#I'm tired. she's everywhere. all the time. the world needs less of her

[onthehighwaytomel]

Could I please just go ONE day without seeing Taylor Swift's name or picture? Just one? I don't think that's too much to ask.

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[privateanxieties]

these final hours

Summary: When your job becomes too overwhelming, Frank decides enough is enough. A brief conversation reveals that things run deeper than he thought.

----------------------------------------

His verdict comes down one Sunday evening, breaking you from the melancholic stupor you're well into traversing.

"Alright, that's it."

There's a part of you that wants to protest immediately. It's always the first one to make itself known, because it's the one that feels the most fear. No, you cannot just quit your job, no matter the toll it's taking on you. No matter how many people tell you it's making you fade. No matter how little you stand to gain from keeping it up. Because if you do, then - then -

"Don't look at me like that. I said that's enough. You ain't going tomorrow."

There is, however, another part of you: the one that could cry out in sheer relief just by being presented with an out.

You don't even know what it is, exactly. Everyone has to work who was not born fortunate. People have much harder jobs than you do, and they get paid even less. So many struggle to make ends meet. You have neither the long, nor the short straw. The work is completely average, though perhaps below your capabilities. Definitely below your studies - God knows you're not justifying any of those student loans, save for maybe lots of jobs requiring some kind of degree these days. No, you can't quite grasp where all this melancholia with regard to your job originates.

When you really look at your situation, you have to abstain from getting carried away by overwhelming disappointment over how unjustified all this grief seems. Things could be a hell of a lot worse. People go through things at work that render them suicidal, and here you are, on a Sunday night, sad that you have to wake up for your commute.

"Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me. Alright? Can't handle seein' you like this. Nothin's worth it, you hear me? Ain't a goddamn thing in this world worth what this shit does to you."

Frank's hand on your knee makes you immediately tense up. It's instantaneous sensory overload from a simple touch and you can't explain it. It bothers you that you can't explain because it's another thing that's wrong with you. Another overreaction to an inoffensive event.

Before you can move away or even just barely take a breath, the warmth of his skin disappears. You hate the relief that washes over you. Who feels better when someone they love stops being affectionate? You, apparently. Always against the grain.

"You know I'm not making you do anything. Yeah? Need to hear that you know that."

A nod is what you manage, but eye contact has yet to happen. You theorize that if it were to happen, if you were to see him in this moment of wild vulnerability, you'd probably want to run from him and all else in the world.

"You don't have shit to prove to anyone. You included. Can't try to beat yourself into a mold if that mold's just gonna take away all the best parts of you."

Your chest rattles, and you try to keep your breath from becoming a pained gasp.

"You know, just 'cause I read doesn't mean I'm good with words. That's all you. But I'll say whatever I gotta say to get through. I ain't losin' the woman I love to a fucking job. And I sure as shit ain't letting her believe she's gotta do what the world says she's gotta do. Break herself as many times as she has to just to get approval. Can't do shit with approval, I'll tell you that."

Against all odds, words tumble out of you like a knocked over pot of crayons. Sharpness everywhere.

"I fail at - at everything. I haven't done one thing right my whole life. I quit everything I start. Everything - Frank, I can't st-"

An involuntary sob rips straight from your heart.

"I can't stand myself. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of my days not belonging to me. I'm tired of getting nowhere. I'm tired of not having any good reason to be like this. Every day I have to know, I have to wake up and go to sleep and never stop knowing that I am the way that I am. And I wish something would just happen so I don't have to keep-"

It stops. The flow of words you've never said out loud, even to yourself, stops dead. The silence floods the remaining space without delay but it, too, does so fruitlessly.

Frank has heard enough. Enough to know exactly what you've sworn you would protect him from.

"Will you look at me?"

The softest plea. You don't think you've ever witnessed it.

"Need to see it. Yeah? I need to see it in your eyes, what you just said. And then we'll figure it out. But I need to know, sweetheart. Because if I gotta protect you from your own mind, Imma be honest with you - I need different gear."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but not completely unsuccessful. Mostly you just know that Frank means every word. And you know, as your gaze meets his at last, that the part of you that always resists outside help has lost some strength. You're not too far gone to be able to admit that your thoughts have been getting bleaker. It's a newness that scares even you, who's been down this path before. Somewhere, it seems a turn arrived that even you weren't aware you'd taken.

But Frank is nothing if not relentless. There is no road he won't track you down on and no path inaccessible to someone of his determination. You can see it in his eyes, along with the subtlest glimmer. You're making him worry, and when Frank worries, he plans. Ten, maybe twenty steps ahead - which is why he locks away your phone with his guns for the night. It's safe to say you won't have an alarm for tomorrow, and the relief that fact brings isn't unaccompanied by guilt. Frank soothes it with promises and his unique brand of realism - you'll get through everything together, as long as you're honest. No more hiding, no more detours.

You're not sure how good you'll be at it, and when you voice the thought to him, Frank doubles down as he pulls the covers back from the bed and you both slip under them.

"You know what being good at therapy looks like?"

You hum your curiosity.

"Not needing relief anymore. Promise to let me know when we get there. Yeah?"

You press your fragile promise into the skin of his cheek, tucking your head below his chin and wrapping as much of your body around him as possible and, for the first time in weeks, drifting off instead of fighting to sleep.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: just a short piece that I hope brings you some comfort if you need it.

[heartilywrites]

Hey! I love your Korra x reader fanfics! I was wondering if you can do one about how Korra proposes to the reader with a betrothal necklace!

،، 𝓛over is a Day ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: Korra thinks is time to make the big step in the relationship.

content warning: fluff, but like a LOT of fluff ; comfort ; Korra x fem!reader ; established relationship ; no nation nor bending status mention ! (but it is mention that r is not from the water tribe) ; kataang mention <3 ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.2k

a/n: + “Korra x reader reunited after 3 years”, I was so tempted to use Bruno Mars' "marry you" for the title–. Thank you for your words and the request 🥺 ENJOY, LOVE :D

“ The birds gonna make the wedding bed and the trees gonna lay the wedding table and the rivers gonna give us the wedding bands.

One might describe marriage as a way of making official a relationship in front of the law, for others it could mean an exchange of interest, but Korra has always had the idea of marrying for love.

Her parents had always said if it was on her plans to marry someone she needed to do it for love and not as an obligation and Korra was surrounded with true love stories her whole life so she wouldn't settle for less. And neither would you.

Meeting the avatar during her probending days could be the best thing to happen to you, in your words. You've been in the girl's life since then, in the bad such as in the good and great and she was forever grateful with you for your company; having you take the first step by asking Korra on a date after the championship and Amon's whole mess was cleared and after that it was all in color pink for you. She had this unique way of making you feel like she was your first love, always having butterflies in your stomach, giggling like a teenager, captivating every ounce of attention you had and making you deliver all the love you could ever produce in a silver tray just for her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “This is my girlfriend!” Korra introduced you cheerfully to her parents. You could feel your face burn.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's so good to meet you finally, Korra has been telling us so much about you.” Senna walked to you, taking your hands in hers and giving you a comforting smile.

Tonraq looked at the interaction with a serious face, making you feel nervous from your toes to your crown, you offered him a crooked smile before doing a small bow.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's such an honor to meet you both,” you started taking a step back, your hands were behind your back while you moved them agitated. “Korra also told me about you and I'm so glad I get to meet the two people who raised such spectacular woman.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What kind of intentions do you have with my daughter?” your girlfriend slapped her forehead and Senna shook her head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Just the purest, sir!” you were quick to respond before Korra could say anything. “I love your daughter, I wouldn't do anything to hurt her.”

The avatar looked at you astonished, neither of you had said 'I love you' to the other by that point and it made her blush how you were the first one to do so in front of her parents. The couple began to smile big and embrace you in a hug before welcoming you to the family, Korra joined later on.

If there was someone who could keep the avatar grounded was you. When things get tough and she needs someone for reassurance, Korra always looks for you first, it doesn't matter how the time is or if she has everyone on her shoulder asking for an answer. She was repeatedly at your door, wanting to spend time together either for you to give her advice or just looking for you to distract her from the outside world.

And you always followed her everywhere she wanted you to go, at least that was before she decided to return to the Southern Water Tribe alone after her last battle against Zaheer.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sure this will be for the best, love,” you whispered, kneeled in front of her, her eyes looked tired and dark circles surrounded them. They had lost that characteristic brightness you loved. “You will get better, I can go visit–.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, no,” she said hoarsely abruptly, taking you back. “I need to do this alone, I... I'll write to you.”

And that was the last time you talked to her face to face. The next months everything was purely written, you would try to not look desperate in your letters, but always remembered her how much you missed and loved her and how you were waiting for her.

And after the first year, the letters got fewer, Korra had written how powerless she felt and you would write her back to don't give up, how healing sometimes took more time than expected.

At her third year gone, six months in, she stopped writing. It took you by surprise, but you thought maybe the therapy was taking more from her day, you would reunite with your other friends as much as you could.

When the airbender kids got her back from the swamp, everyone was so secretive about her return to you, you didn't even know how Tenzin's kids went to look for her. That day Asami had ask you to meet for lunch, almost like everyday, and when you arrived you saw the girl, Mako and the one monarch that was supposed to be king, in front of them there was a silhouette you knew like the back of your hand.

Asami greeted you with an excited smile and the avatar turned, a little bit scared to see you. Her heartbeat went crazy when her eyes met yours; there you were, the woman she had on her mind ever since leaving the city, the only one who could make the avatar nervous to the point that she felt like she was dreaming once more about meet again with you. Slowly she stood up from her seat and walked up to you, you were teary-eyed at her sight.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Darling, I–” she tried to talk, being interrupted by your arms around her in such an impatient hug which she reciprocated.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You're okay, thanks the spirits,” your voice was trembling, her heart broke at that. “I got so scared when you didn't write back those six months, I thought something happened to you or maybe you didn't want nothing to do with me anymore.” you were talking so fast, but Korra was able to understand everything.

She embraced the hug and shook her head. “Never think that, I'm so sorry for leaving you in the dark so long, I needed to find myself again and... I'm just glad to be back here with you.”

You went to seat with the group to catch up, being met with interruptions at the kidnapping of the monarch. After that tiny reunion, everything felt back in place, you both felt as if a very important part of you was back even if you were in war with a crazy leader wanting to take Republic City by force, you were there and that was all that matter to Korra.

