what he knew he could handle, and he was faced with the question: What next?

While Norman was trying to calm himself, we jumped back to Ray who was by far the most agitated we’ve ever seen him. Ray seemed to accept his own potential demise with bitter but stoic resignation. However, the thought of Norman getting shipped out has gotten hm enraged and panicked. For a second, I thought it was a mix of feelings for his friend and of the discomfort of having his plans ruined. I thought Ray was intimidatingly impressive.

The sight of Ray, who for so long had plotted and planned and executed, coming to grips with the idea that not only were his plans ruined, but his understanding of their world was flawed to the point where he had no idea what to do. And still, after venting a bit, he started to rein himself in. These are pretty impressive kids! I’m pretty sure I wasn’t that composed (or intelligent or — thank heavens — tasty to demons!) at their age.

Ray was my rock…this shattered me

Having come back to his senses a bit, Norman decided to rejoin Emma. Did you notice the CG Crow? Of course you did, it was pretty obvious. And I think that was on purpose. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure the CG has been used as a narrative tool in this series.

The CG was only used in the scenes of Norman walking the hallway alone, even though we saw extremely similar scenes of Ray, Don or Guilda. And even though the CG was obvious, it wasn’t excessive. I think the slight uncanny dissonance, plus the impact on the character’s movement was used to make those simple scenes of Norman just walking that much more weighty and uneasy. I may be reading too much into this…

It reminded me a little bit of some of the photographic effects Alfred Hitchcock would use him his films. This show is very much in that tradition!

ok, still images don’t give you the right idea

We then got another classic scene of three small kids talking in a bedroom. This is 98% of the show and it’s still giving me anxiety.

I’m sure the conversation was littered with clues and foreshadowing but quite unlike myself, I couldn’t pay attention to that. I was actually too emotionally invested. Weird huh?

I appreciated this quiet scene, because it helped me process everything we’ve learned in the last 30 or 40 minutes of storytelling!

Emma and Ray have decided that Norman getting shipped out was simply not an option and came up with a simple but promising plan. Norman should disable his tracking device and hide just beyond the wall until they can join him once Emma is healed up. At this point Ray explained some simple gut-wrenching facts. The children are afforded a comfortable happy life because they’ll taste better that way. That’s all.

As Ray was talking and Norman seemed dubious I started to wonder why did Ray seem so desperate for Norman to live? He was the one saying that saving everyone was impractical. Their plan is riddled with potential pitfalls and unknowns. Ray of all people should accept Norman’s willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. And when Ray cried out, “If you die then what were the last 6 years of my life for?”, I realized something.

Ray has a bad poker face

Ray isn’t the cool and composed mastermind he makes himself out to be. This boy who since the age of five has patiently collected trinkets to create a disarming device all on his own without anyone noticing. This boy was a bleeding heart hero type. He may not be able to save everyone, but he needs to save his friends at least. How cute and innocent. How naive to think you can just throw them out there. This is why he had to accept Norman’s argument that should he escape neither Emma or Ray would be taken in his stead and sacrificing another for your own life is unbearable. Because he’s just a kid who loves his friends, that’s all. Ray is truly and undeniably impressive.

Have you noticed how easy it is to be stoic on behalf of someone? I’m borderline competent on my own. On behalf of my family or friends? I can be quite a different person, or I can at least seem that way. I see that in Ray, and in how Ray reacted when Norman was trying to give himself up. The walls just come tumbling down!

I have but then again, I’ve never been in a situation where I really thought I could die. Maybe survival instinct would kick in..

Just when all that panic, fear and loathing cam crashing together, that’s when Emma decided to be Emma and do what she does best. Just smother everything in powerful optimism backed up by short sighted but surprisingly rational propositions. Break Ray’s arm. If they’re both hurt, then they won’t be replacements – Norman can escape with his mind at ease. This emotional release allowed the kids to get back to themselves a bit. A nice little reprieve.

and just Norman

I couldn’t help but wonder – won’t Gilda or Don be chosen then??? It seems that wasn’t too much of a concern to the others.

They needed a little short-sightedness to keep themselves together, I think. I also wonder if either Don or Gilda would be considered a real replacement? If Emma, Norman, and Ray are prime grade, Don and Gilda would likely be choice. Still a fine grade, but not interchangeable. Maybe. I’m feeling strange talking about our heroes as grades of beef…

Say Crow, any thoughts about the fact that Ray knew right from the start? I think that may be better, since you don’t lose anything? Then again, maybe not.

