#I wish someone else wrote about the kind of Situation I’m in so I could just reblog that

[pixlokita]

Just wanna ask just to make sure

Are we allowed to share stuff about our own aus?

I rmemeber asking and you said no fur to bad experiences, so I’m asking again

And if so, would it be limited to just text stuff, or would we be allowed to share our art about said aus?

Hope this doesn’t come across as rude or annoying

Hmmmm tbh if I’ve stated it makes me uncomfortable before then I just appreciate avoiding it. I do follow other fnaf AUs and like learning about them but only if I’m the one finding them or asking about them or joining a server to learn more about them. Heck even checking my FYP let’s me genuinely find things I enjoy at my own pace ^^; but If my own blog keeps getting recommendations from other people’s AUs and info dumping without even asking before doing so then it feels like it’s not my own space :Tc it kinda sorta feels like it’s being used for self promoting their own stuff and I won’t even enjoy it because of that, it’s hard to explain it in English but honestly even if that’s not the intention it makes me uncomfortable nonetheless unfortunately.

[lightlycareless]

I’m curious, how would you think Naoya’s canonical first appearance would be like if he was married to Y/N during the events of the manga? I wonder if he’d still maintain his role as antagonist(maybe he’d turn ally?) or if he’d just be nonexistent because him and Y/N decide to leave Japan post shibuya(he can’t let y/n get caught up in that) XD

Hello anon!!!

Well, I actually wrote a little something detailing that hehe. Kind of. I hope it still answers your question :>

Also, because this is the perfect opportunity to do so, why not write something sad/angsty for a change. A "what would happen with Y/N and Naoya during Shibuya" :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) but somewhat taking into consideration the post above? Hmmm more at the end.

warnings: slight mentions of character death. mentions of pregnancy. angst. sad overall I believe. :') Naoya loves you and has done things differently than the jerk we all know of course. Or not? Also, I don't remember much of Shibuya anymore so forgive me if something is odd about it.

Happy reading!

I would say Naoya would quickly decide to get you out of danger. No questions about it; he doesn’t even consider otherwise. As soon as he hears what is going down he intends to send you far away in some remote safe house where he thinks you and the kids will be ok—perfectly tended for, as he’d always made sure.

You, on the other hand, aren’t too enthusiastic about leaving everything behind, simply because your family was right in the middle of the crisis! And of course they would be, always rushing to serve the noble cause, you were not surprised to learn that they were doing their best to prevent the situation from worsening.

But this was no ordinary task, that much obvious by a simple glance. And if not through that, then by the growing uneasiness settling in your heart. One that demanded you to stay… or at least remain attentive to what is to follow.

“But I don’t think that’s even necessa—”

“We’re not discussing this anymore, Y/N. You are leaving, and you’re doing so tomorrow first thing in the morning. I already made all the preparations, you just need to have the kids awake and ready.”

“I don’t want to leave my family.” You insist. “I shouldn’t! They—They need me. They’re putting their life on the line; I can’t just leave—”

“Our children need you more. I need you more.” Naoya frowns, frustrated that of all things you’ve decided to refute him on, this had to be the one. “As I said, I won’t discuss this with you anymore—you are leaving.”

“But Naoya—!”

You’ve only seen this firm side of him on scarce occasions; either when reprimanding your naïve kids when accidentally doing something that might hurt them, or when putting his family in place after saying… well, the things they normally did.

And since you obviously don’t like pushing him over the edge, having more than enough with the weight of being the heir of a prestigious clan, as well as all his work as a sorcerer, you tend to just go with what he wants.

But not this time around, you simply couldn’t act like there wasn’t something bothering you. Something looming over your mind, a frightening omen that involved someone directly involved with you.

It could be anyone. Either your family, or… Naoya.

Both chances you did not wish to take.

“…Please.” Naoya would quietly insist after seeing you grow silent, regretful of the domineering way he seemed to take over the conversation, for after all was said and done, he loved you more than anything else in this world and would rather die than hurt you.

He wasn’t happy about this arrangement, no, in fact he despised it.

Hated the fact that he had to be the one to come up with it in the first place—but after what he heard from Shibuya, alongside his father being summoned for support, it was nothing but clear that he needed to act.

“You’ll be stationed in a nice place. A quiet little village with a nice, ample house and access to a relaxing beach for you and the kids to spend time on.  Now, doesn’t that sound nice, mochi?”

Had it been literally any other occasion, you would have been ecstatic. Happy to have the opportunity to spend time with your family without worrying about anything, simply what you and your kids were to do next.

But it wasn’t meant to be this way, so much that even the kids were unusually calm about the so-called holiday. Having sensed their mother’s anxiety and preferring being by her side than thinking of having fun.

“And school? What about their friends?” You eventually ask, of course, one of the many ways to stall him.

“I don’t believe you will be away for long, but I arranged everything in the meantime. They will be homeschooled.” Naoya explains, you frown. “As for friends… I guess I can consider occasional visits. Though they’ll more likely make new ones over there.”

“…And you? Will you be… coming with us?” You know that wouldn’t be, assumed so either way. But still, you hoped he would surprise you otherwise.

“…You know I can’t.” Naoya responds, your heart sinks to your stomach.

“Why not? Your father is already there for support. Why do you have to go?” you scowl.

“I have to stay at the estate to oversee it while he’s gone.” He explains. “I wish I could go, or that you and our kids could stay but… it’s too dangerous. If anything happens at Shibuya and things decide to escalate, it’s only logical that the estate will become a target and I won’t risk it.”

You press your lips together, understanding his words, yet disappointed that it had to be that way. A part of you tried to accept them, let it go, for you knew exactly what you were getting into when you married him.

And the other…

“I can’t… I don’t feel comfortable being away while you and my family are in danger!”

“This is no different from any other mission I’ve gone to, or that your family has.” Naoya attempts to console you, but both knew that wasn’t the trutht. “What is it? What is it that has you like this?”

“…I…I don’t…I don’t know.” You begin slowly, hesitant to admit your thoughts in fear that they might become true. To painful to even consider it! “I just… have this awful feeling that something bad is going to happen soon.”

“Like what?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Naoya didn’t need more to understand, and such, leans closer to you, enough to wrap his arms around you and gently place a kiss on the top of your head.

“…Nothing will happen. I swear. I will contact you whenever possible so you’ll be at ease. And if there’s any change, I’ll let you know as well. I promise.”

“…Please?”

“Of course, princess.” He smirks, now kissing your cheek. “I wouldn’t even dream otherwise.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time.” You silently admit; his words lift some of the burdening weight from your heart.

Not enough to free you, but enough for you to slightly jest at him.

“Well, our little Naomi kind of inherited it, didn’t she?”

“She’s well deserving of it. It fits her.”

“Technically you’re my princess, and she’s our little princess.”

“…I guess so, if you put it that way it kind of makes sense.”

Silence engulfs the two for a brief moment soon after, motivating Naoya to hug you even tighter.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N. It’s nothing but a situation that… got a little bit out of hand, but nothing I can’t handle. That’s all.

Just remember that my father is involved too. And…” as much as he hated admitting it, the old man was a very talented sorcerer. A good decision was made by considering him. “Gojo-kun is also there too, and everyone knows there’s no one stronger than him. As for your sister… well, she’s quite a force to be reckoned with too.”

“I never thought I’d come to hear you compliment them, ever!” You tease, he scoffs, slightly embarrassed.

“I just want to make you happy.” Naoya silently admits, placing his fingers underneath your chin and lifting your gaze to his. “You mean the world to me; I don’t know what I would do if you—if you… I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Then hurry up back home.” You pout, a tear sliding down cheek. “Please, for me. For the kids.”

“Promise me to always send me pictures of you and the kids. It’ll serve me as motivation as to why I even bother doing all this…” He frowns. “…And to let me know if you’re ok. You’ll be secured there with some of my men, but I still wish to hear it from you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll send you so many, you’ll ask me to stop!”

“Now, mochi, no need to say fallacies we know won’t happen.” He teases back, which you respond with a giggle before quieting down, the realization that his impending departure is near.

“May the gods bring you back safe to me.” You silently pray, pressing a kiss on his lips to seal your protection charm, the one you’ve previous on prior occasions and has always worked—or so you believed.

The same one you desperately hoped would work this time around as well, especially after beginning to hear the horrific loses Shibuya had brought along.

From the death of your beloved friend Nanami to Gojo’s unprecedented sealing, you remained on edge as you tried your best to keep constant communication with Naoya, trying to figure out if any of these happenings had affected him one way or the other, praying that nothing would befall him.

Eventually cursing yourself when realizing you had unknowingly called a bad presage into reality when Naoya one day, without previous warning, directly and sternly, sends you the following message:

“My father died in Shibuya. I am now clan leader.”

To congratulate him given the circumstances of his death felt out of place, if not incredibly imprudent—even if this was his biggest dream.

It just came to you so… unexpectedly, though some would say that incidences would occur in such conflict. Perhaps it was Naobito’s time to leave this earth.

And yet, another part of you decided to take this as a warning, a reminder that this was no common attack. Not if it was capable of claiming the life of someone so skillful as your father-in-law.

…

What did any of this mean for Naoya? Is he safe? Is he ok? Has he been injured? Where was he right now?

But most importantly, what is he going to do now that is Leader of the Zen’in clan?

Did this mean that you were finally able to return with him? After so many days of homesickness, would you be able to see your husband in person?

…

Or… or did this just made things even worse for your family, forced to remain away until things cooled down, because you were now a bigger target?

“It’s still not safe. With Gojo-kun’s sealing… the clans have been nothing but a mess; and apparently that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There seems to be a deeper plan unfolding in the background—We still don’t know what for, but I know for sure one thing: I wouldn’t dare endanger you.”

“…Ok. I understand” You dejectedly agree, forced to remain behind as you lonely mourn the death of your friends, or the unknown fate of one of them.

Well, at least your family was relatively safe. Your siblings sustained injuries, but nothing they wouldn’t be able to heal in due time. You could only wonder the stresses your father had to deal with now that the Gojo clan was rendered nonexistent… Was someone trying to nominate Satoru’s replacement?

…

You wished you could do more. Longed to not feel as useless as you did nowadays, more so since Naoya’s messages turned to be fewer and fewer as time passed…

But at least he still responded. Took a little bit of his time to let you know that he was fine. Busy, perhaps a partial lie, but ultimately alive.

Just a matter of days and you’ll be back in his arms, with your children, and the little bundle growing inside you. Where you belonged.

Unless… fate was to cruelly decide otherwise.