When everything was over, Korra had asked you on a date night before Varrick and Zhu Li's wedding that same day. Her hand was playing with the jewelry she had carved herself with such pride in her hand opposed to you while the two of you were walking.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's such a beautiful necklace.” Katara had said looking over Korra's shoulder, the avatar stopped and looked back at her with a smile, showing better the jewelry to her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You think so?” The older woman nodded with a smile back at her. “Do you think she would like it?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sure she will,” she answered. “And I'm also sure she will say yes.”

Korra blushed while smiling and nodded. “I hope she does...” her eyes wandered back to the necklace. “Maybe we are too young.”

The master waterbender giggled a little bit. “You know, Aang gave me a betrothal necklace too when we were around your age.” Korra's eyes shot surprised back at the woman who shrugged. “When you feel like the time is right everything comes easy after, the universe ends up working at your favor. If you're sure she is the one, take the step, you won't regret it.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Honey, are you okay?” you asked pulling her out of her thoughts afterwards. You both were now sitting at the edge of the circle that surrounded the spirit portal, she looked at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” she brushed it off, your gaze went back to the portal, your eyes shining with its light and Korras eyes were fixated on you.

She was sure of her next step, it was a big step for sure, but she wanted to do it with you. You had been by her side all this time despite anything, her parents loved you, her friends loved you, she loved you in such a way that felt crashing, but at the same time it felt like it was right. You'd never let her down and she tried to never do it to you either.

If anyone asked her at that moment how she saw herself in the next five years, Korra would say with such confidence how she saw her and you together. Waking up to you by her side, coming home to you, being able to introduce you around as her wife, the love of her life.

Your face turn her way when you heard her voice call your name. “I... I don't know how to begin this,” she confessed giggling nervous. “I guess I should first thank you for always staying by my side and never leaving me, even when I disappeared that long, you waited for me...”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I would always wait for you,” your hand took the one she wasn't hiding. “It doesn't matter how long it takes.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And I love you for that, you have no idea how much.” even if you were confused about why she was saying all that now, you smiled to her. “I want to be with you every single day of my life, you're the love of my life, my light that guides me in the darkest of places, my rock were I can find rest when the tide is being harsh with me, the reason I keep going and want to be better for.”

You opened your mouth to ask why she was saying all that, but just as if she could read you, her other hand showed the betrothal necklace and your eyes widened. You knew what it was, even if you weren't from the water nation, you knew about it; back when Eska asked Bolin –or claimed him– in marriage you had asked Korra about it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “A betrothal necklace,” she answered raising her eyebrows at the sight of her friend. “In my nation, when you want to ask someone in marriage you gift them a necklace for them to wear.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I see,” you nodded looking at the earthbender and then back again at her. “Ours should be better.” you had said in a joking way.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Way better, it will represent how I can't live without you.” the girl hugged you with a little of strength that made you laugh and start a new topic.

The necklace you were looking at was the most gorgeous one you have ever laid eyes on. Korra had carved the moon and ocean spirits in their fish form, your eyes started to tear at the memory and the significance of the jewelry in it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Marry me,” she blurted out, her hands were shaking a little bit, but with your blurry sight you couldn't see it. “Be my wife, I want you to be with me our whole lives, I want to tell everyone that you're my wife, I want you to be part of my family... Officially.” small sobbing sounds were heard from you. “Allow me to be the one to care for you in sickness and in health, until death do us apart.”

You needed to take a moment to breath in deep so your voice could be clear to her but your head nodding with excitement. “I do! I accept! Yes!” you said once you calmed and threw yourself to her give her such sweet and thirsty kiss almost as if you have never kissed her before.

It took feeling your lungs burning asking for air to separate you both. After straightening back up in your seats, Korra had put the necklace on you and when you turned around to show her she smiled big at the sight of you. It was way better than when she dreamed about her proposal, to her eyes you looked like a goddess under the moonlight that was beginning to shower around you both.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Spirits, you look so gorgeous.” she said like she was out of breath. “I think we should go get ready for the wedding. I'm so going to presume our engagement to everyone.”

Your ears felt warm and you giggled while shaking your head. “I think I need to look in my wardrobe for a dress that would look good with the necklace, fiancee.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Shit, that sounds like a dream,” Korra took your hand to start walking back to your apartment to get ready, you laughed. “Say it again.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fiancee?” you heard your girlfriend let out a tiny scream before holding you in a hug.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Someone will have to kick me out from the wedding, I will never shut up about it, fiancee.” she said making you laugh harder. “Who do you think would be the most surprised one?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wu, probably.” you answered. You knew everyone was going to take the news with the same excitement, it was going to be a fun night.

[jpitha]

More Aliens are Gardenworlders. What happens when a Human goes to visit a world that has significantly lower gravity? Fun. That's what.

Jas the human is being led around the homeworld of her friend the K'laxian D'menian. The K'laxi are a smaller, furred species with expressive ears and tails that evolved in the large temperate forests of their homeworld. Being a smaller, older planet than Earth, it has a lighter gravity, taller trees and less water in the oceans.

"It's so nice here!" Jas marvels. "I don't think I've seen a single stormy day on the weather the whole week we've been here"

"Yeah, regular storms are more an...Earth thing" D'menian says gently. "Remember, your planet is tilted relative to its orbital plane, ours is straight up and down. We also don't really have any 'seasons' either."

"Huh. Anyway, it's super nice here, thanks for showing me around." Jas bounces on the balls of her feet. "It's so light here, I feel like if I jump too hard, I'll fly right off!"

"It's about three quarters Earth gravity according to the translator, so it makes sense you'd feel light. Every time I'm over in Little Earth I feel like I'm wearing heavy weights!"

"I bet that's tiring! I wonder if we should petition the folks in Little Earth to see if we could lighten the gravity, maybe split it between our two planets?" Jas was thoughtful.

"That's super generous of you, but I think it'll be fine to keep at least one part of the starbase at a gravity, temperature and pressure that you prefer. Our world is colder than yours too on average."

"Yeah, but it's not bad. It's like a crisp fall day!" Jas was walking around in a light jacket. They walked past a large, well kept field and saw children playing and doing exercises. "I feel so bouncy here. Take my jacket for a second D'menian, I want to try something"

Before he has a chance to protest, Jas tosses him her jacket and she takes off full speed down the field. In the lower gravity of the planet, she's off like a rocket. All the kids playing stop to watch the taller, muscular human bolt down the field. As she approaches about half way down the field she lifts her hands over her head and throws herself forward, kicking her legs into the air, and with her momentum, uses her hands to launch herself into the air.

Marveling, all the K'laxi watch as she tucks her arms and legs in and tumbles end over end twice before kicking her legs out to stop her rotation, and lands hard with her feet together, bending her legs to arrest her motion and stands up straight with her arms over her head. "TA DAAAA" She yells, laughing.

The K'laxi children, being the same as kids everywhere swarm her, amazed.

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?"

"You were so fast!"

"YOU SPUN IN THE AIR!"

"CAN ALL HUMANS DO THAT???"

"Can you show us how to do it?"

As D'menian jogs up he flicks an ear, a K'laxi raise eyebrow. "Sorry" Jas says "I couldn't help it. The day was so nice, and I felt so light and the field was so large, I wanted to see what it was like to tumble in the lower gravity. When I was a kid on Earth, I never was able to flip more than once, but here two rotations were easy! The landing didn't even hurt my knees!" She grins at her friend. "Do we have time to talk to the kids? I'd love to answer their questions."

"Jas, we have all the time you need." D'menian smiles and sits down in the grass as Jas begins to show to the kids how humans (at least the ones who studied gymnastics as she makes sure to point out) can move.

[nozunhinged]

Love In The Big City reviews are raging everywhere - now what?

Or: why I think a 8.7 rating on MDL won't help anyone

If you're less of a reading person and prefer watching/listening, I made a post with various videos that are easily digestable.

disclaimer: this post is mainly an expression of my frustration over this crushing feeling of helplessness and the general fucked up political climate all over the world but also about how I truly believe that the most important thing is to think critical and never stop learning. Also I'm not south korean, but spent the majority of my academic studies on the topic of the post-imperial developments of Japan and Korea. And because I'm fundamentally tired of academia I will not proofread this for grammatical errors sorry - this is mainly a stream of consciousness.

Let's get this party started.

Because this is such a deep rooted issue, we need to do a teeny tiny, very brief excurse into korean history to properly explain my thoughts.

South Korea is a very young country

Before the republic of south korea we know today, Korea (North included) was ruled by one of the longest standing empires, the Joseon dynasty. The South Korea we know today is one of the youngest developed countries in modern history, first (brutally) colonialized by Japan and then taken over by the US.

The official end of the Joseon dynasty was in 1910. Thats a little bit over a hundred years ago, which is nothing if you think about how the Industrial Revolution was only 250 years ago and Korea has already overtaken many, many benchmarks the west set in the beginning in only less than half the time. The official founding of South Korea was even later, in 1948.

But that's only one important part about Joseon - this dynasty was also one of the most peaceful and stable empires as well. And how was that achieved? Well, confucianism and its very rigid patriarchal structures.

Joseon lasted over 500 years.

South Korea is only about 80 years old.

Their economic rise only took about 50 years.

Please remember those numbers for the next chapter.

I like to call it "The Patriarchy on Steroids"

Why am I throwing all those numbers around? Well first of all I suck at keeping it short but most importantly, I want to highlight how a country was turned upside down within the mere timeline of a few generations.

The South Koreans who spent their childhood in the Joseon empire, were teens during Japans brutal annexation, were adults when Samsung Electronics was founded and grew old with the first financial cracks of the democratic reforms, they raised the generations we have today. Let that sink in for a moment.

Central part of Confucianism is "Samjongjido", the expected devotion of the woman to her father first, then her husband and later her son(s), which exists in various forms in every asian country that was influenced by Confucianism. Essentially, women were expected to be nothing more than caretakers while the men were left with the "big pants" stuff.

Those structures can't be erased overnight.

But the bigger problem is when capitalism and "western culture" comes into play. In my opinion, it's a very deadly mix and there are countless examples of this.

You see all those "funny" conflicts in K-Drama and wonder "why is she expected to stop working after marriage", "why do they care so much about the family status of their spouse", well, that's how it worked for many, many generations prior.