The show’s doing such a good job at presenting Ray as a complex character that honestly, I’m not sure! It certainly could be!

there was tons of Norman in this episode, really!!!

The next day, Norman’s escape plan is ready to go. They have a new rope, a last hide and seek game, everyone knows their part. Momma informs the entire house that Norman is going to be “adopted”. First – darn you Phil! Second – some of those kids were crying a little more than justified, don’t you think. Maybe Emma and co. aren’t the only ones to know the houses secret?

I had that impression, too — especially that one little girl Norman had to hug!

um..it’s going to be…”o.k.”?

That was an exciting scene. Much like the rest of the episode, it used quick cuts beween the main characters as we saw Norman making his way to the wall and finally climbing it, while Emma and Ray are simply waiting back at the house. It got my blood pumping! And those colours were stunning.

Did you see the looks the kids were giving Isabella? Chilling!

As evening set in and the kids were getting ready to go in for dinner, I was actually holding my breath a little. And then, Norman just slowly walked back. After which, we finally find out what’s behind that wall. Talk about a cliffhanger!!!!

I see what you did there!

oh my

When we first see Norman climb to the top and look out, were you afraid we weren’t going to find out what he saw? I was all like, “Oh, no, Promised Neverland! Don’t you dare make me guess!”

And then we found out.

It might have been better had they made me guess!

And did you notice how self-satisfied Momma looked? Of course she knew what was beyond the walls. Of course she could guess what Norman’s reaction would be! Just another sign of her supreme control over the situation.

Krone who?

By the way, we saw Norman discover Krone’s pen and box in a drawer, but once again they didn’t show us what was in it. ARGH!!!

So this is Norman’s last day. Their plans are in ruins; their emergency plans are in ruins; and Phil is still smiling way too much. I have no idea how they’re going to get out of this, and honestly, I don’t want to guess! The show is doing a delightful job of entertaining me, and I don’t want to get in its way.

Irina, what’d you think of the music in this episode?

I’ll be honest I didn’t notice it. My mind got kidnapped by the plot. But tell me about it!

shhhs Phil

Starting just after Norman’s will crumbled , a simple piano melody starts playing. The camera switches to Ray, but the melancholy song continues and underlines their desperation — that begins to harden into resolve.

It’s a simple tune that lets the acting speak for itself. It ends when Norman enters and sees Ray and Emma’s serious expressions.

Later, as Norman’s running for the wall, there’s a more upbeat, drum-driven song with a woman’s beautiful voice harmonizing — no words. Emma and Ray try to stay calm, but the almost pop beat is more to support Norman’s spring to the wall than their attempt at patience. The woman’s voice disappears until Normal reaches the wall and makes it to the top. The crescendo? When he stands, shocked into silence, at what he sees on the other side of the wall. The music disappears, too.

The inarticulate voice lent an air of desperation that I recognized only in retrospect — when se see Norman’s shattered expression at the end.

whoa! I need to rewatch this episode…if I can

This show, man…..

The Promised Neverland Episode 1

The Promised Neverland Episode 2

The Promised Neverland Episode 3

The Promised Neverland Episode 4

The Promised Neverland Episode 5

The Promised Neverland Episode 6

The Promised Neverland Episode 7

The Promised Neverland Episode 8

You know, when I get really engrossed in a show, I can’t stop taking screencaps…

      The Promised Neverland Episode 9 – Back Rank Mate Back Rank Mate : A checkmate that occurs when your king is trapped behind a wall (usually a wall of your own pawns) on the back rank, and a queen or rook attacks on the back rank. 2,408 more words

[mini-zerk-her]