“Naoya, I… haven’t heard from you in quite a while. I just… hope you’re ok and not overworking yourself. Naomi, Naori, Naoko and Naoyuki miss you. Please let me know how everything is doing as soon as you can. I love you”

…

“I don’t want to bother you, nor distract you from your duties. But I’m very worried about you Naoya, you haven’t answered any of my messages or calls. And… and I can’t shake this feeling that something horrible happened. Please answer me, Naoya, I can’t take the thought of you mot—

Just let me know if you’re ok, please. I love you.”

…

“Please, just give me a sign that you’re alive. I beg you, Naoya. I can’t take this anymore. I feel so lonely without you. I always do, but today… today it feels worse. Please, if just a letter, you don’t even have to write a whole message. Just a dot or something. Anything!

Just… anything so I can know you’re fine. Alive. Please. I beg you”

…

“Please. Please. Please. Naoya, answer me. Please. We love you.”

…

…

“Please. For our baby. Please.”

…

…

…

“…Naoya?”

Obviously I wanted to make it tragic and say that Naoya died; but how did he die? By being in Shibuya? Maybe. Maki? That means he still would've been a jerk! akjgkags

Also, I believe he didn't tell Y/N that he wasn't actually clan leader because... I don't know, pride. It's what he wanted all his life, after all! Maybe he hoped to fix that before meeting up with you again, and that's how he died :) OOF

Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this little "what if" piece. I still have another Shibuya-centric oneshot to write 😏 maybe that could add on to this one? Thankfully, the good things about these prompts is that they're not really connected to one another, they could all essentially be read individually hehe nice.

Now, thank you so much for sending in this ask; take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[herofics]

Friend taking advantage, feat Dabi

A/N: I think I’ve done some bad/toxic-ish friend stuff before which you can find here, but I’ve been feeling like this recently so I wanted to vent. I haven’t written for Dabi in a while so I picked him, also I kinda need his brand of jackass attitude for this. I wrote this as platonic but take it how you will

“Oh my fucking god!” you groaned loudly, throwing one of the pillows from the couch towards the kitchen entrance way.

“What the hell?” Dabi exclaimed as he caught the pillow and threw it back at you. “I almost spilled my damn drink”

“Sorry” you muttered, looking at your phone with an irritated expression.

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning? You look annoyed” Dabi noted as he sat down at the other end of the couch.

“It’s my bff, or at least she’s supposed to be”

“Is this the bitch who keeps askin you for money all the time?”

“Yeah, but I wish you wouldn’t call her that” you sighed

“What’d she do this time?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“After I moved here, she stayed in our hometown. She keeps guilting me about “leaving her” as if I did it just to leave her and not because I got into school here. It’s honestly driving me fucking insane” you threw your phone on the couch between you and Dabi.

“That sounds like a bitch move on her part, so I think callin her a bitch is justified” Dabi shrugged.

“And like, I go to my mom’s every now and then, which is like 45 minutes away from where she lives, and she still doesn’t come visit unless I pay her gas money. It’s like I have to buy her time if I even want to see her. Plus, the last time I was at my mom’s place, she was way more excited about seeing my mom’s new dog than about seeing me, even though we hadn’t seen each other in months” you huffed, leaning back on the couch.

“As I said, bitch move” Dabi burped

“Thanks for your support I guess” you rolled your eyes.

“You don’t need my support, you need to vent, and I’m listenin aren’t I?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“So keep talkin” Dabi cut you off.

“Fine. You know I’m bad at saying no to people, so pretty much every time she asks me for money, I give it to her, even if I’m not in a super good situation myself. She also kind of abuses that, because she knows I’ll pay for stuff so she’ll spend time with me. I feel like I’m pathetic, but she’s my only friend aside from you, and I don’t want to lose her. We’ve been friends for almost 18 years, so it’s hard to even think about letting go, even if it would be for my benefit”

“So basically, your friend is takin advantage of you, and you just plan on lettin her, even though you knew you shouldn’t?” Dabi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna get a headache from your idiocy”

“Are you calling me an idiot?” you asked, feigning offense

“No, but you’re bein dumb as hell right now” Dabi ruffled your hair, just to be annoying.

“Hey, don’t be an asshole” you protested with a smirk, trying to push his hand away.

“Ain’t that like a definin personality trait of mine though?” he asked, giving up on messing with your hair.

“Well yeah, but I wish you’d aim it at someone else” you rolled your eyes.

“There’s no one else around, so… or do you want me to go give your bff a piece of my mind?”

“No, it’s between me and her, so I think I need to be the one to talk to her” you sighed. “And I think if you talked to her, she might get on your nerves and end up a pile of ash”

“Eh, maybe” Dabi shrugged.

“Thanks for listening and only being a little bit of a jackass about it” you smiled.

“Well I’m mostly here for your drinks and to hide from the cops but-”

“And there’s that asshole of a villain I know” you cut him off and smacked the side of his thigh.

“I do have a reputation to uphold, you know” Dabi grinned.

You just rolled your eyes, but you were still smiling. He was a total asshole sometimes, but he could still be helpful too.

[bots-and-cons]

Hi, I would like to ask for a reader who sees Optimus, Bulkhead, and Rachet as a father figure and the reader tells them about this person they really really like. So basically how would Optimus, Bulkhead, and Ratchet react to hearing reader has a crush? (Can it be LGBTQIA+ friendly?) Thank you!! Love your work!

A/N: Aaaw, this is cute. (As an aroace person, I have a really bad grasp on how it is when you have a crush on someone, since the only “crushes” I have, are on fictional characters.) I wrote it gender-neutral as usual, otherwise I don’t really know what you’d mean by LGBTQIA+ friendly. You can interpret the gender of the reader and the crush however you want. Didn’t do Bulk, because I kinda ran out of steam after the Optimus one.  Also thank you for liking my writing, it means a lot to me :D

~Ratchet~

•Ratchet had noticed you had been acting a bit odd lately

•Texting someone a lot and laughing and smiling at seemingly every text you received back

•But somehow you also seem kind of anxious as of late, even though you also seemed really happy

•Ratchet doesn’t really know what to make of this, so when you ask him one day if he could hear you out, he’s relieved, because maybe you’ll finally tell him what’s going on

•So you sit down with him, making sure no one else is in hearing distance and you seem pretty secretive

•Ratchet asks what’s going on as you try to figure out how to tell him as you pace back and forth in front of him

•You finally stop pacing and just sigh, before telling him “I have a crush”

•”You have a what?” Ratchet asked, he didn’t really know what the word meant in that context

•”I like this one person in my class…” you muttered

•”I assume they’re the one you’ve been constantly exchanging messages with?”

•”Yes, and they’re great… I just don’t know what to do going forward”

•”What do you think you’d need to do?” Ratchet asks

•Ratchet is a bit hesitant on giving you any kind of advice, because cybertronian courting is probably a bit different from how humans do it, and he doesn’t want to get it wrong

•He’s like a father to you and while you’re not expecting much advice, you do still want some

•”I just… I want them to know I like them, but I don’t know how” you sighed.

•”I must admit, I’m really not very good at giving advice this topic”

•”Well, what did you do when you wanted to tell someone you liked them?” you asked

•”I have never really been the one to make the initial move, so it’s a bit hard to say”

•”So you have no advice for me?” you sighed.

•”If I were to give you some advice, do what you feel is right. You already have their contact information, so perhaps you should just ask them to do something you’d both enjoy?”

•You think about it for a moment, and decide that was actually a really good (and obvious) idea

•You thank him and ask if he’d like to help you formulate the text to your friend

•What Ratchet thought would be a good way to ask, was pretty much an essay and very formal, so you just decided to figure it out on your own

•Ratchet is of course very happy for you, and he wishes you all the best, encouraging you to be yourself

~Optimus Prime~

•One day you just come to Optimus, asking if you could talk with him

•There’s not really anyone else around, so you just sit on the couch and explain the situation to Optimus

•He nods and shows interest the whole time, but on the inside he’s like “Oh dear Primus, what?”

•Optimus isn’t particularly experienced with romantic relationships, so he doesn’t really know what kind of advice he can offer

•Also he thinks the cybertronian ways of dating and courtship may not apply here

•He was still kind of young when he became a Prime, and then the war started so he hasn’t really had time for longterm, serious relationships

•So Optimus is understandably a bit nervous, because he wants to get it right and not give you any bad advice

•”Do you think I should tell them that I like them?”

•”Yes, I think you should, life is too short to wait” Optimus says, glancing at Ratchet with a yearning look in his optics

•”How long have you waited?” you couldn’t resist asking as you followed Optimus’s gaze to Ratchet, realizing you weren’t the only one who was at a loss with liking someone

•”What do you mean?” Optimus asks, turning his optics back to you

•You don’t want to turn into a matchmaker or anything, but for god’s sake this big mech doesn’t even know how he’s feeling

•To you it’s pretty obvious Optimus is deeply in love with Ratchet, but you’re also pretty sure neither of them know it

•”Anyway, I think you’re right. Life is too short to wait, and you never know what might happen”

•”I’m proud of you young one, and I hope your love is reciprocated” Optimus smiled a little, before his optics wandered back to Ratchet

•He’s not gonna be a single mech (dad) much longer if you have anything to say about it

•Optimus is honored that you would come to him with something so personal and something that requires a lot of trust

•Proud bot dad!

[midnightmajick]

Don't Know Why

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Warnings: Angsty fluff

Word count: 1,351 words

I wrote (some of) this to Don't Know Why by Norah Jones. I'll link it below so you can listen to it while you read.

Also, the situation where the reader asks someone out and is only told yes because the other person thought they were joking actually happened to me in high school. Fun, I know. Anyway, I wrote this beast of a one shot in less than three days somehow. Here you are, enjoy!

“Hey, what’d he say? When are you two going out?” Mike asks casually, but as he walks into your living room, he finds you bawling your eyes out. He immediately makes his way over to you, a concerned expression etched onto his face. “Hey, you alright?” You sniffle, eyes bloodshot and tearstained. It’s been a rough day.

“He doesn’t love me,” you sob, tears falling from your eyes. He walks closer to you, his face tinged with sadness and pity. He understands how you feel. Probably better than anyone else. He’s been through so much heartbreak. Every girl he’s loved has turned him down. You’ve always felt bad for him, but at least you aren’t alone. “I thought he said he’d go out with you!” Mike says, clearly confused. “He said yes cause he thought I was joking,” you respond, half wailing as you do so.

“But you weren’t!” he replies frustratedly. He seems just as annoyed as you are depressed, and you can’t help but wonder why he’s so upset. Yes, he cares about you, but his discontent is more extreme than you expected it to be. Maybe you’re just overthinking. You brush off the thought and answer despite it.