The 4B-Movement (not dating men, not getting married, not having sex with men, not have children) is not just a dumb little feminist movement happening online, it's a literal, very real threat to South Koreas entire economy. It's not just a protest, women have literally given up on fighting these steroid patriachy structures that were only reinforced even more by capitalism.

And do you know what South Koreas solution to that problem is? Backing a right wing-conservative president who wants to get rid of any progress of equality politicians made in the last decades.

I repeat: You cannot erase 500 years of Confucian Patriarchy overnight. There's a reason so many historic k-dramas exist (sorry).

Fun fact: South Koreas economic rise made child mortality decline by almost 60% in only 18 years only to now have the lowest birthrate in the whole world of 0,7 children per 100 women.

Well done men, well done.

So what the heck does that have to do with that one gay show?!

Well, the backlash about LITBC shouldn't have come as a surprise. This show - openly and unapologetically queer - is attacking everything the steroid patriarchy in Korea represents. It hits exactly where it hurts the most. It's authentic, it depicts men not fucking women but other multiple men without the goal of having kids but oh - without just any goal that contributes to The Prosperity Of The Republic Of Korea. /s

The BL shows we got from Korea so far were all pretty tame and probably "tolerated" like the filthy smut that is BL manwha. That's easy to ignore and hide behind dark curtains, but a show that is distributed internationally with a famous actor in it??? That's going too far! /s

The most important point I want to make is that we need to think about the big difference between a countries culture and the economic interests they export. We all heard of the word "soft power".

But we often forget that what we see as international audiences is what they want us to see. We can't read Hangul, we don't speak Korean, so every translated article will always be lost in translation and not transport important nuances that make a culture their own.

K-Pop was made palpable for international audiences, as well as K-Drama and also - ultimately - Korean BL. Of course all of them play a big role in Korea as well, but what we get to see is only exported because it is made suitable for international audiences.

And I don't mean to diminish the work all the companies, writers, producers and actors put into these shows - they are all part of an important change that is absolutely necessary. But that's not the point here.

Big platforms like Viki, IQIYI, Gaga - they're not Korean, they're platforms from various asian countries with the goal of exporting media to international audiences. Shows are produced with that goal in mind. If it wasn't, none of the shows you can watch would be available without a VPN. They want to cater to international markets, that is literally their business model.

And they all know their domestic markets as well, which is why IQIYI is regularly pulling chinese BL - they can live very comfortably without the numbers from other countries but they definitely cannot ignore their domestic political climate.

And the same goes for LITBC. And many, many countless other examples like the one k-pop boy who was forced to leave his group due to massive backlash inside south korea.

And now what, smartass?

Like I said in the beginning - never stop learning. Start by reading Korean history 101 (or watch all the videos I compiled here). Learn and tell others about the horrible things happening - especially to women - in south korea. Unfortunately it's not all just fun and comfort shows/music. The 4B-Movement is still standing firm thanks to more and more education on it. (sorry not sorry men, get your fucking shit together)

Try to understand where the protesters are coming from, that's the only way to find a middle ground. But as long as the political climate in korea is getting worse and not better, hyping the show with huge numbers and raving ratings will not only have positive effects. It even has the potential to make it worse for south korean women and queer people as its success will only result in even more hardened fronts.

But at the end of the day, we have nothing to do with South Korean politics. We should also all be a little more humble, respect differences and not put our views on opinions on issues that we have nothing to do with. All we can do to help - again - is to never stop learning and never getting rid of your critical lens.

[emmis15]

Bucky Barnes Birthday In The Country

―I never imagined seeing the Winter Soldier, the greatest and deadliest assassin of the last 50 years, wearing a plastic crown at a children's party― I heard a sweet and amused voice behind me.

I was trying to pour myself more vodka juice from the kitchen and taking the opportunity to catch some fresh air outside the circle of Avengers and parents I didn't know, besides small children running around everywhere.

―Neither did I, this wasn't my original plan for my day off― I replied, looking at her with a small smile as I leaned against the sink.

Cass had her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the door frame, a smile on her face and a glass in her hands.

―I didn't tell you before, but thank you for coming. Lila was very happy to have you here― she said, approaching me slowly with a slight smile.

I sighed with a smile on my face as I listened to her. She had dragged me to a birthday party for Barnes' daughter at the farm, and instead of taking the opportunity to stay alone in the complex reading or listening to quiet music without having to listen to people passing by or arguing, I had knelt before Cass, and now I was at Clint's farm lifting children with my metal arm, wearing a plastic crown on my head.

―I'm sure she was― I sighed, looking down at my feet.

She placed her glass next to mine, and her hands tangled behind my neck with a slight smile. The scent of the perfume I liked was very close to me, almost like a mist on my face, enjoying her smile and the shine of her lips that had nagged me so much to drive slowly below the speed limit.

―Thank you, really. I promise I'll make it up to you― she whispered against my lips, looking into my eyes.

―It's not necessary. I'm just tired and needed a breather― I said, my hands reaching for her waist, feeling her skin goosebumps as she felt my cold metal arm.

―¿Do you want me to leave you alone?― she asked, uncertainty in her eyes.

―No, I never want to be alone if I can be with you for a moment. I just want to be here for a few minutes― I said, looking at her with a slight smile before giving her a small kiss.

She stayed looking at me with a small smile, and I don't know what she was looking at, but I really believe I had the best view. The sunset light hit her face through the window of the house, giving her such a homely and tranquil view that the idea of going somewhere just the two of us reappeared in my mind.

Having a house and living hidden from life, just the two of us quietly leaving behind the Avengers, Hydra, superheroes, or the society on our shoulders, staying in the quietest place in the world alone with our house.

―I would like to have something like that― I whispered, looking into her eyes while playing with her hair.

―¿A children's party or more time together?― she asked, confused.

―A house far from everyone and everything, just the two of us, letting ourselves be carried away by time.

―It would be nice to have some alone moments on a farm and the American dream.

She gave me a small smile, joining her left hand with my metal hand as she reached for a jug of juice since she couldn't drink alcohol due to medication.

―Not just a moment, a lifetime, in secret, and sometimes having missions, but instead of staying in the complex waiting for the next mission or training useless people to waste time, both of us sharing hobbies together without hiding― my flesh hand touched her chin to make her look into my eyes.

―We can't even let my father see us less than 40 meters apart, and you want me to pack my things and go to a house in the countryside? It's very nice, Buck, really, it sounds like something we could really live someday, but it's very difficult. I need medical attention all the time, and I'm always with my father― she said with a sad face, and I looked at the floor.

I let go of her chin to touch the star on her chest. I could see the faint red light coming from inside her chest, her body full of cables and constantly receiving medical attention and medication. It was a reality for her that even though we both wanted to show ourselves, we couldn't, and it would be very unfair, in addition to the increased life risks for her if we separated so much from the complex.

And then there was her father, Tony hated me, and although indirectly Cass tried to make him stop hating me, she only managed to make his sarcastic comments about my past in Hydra, giving me nicknames for my arms, and trying to leave the subject behind or hidden under the rug, but not much more. If he were to find out that I am with his daughter, the least he would do would be to banish me from the Avengers and the complex.

―¿Why is everything with us so difficult?

―Because it shows how strong we are― she touched my chin with the tips of her fingers. ―But I'm aware that the whole situation surrounding us sucks.

―Just a place where we both can be, where we can see each other and just be without the fear on our shoulders.

―We can create moments, we can do things to have a normal life within the parameters, but the idea of a house in the countryside or living alone together is very unlikely― she gave me a sad and melancholic smile, and it hurt my soul to know that as long as we were together, we would live in the shackles of Hydra, my past, and her father.

―I love you― I whispered as I carefully ran my fingers through her hair, looking down at her.

―I love you too― she whispered back with a smile, showing her teeth.

We heard the sound of a conversation nearby, so we quickly separated, me leaning against the countertop and her looking into the fridge with feigned doubt.

―¿What were you doing? Your father is looking for you― Lauren's voice broke the awkward silence.

She looked at us for a moment with a raised eyebrow before walking over to Cass and taking out the birthday cake.

―Tell him I'm coming now― she said tiredly, sighing.

―¿What were you doing?― Lauren asked.

―I was looking for something that doesn't have alcohol but also doesn't have too much sugar. Your husband said there was only orange juice in the fridge― she poured some of the orange liquid.

―¿And your sergeant?

―He needed some time away from sticky hands and loud songs― she sighed, looking at the floor.

She looked at us with a raised eyebrow before tilting her head, ready to leave.

―I don't need you to answer because you'll deny it, especially you, Cassady, but I know you two are up to something, I see it and feel it in the air, but the situation is difficult from what Clint told me, so I won't say anything, and you better both be there for the family photo― she sounded stern as she walked away with the white cake box.

We stayed silent without looking at each other before hearing her laugh.

―¿You wanted a normal couple life? There you have Lauren laughing at us and mocking because we can't hide anything― she said with a smile as she started walking back outside.

[lostinthewoods1991]

On the Birth and Death of Selves

It was my birthday yesterday. Over time, birthday is a day I've come to dread. New year is the same too. Birthday is one of those days that reminds me of all the ways in which I look like a failure to others. As a child, I was an overachiever. Not because I fancied being that but because I somehow ended up being so. I was someone who was unanimously considered talented. However, even as a child, I never understood what the hype was all about. I was treated like I was a potential celebrity in the making. I started singing professionally when I was a six-year-old, clueless kid. I was called to give interviews on TV shows, I was part of big stage shows, I always had recordings coming up and I was even invited as a chief guest to functions! It's all common these days but wasn't, back then. Atleast not as much as it is today, not in the field of singing. I remember wondering what was wrong with everyone and I swear I'm not humblebragging. It was too much for me to wrap my head around. Maybe there are children who find it easy and good. I wasn't one of them. I grew up hearing I'm a prodigy and that I was supposed to make it big in life. Very big. How was it possible for a child who was so immensely loved and appreciated to feel so intensely lonely? I don't think anybody understood that.

My outer self and inner self were always so far away from each other. Over time, the gap only widened. There's an abyss in between. The bridge that runs over the abyss is now old, shaky and crumbling in places. I don't even know if anybody can truly cross over. There are constant reminders and lamentations that I am put through. "Evide ethanda kutti aayirunnu" is the most tiring one among them. Some people say it's a case of evil eye. Some say it's because I lack God's grace. Some say it's just that I'm lazy. What nobody understands is how burned out I was, by the time I was a teenager. I wanted to have nothing to do with singing. Around that time, my vocal chords suffered from something like a minor damage and I seized the opportunity to bail out of all the occasions where I was expected to sing. That was how desperate I was for an escape.