MAYBE ITS MY FAULT- CALFREEZY IMAGINE

So I got carried away and this is really long... But I also love it so I hope you do. //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Maybe I was the cause of all the problems in my relationship with Cal. Maybe it was actually me and not him. I mean we both had fucked up schedules and many times we went weeks without actually seeing each other. He goes to bed around three in the morning and I wake up at about four in the morning to train. I don't get home till about five and by then Cal is already filming or doing other things. I'm a gymnast and he's youtuber and quite honestly I thought his schedule was messing us up, but now I'm sure it's mine. I do an hour of yoga and stretching before eating breakfast and doing a few miles of running. Then I drive to the gym where I live from six to three. Then I finally head home to my flat and I'm exhausted, but it doesn't end there because after dinner I go back to the gym to teach a class for the little ones. Unfortunately, for my relationship, I do this Monday through Friday and weekends are the same minus teaching classes. Maybe I was the reason my relationship was failing. It was most likely me and the olympics. "Why are you falling off the beam on a simple turn?!" My trainer screams from the other side of the gym and I look up at him. "Because my relationship is failing!" I scream back. "Well get back on the beam and focus. Even the three year olds can turn on beam without falling and you have a gold medal on it." He has a point. You'd think after being an overall bronze medalist at worlds two years in a row and having a gold medal on beam at the olympics, I'd be able to do better. "Can you get through today's practice or do I need to send you home to work out your boyfriend troubles?" He asks and I shake my head. "No because he doesn't even realize that we're falling apart." I explain before stepping back onto the beam. "Nope get on down. You're not gonna get injured right now because you're unfocused." He reaches up and grabs my waist before pulling me down. "Go home, talk to him and come back here tomorrow ready to stick the routine we've given you because in two months you're competing in the qualifier and I need your head on straight and the routine clean." "Okay." I nod in agreement before walking over to my bag and pulling on my team Great Britain sweatshirt that match my blue shorts that sit on top of my leotard. Once I'm outside I pull out my phone and stare at it for a few moments. "Hey Cal, can I come over?" "Yeah of course. I just have some of the guys over filming. I thought you had training." "Let me out early, but I'll be over in a few. Love you." "Love you too. I'll unlock the door." He hangs up and by the time I get to the flat all I hear is pure chaos. "It's the Olympic gymnast who got stuck dating Callum!" I hear Harry shout before pulling me in for a hug. "Aren't you usually doing flips at this time of day?" He asks and I nod. "Coach sent me home." I explain as he steps away and let's Cal come over to greet me. "You hurt?" He questions before kissing me on my head. "No just off my game I guess. I mean I fell off the beam doing a simple pirouette and I'm the gold medalist on beam. I do pirouettes in my sleep." I ramble slightly and he notices something is wrong. "Well go change and join us." He pats me on the shoulder and I nod before placing my bag down and walking to his room. I pull off my leotard and other clothes before grabbing one of his weezy tops and pulling my shorts back on. I go to leave his room before looking in the mirror and realize I actually look like shit. "I'm not gonna be caught on camera with this." I mumble as I pull my hair out of the messy bun. I quickly put some concealer on my neck because a bruise the beam gave me looks like a hickey and then I'm 'ready' to be seen by others. "Guys look it's the girl with the Olympic gold medal." Someone throws a vlogging camera in my face. "Stop it. It was one gold medal." "Yeah but you're family has a room in their house dedicated to medals and awards that you received growing up." Cal points out "Well it's my only Olympic gold medal." "My bad I forgot about the bronze on uneven bars." "I could be better. Have you met the American team their incredible." I look down at my callused hands and think about the eighteen years of my life that have been dedicated to the sport. My twenty first birthday was spent at the gym training for nationals. I mean I pushed so much of my life off just to compete. Yet I still feel unaccomplished. Like I could do more and to others it sounds stupid but for me it's just the life of a gymnast. "Anyway I'm gonna go lie down. I didn't realize how out of it I am till now." I stand up off the couch and Callum looks worried. "Guys set up the video I'll be back." He follows me into his room and I take a seat on the bed. "What's going on? You haven't missed a day of training since you had the flu three months ago." He asks and I shrug while rubbing on my right ring finger that has the Olympic Rings tattooed onto it. "I'm ruining our relationship. I mean we barely ever see each other and when we do, the guys are around, or we're both out of it and tired. I mean we haven't spent time watching Netflix and relaxing together in months. I mean we maybe get to call each other every week or so." I shrug before looking up and facing the reality. "I mean you started dating me right after the Olympics and I'm not the same person I was back then. I had about three or four months of normalcy where I just hung out and relaxed and only went to the gym twice a week. Now it's a year later and I'm training hard for nationals and to make the national team for worlds. This is the real me and the real me is fucking up everything. I mean did you not notice my lack of presence at the party last week or that I wasn't there for the Sidemen football match? I mean I missed a lot and I feel like you don't care. Like it doesn't matter." "You think I don't care or notice that you aren't there? Cause I do and yeah it hurts but I don't say anything because you're pursing a dream and I'm not gonna stop you from doing that. You're incredible and I'm not gonna stop you from reaching you're highest potential. I don't wanna make you feel bad so I don't say anything. And yeah maybe you and I don't talk much and this is the first time I've seen you in person in a month, but I still love you. I mean what do you want me to say? That I mad? Cause I am, but I'm not gonna do that to you. I mean it sucks when all the others guys have their girlfriends around and we all go out to eat and mine isn't there because she's training. Yeah it sucks but I don't say anything because I'm not gonna stop you from doing you're best. Im not gonna make you feel like shit for doing you. So don't come in here and act like I don't try because it's you that doesn't have time for me." He shouts back and I realize that I was... no I am... the problem. "So what does this mean?" I ask and he places his hands