“That’s what I said! He just said that he didn’t like me like that and reiterated that he thought I was kidding. I feel so stupid. How could I have ever thought he’d love me? Maybe I’m unlovable Mike.” “Hey, don’t say that, you aren’t unlovable,” he reasons. Or at least he tries. It doesn’t work.

“But there’s nothing desireable about me!” He instantly but softly replies, “There are so many good things about you.” He’s trying to reassure you, but it just angers you further.

“Oh yeah? Like what? Name three reasons anyone would love me. You won’t be able to. I kno-” But you never get a chance to finish, because Mike cuts you off. “You’re brave, smart, and kind. You always manage to make people laugh. You don’t hesitate to help someone in need. You give 110% on everything.”

You pause. How did he come up with all of those things so quickly? You immediately fire back, saying, “So? Lots of people are like that. There’s nothing about me specifically that makes me stand out.”

Mike sighs, clearly frustrated that you don’t see the good in yourself. He takes a deep breath before responding, “That’s not true.” “Yes it is! You know it!” you shoot back at him. “No I don’t. Because you’re wrong.” Why does he have to argue with you when there’s no evidence of you being wrong? Sure he wants to spare your feelings, but you wish he’d just tell you the truth.

“Ughhhh! Why do you have to lie to me? Nobody loves me Mike! No matter how great you say I am, nobody wants to be with me.” you say, growing increasingly annoyed. “I’m sure that’s not the case. Trust me, you-” Mike tries to parry the barrage of attacks you make upon yourself, but you refuse to allow him to finish speaking.

“No! I’ll never find anyone who wants me.” You know he’s trying to help, but it’s starting to irk you how insistant he’s being. “Maybe you just haven’t-” he starts, but you cut him off again. “I should just call it quits. Maybe someday it’ll change, but like I said, nobody loves me. Not now!” You’re about to break down into tears before he yells, “That’s not true!”

There’s silence for a few moments before you decide to challenge his statement. “Oh really? Name one person that has feelings for me. One.” Mike looks down at the floor, suddenly appearing anxious. “I knew it. You just have to say it cause you-” you start to raise your voice, but before you finish your sentence, he states, “Me.”

“What?” You reply, completely shocked. “You heard me,” he asserts. “You?” He nods ashamedly. “Just please...” “Yes?” you ask. “Don’t hate me.” He’s begging you, his eyes pleading for acceptance.

“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” you ask him, puzzled. “I know you don’t like me, but-” “Who said I didn’t?” He freezes, astonished by your answer. “What? But I thought you liked Aaron.” “I do, but...” you admit, hinting at something else. “But?” he presses.

You inhale deeply before continuing, “But I only went after him because I was afraid to go after you.” “Wait what? Go after me? You... like me? But... Why were you afraid?” he asks. “Cause I don’t want to lose you. And even if things worked out and you ended up liking me back and we got together, what if we broke up? Then I would lose you.” Your worries spill out before you’re able to stop them. So much for not seeming like an anxious mess.

“You’ll never lose me,” he smiles softly. You’ve never seen him open up like this. His chocolate brown eyes are sincere as always, but they don’t look nearly as tired; the dark circles under them have almost vanished.

The way he looks at you is killing you. He’s never looked at you like that before. You don’t think you’ve seen him look at anyone like that before except for Abby. He wears a tender expression, one that lights up his face. His kind eyes, his sweet smile. Every single feature of his almost angelic being is brighter, happier. Because of you.

“Mike... You’ve never looked at me like that before.” The way his eyes gaze into yours is making you melt. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to, but now I know that’s not true. Is it?” You look down at the floor, embarrassed. He had you there.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t trying to pick on you. I just want to be sure it’s okay to show you how I feel, that’s all.” You smile slightly and nod. “That’s fine. I’d actually rather like that.” you avow.

“Would you now?” he smirks charmingly. “Yeah, I would.” Your eyes are half lidded as you answer flirtateously. He chuckles to himself quietly and takes a few steps toward you. His face glides toward yours, but right before his lips reach your own, he brings his mouth to your ear. He stops and speaks.

“Listen, I know he hurt you, but I swear on my life, I’d never do anything to harm you. Ever. I love you.” He pulls back from your ear and back towards your face. Bringing his fingers under your chin, he tilts it upward so you’re looking right into those big brown eyes of his. And then it happens. He kisses you. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips dance across yours. He gently cups your face in his hands, and as you’re locked in this loving embrace, it’s like time is frozen. Nothing matters right now. Nothing other than Mike and how good his kiss feels.

You feel all of the tension and stress exit your body, and you know now that this is meant to be. This was all supposed to happen. Aaron’s rejection. Mike finding you crying; comforting you. Finally telling you he loves you. It all makes sense now. None of this would be happening if Aaron hadn’t hurt you in the first place. All of this is racing through your head as Mike massages your lips with his own. After a few more seconds, he pulls away.

“I know why it happened.” you mutter. “What?” “I know why he had to hurt me. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.” You look up at him, awaiting his answer. “But why couldn’t he have just said no? He didn’t have to be so mean about it.” He’s still a bit upset about what happened to you, not to mention confused, but as he looks back down at you, his expression is soft and soulful. “I don’t know why. All I know that I love you. And now I know that you love me. That’s all I could ever ask for,” you reply lovingly. And then your lips meet once again.

[razorsadness]

Back at Union Station, I looked at the Amtrak departures board, just so I knew exactly what gate my train would be departing from. But of course I saw all the rest of that night’s departures, and had that desire I always have in a train station—that desire to hop on a different train than the one I’m supposed to board, to go somewhere else. I noticed that the City of New Orleans was set to depart from a different track at the same time the Hiawatha Line would be taking me back to Wisconsin, and that was the one I most wished I could ride.

Of course I couldn’t, so I went to get a beer at the railroad station bar—a God Damn Pigeon Porter from Spiteful Brewing. I watched all the conductors & the porters (& I’m all outta quarters…) & the people—Japanese tourists & high school kids & Amish families & punk rockers—walk by. I got out my notebook & wrote, wrote a tanka, wrote notes about my day, drank my beer. The bar was playing all these ‘90s sadboy songs, and I suppose it was inevitable that I got a bit melancholy. About to leave the city of my heart, and who knew when I’d be back again; had seen some old friends and old flames oh, so briefly, and who knew when I’d see them again; and all the sad, nostalgic songs. Emotional masochist that I am, I pulled out one of the zines I’d picked up at MWPZF—Red’s grief zine. Reading the raw explorations of loss, and some of them about Jack Terricloth—well, I began to cry.

Then I heard someone say: “Hey, sister, you alright?” I looked around, not sure who was speaking or if they were talking to me, and also, not again, sister? Oh shit, they were talking to me—but it wasn’t a fascist-looking religious freak, it was a gorgeous hippie woman. I’d noticed her & her traveling companions when I first sat down at the bar, because they were the most interesting characters there. One of her companions noticed my hesitancy in responding, must have clocked my genderqueerness, said: “Or…brother? Sister or brother, it’s all good.” It wasn’t like getting ma’am-sirred, it was instead this affirmation that I could be both sister and brother and it was cool. I wiped my eyes and smiled. “Come sit with us,” the woman said, “if you want to.” So I did.

I don’t always like hippies, but these cats seemed cool. First of all, they obviously weren’t the type of hippies that are strangely hung up on regressive gender roles. Secondly, they were authentic weirdos. The woman, S., had on a very Janis Joplin-esque dress and long vest, yards of beads, tall boots, a knit cap from which her dark hair spilled out. One of the guys, D., the one who’d called me brother, was wearing a black hat and a black leather jacket with fringe hanging from the sleeves, and had an old camera around his neck. The other guy, F., had a scruffy reddish beard and a long thin braid running down his back and was wearing a sailor’s cap. The way they interacted with each other, the way they touched one another, I got the feeling they were some kind of polycule, though I couldn’t figure out in what permutation and anyway, it was none of my business.

We all just started talking, in that way where you can be more open with people whom you’ve only just met and will most likely never see again than you can be with even your closest friends. (Well, mostly S. and D. and I talked; F. was more of a listener.) I told them a bit about why I’d been crying, S. told me about a friend of theirs who’d recently died. We talked loss and grief. D. asked if he could take my picture; said he always took pictures of the people he met on his travels. I said yes, of course, and smiled sadly; sadly smiling in the railroad station barlight, I don’t know if there could be a more perfect situation for a portrait of me. I noticed that his camera was a Miranda Sensomat, just like the one I used to have during my wannabe-photographer days. We talked photography for a bit. They asked if I wanted to go outside and get high with them; I said I’d go but declined the weed, as I knew it would just make me anxious at that point. So we all gathered up our luggage and hauled it outside, sat by the river in the deepening dusk. They got stoned & I smoked a cigarette. I talked about how sad I was to be leaving Chicago, S. said: “I know what you mean, it’s one of my favorite cities, too.” S. asked where I was headed, I said: “Oh, just Wisconsin.” They were about to board the City of New Orleans. I started humming the Arlo Guthrie song, because I’m incapable of not thinking of that song when I think of that train. F. got his guitar out of its case and started playing along, and S. sang, her voice deep and warm: Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central, Monday morning rail. D. and I joined in, soon all of us were singing: Good mornin’ America, how are ya? Don’t ya know me? I’m your native son. When that song ended, S. went into another: Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin’ for a train… And I joined in, because how could I not? Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.

After our jamboree, we parted ways. I went to rustle up some grub, ended up with the driest, blandest sandwich ever. Sat in the food court, listened to everyone around me chattering, bits of conversations overlapping and interrupted by the pre-recorded voiceover. “Now boarding, Track 7, Now boarding, Track 8.” Now I’m waitin for the train to take me home / I’m tired and it’s gettin pretty late / I’m sittin here on a wooden bench / They’re boardin track seven, track eight. I went outside for one last cigarette, one last look at the river, all the lights coming on in the buildings along the river, lights shining on the river. Chicago, city of light. A homeless man walked over to me, asked if I could spare a smoke. I had one left in the pack, aside from the one I was smoking, and I gave it to him, lit it for him. “That’ll do,” he nodded, smiled. “That’ll do.” He sat down near me and started telling me a bit about his life, how he was once a blues musician—making the second time in my life when I befriended a homeless Chicagoan who was once a blues musician—and I’m a friend to the friendless, not that I chose it. If I had, well then, who knows? Then back inside for one more quick beer before I had to board the train; Goose Island’s 312, this time.