You know the thing about being considered talented? About being praised all the time? You lose your right to make mistakes. To be anything less than the best. To have a choice of not participating in the race. You lose all these rights. I did. I was a painfully shy, quiet child who just wanted people to let me be. That's all I ever wanted. I grew tired of praise. My identity was brought down to my talent. I hated singing but people made me feel I didn't have the right to hate it. I was told I was being ungrateful. I was told I owed my singing to others. I hated being on stage. I hated being pushed. Most of all, I hated that I didn't seem to have the space to explore any other aspect of who I was or who I wanted to be. I only wanted to be understood as a human being. It was such a basic need of mine that went unmet.

Today, as an adult, I know I'm still that child seeking understanding from the world. I believe that was the drive behind my need to put out my thoughts and feelings. There was so much of me that was buried under others' expectations of who I should be. I believe I reached a point in life where atleast I had to understand myself, if nobody else could. In my attempts to do so, I might have come across as self-obsessed, I know. A psychiatrist I once met told me I am emotionally complex. It's better to make peace with the fact that you will probably never be understood the way you want to be, instead of seeking it everywhere, she said. I never went back to her, though I know she must have had a point.

I have almost completely stopped singing. I lost my ability to sing without feeling the presence of an audience expecting the best out of me. Writing is mostly the only way of self-expression I have now. There's a reason behind my insistence that I should be the ultimate judge of my writing. It's a sense of control that I did not have as a child. I need validation but I also need control. Today, I'm a disappointment to many people who knew me from childhood. They look at me like how they'd look at a tragic heroine from a Shakesperean play. It's all so dramatic. "Ammu, why are you destroying yourself?" - I heard this today too. How do I tell people that I am not trying to destroy myself but I am, in reality, trying to reclaim myself? Is there anybody here who believes me when I say that? Because I wanted to please others and be fair to myself too at the same time, I have found myself existing on the bridge all my life. It's a nearly collapsing bridge and I have many times fallen through, into the abyss. None of these people will understand my struggle because they don't know me. Even if I lay my heart bare before them, they will see only what they want to see, obviously.

Despite all this, I live with something in my mind that says I haven't lost at life. Who decides what's loss and victory anyway? I have disappointed myself plenty of times. I still do. But not in ways that others think. And I am winning at life, but in ways that might be invisible to others. What hasn't changed is the fact that I was invisible, I'm still invisible and I'll probably always be invisible. But, I'm trying my best to be a better person. I guess that will count, for now. :)

[superpixie42]

Look What I Found

You ever find something and have absolutely zero recollection about why you have it? Well that's the world doc I just found - it's all snippets from some event prompts and I have no idea what one so...if anyone remembers please let me know. I don't remember putting them on tumblr before and they aren't up on AO3 so hopfully they are as new to y'all as they are to me.

I'm going to clean these up and add them to AO3 in the next few days but enjoy this messy Tumblr post for now.

Prompts Are: Direction, Mental Health, Childhood, and Sacrifice.

Direction

Kagura’s soul was the wind. She was quick, confident, brash, and unyielding. She was everywhere and saw everything. She was the answer to riddles and her will would be answered to.

And, currently, she was completely lost.

She’d finally convinced Sesshomaru to join her, and together they would take down Naraku and seek vengeance against those who helped him rise to power: Kikyou, Kagome, and Inuyasha. 

But as they walked deeper into the dense forest, Kagura’s confidence in her plan wavered. Soaring through the skies, she could see for miles, mapping her movements between mountains and streams. Now she was navigating between individual trees and rocks with no idea how far they had traveled. Even tracking the sun was more difficult under the thick green canopy. She had to completely rely on Sesshomaru to guide her, and she wasn’t sure she could do that. It had been a long time since she’d trusted anyone. But Naraku was watching the skies, and surfacing would ruin this one chance she had to free herself. 

She took a calming breath, the sting at the hole in her chest where her heart used to be refocusing her. She had to trust him, she didn’t have any other choice.

Kagura was many things, but what she needed to be was patient. So patient she would be.

Sacrifice

Sango wasn’t sure she wanted to be a mother. 

Her own had died giving birth to Kohaku, and that death had taken her years to grieve and process. Instead, as eldest, she chose to focus on demon slayer training and learning how to run her village. She might not have children of her own, but she could be a motherly head woman for her people when the time came.

But life has a habit of not going according to plan. 

Sometimes that’s horrific.

Other times it’s a blessing.

Carrying her twins had been an experience unlike anything Sango had ever encountered. She’d been tired before, she’d been wounded, she’d been frustrated, she’d been scared– but never like this. As she sat nursing her daughters for what felt like the hundredth time that day, looking out the window and watching the other women of Musashi chasing after not just two but four or five or, heaven forbid, six children she couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel that would make her want to ever go through this all again. 

Yet she did. Eventually.

But also intentionally, willingly, and gladly. 

Just the once more.

And now, as she watched her son blatantly steal yet another piece of fish from her plate to fill the wind tunnel in his stomach, she simply rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice his “sneaky” little hand groping around her bowl. 

Sango had always been told that parenting was about sacrifice. And while it was - less sleep, less alone time, less resources, less space, less time to focus on anything that required more than forty-five minutes of dedicated brain power- it didn’t mean sacrificing herself.  

She was still Sango. 

She was still a leader, still a slayer, still found time for Kirara, and Miroku, and Shippo. Sure it looked different now, but so did she. And if today’s biggest sacrifice was losing a few extra pieces of fish (and a few hours sleep) in exchange for seeing the satisfied smile on her son’s face as he rushed to share his pilfered snack with his conspirators, then she would do it every day.

Childhood

When Kagome announced she was pregnant, Inuyasha went through a violent series of emotions very quickly. There was shock, there was elation, then there was a bone deep dread, swiftly followed by fear and a need to join his wife in the bushes to throw-up.

But by the time his son– his son– finally arrived he felt more prepared than he thought he would. They had a basket, they had diapers, they had blankets and furs and chew toys durable enough for hanyou teeth. He’d even “baby proofed” as Kagome put it: sanding down the corners of the table to avoid pointed edges; getting all new smooth, clean mats for the floor; even rebuilding the doorframe so they would be harder for a baby to slide.

He was also prepared for threats outside the home. Mirroku had ofuda’d every inch of the village. They went on daily patrols and - even though he would never tell Kagome- he’d scent marked every other tree in a three mile radius. He’d even bullied Sesshomaru into making more regular appearances. 

With all this prepping little baby Yuya was snugger than a bug in a rug. And thanks to extensive prep time with Sango’s children, Inuyasha was at least mostly ready to deal with the crying, the diaper rash, and the lack of sleep Kagome was going to suffer while breastfeeding.

So how come nobody fucking told him during all this the kid was going to actively try and kill himself at every available opportunity?

Before he was even crawling Yuya seemed to find everything and try to pop it directly into his mouth. He scratched his face, punched himself in a place Inuyasha was very sure he didn’t want to be punched, and pulled his own hair when he was mad.

Then there was crawling.

How was this a good idea from an evolutionary standpoint? Kagome told him about how humans and animals adapted to their environment to ensure survival. So why did baby humans allow their tiny baby heads to take such a beating as they bellyflopped their way directly towards the active fire pit!? Why did baby arms fail at holding them up but their hands could grip a knife that was unwatched for a single blink? Yuya couldn’t stand, but he could roll directly into the river while they washed laundry?

So he decided if the baby didn’t adapt then he would. More toddler proofing. Or, more accurately, more failure.

The new bathtub he built? Apparently actually a climbing gym.

The bed he made? More like a crash pad for swinging from the ceiling.

And he didn’t even want to think about the garden with its hoes and its stakes and the fence and the dirt and the snakes and just… everything.

As Inuyasha spent yet another night on sentry duty, watching over Yuya and making sure the newest collection of scrapes and bruises cleared (he healed faster than his mother, but definitely not as quickly or as completely as his father) he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his belly that he should be doing… something. He wasn’t sure what, but something more to keep his son safe. He didn’t want to lock him in the house all day - not that that would help anyway - but Inuyasha had been so focused on outside forces hurting his child, he never really considered how unintentionally self destructive a lanky, super strong, super fast, absolute moron child could be.

But even after - or maybe especially after - taking a major fumble from a tree during the eight seconds it took Inuyasha to turn and answer a question Yuya had still smiled. Still laughed. Still ran immediately back to the same damn tree and tried again. ¿

Maybe that was the point, though, wasn’t it? 

Maybe he couldn’t keep his not-so-little-baby-boy safe from everything, or even himself, but he could keep him happy. Could keep him trying again. Could help him laugh even as his mom smeared that horrible smelling goop all over the broken skin. 

And then tomorrow Inuyasha would check to make sure he was healed and they’d go break something else. 

Mental Health

There are some things you never really get over. 

The older she got, the more Shiori thought she would grow out of her anxiety. It had been years since her mother offered her up as a sacrificial lamb, abandoning her to the constant threats and abuse at the hands of her grandfather. After this long she should be fine, right? 

Should be able to hear someone at the door without panicking. 

Should be able to sleep without dreaming of being stuck in the barrier again. 

Should be able to trust that when her mother was late coming back from an errand that she surely wasn’t coming back with a mob. Except maybe she was, and it was safer to hide than be wrong.

When her mother died Shiori cried for days, trapped in the house with a corpse. What would happen to her now? How could she possibly stay in the village that had so willingly cast her aside? But she didn’t know where the surviving bat tribe members had fled to. What if the bats trapped her again? She didn’t want to go back, she didn’t want to go back, SHE DIDN’T WANT TO GO BACK.

Shiori awoke with a start as a firm hand shook her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the dark room, before meeting concerned amber. She never knew how Inuyasha had learned about what happened; maybe the Kami had finally taken pity on her and it was a miraculous coincidence. Three days after her mother’s death, there he was, scooping her up off the dusty floor and bringing her to his new village. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard of: humans, demons, hanyou, all living together and training as slayers.