over his face before looking up at the ceiling and back down to me. "I think it means we're done." He admits and I nod before picking up my bag and walking out of the room. "Wait where you going?" Harry asks and I just ignore him. Once I'm out of the flat I just run. I run to my car and I drive straight to the gym. "Why are you back here? I'm not letting you train upset." "I'm here because he fucking broke up with me." I finally respond after a few moments of silence. "And I'm ready to train." --//-- "You look so tense. Like go get a drink." My teammate jokes and actually consider that as an option. "I mean Cal and I split like a month ago and I have been quite lonely. I mean I haven't slept with a guy in so long. I mean it's hard to have a sex life when I'm always here." "Well there's always the boys." She motions over to the chalk bin where some of the Olympic guys are standing. "Mel really?" I fidget with my grips and she nods. "I mean I had that fling with Luke." She smiles and I look over at them. "They're just as horny as we are. Like I'm just about to for one of them at this point." She shrugs and I nod.s "Let them know you're single sweetie." I wink before grabbing her hand and pulling her over to the chalk bin by the bars. "Move it or lose it boys." I smirk before looking up. "Or do something with it." "Oh is that right?" Ash grabs my waist and I nod. He pulls me closer to his body and leans down to kiss behind my ear. "I'll see you by my car." He leaves another kiss on my neck before looking around. "I'm sorry do you guys need some space?" I hear my coach shout and I quickly pull away from Ash and turn around to face my trainer who is holding up an elastic band. "I thought we were doing bars." I raise an eyebrow and he holds up another elastic band. "You and Ash here and gonna be having fun today and not the fun you wanted to have." He throws the bands at us and I contemplate throwing myself on the ground and crying. "Feet together and up the rope. Come on you two, now you're gonna do that ten times each and once you're done do it another ten times." He shouts and Ash looks at me while smirking. "Good I'll get to see your cute ass climb up the rope." "Not gonna be cute when he makes us do even worse things. Last time he caught me kissing my boyfriend I was sixteen and he made me do twenty times up the rope, a five mile run, and thirty standing tucks before making me call the boy and tell him he would ruin my future and I couldn't date him." "Wait really?" "Yeah and he only let me date after I won gold on beam. Now he's pissed because of you because he thinks you're gonna ruin my chance at gold again." I explain while tying my ankles together. "What about my chance at gold?" He jokes and I grab onto the rope. "My bad I mean my chance at gold for the third worlds in a row." He reaches over and tries to tip me over before climbing up the rope. --- "So Im gonna go take an ice bath. I gotta take an ice bath." I limp over to ice baths as Asher follows me. My trainer had us do five miles, and then it got worse. Back tuck followed by a burpee. Twenty sets of five followed by chin ups on the high bar and then he made me continue running. Then he made me do my floor routine full out four times in row. The worst was that Ash was allowed to stop after the running and he sat back cheering me on while laughing. "Can you possibly carry me?" I ask and he grabs onto my waist and throws me over his shoulder. Once we get to the ice baths he puts me down and I slowly climb into the freezing water. "How's the boyfriend been?" He asks and I can't help but laugh. "I wouldn't have flirted with you if he was still my boyfriend." I explain and he leans against the edge of the tub next to me. "Why'd you split?" "I don't have time for a relationship when I'm here being an Olympic gymnast." "Oh trust me... There's time. That one hour break we get between twelve and one for lunch and then the break we have from three to seven and again when you have a break at nine after you're done teaching the little ones. Trust me there's time, but unless both people are trying, you won't feel like there is time." "And weekends at night. You're boyfriend sounds like an ass." He laughs and I shake my head. "No I'm the ass. I didn't try either. I wanted him to try and I couldn't expect him to." I look up at him and he shakes his head before standing up. "I can't sleep with you. I'm sorry but I was flirting back because I'm an ass but you love another guy. Like come on you still love Cal." He grabs my hand and pulls me up out of the ice bath. "You should stretch, take a shower, and go get your boyfriend back." "No I don't love him anymore, it's fine." I try to dissuade him and he smiles softly. "Can't do that to you. I mean you're on my Olympic team." He laughs and I cross my arms over my chest. "Okay, well thanks Asher." ---- "Hey Harry, is Callum home? I gotta talk to him." "Oh, what're you doing here?" He hugs me before pulling me inside and pointing to the kitchen. "Wait before I go, is he seeing someone new?" I ask and he shakes his head. "You're good." He laughs while motioning for me to follow him inside. "Callum? Can we talk?" I ask and he looks up before nodding and motioning for him to follow me. "Mind me asking why you're here?" He asks while shutting the door behind us. "Cause I got to practice and for the first time since I was sixteen I got fully punished. I had to climb the rope with just my upper body twenty times and then ran five miles. Then did so many back tucks into burpees that I almost passed out and it didn't stop there. I had to do chin ups and handstands and all that other shit before dying and doing my floor routine fully out." "The last time that happened I got caught having my first kiss outside. It was my first boyfriend and it was so worth the pain I endured after. However, today wasn't the same because I got caught flirting with another guy who then turned me down because he told me I'm still in love with you. And he's right, I am still in love with you, but he also made a really good point and I want you to listen." I place my bag down and he motions for me to continue. "He mentioned that I do have enough time for us. He pointed out that there is enough time and I think I messed up before and yeah I do want to get back together but please just tell me if I'm already overstepping my boundaries. I mean I'll just go now if you don't want to get back together." "Don't think that, please don't think that. Yes I want to get back together and yes I'll find a way to work this out so please don't cry." He pulls me into his arms and I wrap my arms around his waist. "Missed you shorty." He pulls away and brushes my hair away from my face before kissing me. "I love you." He picks me up and I place my face into his shoulder. "I love you too." I smile before leaving kisses on his cheek. "I love you so so much." I laugh as I keep leaving kisses on his cheek and he smiles before turning his head and kissing me again. "I'm not letting you go again."