[from a journal entry, October 30, 2022]

[nerdygaymormon]

Hi David! Thank you for your answer to the latest ask you got. I grew up in the church, am not queer but have many friends that are, and have been struggling with these questions for the past ten years maybe. Right now I feel like I’m staying so queer members won’t be alone. I had a temple interview with my branch president this Sunday, and I answered yes the question if I support doctrine that is contrary to the church’s teachings. My branch president was at least forthcoming enough to not immediately shut me down, and he didn’t see a reason for me not getting my temple recommendation, but I was still so discouraged by the conversation we had. He asked me if I had prayed about it (!!), and now I really wish I had asked “Have you?” There’s such unwillingness to learn or even entertain the idea that the church might be wrong about most of it’s teachings about LGTBQ+, and it makes me so heartbroken. The attitude also that queer people are some kind of weirdos “over there” doing their own thing instead of being here, with us, our friends and family, is also so prevailing and it drives me nuts. But if I can make someone feel loved and welcome I should probably stay, right? Also it is as you say: this is my religion, my faith. I don’t want to be driven away by ignorance.

I'm glad your Branch President asked some questions and determined you still qualify for a recommend. It's okay to have different understandings from the top leadership. That question was originally added as a way to root out polygamists who joined the LDS Church in order to go to the temple, and then once they had the temple ordinances they would go back to their polygamous community.

You have to decide if staying in church is beneficial for you. If you can make someone feel loved and welcome that may be enough for you, or maybe it's not enough. I put together my list to show there's multiple reasons, some more important and some less so, for why someone may stay in church.

My friend Cal Burke, a gay LDS college student, says some of the reasons he stays are "Community, friends, a sense of spiritual fulfillment, general happiness, I get to sing songs, I get to have strangers who look out for me (in a good way), I like talking about scriptures. I could go on but I like many things about Mormonism & think Mormonism is good in moderation"

I have something else from the chapter I wrote for that book I'd like to share with you that I hope helps as you think about the differences you have in belief from the church on LGBTQ topics:

"It’s interesting that the Church has rules and policies and doctrines about queer people without revelation or scripture to base them on. Where is the revelation to oppose same-gender marriages? When did they get a revelation that gay people shouldn’t have companionship and love? Where’s the revelation that God doesn’t want me to fall in love with another man? Where’s the revelation that God doesn’t want someone to express their gender identity? Maybe the answer is that the Church does not have revelations about individual situations, but that is our job."

[phoenixwrites]

I looked into some of their posts because I wanted to see the full info on both sides. I wanted to reach out to say they are really just something else. First, please know they are searching deep into your blog for your selfies and info that they can find, while who find one DID color over your face .... it's uncomfortable the territory they are on the fencing of. Stay safe. Second, I had a good cry as a csa and in general survivor too, because this is appalling, it's so freaking horrifying how YOU could be considered the same realm... they reblogged a PSA about someone else in ST fandom who writes genuine CSA like 6 year old x 20 year old Eddie, 12 year old x grown ass Steve and Billy, so on and not even all ST, but all is smut. A commenter was saying that they were going to write smut about a 12 month old. I wish I was joking or being dramatic. The someone claims they are writing it for their own trauma, but it really does not read from the screenshots of fic as such (vs how your posts seem missing context) I feel sick from seeing THAT callout post contents, THAT chilled me. I don't fucking know how you could be considered of the same cut like that kind of person ??? All over older Erica x Dustin ??? Like WHY deliberately take your asks and responses out of context, why are you evil for thinking about the characters grown, nothing to do with the actors? Yet they write self insert smut about teenaged Billy, Steve, so on. Include gifs of showering Billy. They seem hellbent on focusing on everything else, or maybe a personal projecting since they can't separate actor from character almost. Hell, even the camp counsellor Eddie x younger camper Chrissy fic they were blasting you for reading is different than freaking that someone's fics. This entire thing reads like a personal vendetta finding any morsel and making into some abomination. I'm so sorry you are dealing with this bullshit. Protect your peace and yourself from this insanity. Lots of love to you. This is long as crap so you don't have publish it, but I just felt like you deserved to know what was being said and compared.

Hi there! Thanks for your message. Seriously, guys, the support has been amazing and I can’t express how much I appreciate it.

I nosed through last night for a little bit but I think the benefit of my social media being very open over the years is…there’s not really much to find. I am far more boring than antis believe. Even my Erica fics will be particularly disappointing to those who are looking for ThoughtCrime—they are probably the tamest thing I’ve ever written. I will try to implement measures in case someone doxxes me or something.

I’m so sorry for you. I’m so sorry that you’re in this shitty club with me. I would not wish the flashbacks, the dehumanization, the guilt, the shame, the triggers, or the nightmares on anyone. The accusations they make about me are genuinely nauseating.

I’m not familiar with the other writer’s callout post you mentioned, but even if they are writing disturbing dead doves—we don’t know them. We don’t know why they wrote it, I don’t know their situation, I don’t know their reasoning, hell, it might all be out of spite. But I don’t want to “ugh look at this OTHER writer writing this gross stuff, YOU could NEVER be considered one of THEM”, you know?

I am not going to condemn a dead dove writer just because that is something I would never read. It’s words on a page. No one is harmed. As viscerally chilling and disturbing those plots are, they exist in the author’s brain. I don’t know WHY they exist in the author’s brain, if they’re processing their own shit or genuinely trying to titillate. I don’t really want to know either way. Either way is triggering to me. Either way, that is content that would make me throw up and I would avoid.

So I do the fucking ADULT thing and block those fics. Or ignore them. Ignoring them is a great tactic. Because I don’t know the author’s story and I would never try and assume that I do. I protect my own peace.

Another example. I have a weird trigger. It’s a trigger that is innocuous and harmless to most people. Some people really love the trigger. But I cannot abide it. I start having flashbacks. Anxiety attacks. Even just by SEEING this piece of media. And I feel a ton of shame for it because I blame myself, when actually it was my abuser’s fault. Not me. Not you. Never the victim. Ever.

But I do not expect tumblr to CATER to my trigger. I have this piece of media blocked on every social media site. I intentionally avoid it. My brother has even refused to accompany his friends on a Disneyworld trip because they were cosplaying as the Trigger and he didn’t want to trigger me. My community knows of it and they try very hard to use spoiler tags or ask others to spoiler it so I don’t interact with it. If I come on it accidentally (happened a lot during Philly, many breathing exercises were done and I had to step out a few times from the Artist’s Alley)

This is all MY responsibility. Not Tumblr’s. I cannot demand that every fic writer who writes about the Piece of Media that is a Trigger take it down for my own comfort, just because I am rightly and justly disturbed by it.

Oh, it is DEFINITELY a personal vendetta. Comes with the territory of any outspoken woman in fandom.

Your guys’ support means everything to me. And to all writers.

I’m sorry if this came off preachy or lecturing, I didn’t mean it that way. I just really, REALLY do not want people taking the mentality of “Phoenix isn’t writing this shit, but OTHER writers are, so let’s go harass them!” No.

Leave the dead dove writers alone. Leave all writers alone. If you do not like something, don’t read it, block the author, mute the tag, do whatever you can to protect your peace.

[taehyungfirst]

honestly i kind of wish both taehyung and jungkook's solos were more personal. don't get wrong, i loved layover and i'm sure golden will be fun. and i bet they both added in their own personal details in regards to the albums, but it would've been nice to see their names on the song credits. and this isn't me trying to be shady or anything because just because they weren't involved in the process, it doesn't make them any less of real musicians. it's just a personal preference i guess. but i think taehyung and jungkook are extreme perfectionists when it comes to this and we know they have a habit of deleting the songs they work on. this is shown through tae scrapping his original album, and bang pd saying jungkook was considering not doing an album at all. i think that both of them probably felt pressured to put something out before they enlist, and since everyone else was doing it too. and with enlistment, they only had a limited time to do this. and i know they've talked about making mixtapes in the past but that's different than a whole album. basically i don't blame them for how things happened but i really hope we'll get more personal things from them eventually

Hi anon! First of all, I wanna start saying that having expectations is not a bad thing, and it’s completely valid if you expected them to have some credits in the tracks, since they have shown in the past how good they are at songwriting. Now, let’s get into what i think, I’m gonna start with Taehyung because I just know more stuff about him ahaha.

Taehyung songwriting skills are actually brilliant, I always loved the snippets he showed us and some of his lyrics were actually incredible (the heart of the loveless lyrics is printed behind my eyelids), Blue and Grey which was initially a personal song debuted at #13 on the hot100, a b-side mind you. And Taehyung has always been honest to us, he updated us every time he wrote a song, every time he deleted one, every time he worked a lot, he has always told us everything and he also told us how he was “unable” to finish a song, he just starts it and then never finishes it which is why he scraped a lot of his work before, so I think he was just a bit unsure and the he confronted Mhj, who was someone who could share his vision.

Now.

There is a difference I think between having someone writing songs for you, for your vision, for the vibe you want in the album and someone who gives you pre-made songs that apparently don’t connect to eo (i’m saying this for the presence of 3D and seven, which are like sore thumbs between those angsty titles), I have no doubts Jungkook will say he listened to the songs and felt like he had to sing them because he liked them (which is okay i guess, most of artists don’t write their stuff), but if the credits were not visible, if Layover hid the credits, I would have believed 100% Tae wrote all of them, because every single track is so taehyung, Mhj listened and studied him to create perfect tracks.

And Jk also opened up on how he was in a burnout period, which is also why he relaxed at home mostly and took a break from everything (which is valid i repeat) and honestly I think that all of this is happening because of the enlistment. Because Taehyung said after Layover he wants to release his songs, so this means that if enlistment wasn’t literally behind the corner he would have had more time and worked on his own songs, same goes for Jungkook. The enlistment had a big BIG part in all of this, I think they felt pressured and they thought they couldn’t enlist without releasing something for the fans (which is not a very healthy mindset, you’ve been working hard for 10 years, you can enlist without dropping a whole album or taking trips every two weeks to film something for the fandom)… well all of this can be summarized in: I think there are differences between Tae and Jk situations (which is also their goals with Jk wanting to become a pop star in the usa market), that yes time and enlistment are partially the reasons behind everything and that they will for sure release some stuff more personal whenever they get the chance again because they are both incredibly talented artists :)

Sorry for the rambling and typos I can’t seem to find my glasses tonight.