She still had nightmares, still spooked in crowds, and struggled to speak some days. But as Inuyasha silently lit the fire in the hut where she lived next to him and Kagome, she was starting to finally feel like someday she would be able to do all the things she wanted to. Until then, she was safe, and that was more than she’d had in a long time, so she would cherish the feeling.

[sidhewrites]

15! This one got long, it may end up being trimmed into two chapters. For now though, here's some exposition and research! Slight warning for suggested animal illness at the end, but I'll preface it with saying Renfield is fine and remains fine if a bit shaken throughout the entire book.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Magnus Sunthorpe, as it turns out, has a long history of paperwork that was only preserved due to negligence on the part of whoever cleaned out the archives. The file folder was stuffed full of moldering, century-old slips of paper, each in their own yellowed folder that had been stamped with date range of the contents inside, as well as a much more recent note that they had been digitally preserved.

"You think the old Librarian forbade anyone from throwing them out?" I ask, waggling my brows at Josie before, once again, being forced to contend with the fact that, actually, the Librarian could do exactly that. I bite back any discomfort, and force myself to say, "She seems the type to hoard everything."

She shoots me a distinctly unimpressed look while we request copies of each page from one of the living librarians back up on the first floor.

"What kind of research project is this supposed to be?" he asks. His name tag reads Carter.

I give Carter a smile. "A weird one."

"A biography," Josie clarifies.

He raises an eyebrow at me, correctly deducing that Josie is the brains of this operation. "These are gonna be due in two weeks, same as any library book. You need an extension, you gotta come in or call us so we can make a note." He takes us to the research stacks just past the children's library, and pulls two three-ring binders down, each labelled meticulously with dates and information. Carter deposits the binders in Josie's arms, and she promptly hands them off to me. "Is this for a class or something?" Carter asks.

"No." I barely manage to keep myself from adding that Josie's cat is possessed, and instead manage to stumble into a different, less suspicious line of conversation, "I think the lady who works downstairs doesn't like when you throw things out."

Carter pauses before placing the third binder on top of the other two. "Not in the least."

Josie's eyes gleam. "You know who she is?"

"I think I'd know my coworkers, yes."

"Don't you love this time of year?" I ask. "The weather is cooling off, the leaves are all red, and there seems to be spooky shit everywhere you turn. Especially in old creepy libraries."

"It's an old building. We're lucky the wifi works. Asking for things not to be spooky in the basement levels is just getting greedy."

"So you agree. The basements are spooky."

Josie kicks me lightly.

I give her my most innocent look.

"I just work here, ma'ams," Carter says, but he holds my gaze long enough to get the point across.

I nod, and Carter nods back, but there's too many people around to talk for long. He helps us check the records out and sends us on our way.

"So am I the only one around here who apparently sees ghosts, or do you think he's just imagining shadows and shit?"

Josie shrugs. "I'm sure you're not the only one. I wonder what the cause of it is."

"I had a near-death accident when I was fourteen. I was doing track and field after school and tripped over a hurdle. Nearly broke my neck. I was in and out of consciousness until I woke up and saw myself lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a hundred different machines and an IV. It was terrifying. I looked around and saw my parents there, red eyed and tired, and I looked out the window and saw this bright light, and a woman's voice telling me it's not my time yet. Go back, there were still so beautiful girls to woo and so much stupid shit left to do in this world."

She listens intently until i get far enough in to remove any doubt that I'm making everything up. "I can't believe you still don't -- I mean -- believe. You're literally dating a ghost."

"I'm not--" I start, and stammer. I mean -- I kind of am, aren't I? But my face flushes, and I get indignant regardless. "That's not --! We're not putting labels on anything yet!"

"So you're in a relationship. With a ghost."

"I..." I start. If I hadn't been carrying binders just then, I'd have thrown my hands in the air or gesticulated or something to burn off the sudden nervous energy building up in my limbs.

"It's okay, I'm not judging. Well -- I am, but it's not my place to tell you how to live your life anymore."

"It wasn't in the first place either," I mutter, and shake it off. We're almost to the edge of campus. "Lucy can only come out at night, so we've got some time until she can look things over. Should we...?" I shrug vaguely, not sure where I'm going with this.

[Transition]

Over the next few hours, Josie and I go through the bulk of the documents. Okay, she goes through the bulk of the pages, and I sit there and color code things with sticky notes. In my defense, research has never been my strong suit, no matter how interesting the subject, and I'd like a bit of praise for not giving up entirely and going on my phone.

The documents come together to form the story of a deeply unpleasant man. He brought his birth certificate with him when he came to Sutton, tracing his family back to a farm in Kentucky. He was one of eight kids, and moved in to town in [year]. He started keeping a journal a month in, which seemed to show him finally happy with his surroundings, surrounded by trees and peace and few people. Magnus hated everything about the people who lived in Sutton -- loud, friendly, often covered in sweat and sawdust, but he liked the solitude.

And then came the pages upon pages of formal noise complaints submitted to the mayor from [the year after he moved] all the way up until his death in [YEAR]. Seems like nothing got past him -- not a neighbor's hog farm causing a ruckus during feeding time in the morning, nor a colic baby being rushed to the doctor in the middle of the day. And if a party ran late in the bar, damn anyone who thought they could have a bit of fun on the weekend without there being trouble.

And then, finally, in [year], he faced his demise doing what he loved best -- being a dick. Magnus had come out on New Years Eve, lantern in hand, shouting to the good loggers who dared celebrate with drinks and music and shouting in town. He was shoved out of town and tossed into the stables -- which, the obit writer made sure to add -- hadn't been mucked in a few days.

A horse panicked and kicked him in the head. He was pronounced dead in the morning, presumably when everyone's hangovers became tolerable enough to leave bed.

In our search, we found a report someone put together of him back in the 1960s titled Sutton's Most Miserable Man by Oliver Proust. It seems, so says Oliver, Magnus was the reason Sutton created municipal complaint forms in the first place, as an unsuccessful attempt to put him off of whining so often to the mayor. He was also the main reason Sutton imported so much paper from a larger town before the mining boom caused the population to grow a decade or two after his death.

"Oliver was right on the money," I surmised, nodding resolutely at our handiwork. The pages had been sorted -- scanned diaries over here, municipal complaint forms over there. "The most miserable man in town, probably in all of history."

"See what Lucy has to say about it. Maybe she knows him?"

"What, like they haunt the graveyard together? You think they're ghost buddies?" Unfortunately, now that I say it, that sounds plausible. They may not be friends per se, but with how long and how sociable Lucy seems to be, I don't doubt that she knows some of the other ghosts in the cemetery. "I'll ask her tonight," I say, and then groan. That's going to mean breaking in. I'm getting frustratingly casual with breaking rules surrounding my job lately, and that's definitely going to spell trouble for me later.

While waiting for night to fall, I pace around my apartment, clutching my phone like it owes me money. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. It could cost me my job. It could ruin any future chances the graveyard might have of working with public figures. Mr. Ngo could be angry at me. A thousand worst-case scenarios play through my head, over and over again, but I just keep looking at Renfield, curled up next to the space heater.

At six, he doesn't get up for dinner. When I try to pet him, he lets out a quiet low growl.

I can feel him there. Magnus. Whenever I look away, I hear a rustling behind me, and I turn to see Renfield's head up, eyes open, pupils narrowed to a sliver. I know it's Magnus in there, watching me. Waiting to see what I'll do. There's no other option. I need help.

I pick up my phone and dial.

The number goes right to voicemail, but I plead my case all the same, begging for help. Or at least for half an idea what to do.

#

Come nightfall, I'm in the graveyard again, spreading the pages out on a bench for Lucy to look over as she stands off to the side.

"Does any of this look familiar to you?" I ask. My flashlight catches on her, and I have to remind myself that she's a ghost. Ghosts are real, and my kind-of-girlfriend is one herself. Even knowing all that, however, it's still so easy to forget. She looks as solid as I do, her face pale but catching the light like it should. There are such subtle signs of wrongness that, even looking for them, they're easy to miss. But her veil doesn't move in the slight breeze, and the grass below her feet remains undisturbed. Even the mud clinging to my shoes is nowhere to be seen on her outfit, the hem of her gown as spotless as if it was freshly cleaned.

She pores over the pages, either unaware or uninterested in my staring as she scans the pages, eyes darting back and forth from headline to municipal form to obituary.

"No, not a thing. I could ask around, of course. I'm sure someone from his time would have more answers than myself."

I nod. Magnus died thirty years before Lucy was born.

[conversation about ghosts and the different kinds? Lucy has vague acquaintances.] "But ghosts don't socialize in quite the same way. We're not...all here, not all the time."

"Like when the sun's out?"

She nods. "For me, yes. But the rules aren't wholly clear, and they seem to be shifting all the time for some spirits."

I shift my weight and wrap my arms around my knees. "What do you mean?"

[Orbs vs spirits with no corporeal/visual form, sometimes they're more aware of where thye are sometimes its just emotions or detached intentions of going home]

She stands and looks at the old tree, skirts rustling in a nonexistent breeze. It's like she has her own weather sometimes, the wind wherever she is entirely detached from the wind where I am.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"I don't know. Life. Touching things? Eating. Changing your clothes. That kind of stuff."

She presses her lips together, gaze falling away. "I'm not sure. I've been dead longer than I was ever alive, and the world is so...big. There's so much to it now. And my memories of my life aren't always..." She pauses, trying to find the right words, but I think I understand this one.

"Yeah," I say, and rest my chin on my knees. "Like they're right there in front of you, and you know they're there, but you can't quite reach them anymore. You don't know where to look for them, right?"

"Exactly, yes."

"I get that sometimes. I mean -- I don't know if mine is the same as yours, but I have that sometimes."

"But you're alive."

"Eh." I shrug. "My brain's broken, but it's less broken now than I was when I was a teenager. Caffeine helps though." I lift my coffee in a toast.

"I don't follow."

"You want a brief history on psychiatric advancements of the 20th century?" It's a joke, but Lucy [looks at me like she'd like nothing more.] "Okay, sorry, that was an exaggeration. Basically, I have issues reliably paying attention and remembering things, among a whole slew of other stupid issues."

She nods, but I don't miss the hint of disappointment in her expression.

Before I realize what I'm saying, I blurt out, "I'll get a book from the library tomorrow. We can read it together, and I'll turn the pages for you. Deal?"

"Deal." Then, after a moment of deliberation, she says, "But why does coffee help?"