[batmomhoe]

They’re a Bit Protective

Requested by an anon

Summary: How the batfam gets protective of each family member/how they show they care.

Warning(s): None (Super Long)

//This is not finished yet but it’s already taken forever and I just feel like it’s prohibiting me (mentally?) from getting other requests done. Feel free to send in for an unfinished character and help me complete it. It’s not the best, nor is it the most accurate, but please appreciate it.

Bruce:

Batmom:

basically “don’t touch bc everything I love that someone else touches BREAKS.”

has a tough time actually incorporating your feelings into his protective methods.

when you decided you wanted to help man the computer he upped the security by 10000%

A lot of his showing he cares comes out sexual, mainly because when he’s physical with you the whole world melts away.

Dick:

Batmom:

Dick constantly calls you even when he’s away(unless he’s on a mission or undercover)

makes sure you’re okay emotionally, just constantly checking up on you, he knows Bruce can be cold sometimes.

will never decline a brunch invitation.

Barbara:

He’s protective of her in the sense that he’s not protective(does that make sense?)

She’s kickass and he knows she can handle her own.

But he can be caught keeping a watchful eye on her during fights - just in case.

Jason:

He tries to relate to him but he just can’t.

Dick is upbeat and mostly-optimistic and Jason’s practically the polar opposite.

That doesn’t mean it won’t stop him from checking up on Jason every now and then.

Whether it be catching him on parole or breaking into his brother’s apartment for some “brotherly” bonding time...

Tim:

Dick always cherished the last picture he had the his parent’s, it was only a coincidence that Tim and his family were in it as well, or so he thought.

Dick completely shot down the idea of Tim getting involved with Batman even though his smart’s impressed Dick.

Dick really admires how hard Tim has to try and how hard he does try to keep up and be in top physical condition.

Dick tries his best to help Tim keep up his social life because he knows first hand that the teenager life seems to be harder than the vigilante life.

Stephanie:

Dick likes to just hang out with Steph, he knows she has a lot on her plate and he likes to offer to help with her homework.

Orrrr have a movie night.

He tried to help her out of her “amateur” Spoiler days and was happy when she decided to become Batgirl.

Cass:

Just like Barbra, he knows Cass can handle her own in a fight.

But he likes to keep a watchful eye on her.

He also likes to just talk with her, even when she was mute he would just babble as she went about her business.

Damian:

He tried his best when he was Batman to show Damian the ropes of the Robin mantle and Dick did a better job than Bruce ever could have.

Damian’s only a kid and Dick just really tries to get Damian to do some typical kid things

Mainly so Damian’s not forced to live the lonely life Dick’s watched Bruce lead because he has a choice.

Though he knows Damian “hates” him for it, he also knows when Damian’s sixty years old and Dick is already dead he’s not going to resent the memory of being dragged to the zoo then.