[orionchildofhades]

BNHA ff rec

Guidance, or to Help Those In Need - orionchildofhades

ao3 link

rating: Mature | warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

tags : traitor Izuku, villain Izuku, Support Department Izuku, Protective League of Villain,

statue: finished | part of a series

Summary :

"Meeting your idols is always a disappointment. Understanding that the people we look up to the most don’t wish for our happiness, chose to turn a blind eye on our situation. Must be painful. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. But you see… I wouldn’t say you’re worthless. This is far from worthless if you ask me. I’d like you to think about some things. You say you’re invisible, rejected. And I wouldn’t put it past society to actually make you feel like that. But you’re not. This is a golden mine, a diamond in the rough. People just won’t recognize your talent because of who you are. Or what you’re not." — The tale of how Midoriya Izuku, whose only dream was to be a hero, ended up a villain. Who said that a 'villain' couldn't help? Most people usually forget who requires help. And Izuku will be a hero to them, because no one else will.

chapter one: it goes bad

 The day started pretty normally, as anything could when you were quirkless in a world where everybody had some sort of power.

Izuku went to school. He knew what he was getting into. The stares, the name calling. Having Kacchan telling he should jump off the roof was a new addition that the teen had been trying out for a few days now and he got really creative about it. Ending up in the pound with his notebook by his side was not very nice but all he did was stand and keep on with his day. What else was there to do?

So Izuku walked home. He took the long road, just to be sure he didn’t meet any of the bullies. From time to time they would actively seek him out to punch and kick the energy out. What could Izuku do anyway ? Once he was alone with them, he didn’t have the strength to stand up on his own.

Standing up for others though, that was nice. When he faced Kacchan, his body like a wall between the explosive boy and his new found victim, some form of pride shone in his chest, warming him up a little bit, a different kind of warmth that the hands of the boy he called a friend for a long time.

Izuku liked to help others. It was his one true goal. Everytime he looked at his computer, at his hero, his idol, and saw All Might’s smile to the camera, he felt some sort of envy. He, too, wanted to make people happy, to bring them safety, hope. So even if he had to face Kacchan’s wrath, and the punches, the burns, the hits and kicks, he would do it. Because the other kid was safe, because it was better him than someone else. Maybe, one day, someone would see him the same way he saw All Might. Okay, that was a little far fetched, he wasn’t anything like All Might. But maybe someone would be reassured he suddenly put himself between them and harm, maybe he would bring someone a flicker of hope.

That’s what he thought while he walked in some alley, alone and fidgeting with his notebook. He looked over what he wrote in the morning, about the fight and the new heroes.

Mt. Lady and her growing quirk, Kamui Wood and, well, his wood quirk. He added some notes in the margin about a detail. The new heroes seemed very keen to the media, a little bit too focused on their image. And was Kamui Wood capable of creating any kind of wood? Any density? Could he make ebony wood? It would be far more heavy and perhaps harder to break, more efficient against villains. Or not, if he couldn’t, Izuku wondered what kind of wood he could make, was it a special kind, since it was a quirk? Maybe a weird human-wood kind of thing since he seemed to be made of it.  A unique form of wood, known and created only by the power of the hero. How flammable was it? How would the hero react if he encountered…

Completely unaware of his surroundings, Izuku was knocked over by someone. He immediately scrambled up, trying to fetch his notebook and pencil while bowing to apologies.

Instead, his eyes met with some creature, a mutant type very likely, and immediately after his mouth was filled.

His eyes watered, he tasted sewage water and trash and throwing up sounded like a great idea all of the sudden but his mouth was full and he started choking as the thing, person, something filled his airway little by little.

He was barely aware of hearing a voice, a muted “Thank you, you’re my hero, I didn’t know he was in town.”

Panic clouded his mind. After everything he went through on an everyday basis, after all the pain and insults, all the loneliness and disgust, he would die like this. He couldn’t even breathe. His head hurt, and his vision darkened.

And maybe that was really it.

Then he vaguely felt knocked over once again. He breathed. Or he thought he did. He hoped he still remembered how to. He wanted to cough, to spit out everything, to have his throat to himself again. Was it still there?

A voice was talking.

It became clearer and clearer, the black spots stopped dancing in front of him.

He was on the floor, lying on the street he didn’t remember exactly where, his bag was somewhere on his left, his notebook near him with the pencil inside. His throat hurt and he was a little out of breath.

And All Might was staring at him from his incredible high, wearing his famous costume and…

All Might.

Staring at him.

Izuku jumped up, almost falling right back down and somehow managing to stay on his feet.

“Oh my god, All Might, I’m such-”

“Ah, yes. Glad to know you’re alright. I thought I lost you here for a second. I must go.”

Wait- no. Izuku had to ask him. He needed to know. It was All Might, he would tell him the truth. If anyone would believe in him, it would be the Number One hero, the symbol of peace. If anyone knew the hardships of hero life, but what made a true hero, it would be him.

“Wait, please, All Might, sir.” He took his notebook off the ground, not caring a second about the pages still wet from earlier before shoving it as high as he could need the hero. “I need to know sir…”

“Ah, yes,” he took the notebook and the pencil, signing it with practiced motions before closing it and giving it back to Izuku. “Now I must leave, young boy. Stay careful and fear not, for I Am Here.”

The hero turned to leave. Izuku’s eyes darted between his idol and his bag. A plastic bottle was dangling from the pocket of the hero, murderous eyes moving inside it. But Izuku didn’t pay it any attention and went for his bag, grabbing it as quickly as he could. He then literally jumped on his idol, holding on for dear life on his leg as the floor went from right beneath his feet, to hundreds of meters under him. The wind was slapping his face, his eyes painful. He heard All Might complain, asking him to let go of him. He vaguely answered that it wouldn’t be a good idea while his mind circled around one thought. Or perhaps two.

The floor was way too far from him and he would very much like to feel its safety very very soon.

And he needed to know.

Could he be a hero?

His one and only dream filled his head, his desire to prove himself, to help, to see people’s eyes clouded by hope instead of fear, of pain. Sure, Kacchan, (and also the rest of the world), told him he couldn’t do it. It was a stupid dream, a useless deku like him couldn’t do much to anything, so being a hero was nothing but laughable. Or pitiful. He could still see it in his mother’s eyes whenever he rambled about it. But if anyone would know, it would be All Might.

Because he was a hero. The hero. He should know better than Kacchan, than Mom, than Ito, or his teachers, than the other students. If Izuku had the slightest chance of ever being a hero, All Might would know.

They landed on a rooftop. Izuku felt so weak he almost fell right on his knee. He still kind of wanted to throw up from whatever slime person slash villain tried to make a house in his lungs. And this impromptu flight surely did not help.

Instead of that, he bowed. He stamered an apology, realizing how stupid his decision had been.

But he had to know.

“I’m- I don’t have a quirk, but I always wanted to help… People keep telling me to give up and… Do you think I can be a hero?” He finally screamed, eyes screwed shut and heart beating in his chest like it wanted to leave.

He stood up straight again, his question right on his lips. Instead, he screamed.

Here was a man, an actual skeleton, his eyes hollowed and a far too large shirt hanging from bony shoulders. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. It was honestly quite concerning.

“Where is All Might? And who are you?” Izuku asked. A cold sensation washed over him. His idol didn’t even bother listening to him.

And who was this man? Was it his quirk that made him look so sickly? Was he okay? Perhaps Izuku should call an ambulance, maybe it was some sort of cancer or the effect of a quirk. Dehydration…

“That would be me.” Izuku’s thoughts shut down. “I know this is quite confusing. I’m All Might, symbol of peace and justice, number one hero and, well this.”

“What happened to you?” This was very much not what he saw of All Might everyday. Maybe this was just some sort of joke. Kacchan really outdid himself if it was the case, what a cruel joke, to meet your idol, or a fake, to just end up with… this?

“Five years ago, I fought a villain.” The man lifted his shirt and Izuku saw a painful looking scar cover the left side of the chest.

“Was it Venomous Chainsaw?” Izuku wondered out loud. Dread filled his entire body. Who, no scratch that, what could be strong enough to do that to All Might?

“No, hum, I managed to keep the media out of it, and out of the injury until now. But it became more and more serious and I slowly turned into this.” He vaguely gestured to all of himself. “I can only stay in my muscle form, and do my hero work, around three hours a day anymore.” The silence was heavy, All Might gently touched his wound as Izuku was panicking in his head. Why would the hero even say that to him, did he put him in danger, was it…

“Without a quirk… Being a hero is hard, you put the lives of others on your shoulders. You have to fight off evils of all kinds, you put yourself between others and harm-ways. Without a quirk… No, I cannot tell you you’d have a chance of being a hero,” His voice rang in Izuku’s ears.

He vaguely saw the hero stand up, listing a few other possibilities for a person such as him.

But all he could hear were the words ‘No, you can’t be a hero’

All Might didn’t think he could be a hero. Even with the best intention, Izuku’s quirklessness was too much to overcome. He was weak and couldn’t help anyone.

It was just like Kacchan said, like the other said. He couldn’t do anything. There was no way civilians could rely on him. He couldn’t help them.

At some point, All Might left.

Why would he stay, he already did more than his job. He saved Izuku, poor little Izuku who couldn’t even save himself. He brought him here, answered his questions. He might have shattered his dreams but hey, that was just life wasn’t it. It had never been quite on his side since the beginning. Being born quirkless was not fun. Being born quirkless in a world where everyone had powers was even less so. So if All Might, The Hero, thought he couldn’t be a hero, then it must mean he didn’t.

Tears fell down his face. He felt rather hollow. He had been filled his entire life by this dream. What was he without it? He wasn’t strong, he didn’t have a power to use to balance his weakness. People did not like him. Not even his mother believed in his dream. What could he possibly do now?

Sitting lamely on the roof, his backpack abandoned by his side, Izuku emptied his tears, all the water in his body coming out in heavy salty streaks down his cheeks.

When he felt like he did not have one single tear left in his body, he decided to stand up. Going home. Yes. What else could he do?

As he walked to the door, his vision darkened and he felt himself fall.

[sapphicbookclub]

Author Spotlight: Alyson Root

We're excited to bring you a guest post written by Alyson Root, author of A Dance Towards Forever. Keep reading to hear how her personal journey through life is reflected in the plot of her first book!

Hey, Alyson here (insert waving emoji) a new author fresh out of the writing closet. Not as scary as the last time I came out, but just as important to me. Anyway, I’m sitting here thrilled that I get to write something for the Sapphic Book Club. However, I suddenly find myself with a blank mind!

Argh, what should I write? What do you all want to read about? Me? My debut novel? Hell, I’ll tell you about both if you’re willing to sit and read what I write.

Ok a little about me first. I’m 36 and Aries, I like long walks on the beach and… I’m kidding, although I am 36 and an Aries. But, less of the bad dating profile and more of the serious stuff. I found writing at the grand old age of 30. I wish I could say it was something I always wanted to do, but that would be a lie.

Yes, I have always been a creative person. That runs in the family, but I’m also someone who has the attention span of a two-year-old at Christmas. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I had loads of different hobbies, but none of them included writing. I could never focus on one thing long enough to decide if I loved it or not.

Fast forward to a time in my life where I could confidently call myself an adult (gross) and that’s when I fell head over heals in love with writing. Actually, it was my wife who encouraged me. I happened to mention that I fancied turning my hand to writing, and she went full cheerleader!

Six years is the time it took me to finish A Dance Towards Forever. That’s 72 months or 312 weeks of me sporadically writing nonsense until I had a lightbulb moment, deleted everything I’d written and then bashed out the entire book in five months.

Once the last word of the Epilogue had been written, I was overcome by pure joy because, after all my years on this awesome globe we call home, I’d finally found my passion. The thing that I loved and could focus on. Hopefully, that doesn't sound too dramatic or cliché!

Moving on… What else can I tell you about myself? Well, there are a few things woven into the storyline of A Dance Towards Forever that ring true to my life. I fell in love with a French woman and ended up moving to Paris. Just like my main character Sam, I am appalling at speaking the language and I have a best friend who swears like a sailor. Oh, and I am a massive sucker for love and romance.

Is that enough about me? Probably so I’ll switch to the book. Cue drumroll…

A Dance Towards Forever is my first book and something I am immensely proud of. Jeez, I can’t believe sometimes that I actually wrote an entire novel. At least I can cross one thing off my bucket list now.

Most of the story is set in Paris. At the time of the book's conception, I had just moved there from England. It was this magical city that held wonder and opportunity and it was where my girlfriend (now wife) was, so it was the perfect city in my eyes.

My life back then had changed so dramatically in just a few months that I wrote the book with that feeling in mind. I wanted my characters to go through that kind of life altering situation whilst falling in love because that’s what had happened to me.

I think it’s true that every author gives a bit of themselves to each of their books. I certainly did. To be honest, it was a bit like therapy writing parts of the story, especially the painful parts that I’d experienced myself.

Now the book is out in the world for others to read. That is both exciting and terrifying!

Ok, just so I don’t give myself a panic attack at the thought of people actually reading and judging the book, I’m going to give you some fun facts. Let’s lighten the mood.

First fun fact: I used Dolly Parton’s I will Always Love You because I love her and that song. Her voice is angelic and I would give my left arm to see her in concert.

Numero dos: Just like Sam, I met my best friend in school. Well, Sam met Charlie at university, but the premise is the same.

Trois: My favourite drink is Rum and Coke, but my wife has firmly pulled me over to the dark side. I drink wine now. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a cabernet and a merlot, but that’s ok. As long as I remember to drink a glass with cheese, I won't be cast out of France.

Finally number four: I’m still have a short attention span which is why I’m working on several books at the same time. Keeps things interesting though!

Hopefully I haven’t blathered on too much and you’ve enjoyed reading this. I, for one, am pleased as punch to have had the opportunity to write this piece.

Until the next time (insert another waving emoji)

Alyson

[rosecgregory-author]

Do you ever wish your favourite novel had a different ending? That’s what my friend wanted. She wanted Jo March and Laurie Laurence to end up together.

For her birthday, I wrote her a fanfic. People poo-poo on fanfics, but I love them. I love writing them most of all! When I write them, I’m doing them for other people too. Not just my own personal gratification.

Should Jo and Laurie have ended up together?

If Little Women was the only book, I would unequivocally say “Absolutely!”

But then there were other books that followed that built a world that was just as wonderful. Little Men and Jo’s boys were enchanting for me, and Professor Bhaer played an important role in their little school.

As a writer, I understand Louisa May Alcott’s position. She was ahead of her time. She did not believe that marriage was the end all and be all for a woman, ergo, her independent heroine. “I won’t marry Jo to Laurie to please anyone,” she had written to a friend.

Where fanfics are to please one’s readers to some degree (fulfill some sort of fantasy), a novel is, truly, to please one’s self in order to be the author’s real voice. I suppose there’s more commercially-minded writers out there, but they still try to maintain control of their story. They want it, end of the day, to be THEIR story. Not anybody else’s. I suppose, the more people asked, the more Louisa dug her heels to the ground.

For that, I respect her.

But nonetheless, I wrote that fanfic where Laurie and Jo end up together.

…

Jo wrapped her cloak around her to ward off the chill of the late September air. She was rejected yet again by another publisher, but she decided to push herself to do another round with another story. As she trudged through the muddy streets of New York City, she thought about Professor Bhaer and wondered how he was doing. She had seen him, once, after Beth had passed. Her heartache over the loss of her dear sister kept her heart closed to whatever Professor Bhaer’s sad eyes and yearning looks were offering.

He is better off out West. Frank and Emil will keep him company, she reassured herself. Though time has made her realize that whatever feelings she had for the professor were not based on a solid foundation, she still felt pangs of melancholy thinking about the prospect of her life as a spinster.

Beth was gone. Meg had John. Amy was engaged to Laurie. Jo was destined to be alone. Alone and unsuccessful.

After Beth’s demise, Jo returned to the city and found another boarding house to stay in. Though this was near Mrs. Kirke’s own boarding house, Jo could no longer return to her old position; she had stayed too long in Massachusetts. Her new home was owned by a kind lady named Mrs. Needham. Unlike her previous situation, Jo no longer had a governess job to rely on. She needed to make her writing career work. Very soon, she would have to resume writing her romance stories, if only to pay for her expenses.

“Were you successful today, dearie?” Mrs. Needham looked up from her embroidery; her corpulent figure sat in comfort in an armchair by the foyer.

“Unfortunately not. ‘The Adventures of Captain Apollo’ will need to wait another day,” Jo reported regretfully. “I have other stories that are more promising; I can submit them to publishers I had some success with previously. You will get your rent.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Mrs. Needham assured her. “You are a very talented young writer. Someone is bound to notice that sooner or later!”

“I hope so,” Jo sighed. She settled herself beside Mrs. Needham and looked at her ink-stained fingers. “I mean to write a letter to Marmee tonight. I was hoping to give her some good news.”

At those words, Mrs. Needham suddenly put down her embroidery and collected an envelope from the table beside her. “I almost forgot. Here’s a letter from Massachusetts.”

Jo greedily took the letter and excused herself. “You know how I look forward to getting news from home!”

Mrs. Needham waved her away with an understanding look. “Go ahead, dear.”

Ensconced in the privacy of her bedroom, she made quick work of opening the letter. She sat on her bed facing the window, grateful that there was still some light left for her to fully appreciate each and every word. She recognized Meg’s flowing scrawl.

Dear Jo,

I hope you are feeding yourself properly there! We are all well. Marmee has taken on a project at the town hall — of course. She is not our Marmee if she has not made herself busy and useful somehow.

As I write this, little Daisy is beside me insisting that I tell you she loves you and that she has a pretty pink ribbon. Demi is here as well and wants to ensure you know that he knows his ABC’s. Please ensure you congratulate them both properly in your next letter home.

I write today because I have some news — news that I am unsure you would hear of directly from the concerned parties. It seems that our dear Amy has broken off her engagement to Laurie! I do not know how Aunt March or Mr. Laurence had received the news of the broken engagement. Aunt March, I believe, would have been very disappointed. Amy wrote that she believed neither of them entered the engagement with the right intention — she was sad and he was eager to be useful and to show his grandfather how responsible he was. Regardless, it is now completely over, or so Amy says.

Laurie is quite bereft, apparently, and had taken a boat back to America. Mr. Laurence had thought it appropriate to assign him to another office where the source of his despondency can at least be farther away. Amy and Aunt March will stay in France a while longer.

What an unmitigated disaster! I wonder if this should change our relationship with Mr. Laurence, who has been the most excellent neighbor and benefactor.

I do not know if this news should distress you. You seemed happy enough and content enough when you learned of their engagement. Write back of your feelings since I wish to know if you received this news well.

We give you our love!

Meg

Jo dropped the letter on her bed and stared at the window dumbfounded. This was unexpected! She had been quite content to think of Amy and Teddy together in wedded bliss. In some ways, it was a very suitable match. Teddy needed someone who would be presentable and would know how to properly conduct themselves in his social sphere. Amy needed the security and comfort wealth provided, and she would have delighted in the status a marriage with Teddy would have given her.

Jo sighed. Perhaps it was just as well that Amy realized this; before it could have gotten any further.

She thought of poor Teddy. To be spurned by two March women! He did not deserve such treatment from them. She loved Teddy, but he was too much like a boy when he had expressed his desire to marry her. She had preferred someone more like Professor Bhaer — he had the gravitas that appealed to her.

She did miss him, however. There were nights she dreamt of his open boyish face as they raced together across a meadow, or when they threw snowballs at each other. He reminded her of a happier time — a time when Beth was still alive.

…

If you’re interested in reading the next parts, let me know!

[properbantz]

BEACH HUT CONFESSIONALS 009 (i think) — RHYS ALDRIDGE

day: 28

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON MAX & DEJAN’S EXIT LAST NIGHT? WHY DIDN’T YOU VOTE FOR THEM? 

“ for obvious reasons, i couldn’t vote for them. ” he sighs. “ i wouldn’t have voted for them anyway, they weren’t even a real couple, like it was some weird dead poet’s society type of coupling situation and i think bash and i deserved more time to get to know each other. ” he’s staring dead at the camera, that was pointed, producers. 

HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THE START OF CASA AMOR? 

“ annoyed. to put it simply. ” sick to his stomach, actually. it was easier to know that bash was into him when they could be together, see each other and talk whenever they wanted to talk. he wasn’t having to ask for reassurance because he could pretty much get it whenever. his lips are twisted in thought, while he strings words together for a sentence. “ i... it’s real shit, you know? when people have something so new that they’re really trying to figure out and explore to split them up like this. because the one person i wish i could talk about all of it, about how i’m feeling is bash and i can’t. so it’s shitty. i wanted to talk to him about other things too, and so now i feel like an even bigger asshole because i decided to wait a couple of hours and this is what i get? i’m trying to do the right thing, i want to do the right thing but- ” he throws his hands up in a slightly frustrated what can you do motion.

ARE THERE ANY NEW ISLANDERS THAT HAVE CAUGHT YOUR ATTENTION? WHO?

“ honestly no. ” it’s not really for a lack of trying? but he’s not really interested in getting to know anyone else and making himself feel like an even bigger piece of shit while bash and him are still coupled up. he lets out a heavy sigh, “ i don’t know. not to be a dick or anything, i think they’re really nice. maybe it’s just me that feels like it’s all really disingenuous. like speed dating except i didn’t know i was hitting the buzzer for the next person. ”  he always thought the first time someone came up to him and said they were a big fan it would be because he just wrote netflix’s record breaking tv show or something of the sort, not because he had a menty b on television. 

ARE THERE ANY NEW ISLANDERS YOU DON’T SEE YOURSELF VIBING WITH? 

“ no not really. ” he’s not in the business of making enemies or fighting. frankly, he doesn’t think he could take it even if he wanted to, call him sensitive, he doesn’t care.  “ again, they seem nice, i’m just indifferent i think. ” 

DO YOU THINK THAT YOUR HEAD COULD BE TURNED?

that feels like a loaded question. targeted maybe.  “ i don’t know. ” his response is clipped. the thing is, he doesn’t feel like his head had been turned when it comes to both seb and bash. it’s not like there’s a one over the other and that’s what made this whole thing so stupid and complicated. note to self: ask the show therapist about monogamy and whether it’s right for you! “ turned by the new bombshells? probably not unless, i don’t know, they ticked all the boxes for the kind of person i’m into and if i let them go it’s going to feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, worse than rose letting jack go from the titanic. ”  he looks at the camera again,  “ i know what you’re thinking. but it’s like holding the sun and the moon together, perfectly complementary, and beautiful all the same. one would feel empty without the other. ” he doesn’t mean seb and bash would feel empty without the other, more so that his sky would be lacking should there be no moon nor a sun. that’s exactly that he means and maybe this is the first time he fully understands it. he sighs again, tough shit.  

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR ‘OTHER HALF’ IS UP TO IN THE OTHER VILLA RIGHT NOW? HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT THEM? 

he sits quietly for a moment, anxiously cracking his knuckles.  “ chatting, getting to know everyone. he’s nice like that, always greeting you with the warmest smile you could possibly imagine. ”  there’s a flash of a smile on his face for the first time this beach hut as he talks about bash’s smile. if bash is getting to know someone else he’s sure they’d succeed where he had his own shortcomings. it’s not like he wants to think about how there could be bash’s perfect person in the other villa, looking at each other with hearts and stars in their eyes, but he has to be aware that there’s truth to it, maybe. and if there is some level of truth to it, he would be remiss to not attempt to find safety in one of the new bombshells.  “ you want me to say i miss him, don’t you? ” the small smile that had appeared earlier reappears again,  “ i miss him, obviously. but i’m trying to be breezy, less so like how i told dylan i attempted to and more like i’m rolling with the punches, taking things as they go and trying not to stay too in my head about what he’s doing over there. we’re... we’re still getting to know each other, nothing was official so i can’t expect him to not want to get to know other people either. i want him to be happy, at the end of the day, with whoever that’s going to be. ” 

[sneakyswag]

Mwahahah your turn!

🧠🌂🔥

GAHH long post jumpscare

🧠- What fictional character do you relate to the most?

I think I’ve done a similar one to this one before, but in a different ask game. For the fun of it, I’ll probably have to say X or Axl.

X stresses so bad it’s exhausting. Kind of like me. I’ve been struggling with that lately. As well as body aches caused by stress (gah my shoulders qwq). But pushing those worries away, I’ve gone through loads of emotional turmoil. So much so that it’s made me bitter in a way. Sure, I’m kind and polite, but I never open up. Sure, in some asks I do, such as this one, because it’s a good question. But in real life? No. You will see me in a corner, arms crossed, smiling at the people having fun, but never actually interacting.

Axl, because he’s silly as frick and has bad timing with jokes. Likes guns and is the life of the party (depends on who I’m with). Axl is also a pretty good friend despite being a goofball. You’d think because he’s young he’d be immature, which he is sometimes, but other times he’s very mature and deals with situations accordingly. I do say that our difference is that he leads and thinks with emotion. I only do that when writing.

Also someone else, @bruggle ‘s Brook. No way like when I wrote fics with her in them, I was like “holy crap she is so me” and wrote her based off of experiences I myself had. Bruggle actually told me I wrote her well, which I thank Brugs for. Though I might be projecting juuust a little bit. Brook is so so angry and bitter it makes my head spin, but she can also be so so funny and silly at the same time. She’s a good friend and a good person, just angry at the world for what it did to her (come on, we’ve all been there). Anyways wow this is a stretch I’m so sorry- BAHAH

🌂- You have to choose three fiction characters to help you survive in the apocalypse, who are you picking? (I could write an essay over this one)

Ah, geez. I’m terrible at this. Zero from Mega Man X. He’s tactical, smart, strong, precise, will probably help out a lot if it means we all make it out. Only bad point is, he’s reckless. Even so, he’s strong as frick and also, Reploid! So even stronger than your average fighter.

Ralsei from Deltarune. With his powers, he can mend and also help Zero with his injuries from time to time. Ralsei has all kinds of powers that would be useful and his attitude would be perfect to maintain that optimistic attitude within the team. He can also be a good distraction!

And last, but not least, Jigglypuff from Pokémon. Do I even have to explain this one? Jigglypuff can get super tough enemies out of the way by singing his sleepy song and boom! They’re out. Also a good idea for sleepless nights we might have. So

Zero is the fighter, Ralsei is the mage/optimist, Jigglypuff is the ultimate distraction. Ralsei is also like super responsible so he’d probably have a lot of supplies on him. Zero has his weapons on him and will make sure none of us get hurt. Jigglypuff is that little ball of joy the group definitely needs. So yeah. My take.

🔥- Name a crackship, now convince me why it would work!

Ahah…ah, man. Alright so, I wrote for this ship months ago and when you said crack ship, my mind immediately went back to Samus and X. HEAR ME OUT-

I was playing Smash with a couple of friends and one of ‘em was drooling over Samus (no surprise there) and started making jokes about me getting my butt kicked by Samus (I main Mega Man) and made a couple of jokes. Another one of my friends, brought up the fact that Zero was in Smash as an assist and how he wished X was in as an echo for classic Mega Man.

After a little discussion, we imagined what X would be like as a fighter. The same friend that brought it up, decided it was a fine idea to google Samus x Mega Man and found a pic of Samus and X. It clicked for me and we started giggling like the idiots we are. Because Samus is like totally X’s type though. Girlboss, tall, blonde, can kick your ass and his in more ways than one, like what is there not to like? I haven’t looked into Samus’ love interests much because she’s still such a mystery, but my goodness she’s amazing. X would be head over heels for her, no way.

[elenath9]

1. What kind of whump is your favorite to write?

Ones that feature illnesses, followed closely by internal injuries/broken bones.

2. What kind of whump is your least favorite to write (although you still do write it)?

Emotional whump because I’m bad at it. I still try though. Maybe also things with lots of blood/gore (haven’t done one of those…)

3. What kind of whump do you absolutely refuse to write?

Anything involving sex/non-con. Or things that are very medically graphic.

4. Is there a kind of whump you wish you could write better?

Emotional hurt/comfort.

5. What character or characters are your favorite to do whumpy things to in your writing?

Right now, Daniel Jackson from SG-1. A few years back, Mulder from X-Files.

6. What character or characters are your favorite to turn into caretakers in your writing?Jack O’Neill. He’s the natural leader/protector, and I just love it when he takes care of his “kids”.

7. Have you ever written whump inspired by personal experiences?

Not per se.

8. How many whumpy stories do you currently have published online?

A few… not sure how many of them qualify as whump vs just hurt/comfort.

Gonna skip a few here

12. What is one of the strangest things you have had to research for your whumpy writing?

Hm, maybe how long it takes to walk certain distances?

13. What is the most recent thing you have researched for use in your whumpy writing?

Information about breaking your leg and the associated recovery.

14. Has any of your whump research ever come in handy in real life?

Not yet.

15. Are you ever hampered by your lack of medical knowledge when writing whump?

Yes. As a molecular biologist, I can write science stuff, but I often struggle with the medical aspects.

16. Has anyone ever called you out on an incorrectly written medical or whumpy scene (such as telling you that the character would have bled out long before help arrived)?

Not so far. I try to be as realistic as possible. I’d want to know if I did something wrong so I could fix it.

17. Do you consider character death (that is not reversed) to be whump?

Yes, certainly. It’s also emotional whump for the survivors.

18. Do ever rely on magical cures or deus ex machina to resolve whumpy situations?

Sometimes, but I never make them get better in the blink of an eye. There’s always a recovery period they’ve gotta suffer through. ;)

19. How long have you been writing whump?

Three or four years, on and off. Only started sharing it exactly a year ago.

20. What was the first fandom you wrote whump for?

X-Files.

21. What fandom would you like to write whump for, but haven't done so yet (due to not knowing it well enough, etc.)?

None. I’m satisfied with writing for SG-1 right now.

22. Do you have any particular songs or playlists that help you get in the mood to write whump?

I don’t tend to listen to music when I write.

23. Do you write whump for OCs or just canon characters?

No, just canon characters.

24. Do you have any whump pet peeves? Meaning things that just bug you when you see them in a fanfic.

Using antibiotics inappropriately, unrealistic responses to injuries.

25. What advice or wisdom would you like to share with other whump writers?

I’ll repeat advice I saw elsewhere: write your story the way *you* want; write what you like rather than what you think someone else would like.

Making a whumpy writer ask game! Pass it on!

What kind of whump is your favorite to write?

What kind of whump is your least favorite to write (although you still do write it)?

What kind of whump do you absolutely refuse to write?

Is there a kind of whump you wish you could write better?

What character or characters are your favorite to do whumpy things to in your writing?

What character or characters are your favorite to turn into caretakers in your writing?

Have you ever written whump inspired by personal experiences?

How many whumpy stories do you currently have published online?

Which of your stories has the most whump in it?

What is your favorite whumpy story you have written?

Share one of your favorite whumpy scenes that you have written.

What is one of the strangest things you have had to research for your whumpy writing?

What is the most recent thing you have researched for use in your whumpy writing?

Has any of your whump research ever come in handy in real life?

Are you ever hampered by your lack of medical knowledge when writing whump?

Has anyone ever called you out on an incorrectly written medical or whumpy scene (such as telling you that the character would have bled out long before help arrived)?

Do you consider character death (that is not reversed) to be whump?

Do ever rely on magical cures or deus ex machina to resolve whumpy situations?

How long have you been writing whump?

What was the first fandom you wrote whump for?

What fandom would you like to write whump for, but haven't done so yet (due to not knowing it well enough, etc.)?

Do you have any particular songs or playlists that help you get in the mood to write whump?

Do you write whump for OCs or just canon characters?

Do you have any whump pet peeves? Meaning things that just bug you when you see them in a fanfic.

What advice or wisdom would you like to share with other whump writers?

[josiebelladonna]

it was 10 years ago

it was 10 years ago that i wrote to ben shepherd.

i’ve been thinking about how to approach this whole entire thing because i have to admit that there’s a lot that ties into it. i can’t just say, “oh, i wrote a letter to him, wing bang boom” because it’s admittedly complicated on my end. writing to ben was like a much-needed light for me back in march 2014 and it was like the beginning of a culmination of something. something admittedly sexual.

so, for that reason, i’m going to get quite tmi about this and i suggest to read at your own discretion.

if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you have probably seen me break down over my sexuality at some point, and i recently started looking into sex therapy to do on my own because i’m tired of hitting my head against the wall about all of this: i figured i have arousal/interest disorder because there’s just naturally having a low drive/interest in sex, and there’s having it down low and it breaks you into a million little pieces. the latter is me.

my tortured relationship with sexuality directly ties into my letter to ben.

he was kind of my first legitimate crush. like, you have your celebrity crushes and your legitimate crushes. ben for me began to blur the line between the two and i realized that a broken mind like myself could indeed have feeling in their heart. it’s not as potent as the whole “love yourself and then relay that to someone else”, but it’s real, though (so don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t love someone if you don’t love yourself first because you get a carrot-and-stick situation going which completely defeats the purpose of being in love). it’s real, especially when you make art for them.

i had made a drawing for him that i made only for him. i think i still have it, too, tucked away in a safe place in my room. i remember sharing it with soundgarden fans on fb and telling them of my intentions. something like that is pure and it was the start of something with me: i draw you when i feel something for you. see it as “marge simpson painting ringo starr” as much as you would like, but it’s one of my love languages.

except, in 2013 going into 2014, i was in bad shape on a psychological level. i had depression that had warped itself into anxiety. i was still dealing with anorexia. anything that seemed “off” in any way sent me reeling into overthinking. perfectionist like you wouldn’t believe. perfectionism that brimmed on paranoia at one point. intrusive thoughts, many of which kept me awake at night so i remember dealing with insomnia for a bit. i would argue with myself, usually about him and the fear of being vulnerable to him for fear of rejection.

add to this, i had no idea as to how to get a hold of him. at least not at first: when i’d tell people about what i wanted to do for him, they’d wish me luck. and that was it. no lead-in questions or leads or anything. when you tell people that you want to send a gift to a stranger whom you like, the obvious answer is to find a lead of some kind, six degrees of separation notwithstanding. it wasn’t until my mom looked him up in the white pages on bainbridge island and used a person-finder (which i think is defunct now) for me to find him.

we did that because it’s not like soundgarden has/had something like ten club or metallica’s club where you can readily send fanmail or what have you. i’m just going to say this because on principle i knew it was weird. (i remember finding the eminem song “stan” around this time; then some few years later, the word “stan” came in vogue and i still get this weird chill up my spine thinking about that.) but once we had that lead, i got down to brass tacks.

introduce myself and my background. how i found him and how much he meant to me: his music literally saved my life. the drawing for him… but then there was the fact that i had a crush on him, and the fact that a.) it’s already a big deal for me to admit that to someone as is; b.) people were judging me left and right; and c.) i didn’t know how he was going to react.

i couldn’t admit that to him. i was afraid of confessing that to him. a lot of it had to do with the fact that there was a lot of judgment surrounding me then: because, like i said in how people were judging me, i was so fucked up mentally back then that it seemed like nothing i did was right. i was being asked all these weird questions like, “how do you know this?” and the like, and nine times out of ten, i couldn’t answer it, either literally because i wanted to protect him—i remember a couple of stalkers coming after chris back then, so of course i didn’t want anyone to know everything because people couldn’t be trusted—or because the answer was so complicated that i didn’t feel like elaborating and they wouldn’t understand anyway.

or, worse, people would call me delusional for it and that i needed help. well, no shit, i needed help. but doing that letter was the stepping stone to getting it. it seemed like all anyone wanted to do was hold me back or buy into the whole trope that a woman following her desires was trouble.

so, i kept it to myself and i just… hinted it to him. i never told him that i was attracted to him because i was judged for it enough already. the classic catch-22 of wanting them to know that you have a crush on them but you also risk having them hurt you by turning you down, except the way it happened to me was particularly odd.

and yes, i wound up blaming myself for it, too. i would blame him as well, because i wrote to him four more times after that, that september for his birthday, the next summer after we moved, the week after valentine’s day 2016, and then for his birthday again after chris died. and each time, i vowed to never be like stan. i would tell him how i was doing and i keep it balanced between the two of us—i would also send him little drawings, too.

sometimes i would picture him speaking with family, like his mom or his sister, and they’d be like “aw, ben, she likes you! she keeps writing you, she likes you!”

it’s why when alex entered the picture, i adapted this eddie vedder-type ideology of “if you love or care for someone, tell them”; the threat of the pandemic had a lot to do with it but it mostly stemmed out of my failure to fully tell ben that i liked him, and i soon realized that he’s literally way too dumb to figure it out, either.

and i soon realized that i had made a complete ass of myself, too.

where he had the opportunity to be like joey, alex, eric, or even chris and show himself to me, he never did. he never replied to me. i knew he got my letters because my mom and i would get notifications from the post office about it, and the aforementioned family members, including ione his daughter, eventually started interacting with me (if you can believe it). my last one to him in 2017 was the last time because i was tired and we were all worried about him; in fact, it was summer 2016, i started to feel as though i was being played—that was one of the multitude of things that led to my hiatus in that i had to get away from the things that reminded me of him. i went quiet with the intent of clearing my head and turning over a new leaf. i drifted out to sea and left it in the past, no questions asked; the 2017 letter was meant to be both a means of coaxing him out of hiding as well as a postcard. and though i don’t recall what i said to him exactly, i remember my tone in that one was a bit terse; i kept things gentle and tender, like someone who truly loves you would pull you aside and say that you’re fucking up. never heard a peep.

and it wasn’t until summer 2019 when i found out why.

now i was in the dark on all channels for all of 2017 so i had to dig around to find this once i re-emerged, but there’s an interview of chris and ben from i think april of that year where ben talks about his then-2-year-old son. wait, 2-year-old son? was what i asked aloud.

the kid was apparently born in the summer of 2015, about a month after we moved and a month after my third letter to him. and all of a sudden, it all made sense, especially the weird questions. the gossip i was subjected to in summer 2014, about a week before i saw soundgarden in seattle, made sense, too: some woman messaged one of my friends at the time out of “concern” and diagnose me with borderline personality disorder (to this day, i still wish i knew how to screenshot back then because it’s unethical and malpractice, even if there was something truly that wrong with me), and this was immediately after she went onto my profile to trash my art. and you would think those friends at the time would defend me and dismiss it as malpractice and abuse of ethics—nope. they called me crazy and told me they’re worried for my mental health because a friend to miss armchair psychologist who also happens to be friends with Ben, saw him with a woman in florida and had not a single clue what was happening but put two and two together anyway.

GUESS HOW WELL I TOOK THAT.

and guess how well i took to finding out how ben had a 2-year-old and no one in his family said a single word about it to me… or for that matter, let me down easy and told me the truth straight up.

but i’ll say this…

the day i found this out and began putting the pieces together, through my tears, i opened my sketchbook to that one sketch of joey cradling maya in his arms. the “writing to ben shepherd for superunknown 20” to “now it’s dark” pipeline is one you cannot make up or replicate for that matter.

and i’ll also say that not a day goes by when i don’t think about him. i think of chris every day, i think of ben every day. i saw a picture of him back around christmas and he looks terrible: he had regained all of the weight he had lost during soundgarden’s third act and then some, he’s got little “baked bean” teeth, and his skin is all leathery.

what’s even more sobering is he and alex are literally the same age: ben was born september 20, alex on september 29, same year, 1968. alex, even with his frizzy disheveled hair, pale skin, and big sanpaku eyes looks very cute and like he can be his chubby, round little rosy self again if he does something. ben irreversibly became an old man over the course of a couple of years, and i know for a fact it’s from smoking as well as parenthood: i saw a pic of him in 2019 at the tribute concert to chris followed by ohana fest and he still looked good; i mean, as far as anyone knows, he had more kids.

god, i just.

…

man, you broke me.

you broke me. you broke my heart.

i did what i could with the resources at the time and even though i was too chickenshit to admit it to you, you couldn’t figure it out and you didn’t do shit about it. i kept writing to you because i had my head in the clouds but you couldn’t be mr. down-to-earth as everyone says you are… why? is it because you had a kid on the way and you were nesting and your family is so bass-ackwards that it’s too much to ask to even trust an outsider like myself? would that have made it so fucking hard to relay back to me? bro, i’ll take secrets to the grave with me if i have to.

it wasn’t a silly little obsession like what people think, it was… it was real. what i was feeling for you was real.

i loved you. and even after everything, i still love you, and i could never not love you, either.

…

…

i can only assume that he was scared to sit down and do that for me. so, to that i say that this isn’t hard to follow: i wrote to a guy who wasn’t interested but was too spineless to admit it to me. in fact, that’s admittedly the same vibe i get from alex: there is undoubtedly something here, like i can feel it whenever i see him and hear it in his voice, but that goddamn g*psy just clings to him like that loose hair you can’t see but can feel and it’s driving you crazy. it’s a lot more passionate and intense with alex, too, and that in and of itself is a whole other essay (all i’m going to say about it is at least he’s transparent about how he feels about me).

i can only assume that ben’s baby mama has it worse. one of the things that, to this day still stands out to me from the armchair psychologist incident, was this: “I don’t know how many girlfriends Ben has now”. yeah, and that person claimed to know him. so, in a weird twisted way, i actually kind of feel bad for her. i tried to love the frankenbass but not even the frankenbass seems to know what he wants.

he’s an old man now and he’s probably going to be facing ill health here if he isn’t already. no idea what’s going on with his mom anymore, his sister’s neurotic, his brother’s a.w.o.l., his daughter broke it off with me as per the usual division over the israel-hamas conflict… ugh. and all i can say is welp.

but ever since then, i like to see transparency and authenticity, and i’m suspicious as fuck of people who are “not very social” and “extremely shy and private and avoidant” when it comes to the internet. i can appreciate someone who could care less about it because there are other things in life worth getting upset over, but to be calculating about it, especially when you can find it by a few keystrokes, is a major red flag in my eyes. wonder how we’re feeling with that in mind, ahem.

i try to be transparent about the weight of my heart as well as the weight that surrounds it. and if you have to jump… jump, even if you end up making a complete ass of yourself, because your ass will still be showing anyway.