"Stimulants calm my brain down."

"Why?"

I shrug, and take a sip. "Because it's broken."

When I put my cup down, however, Lucy is looking at me, a crease furrowed between her brows.

"What?" I ask.

"Is it really?"

"Is what really?"

"Your brain. Is it really broken?"

"Oh. Nah." I laugh. "I'm just being dramatic. I'm fine now. Or, mostly anyway. Nothing too much coffee can't fix." Just to prove a point, I tilt my head back, and chug. I am the epitome of feminine grace.

Her concern doesn't let up. 

I feel my smile falter under her gaze, and shrug. "It's fine, really."

"Kaz..."

I don't want to go into this. Not now. Not with her. "Look, I'm okay now. Really. I have some issues, but they're miles better now than when I was a teen."

Lucy makes a show of sitting on the bench, not even disturbing the papers I've set out, and patting the space next to her. Reluctantly, I gather the pages up and set them in my lap before sitting next to her. She doesn't talk first, just waits for me to be ready.

"Look...I mean it when I say I'm fine now, okay?  There's problems, but it's manageable now. When I was a kid, you know..." I shrug. "I don't know when they came up with the term, but I had a major depressive disorder. I lay in bed for days on end. I fought with my parents because it was easier than pretending to be okay. When they learned I liked girls ..." I frown. My dad's words never left my memory, fallible as it could be some times. "It got worse. I got worse. My parents got worse. I had the grades to go to an ivy league school in junior year, then by senior year it was a miracle I graduated at all."

I don't look at Lucy, instead focusing on my calloused hands, fingers gripping the library pages tightly. "I had to skip a year before coming here, and I just barely got in." My fingers won't stay still. My knee bounces. "I'm better now, though. Away from my family. I have people I love here, and Renfield makes sure I get out of bed in the mornings, if only to feed him breakfast."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucy's hand. She doesn't touch mine, but rests it gently next to it, our pinky fingers less than an inch from touching.

"I promise I'm doing okay, okay? I don't really mean it when I say my brain's broken. Other people have it worse. I just like to be a shit sometimes."

"Sometimes," she echoes, and there's a smirk in her voice, though it doesn't last long. When I look up, her gaze is distant. "When my husband passed, I thought I was dying. I don't remember his face, but I remember that...painful numbness. Like I was being torn apart at the seams, and yet like I was feeling nothing at all." Her brow furrows, mouth curving into a frown. "I lay in bed for days, not eating. I think I slept. And then..." She sighs. "I died. I woke up here, without him. If I saw my own funeral, I don't remember it."

I want to take her hand. I barely move my pinky out, feeling the icy static of her ghostly skin against mine.

"Do you miss him?"

"I loved him more than anything. I moved from the city to be with him." She pauses. "He was going to buy me a camera the second he had enough money. Every day he'd kiss me goodbye and promise that we'd have a million photographs -- of our home, of our family... Of us." She shook her head. "The only photo left was our marriage photo. I don't even know where it is anymore."

"I'll find it," I say without thinking.

"Kaz --"

"No. Listen. I'll find it for you, okay? You're a huge star in paranormal communities. If it's out there, someone has it, and probably posted it online. I'll find it."

She looks me dead on, the corners of her mouth starting to pull upwards once more. "I believe you."

"Believe in the internet," I say.

Lucy shakes her head. "I believe in you."

I'm still walking on air when I return home. I hum to myself, jingling my keys before putting them into the lock and opening the door

I stop dead in my tracks as soon as I step inside. The apartment has been turned upside down. Textbooks thrown off the table and shredded, dishes shattered on the kitchen tile. All my knickknacks and things litter the floor, chairs knocked over, couch torn to bits. Even the floor lamp has been knocked to the ground, the remains of light bulbs glittering in the carpet.

Renfield sits on the table, surrounded by his destruction. His fur is paler, pupils narrowed to a thin sliver in his yellow eyes.

"Have you had fun tonight?" Magnus asks. Black bile drips from Marius's mouth, and he launches himself at me with a wail.

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[bells-of-black-sunday]

"Couldn't sleep. The first night in a place always weirds me out, you know." + "Why would you say that to me right now, in the middle of the night when I'm here all alone?" Maiden Haru -> Vittorio, while in his castle

I am the pretty thing | Accepting

Late nights weren't unusual for the lord, he always seemed to be tucked away in his books and manuscripts trying to squeeze as much information out them as possible. Though what information he was trying to gather remained a secret. As much as he trusted Tarhos to guard him and stay by his side, he was well aware he was prone to violence. A "rabid dog off his leash" as he'd been described by those who knew him when he was a part of that dreadful mercenary camp, the knight just seemed more tired than anything.

Opinionated on everything he had to say, but tired none-the-less. Though what was the fun in having someone around who would only sing his praises?

To find Tarhos's wife wandering around the castle in nothing, but her linens? Now that was unexpected. Vittorio peered up form his studies watching her fingers trace the spines of the bookshelves, "You're up late Mrs. Kovács." His voice remained quiet, but as sweet as it usually was. The voice of a man who hadn't been broken by the world yet, still so full of energy and life and yet so naïve to what lay in his endless search for paradise.

"Couldn't sleep. The first night in a place always weirds me out, you know."

The lord nodded watching her file through the spine until she landed on one and pulled it from his nook. A book he knew quite well. A collection of folk lore, tales from everywhere from the hills of Scotland to even Persia. He'd read it cover to cover many times filing through it to find glimpses into the people he's chasing after. The watchers, the guides, the gods, whatever they were called. Still he couldn't help, but chuckle softly as it was opened, "Careful, it's rumored if you read some of the stories within you'll attract ghosts. I swear I've felt someone breathing down my neck as soon as you opened it's cover."

He watched her shoot up with a squeak, those dark eyes widening before narrowing into a half-hearted glare as she hissed, "Why would you say that to me right now, in the middle of the night when I'm here all alone?" Vittorio couldn't help, but laugh moving to sip from his goblet to hopefully calm the amusement that sat in his very bones, "Because it was funny, but no need to worry. There are no ghosts here, just dusty old books."

[corujalesbica]

Rock and Roll bugs - a steddie one shot

It was almost noon, and Steve was tired. His suit felt suffocating then, and his muscles were sore. Still, it was all worth it. It always was.

He thought about going home early,but Steve was damn sure no-one would be waiting for him there. Ever since his parents died, he had been living in their huge apartment with his aunt, who was always traveling. He couldn't make himself blame her, she only inherited a small part of his parents fortune, the rest was for him, but of course he would only have access to it once he turned eighteen. His aunt didn't make a lot of money, but she sure did love her job. So he had to start working part time at a local ice cream shop, it was the only way to afford the stuff he needed to keep his Spiderman thing going.

He turned to see the sun, high in the sky. There was not much going on and he could be doing quite literally anything else. So he decided to go to his best friend's place to see what she was up to. He got to the little house painted in pink quickly enough, distances aren't much of a problem when you can jump from building to building with spider webs. The smell of something burning in the stove and the noises made by the neighbor's cat were more familiar to him than the paintings in his living room.

Robin was, of course, reading one of their weird nerdy magazines instead of checking the food that was cooking. Steve almost laughed; they were trying to solve a puzzle with the magazine upside down.

_ Hey weirdo.

_ Hey _ Steve said _ What are you up to ?

He sat on the couch, hearing the strange noise it always made under his weight. The TV was on and some kind of culinary contest was playing.

_ Just, you know, trying to solve the puzzles in this Mexican magazine they gave us. It's my Spanish homework.

_ Nice. _ he paused _ wanna watch a movie or something ?

_ Yeah.

_ What movie then ? _ He got up to get the remote control. _ And don't say-

_ Do revenge! _ she looked at him with puppy eyes _ pleasseeee. _ He shrugged

_ Fine. But next time I'm gonna choose a movie like suicide squad and you're not gonna say a word about it.

_ Ok.

_ Can you put the movie on while I change ?

They just made a kind of positive sound, and Steve went upstairs. Robin's room was like it always was, a mess. There were clothes everywhere, books and DVDs among them and maybe some other stuff he didn't know what was. Steve also didn't know why the fuck Robin still had DVDs.

He got the clothes he brought in his backpack, borrowed one of Robin's binders and went to the bathroom to change.

The movie was actually nice. One of the protagonists looked a lot like Robin, though Steve couldn't imagine his nerdy empathetic friend being that mean to anyone. After that they talked a bit about how both their weeks went and at some point Robin fell asleep lying on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like strawberries and for a little while, the world was a good place.

He ended up leaving after they ate. He had to make some pasta because Robin burned the food they were trying to make. It was a fun evening, and an outsider might think that there was something inherently romantic to it. There wasn't. They cuddled on the regular, because the feeling of having a love that could only be transmitted by hugs, by that innocent physical touch, was too good to let go of.

He took the shortest path back to his big apartment in the center, that is, he swung between buildings, making sure to not be seen, until he got there. The apartment was empty as always. And quiet. Steve turned on the TV to try and feel less lonely; it didn't work. So he got his phone and the first notification he saw was one stating the local news had just released another article talking about him.

His laugh echoed in the house. The article talked about how he was a great hero, and not at all any kind of impostor who would try to trick Hawnkins's great people into praising him for nothing. There was a time though, in which the only thing the Jornal did was attack him. And the then writer, now editor, who was mostly behind all of this was no-one but his ex-girlfriend : Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy and Steve had a rocky relationship. He always felt like he was not enough for her, like her distance was his fault. It took both parts a long time and lots of effort after that, to become friends again. Especially so, when she found out he was Spiderman. Steve would like to say he told her this out of good heart, but in truth she found out by herself. Nancy had many flaws, but being a bad detective was not one of them.

A few months ago he found out she and Robin were dating. It probably should've caused him some feeling of betrayal, but it never did. Both his friends were very happy, he now knew the problems in their relationship weren't all on him, and besides, he was in love with someone else.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Steve met Eddie Munson during a Thursday afternoon. The music and arts building of Hawkins High School was on fire, and as soon as he saw it he got his suit and fortunately could get everyone out safely long before the firefighters arrived. He had been in his basketball practice at the same time some nerds club was having a meeting, and he had to wait for it to end so he could get his neighbor, Dustin, home. Dustin was an adorably annoying, kind of funny kid, and although Steve complained, he always loved the company.

Eddie Munson probably loved Dustin's company too, because he stayed back to be sure the boy got out. Dustin was apparently in the bathroom when it all happened, and as a result Munson had to help him out the window, and then come out through the front door because he didn't fit through that window. When Steve got the others out and came for him, his jacket was literally freaking burning. Somehow he managed to lift an almost passed out Eddie and hold him until the ambulance got there.

After that day he started noticing the somewhat goth guy more and more. The way his smile could light up a whole room, the way his clothes would stick to his skin, the way his hair was messy is the cutest way. One day, after practice, Eddie walked Dustin to Steve's car, and asked him on a date. Dustin was in awe when he said yes.

Eddie left, after kissing Steve's hand, like they were in an old romcom, and walked to his van with a wink. And the truth is that Steve was already falling then. And that's because although most people think he's this stereotypical jock, the guy is actually very much of a hopeless romantic.

He transitioned just after middle school, so most people didn't know he was trans. In his freshman year, he started dating Nancy and for a while they were Hawkins High queen and King. At that time, Steve had a very strict idea of what a man was, and what was his role in the relationship. But contrary to him, Nancy never was that much into cliche ideas of love. So he would try and try to be someone she didn't need, someone he himself didn't like. Eventually, he understood that his manhood didn't rely on heteronormative ideas of what he was supposed to be doing and thinking. Even so, it still hurt to remember how dysphoric trying to constantly prove his identity made him.

With Eddie, he didn't have to. Well, first because Eddie was also trans, and understood him like no-one but Robin could before. But even so, being with Eddie, being in that aquillean relationship, made him feel like the man he was. He felt seen. Suddenly, the gender roles of who was supposed to be doing what didn't matter. He would insist on paying for dates, Eddie would bring him flowers and he loved hugging Eddie, who wrote him the most beautiful letters.

Because after that first date they went on another, and then another and another. Eventually, Steve learned he wasn't that good at keeping secrets after all, because Eddie also found out about his hero persona before he could tell him. His reaction though, was like none Steve had gotten before. Eddie's eyes shined when he confirmed his suspicions, he wouldn't stop jumping and smiling.

_ I'm dating a motherfucking superhero! _ he said before kissing him.

And that was when Steve knew he loved him. Because that smile was the same on the face of every person he saved. Because Eddie reminded him that being a hero was about helping others I'm any way you can, and that he was enough. And at that moment, he was so happy.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Steve got up, feeling nostalgic, and turned the TV off to go to his room. When he got to the long hallway though, he noticed his room's lights were on, which was weird because he remembered turning them off before leaving in the morning. He thought that maybe one of his enemies found him. He didn't have lots of those, but still. Maybe the scientists at Hawkins weird ass lab wanted revenge for the time he broke in and rescued a bunch of kids that were being used as guinea pigs. Or just maybe, it was the FBI , hunting him down for whatever reason. Nonetheless, he prepared for a fight, opened the door, and…

Saw his boyfriend laying on his bed, headphones on, and very concentrated in some Star Whatever magazine. Steve let out the breath he'd been holding. It was not until he lied on the bed too that Eddie noticed him.

_ Hey handsome. Busy day saving lives ?

Steve let out a laugh.

_ No, actually, I spent most of the day at Robin's. What are you doing here ?

_ What, now a guy can't visit his boyfriend ?

_ I gave you that key for emergencies.

_ This is an emergency! I haven't seen you in like, a week. I need one of your hugs soon, or else I'm gonna die!

_ Oh yeah ? My hugs are now some kind of medicine ?

_ Can't… Speak… I.. Am dying. _ Eddie said between forced heavy breaths, while holding his own neck and creating the most dramatic fake death scene Steve had ever seen.

That is, until Steve did hug him.

_ You are such a drama queen.

_ Yeah baby, and you love it.

Steve blushed at the pet name. He still wasn't quite used to being cared for like that. Being called that gave him an amazing kind of fuzzy feeling. He dug his nose in his boyfriend's shoulder, smiling to himself. His shoulder was still hurt from last week's fight though so he had to get away from him.

_ Are you okay honey ? _ Eddies look was now one of worry, his laugh entirely gone.

_ Yeah, it's just this wound that hasn't completely healed. Usually I heal pretty fast, but that guy with the knife last week really got me.

_ Well, then, we should get you some new bandages to go to sleep right ? I'm not a doctor or anything, but…

_ Yeah, sure that makes sense. Can you help me ?

_ No sweetheart, I would rather see my boyfriend and one of my favorite people in the world bleed to death. Now where do you keep your medical stuff ?

Eddie helped him change the bandages. Had it been anyone else, even Robin, he wouldn't be comfortable taking his binder off in front of them. But they knew each other and each other's bodies so well it didn't really matter. If anything, they helped one another by praising each other's figure.

_ And… You're done, bug boy!

Steve snorted.

_ What did you just call me?

_ You _ Eddie held his face _ are my cute lil' bug boy, saving the world with your charm and maybe some spider webs.

_ And you _ Steve put his hand on Eddie's cheek _ are my rock and roll boy, my favorite singer and writer. I may save the world, but it's only so they can all love you for exactly who you are.

Eddie laughed.

_ You are one unique, cheesy, lovable thing, you know that ?

_ Yeah, I do.

They kissed for a while, and then slept cuddling and Steve could not be happier. As long as he had Eddie's shitty jokes, cliche flirts, and unique persona with him, he would be the best hero Hawkins would ever have.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Not my best work, and I will probably review it soon, but I do love the idea of an Spiderman au for then + t4t steddie is my everything

[aaronstveit]

swifties in my phone can we please have an honest conversation for a second before you decide you want me dead.

okay first i'll admit i should have said "threaten to sue" rather than "sue." that was my bad, i'll give you that. but it is very frustrating to me that a lot of y'all went directly to "OP IS A TAYLOR SWIFT HATER SPREADING LIES ABOUT HER" instead of simply contending with the fact that what she's doing is wrong.

i am not "spreading an anti-taylor swift agenda" (whatever the fuck that is even supposed to mean) nor am i "looking for a reason to hate her." i have been a swiftie for 2008. i was in the trenches defending her summer of 2016 receiving death threats for days. i am a swiftie. i do not have an "anti taylor swift agenda," i have an anti climate terrorism agenda.

it is so fucking frustrating how so many of you go straight to blind denial over the basic concept that taylor swift is a human being and therefore has flaws. i am very sorry to be the person to tell you this but she is not perfect. neither are you. neither am i. but the major difference here is that this flaw of hers has an impact on millions of people.

taking a 28-mile flight is ridiculous. full stop. it is wasteful and unethical, no matter who is on the plane. if this was any other celebrity, you all would be tripping over yourselves to condemn them so you could have the moral high ground. but because this is a celebrity that you worship like a god, you have to prove that it is actually the moral choice for her to do things like this.

a lot of people want to talk about safety measures and stalking concerns. yes, i think she truly faces more danger from stalkers than most of us will ever know. but the fact of the matter is that the entire world should not be footing the bill for her safety. it is her responsibility to find an alternative to flying her private jet everywhere. it may be less convenient for her, but she has an ethical responsibility to not kill the planet.

the student who posts her jet information is also not responsible for stalkers. he posts all info with a 24 hour delay, and again, this information is available to the public. i promise you that people who want to use plane tracking info to stalk her are going to the source to find the information in real time. and as this post points out, a very simple alternative would be for her to sell her jet and charter flights instead. that way, her name wouldn't be on the tracking information and stalkers wouldn't be able to track her. she is actively choosing not to do that.

i really really need you all to realize that by defending her (or any other celebrity) from any and all deserved criticism, you are not being a "good fan." you are, at the end of the day, defending a billionaire who is actively harming the environment. because stan culture has become about what "looks good" rather than what actually is good. this is not like 2016 when people turned against her because she was defending herself against two people who recorded a phone call with her, edited the footage, and then released it with the express intentions of getting her "canceled." i am not commenting snake emojis on her posts. i am simply saying that she is in the wrong and that there should be accountability for that. my original post didn't leave room for nuance because it wasn't intended to escape enclosure and, quite frankly, there is little nuance in carbon emissions. but a lot of y'all seem to think i'm here for some #taylorswiftisoverparty and that could not be further from the truth.

i'm tired of everyone holding her hand and babying her. she is a grown woman. she is intelligent. she knows exactly what she is doing and what it means for the rest of the world. she makes her own decisions. and honestly, i'm tired of holding y'all's hands and babying you because you refuse to acknowledge that your queen is in the wrong. it's very frustrating to watch over and over again as people abandon their principles the moment it becomes inconvenient for them. just save everyone the time and admit you have no principles.

ladies is it a #girlboss move to kill the planet so you can go to your boyfriend’s football games and then sue the college student who posts the public data about you killing the planet for “harassment”

[swallowed-by-the-moon]

so here I am as always. sad, tired and pathetic. last couple of days I just fucking pray to be saved by somebody. fucking "they can fix me". no bitch you know they will leave

I kinda befriened a guitarist from one local band and we talked about music and that was amazing but then he just stopped writing and I can't write him because I don't know what to think. because we had one chat and I don't think I can consider us friends. esp me who considers only the closest ppl my friends, others are just acquaintances. and idk if I have a right to write him because of it. because we are not even a bit close. also writing first is a devil's trap. I decided to rather wait when they text me instead of just doing it on my own because if they do they are really interested in me and if they don't, well they don't they aren't. but the problem is he might be struggling the same way as I do. that's a dilemma but I won't texf him first

I also kinda befriended a goth girl and she was super vibey when we got to know each other but chatting w ger is just different. knowing she has many friends is depressing. I hate extraverts. several days ago she was texting me a lot and I just didn't want to get attached the way I did w previous friends so I just disappeared until I had energy to respond to her. I don't want to become close w nobody but shit I so fucking want to be loved

loved like I'm fucking special, not loved among others. like "I love you both simultaneously". no bitch you love one of us more. and I was never the one who was loved more. someone will always prefer someone else over me. that's how it is

do I at least have a chance to be special in someone's eyes?

this fucking new girl in our class. yesterday she started telling why she was transferred to our class from another class and her story was full of betrayal and bullying. so tragic. everyone listened to her. everyone became so empathetic towards her. everyone now fucking loves her so much because they all pity her. she also trauma dumped a bit 😊😊✨✨ and I. honestly I'm sorry she's been through this BUT I FUCKING HATE PPL LIKE THIS. like yeah bitch you got the attention you got the fucking attention. I've been through similar thing. I was paranoid all the time in my old school, when my classmates were talking I was convinced they are blackmouthing me, talking behind my back, calling me my deadname and using "she/her" to me. I was fucking broken when I just wanted to be creative and came to school w black shadows around my eyes but got summoned to a principal's office and got told that "halloween is over". and my mother. my fucking mother blamed me. BLAMED HER FUCKING CHILD WHO JUST DID THEIR MAKEUP TO SCHOOL. she wanted me to become a basic gIrL. and of course I tried sewer slide. because I couldn't live I couldn't fucking live pretending to be someone I'm not. then many many cuts everywhere. then "omg are you okay?". then "stop cutting yourself, no one's giving you the attention". and they thought my attempt was a way to get attention. FROM WHOM????? bloody hell I DIDN'T NEED YOUR ATTENTION I WAS SICK OF THIS WORLD. but somehow I'm not telling this to everyone irl just to make them sympathise me. I don't because I know they will see me less of a human then. treat me like I'm fragile like ppl did after my attempt. and I just fucking want to be understood and loved and appreciated. I want to come first but no one can give me what I want desperately

[dragon-kazansky]

This is home

Gender neutral reader

Pairing: Otto Octavius x reader. Slight Norman Osborn x reader, but not really.

Notes: SPOILERS TO NWH!!!! 

Word count: 1.1k

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

♡♡♡

Chapter Two

"What the hell?"

Peter grits his teeth and turns his eyes away from you. He hadn't spoken to you about anything that had happened on his European trip, so it shouldn't be a surprise to find you a little bit upset about all of this. There was no way you wouldn't find out after his reveal was broadcasted everywhere on everything.

"Just let me explain." He holds his hands up in a defensive manner as he enters your apartment. You had walked away from the door with a long drawn out sigh, clearly tired and not in the mood, but Peter wasn't about to give up here.

"Explain! Explain that," you point at the TV, "and explain them, hello May," you wave at the beautiful woman standing by the door. May waves back.

"This guy Mysterio wasn't who he said he was and he ruined everything. I thought I could trust him, but he was feeding me all these lies and I believed him. Mr Stark trusted so much to me and I just gave it away because I didn't think I was worthy enough, but I gave Mysterio exactly what he wanted and everything went so wrong. He told the world who I am and made me out to be the bad guy. MJ, Ned and I were aiming for M.I.T but they dismissed us because of all of this. I tried to fix it. I went to Doctor Strange to see if he could undo what Mysterio did, but he couldn't because he doesn't have the time stone, but he mentioned this spell, a forgetting spell-"

"You went to Doctor Strange for a spell?" You sputtered.

Peter blinked, "well, yeah. I didn't know what else to do. M.I.T was the goal and because they're friends with me, they didn't get in. They helped me and it ruined their lives. Strange tried to cast the spell, but I kept messing it up because I didn't want certain people to forget. It backfired. I tried to get M.I.T to reconsider, but as I was doing that, this guy showed up. She said she would speak to them after I saved her, but basically because I messed up the dangerous spell, the Multiverse opened-"

"The Multiverse?"

"Yeah, and it let these guys in." Peter turns around and gestures to the group behind him. You look at the small gathering who had entered your apartment. You had to blink a few times to assure yourself you weren't seeing things.

"Is that man made out of sand?" You ask, staring at him. A small dust pile was gathering by his feet.

"Yeah... and he's electric. Oh, and this is Doctor Osborn, and Doctor Octavius."

Doctor Osborn steps forward with a smile and reaches for your hand, you give it him, letting him shake hands with you as he introduces himself less formerly. "Call me Norman, I insist."

"Alright, Norman..." You offer him a polite smile, but say nothing else. Your eyes turn to Doctor Octavius, but he's not looking at you. Actually, he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. "Right..."

Norman lets go of your hand in favour of looking around your home, you let him. You turn back to Peter and glare lightly at him.

"What do you want from me?"

"I need somewhere for these guys to stay, and I really don't want to leave them at Happy's place. He would be furious with me. Can they stay here with you?"

"No."

"Please!" Peter grabs your arm to stop you from walking away, he gives you pleading eyes ad he begs. "I promise I'll keep them all under control. I'm going to fix them."

"Fix them?"

"They're technically bad guys where they come from.... but if I send them back now, I send them back to their deaths and I can't do that. I'm not OK with sending people away to die. I want to change their fates.... I want to help them."

You sigh softly as you look at him. Peter is asking a big thing from you, and you really don't have the energy for this, but he is your friend. Peter has been able to rely on you in the past. He trusts you.

"They die?"

"Yes. Fighting Spider-Man. Please..."

You glance up at May. She wears a sad smile. Next to her stands Octavius, who is now looking at you. You glance at the two men beside him, then at Norman who has come to stand beside you.

"If it's not too much trouble," Norman says.

You bite the inside of your cheek. This is a less than ideal situation. However, it wouldn't feel right to turn these people away. You look at Peter and you nod softly.

Peter grins from ear to ear.

"Thank you! Thank you!!"

The hug you are then pulled into is unexpected, but your arms circle around him all the same. You smile softly at the thought of being so helpful to him, in what you can only describe as a really important and tough moment.

For now you'll let it slide that Peter called them bad guys, and the fact that you had seen the footage of Parker and Octavius fighting on the bridge.

"Great!" Peter lets go of you and turns to the group. "They'll need somewhere to sleep for tonight. Oh, uh, someone should go get the fabricator from Happy's place."

"I have the van, I can go," May says.

"You'll need help," Peter tells her.

"Fabricator?" You turn to Peter. "Why does Happy have one of those?"

"Best not to ask, really."

"I'll go with May. You stay and watch these guys," you tell him. "My apartment better still be standing when I get back. I will end all of you if not."

You go and grab your coat.

Norman watches you go, a small smile on his face. He watches as you and May talk quietly to one another, despite the fact Otto was clearly listening in. You shrug on your jacket and follow May out of the van. Peter is left with them all.

"Uh... make yourself at home, I guess..." Peter smile awkwardly a them.

Norman turns to the window and walks over to it, peeking through the blinds. He can just about see the van parked outside. Moment later, both May and yourself walk out. He watches with interest as you hear something from the van and become startled. Ah yes, Conners. He chuckles to himself as he watches you.

"What's so funny?" He hears Otto ask from behind him. 

Glancing back at the man, he sees Otto still bound by his own actuator. The man is clearly glaring at him from behind his shades.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Norman grins, turning back to the window. He watches the van leave.

Yes, he would be quite comfortable here for now.

♡♡♡

@alex-the-rainbow @smokeywhalee @nathan-no @beetlejuicesupremacy @marine-captain-deku @mischief-siriusly-managed @cute-angi @crazy-obsessed-enby @red-plaidedandcladed

[emotionless-robot-blog]

1. you're right, things do disappear into thin air in this universe. the problem is that the sheikah tech was clearly removed before the gloom started showing up, as that's a fairly recent development. no one really mentions the shrines or guardians or towers or beasts being consumed by gloom. i feel like that's something people would mention, especially by josha, robbie and their group of researchers. i want to add though that things disappearing into thin air is the most bs way possible to explain in-universe changes and it does kinda show that the developers didn't care too much about the established canon of botw. you seem to like to call people lazy so idk why you jump to defending the writers in instances where the writing and worldbuilding is honestly lacking.

2. we are nobodies. of course people aren't going to recognize you or me walking down the street, but link isn't a nobody. he saved the world, the princess, defeated the evil that had been plaguing the world for 100 years, helped multiple people along the way, continued to help rebuild after his adventure was over and walks around with a legendary sword on his back. this is a world where photography and journalism exist. we recognize people for far less in our own world.

you're right, link spends his time travelling hyrule instead of at home, which is all the more reason why it's strange that there aren't more people who recognize him. though i also disagree that it's reasonable for people in hateno not to recognize him because it's stated in-game that he and zelda are basically joined at the hip. she spends a LOT of time in hateno, she's a teacher there.

everyone knows zelda everywhere you go. therefore, it's a bit silly that it's not the case for link, who follows her everywhere. people are allowed to be disappointed that all they've done in the previous game seems to have basically been forgotten lol, there's no need to psychoanalyze here

2.5. link clearly lives with zelda. i believe the japanese version of the sign in front of the house doesn't say it's only zelda's house but i could be wrong. in any case, as much as i dislike it, the way zelda writes in her journals is pretty telling. the man is not homeless haha

3. i'm not a theorist lol, sometimes people just like to talk about things they like?? i just thought you were being a little unfair to people with legitimate questions who may be a little disappointed with the explanations the game offers. there's only so far you can go with the theory that stuff just poofed out of existence lmao.

4. don't blame people for wasting time you willingly invest into something that frustrates you. criticizing the developers for providing boring answers is critical, it's just not critical in a way you enjoy. that's valid! but not really worthy of the energy you're giving off imo.

i'm tired and i'm probably rambling but i don't want to spend too much time on this as you haven't really been charitable to me in your reply? so have a good night :)

Zelda theorist: “There’s a lot of unanswered questions in Tears of the Kingdom!”

Me: “you’re right! Let’s hear what you’ve got!”

Zelda theorist: “Where did all the Sheika tech go between games???”

Me: “uh… they dismantled them? That tech was used over the course of 100 years to murder and destroy innocent lives. Nobody wants to see that happen again. Also Purah repurposed it all? Did you not see the guardian arms that come out of the ground at every Lookout Tower?”

Zelda Theorist: “How did we never see the sky islands before now?”

Me: “well, there’s two thoughts on that. First maybe the time travel works like in Back to the Future where events only begin to shift and change after the initial time travel event happens. The other more simplistic explanation if you prefer a closed loop time travel theory is that they were hidden by a cloud barrier ala Skyward Sword. This is backed up by the Light Dragon breaking through the barrier at the beginning of the game and by the Temple of Time side quest.”

Zelda Theorist: “how come no one remembers Link?”

Me: “plenty of people remember Link. Especially around the Castle Town area. The further out and into remote areas people’s recognition gets foggy.”

Zelda theorist: “Nintendo clearly doesn’t care about the canon of the games!”

Me: “wait what? Seriously? ….you guys are kinda bad at this whole theorizing aspect, aren’t you???”