Barbara:

Batmom:

You’re the only one Barbra doesn’t feel guilty venting to.

Everyone else is dealing with almost the same shit she is but you always listen and give her actual advice.

Every time she sees you she gives you a hug.

Dick:

She will kick anyone’s ass for him.

Even from her wheelchair.

Obviously they have history together and she’s almost convinced that no matter what happens they’ll still have a mutual respect for each other.

She knows him like no one else does, so she helps out with the things she knows he forgets(like reminding him to actually do his laundry once in a while.)

Jason:

Jason’s aggressive tactics and overall rude attitude annoyed her for the longest time.

But there’s not much you can say after the guy died.

When he came back she tried to reach out to him but he was already closed off.

She still tries to reach out and shows up every so often to help with a bad guy or two.

Tim:

She admires his detective skills and smarts in general.

She’ll find out what he’s learning in school and talk about it with him like two little nerds.

Of course she tries to help him out with his girl issues and gives him date ideas...and legit excuses for bailing out on dates when duty calls.

She is his go-to for advice.

Stephanie:

AKA The sister she never had

Steph decides to open up to Barbra first(besides Tim) and they just click.

Again, she gives boy advice and pretty good advice too.

There’s few girls in the vigilante business so they kind of stick together and cover each other’s backs.

Cass:

Babs was kind of reluctant about Cass, she was pretty intimidating and the fact that Cass was rather unstable made Babs even more leery about it.

She definitely admires Cass's fighting abilities though.

When Cass starts to open up, Barbra is right there to offer a friendly smile and some take out Chinese.

Damian:

She tries to be a supporting figure in his life.

Especially since Dick was the one training Damian.

But Damian is Damian and although Babs tried, and she still tries, Damian was trained to be closed off.

Jason:

Batmom:

He’s much more aggressive in protecting you.

After he came back to Gotham the first thing he did was check up on you.

But he saw you moved on, and he couldn’t just show up out of the blue suddenly alive, plus he had a mission to do.

He won’t ever say anything, but he loves when you force him into a hug.

Dick:

He appreciates Dick respecting him as a vigilante.

Before his death he didn’t really see a lot of Dick, but all he knew is that he would always be compared to him.

Though he doesn’t really show it he also respects Dick quite a bit.

When shit hits the fan he’d much rather stand next to Dick than Bruce.

Barbara:

Babs was really the first female he became friends with.

Pshhh he did not know how to act.

Still to this day he’s sooo suave with the ladies.

He knows if he ever needed any advice, Babs is like the batfam’s personal advice-giver.

Tim:

He hated Tim as first because he was reminded how easily replaceable he was to Bruce.

After a while it really clicked at how much shit Tim had to go through because of Jason - and Tim wasn’t exactly the naturally athletic type either.

Jason just doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to Tim.

Stephanie:

Pretty sure they have sarcasm battles

Along with “who has the shittier life” battles

He digs Steph’s style and they both appreciate the fact that they both tend to be more aggressive when fighting.

Cass:

During his time with the LoA, Jay gained massive respect for anyone who was trained with them.

She’s hardcore af but she’s also loyal to Bruce, almost a little too much and he’s a little leery of that.

If Cass asked him for his own beating heart he would probably give it to her.

Damian:

Jason feels a little awkward around Dami(maybe because he allegedly banged the kid’s mom????)

But at the same time there’s this normalcy when he’s around Damian.

The kid grew up with a tough childhood, similar yet completely different to Jason’s.

Both of them seem to express their emotions through anger, making it easy for each other to aggressively jump in for backup of the other.

Tim:

Batmom:

Protectiveness from Tim goes unseen for the most part.

He knows how careless you are with your electronics and he’s constantly stealing them so he can put a firewall on them(and a tracker.)

But the best gift he gives you is smiling.

The sleepy smile as you hand him his cup of coffee.

The excited smile when he makes a break in a case.

The sly smile when you figure out he upgraded your laptop.

Dick:

Dick is the master acrobat so Tim tries to wiggle in a bit of analytical thinking into the

Barbara:

Oh the geek talk!

Both Tim and Barbra are more analytical thinkers

Jason:

Stephanie:

Cass:

Damian:

Stephanie:

Batmom:

Dick:

Barbara:

Tim:

Cass:

Damian:

Cass:

Batmom:

Dick:

Barbara:

Tim:

Stephanie:

Damian:

Damian:

Batmom:

Dick:

Barbara:

Tim:

Stephanie:

Cass: