#IF I DID IT MYSELF IT WOULD ALREADY BE DONE

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[comicaurora]

...What happens if I put a full twenty dollars into the urban fantasy vending machine?

it's been on the backburner for over a year, so nothing fresh, but for twenty dollars in the urban fantasy vending machine, here is a short vignette I haven't touched in a year and a half

The room was crisp and bright, all sharp edges and polished monochrome. The sun shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, refracting off the sparkling glass and steel spires that carved out the skyline and focusing with almost suspicious precision directly into my eyeballs. I slumped down further in my chair and squinted across at the empty desk. Everything was too damn bright.

“Can I get you anything, detective?”

The voice that rang out from behind me was innocent and musical. The woman it belonged to was not.

I scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself.” I could hear the indulgent smile. “The coffee’s very good, you know. I don’t settle for anything less than the best.”

“I’m sure.”

“And with a nose like yours, I’m sure you already knew.”

Water boiled, and a rich, bitter scent coiled through the air. It was good. Probably that Blue Mountain stuff, or - no. It had to be Turkish. Of course she’d do Turkish.

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled harshly. There was no way around it - I was exhausted. I’d hit the 48-hour sleep dep limit back on Saturday and had been burning through raw determination ever since. It was damn stupid of me, frankly. I probably couldn’t even handle arithmetic right now, let alone solve a mystery.

But it’d be real stupid of me to accept a drink from the most notorious poisoner in history, so I was just going to have to deal with it.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and the world blurred back into focus as a tall figure briefly eclipsed the dazzling display of sun-sparkled skyscrapers. A coffee cup settled on the desk with a soft clink. There was a rustle as she settled into the high-backed chair and leaned forward. The sun caught in her golden braided bun and played across the shoulders of her elegant black suit. Pale, slender hands clasped the coffee cup with practiced precision.

“So,” Medea said. “How can I help you today?”

Her eyes were honey-gold. Granddaughter of Helios, the myths had said, and the sun certainly seemed to be in the habit of favoring her. Her corporate empire dealt in energy. Geothermal, hydroelectric, solar, even nuclear - all those shiny, clean alternatives that were slowly outcompeting the old oil-burning models. Her power stations were already keeping the lights on for half of the eastern united states. It was a hell of a niche she’d carved out for herself, and like everything else she’d ever done, she was stunningly good at it. Then again, for a demigod princess and compulsive social climber, the world of corporate politics must’ve felt like a home away from home.

Her gaze was steady and level, like I wasn’t cutting into her busy workday. Like she had all the time in the world.

Well. She did, didn’t she?

I sighed. “There’s a new drug on the streets.”

“Is it Tuesday already?”

“This one’s different.” I rubbed my eyes. “Right now, they just think it’s a hallucinogen.”

“And?”

“It’s not. It shows what’s really there.”

The coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “How much?”

“Can’t tell for sure. Sounds like they’re seeing fairies, sprites, goblins, standard hidden world stuff… but I’m pretty sure it cuts through glamour. Might even go deeper, start showing shifter’s true forms.” I leaned back. “The secret world won’t stay secret for long if the users and abusers start comparing notes. I was half-tempted to take some of the stuff myself just to find out how much they know, but I’m not exactly a neutral test subject.”

“Yes, between your physiology and your temperament, that would be very unwise.” The clink of her cup cut off my half-hearted retort. “Do you have any mortal friends who might be willing to take the plunge?”

I barked a bitter laugh. “All my mortal friends are wizards or cops.”

“Unfortunate. I see why you came to me.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers together. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Damn. Damn. Why was I surprised?

“That kind of potion isn’t really my style anyway,” she said. “Illusions and the breaking thereof are rather… outside my typical wheelhouse.”

“I know, I know.” I rubbed my eyes again. “I didn’t think you were making the stuff. I just hoped maybe you knew something. Nobody knows where it’s coming from.”

“The Goblin Market?”

“Obviously some people are dealing it through there, but I don’t have a supplier.”

“Tricky.” She leaned back. “What’s the delivery method?”

“That’s the weird part. It’s topical.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Unusual. No ingestion or injection?”

“No.” I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out the scuffed stainless steel tin, then dropped it on her desk. “Kid up in Wicker Park saw me, dropped this and ran. Broad daylight. I wasn’t even changed.”

“You do cut an intimidating figure regardless.”

I scowled. “I don’t know what he saw.”

She nodded once, then gestured at the tin. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” I sank deeper into the chair.

She delicately picked up the tin and traced a nail around the lid. “The container is mundane.”

“Yep.”

She turned it in her hands, the battered metal catching the light. Then she cracked the lid.

I braced myself and squeezed my eyes shut. The smell was overwhelming and utterly unidentifiable - syrupy, sickly, wormwood and petrichor and rot. The headache I’d been nursing intensified.

I heard her sniff. Lucky woman. She had to try to smell the stuff.

“Otherworldly ingredients.” There was a click and the smell dissipated. I risked cracking an eye open. She’d replaced the lid and was staring at the container pensively.

“What do you think?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should be asking you. If I want to identify the makeup of an unknown mixture, I need a full lab and the favor of Hekate. You just need your nose.”

I groaned. “All I know is it’s weird and I hate it.”

“Weird?”

“Weird! I can’t pin it down. It almost smells like something, but” - I waved my hands vaguely - “it’s all wrong.”

Medea stared for a moment, then set down the tin. “Detective, have you ever been to fairyland?”

“I assume you’re not being euphemistic,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“No. I’m referring to the realm of fairy. Built on the ruins of Tír na nÓg, ruled by the Fairy Queen, land of glamour and illusion, home of the people of the hills. You must be familiar.”

“Of course I am.”

“But you’ve never been there?”

“I don’t do otherworld travel if I can help it.” I sat up. “Why?”

Medea idly traced a finger over the tin. “The bones of the fairy realm are very real, but for the most part, the realm is a beautiful illusion starving for reality. Your senses are entranced by a perfect, glamorous experience, but your body and soul waste away. Surely you’re familiar with the harmful effects of fairy food?”

“On paper.” I glanced at the tin. “You think this is some kind of illusion?”

“Just the opposite.” She tapped the lid sharply. “Fairyland is nothing more than the eternal dream of the Fairy Queen, but Tír na nÓg is as real as you or I. A land of promise and plenty, lost to ruin when its link to this world withered away. Its denizens fading to shades, its fruits and flowers rotting and decaying where they grew.”

I frowned. “This… this isn’t your area. Why do you know so much about this?”

She sighed. “Really, detective. Did you really think, over three thousand years, I stayed entirely in the mediterranean?”

“No, of course not-“

“After my flight from Athens I broadened my horizons significantly. I have visited the realm of Fairy several times.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, after the Tír fell to ruin, the quality of ingredients I could acquire plummeted rather dramatically. Gossamer illusions make for poor potions.”

I tried to cut through the fog in my head. Things were coming together. “You… think this was made in fairyland?”

“I think it was, at minimum, made from fairyland.”

“The smell… is odd. Like a floral perfume gone wrong. Rot making everything sweeter.” I scowled. “Not an illusion. Illusions don’t smell that bad.”

“Good,” she said. “Then some industrious denizen appears to have scoured the far edges of Fairyland to acquire ingredients from the ruins of the Tír.”

[jinhyun]

—catalyst.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friend’s little brother au

word count: 5.4k

summary: when your best friend points out how there seems to be something more than just a platonic friendship going on between you and hyunjin, you couldn’t help but start questioning everything you’ve been doing together so far.

a/n: and we finally get y/n’s pov!! (and a little bit of hyunie’s as always lol can’t help myself). there is a lotttttt of overthinking on her end so please go easy on her, she just got hit by facts she hadn’t thought twice about before (thank u chan).

if anyone comes across this in the tags, this is part 15.2 of a social media series called heart out! you can read it as a stand-alone but i wouldn’t recommend it since there are a lot of references to the previous parts of the story.

as always i hope you all enjoy! if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it<3

When you woke up that day, you never would’ve expected to end up with so many unanswered questions by the end of it.

It was supposed to be a normal day — a great one, actually. You were having lunch at the Hwang’s household, and that itself was enough to make you happy as ever.

It had been a while since you’d last seen Hyunjin and Yeji’s parents, let alone shared a meal with them, so you took it upon yourself to get up extra early that morning in order to make some dessert for them —a lemon pie and a chocolate one, as they were Mr. and Mrs. Hwang’s favourites— and still have enough time left to get ready.

Yeji called you out as soon as she and Chan arrived to pick you up, ranting about how it wasn’t necessary for you to bring anything, while you and Chan could only laugh, knowing well enough she was already eyeing the lemon pie and thinking of how many pieces she would have.

What only made it funnier to you was that you knew you’d get a similar reaction from Hyunjin once you met him at his parents’, only he’d be eyeing the chocolate pie instead.

Said and done, as soon as you entered their house and Hyunjin came up to greet you —not without first letting you know just how hurt he was over you sharing a ride with your friends instead of him—, he began to go on about how he told you that you didn’t need to bring their parents any presents, like you said you would after his mother had so generously made you some soup when you were in bed with a fever a week ago. Nevertheless, you could see the way he stole a few glances at the chocolate pie, before offering to take it to the kitchen, while Yeji did the same with the lemon one. You could never get bored with these two.

Their parents, you knew very well by now, were just the same as them. It was clear where Yeji and Hyunjin got their humor and antics from.

You always had a very nice time with them, as they’d always find the right topic to keep the conversation going. But then for some reason your dating life made it to the conversation at one point and Mingyu was brought up by their mother asking you about the ‘handsome young man’ they met a couple of times; and somehow that alone would be the catalyst that set off a series of events that ultimately left you questioning your entire relationship with Hyunjin later that night.

“So you are definitely not getting back together with him?” Their mother asked at last, once the whole ‘Mingyu lore’, as Yeji called it, had been covered.

“Um…” you hesitated, eyes unconsciously locking with Hyunjin next to you, before you looked for Yeji, who was in front of him. “No, we’re not”.

“Oh, dear” she lamented. “What he did was such a shame, the two of you certainly made a very nice couple”.

“You heard how he turned out to be an asshole, though” Yeji pointed out, taking the words from Hyunjin’s mouth and inevitably having him and Chan nod in silent agreement.

“It’s a good thing you’re moving past him” their father chimed in this time.

You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. You were trying your best, for sure.

“His parents must be devastated” Mrs. Hwang lamented again, bringing your attention back to her.

This time, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, I got along really well with them, but I wouldn’t go as far as to think they’re devastated”.

“Losing a daughter-in-law as beautiful and attentive as you…” she explained, bringing some heat to your cheeks that you tried to play off by taking a sip of water. “The two of you would’ve made such beautiful children”.

The water you were drinking didn’t follow the path down your throat it should’ve at the sound of her statement, and you inevitably ended up choking on it.

“Yah, mum” Hyunjin called her out, gently patting your back as you tried to catch your breath. “Can we not mention children and her ex in the same sentence?”

“Right, sorry” she apologised, handing you a napkin and giving you a soft smile before her eyes focused on her husband; ignoring the way Hyunjin’s hand remained unconsciously drawing small circles on your back until you were able to breathe normally again. “But just imagine if we had that kind of genes in the family”.

“Did she just call us ugly?” Yeji frowned, locking eyes with Hyunjin, who couldn’t help but chuckle instead of acting offended like his sister — in his eyes you were on a whole other level of beauty after all.

“Honestly though, even I feel offended now” Chan butted in. “I don’t recall you wanting my genes this bad”.

“They met you when we were already a couple, she probably would’ve tried to bribe you too otherwise” Yeji let him know with a cynical laugh, having you all follow right after.

“Trust me, she’s already pictured how cute your children will be” Mr. Hwang let the couple know.

“Can we not?” Yeji pleaded with red cheeks this time. Chan, on the other hand, could not let the opportunity to tease her pass, poking her cheek and repeating in a squeaky voice just how cute their kids would be. “Back to the topic of Y/N’s genes, please” she begged.

“Jeez! Thanks, best friend” you ironically said amidst an incredulous laugh, earning a finger heart and an obnoxious smile from her in response.

“My point was,” their mother resumed her previous train of thought. “Now that Y/N’s single, I’m kind of wishing we had an older son. Imagine how beautiful their children would be if she became a Hwang”.

Well, that certainly felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin’s right here, though?” Chan pointed out before the youngest could begin to get lost in his —quite angsty— thoughts. “They’re both in their twenties, I’d say there’s hope for Y/N to become a Hwang”.

And maybe, if you weren’t too busy kicking Chan under the table, you would’ve noticed the shy smile curving up Hyunjin’s mouth, as well as his slightly rosy cheeks as he looked down to his still nearly untouched food.

Maybe if Yeji wasn’t too busy laughing at her boyfriend after getting hit and ever so poorly trying to comfort him, she would’ve noticed her brother being all flustered, too.

But, thankfully for him, his parents did. And that was enough for them to nod their heads in silent understanding.

That was the last comment they made about your dating life that afternoon, having no trouble directing the topic once again towards Chan and Yeji’s relationship instead.

You, on the other hand, although had managed to do a pretty good job at following whatever topic was brought up for the rest of the meal, could not seem to let Chan’s comment go.

It was out of place. Way out of it. What did Hyunjin have to do with it anyway? Like, yes, they were talking about you becoming a Hwang and, yes, he was the only son they had, but that didn’t immediately make him an option?

He was three years younger than you. He was only seventeen and still in high school when you met, whereas you were in your second year of university. It felt wrong to even think about it. And it was even worse considering that there was a reason his mum had explicitly mentioned her wish to have an older son instead of pushing you towards Hyunjin right away. It didn’t seem right for them either, as far as you could tell from what had just gone down.

Which is why you couldn’t let it go. Not even after you and Hyunjin got back to your place, like you had agreed to earlier that day when you decided to share a car with Chan and Yeji instead of him, and he wasted no time to secure his much needed alone time with you once you were done at his parents’.

You’d excused yourself to the kitchen to make some popcorn while Hyunjin was comfortably resting on your couch as he looked for any romcom movie to watch while he sipped on the hot chocolate you made as soon as you got home, and you took those few minutes away from him to text Chan and ask for an explanation.

And, God, did you get one.

You re-read the conversation over and over after he went offline, unable to understand where the hell had it all come from.

“He’s 23 now”.

“You may have met when he was 17 but he’s an adult now”.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

“I’m just trying to make you see and actually consider all your choices”.

“Hyunjin is not a little boy anymore”.

Every single text, hitting harder than the other.

Of course he was no longer a little boy. He stopped being one a long time ago, you weren’t stupid. But he was still Hyunjin, Yeji’s little brother. Nothing would ever change that.

You were supposed to care for him just like she did, to be there for him and protect him when the time came. He wasn’t supposed to be ‘a choice’ for you like any other guy could.

He was Hyunjin, the teenage boy who hardly talked to you the weekend you first met and would stutter almost every time he did, and who would so shyly let you and Yeji know dinner was ready whenever you stayed at theirs after that.

Hyunjin, the high school student you’d give some advice regarding the university admission test and applications throughout his last year of it, and whose graduation you attended later on.

Hyunjin, who made it to your university and would constantly ask for your help in his assignments, regardless of him having chosen a completely different major; and who you’d constantly check up on to make sure he was doing okay in his first year of it.

Hyunjin, who held you tight as ever the night Mingyu left you, and refused to go home like Yeji told him it was okay for him to until he was sure you were sound asleep and no longer crying, which didn’t happen until way past four in the morning.

Hyunjin, who would text to check up on you every single day after your breakup, even if it meant getting very short, cold answers from the heartbroken and detached persona that had taken over your body the following weeks.

Hyunjin, who included you in his New Year’s Eve plans and kept you company the entire weekend Yeji and Chan were away.

Hyunjin, who made it known he missed being as close as you once got to be years ago and took the lead to propose picking up where you left off.

Hyunjin, the man who had spent the entire past month making your days better by simply texting or showing up at your place — being there for you even when you didn’t need him to.

Had you really missed how much he was there for you? When was it that the roles reversed and he started to look after you instead?

You jumped when the microwave started beeping, letting you know the popcorn was ready. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you rushed to pour the popcorn into a bowl before making your way back into the living room.

Hyunjin’s head snapped in your direction, unable to hide his smile as soon as he saw you.

You gulped, trying your best to calm your heartbeats down before you took a seat next to him right as he placed the now empty mug on the coffee table. Maybe you should’ve texted Chan later that night, when Hyunjin was back at his place and you wouldn’t have to face him right away after being hit with so many questions.

“I was like one minute away from going over there to see what was taking you so long” he confessed.

“Just making us a small snack” you smiled cutely, shaking the bowl in your hands to make your point.

“I’m pretty sure popcorn takes like three minutes to make in the microwave,” he pointed out, shoving a single one into his mouth. “You took like seven”.

You scoffed in amusement. “Did you set a timer or something?”

“No, but I watched three whole movie trailers,” he admitted, earning a breathy laugh from you. “And that without counting the minutes I spent scrolling through movies to watch. I’d say you took at least ten minutes, actually”.

“Did you miss me that much to actually count the minutes?” You couldn’t help but joke.

“Well, yes” he answered with no hesitation, and no signs of joking either; very unfortunately for your already shaken up heart. “I told you earlier that I hadn’t seen you all week and wanted to spend time with you”.

“We’ve been together nearly all day” you reminded him sweetly.

“Not alone, though” his words made you feel warm inside, like they seemed to be doing a lot lately. “It’s not the same”.

“Sorry,” you pouted, and that was enough for him to melt. “I got kinda caught up texting and… here, I’ll just leave my phone on the table so we’ll just focus on the movie”.

Placing your phone next to his on the coffee table in front, you leaned back against the sofa, tilting your head up towards the TV, so he’d hit ‘play’ and you could get started on your movie night.

When five seconds went by and he didn’t move an inch, you focused your eyes on him instead.

“Hyunie?” You called him, moving your hand in front of him to pull him out of his thoughts and smiling once you did. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um, I just…” he struggled, having his eyes going back to your phone. “Was it work related? Like, was it… was he…”

“I was talking to Channie” you clarified when you got what was going through his mind. “Don’t be silly now, you really think I’d spend ten minutes of my life texting my ex boyfriend?”

“I mean, you guys have a project together now, so…”

“Still, we can just get it over with by email” you stood your ground. “I only spend that long texting people I actually enjoy talking to”.

He smiled, happy to know you would usually spend that amount of time texting —if not more— and, therefore, he was one of those lucky ones you enjoyed talking to.

Beaming after that realisation, and with the possibility of you talking to your ex out of the way, he grabbed the remote and pointed it to the TV.

“Is this one okay?” He asked, motioning towards the title ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ displayed on it.

You nodded quite effusively. “What are you waiting for, it’s one of my favourites”.

He bit his lip, but not even that was enough to hide the wide smile taking over his face as he leaned back against the couch as well and finally hit ‘play’. Of course he knew you loved that movie. He wasn’t choosing one only he enjoyed after all, and maybe knowing you’d get happy about it was the reason he ended up going with this particular one.

To be fair, he knew he’d spend half of the movie looking at you instead anyway. It was quite cute how you wouldn’t notice, being way too immersed in the plot you must’ve watched a hundred times by now.

Every now and then, he would reach for the popcorn at the same time as you, with the mere intention of his fingers faintly touching yours, but by the third time they touched and he got no reaction from you, he decided he wanted more — having your fingers touch without you noticing was not enough.

So, he slid slightly down the sofa, just enough for his face to be on the same level as yours, and then he rested his head on your shoulder.

That, you noticed. Hyunjin realised by the way your body tensed up under his touch.

And, for a moment there, he considered sitting up and going back to his previous position, hating the thought of his proximity making you feel uncomfortable; but you greatly surprised him by leaning your head on his before he could do so, silently letting him know right then that you did in fact enjoy being this close to him.

In the end, he had nothing to worry about when it came to touching you, for you had made it clear a while ago that it didn’t bother you. But, then again, he wasn’t sure whether you were only enduring it or actually enjoyed it. He didn’t know which touches were okay and which ones were crossing the line. And the thing was, so far, you enjoyed every single kind of physical contact he had tried with you. They were all brief, innocent even, sweet.

Him leaning his head on your shoulder hadn’t made you tense up because he crossed some kind of line, but because, unknown to him, your head was a complete mess right then. Unable to let your previous conversation with Chan go, you were now questioning the meaning behind this small action of his.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

Was this what he meant by that? You and Hyunjin being this kind of close?

This was the first time he rested his head on your shoulder out of all the times you’d been sitting down on your couch just like this, and now you couldn’t tell whether you were overthinking too much because of your friend’s words, or whether you would’ve started overthinking just the same regardless of it.

Yes, he had held your hand before, but it was an act for the hotteok lady not to feel ashamed after thinking the two of you were a couple.

Yes, you had cuddled through the night on this very couch, but it was only because you passed out without either of you noticing.

Every other ‘major’ touch you shared had an excuse behind it. Hyunjin lying his head on your shoulder, however? It didn’t have one. He just felt like it, wanted to be close to you. And ultimately you ended up giving in and resting your head on his simply because you felt like it, too. It felt nice. Regardless of the mess going on in your head, you wanted to be close to him, too.

Was it even an overthinking matter anyway? Friends did this all the time, right? Both you and Chan used to do it a lot before you and Mingyu started dating. You and Yeji still did it a lot, too, up to this day. Why did it suddenly feel different with Hyunjin?

Damn you, Bang Chan. You certainly didn’t need this right now.

Once again, your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. This one was softer than your microwave’s beep, though, more like a buzz coming from one of the phones on the coffee table. Considering your phone wasn’t on silent mode right then, you knew it was Hyunjin’s.

“Your phone just buzzed” you let him know when he wouldn’t budge.

“Leave it” he replied simply, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What if it’s important?” You wondered.

He sighed, already giving in — as easily as he always did when it came to you. “I’m too comfy, can you pass it to me?”

You nodded in a second, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped your mouth when you leaned over to grab his phone and he followed your movement, as he refused to lift his head from its comfortable spot on your shoulder.

Just as you were back in your place and about to hand him his phone, though, its screen lit up, letting you see a single message from Dahye.

As soon as you saw it, you panicked, practically shoving the phone into Hyunjin’s hands.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have read that” you apologised, shamefully looking away.

Hyunjin frowned, sitting up in clear alert before he could check what you were talking about. His eyes opened wide once he read Dahye’s text and he immediately realised what it must’ve looked like to you.

It was a simple question: “Are you coming over tonight?”

No hello, no ‘Hyunjinie~’; just straight to the point, which couldn’t help but lead you to wonder whether texts like this and him going over to her place at night were an usual occurrence by now.

Hyunjin had told you all about her at New Year’s Eve. From how they kissed when he was drunk to how she wouldn’t leave him alone even years after it happened. He told you it was one sided, that he was tired of her constant insistence. But then why did that one text from her make it seem like that wasn’t precisely the case?

Unlike him, you hadn’t read Han’s message following Dahye’s, for it had just been delivered when he checked his phone right then. You hadn’t read the one message that gave the whole context to Dahye’s obscure text.

“She means to the pregame,” he was fast to clear up. “Han just texted me and apparently we’re going to a noraebang tonight and pregaming at Haeun’s. Dahye’s staying with her, so…”

You nodded, feeling like you weren’t in the place to say anything. It was his life, after all. He could be with whoever he wanted. He didn’t owe you any explanations. Fuck, did you want any explanations?

You didn’t know if you were feeling embarrassed for reading a text message that was supposed to be private, or if you were upset over the idea that Chan had just planted in your head being tainted not even an hour later.

Maybe you’d been thinking too much over something that wasn’t even there, being influenced by your best friend and what he thought was going on between you and Hyunjin. Maybe it was nothing after all.

But you couldn’t deny that you did feel quite uneasy over her text.

Were you upset that she was talking to him? Were you upset they were possibly hooking up? Was it being about Hyunjin you were upset about? Or were you just upset over how much the scene playing right in front of you resembled the times you’d just started questioning Mingyu’s relationship with Hayun while you were still together?

The times you’d catch the suspicious text messages popping up on his notifications, how nervous he would get and how he would start to throw excuse after excuse for you to believe he had nothing to do with her… You knew this feeling all too well, and you hated that you were feeling it again, with Hyunjin of all people, when you were not even together, you had no feelings for him as far as you knew, and, most importantly, you knew he was nothing like Mingyu at all.

And yet, here you were, feeling the goddamn lump in your throat you had felt one too many times by now because of a guy.

“Y/N?” He brought you back to reality. He looked worried. “I promise it doesn’t mean what it looked like”.

You had to hold back the hopeless laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the sound of his words.

Words you had heard and decided to let pass way more times than you were proud of, and which brought you right back to the downfall of your last relationship.

You didn’t know which one of your concerns had to do with the trauma of your past relationship and which ones were actually related to the current situation you had just found yourself in.

When did it all stop being about Mingyu and it started being about Hyunjin?

“It’s okay” you gave him the most genuine smile you could give him, to let him know you were alright. Still, he didn’t look convinced. “You should get going, though”.

“I mean it, though” he pushed it when he could tell you weren’t convinced. “You can go through the t—”

“Hyunie,” you cut him off, this time with a soft chuckle. “It’s okay. I believe you”.

Did you?

“But apparently there is a pregame taking place in a bit, so you should get going”.

“You don’t even know at what time it is” he pouted.

“It’s a little past seven right now,” you pointed out, checking the time in your phone. “I’m guessing at seven thirty? Eight at most?”

Looking down to the group chat with his friends and realising you were right, he only made his pout more prominent.

“Am I right?” You wondered with a teasing smirk.

“Yes…” he let out a defeated sigh.

When you laughed triumphantly, he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go yet” he mumbled.

“You have to if you wanna make it in time with your friends”.

“I can always just skip pregame” he suggested, then sitting up again and looking at you with a mischievous smile. “Or skip night out as a whole”.

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin” you scolded him. “You are not pulling a New Year’s Eve stunt on me again”.

“A New Year’s Eve stunt?” He wondered rather amusedly.

“You know, when you said you’d only stay with me until midnight and then ended up not going back to your friends that night” you explained.

“This is different, though. We had plans before”.

“Staying on the couch watching movies with me can’t even compete with going out with your friends”.

“No, you’re right” he nodded. “It can’t compete because staying in with you would win every time”.

“Hyunjin…” you tried your best to sound stern and not melt over his words. “Go”.

“But…”

“I’m not letting you skip yet another night out with your friends because of me”.

“Come with me then?” He asked with puppy eyes.

You were quick to look away, knowing well enough you would fall for his charms otherwise. “I’ll have to pass this time”.

“Is it because of Dahye?” He carefully wondered, taking your following silence as a yes. “We can skip pregame and then I’ll tell my friends to make up some excuse for her not to join us at noraebang”.

“Hyunjin,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have to do that, just go have fun with them”.

“But I wanna be with you” he pouted once more.

“Hyunie…” it sounded like you were begging by now. “The movie’s about to end anyway”.

“And we were supposed to watch another once once it did” he reminded you, later allowing a taunting smirk to curve up his lips when a certain idea made it to his head. “Are you so set on making me leave right now because you’re afraid you might not want me to leave at all if I stay any longer?”

You snorted, playfully yet gently poking his forehead. “Someone’s gotten a little too cocky, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong, though?” He pushed it. “Do you really want me to go?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to go?” He repeated.

“Your friends—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you” he cut you off. “You have this really bad habit of always avoiding my questions, you know?”

You found yourself lowering your head, feeling oh-so-little under his piercing stare.

Although Hyunjin loved seeing you nervous because of him and it was a very rare occurrence coming from you, right then, he wanted your eyes on him. So, placing two fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back to his eye level — both of you only realising how close you actually were when your eyes met.

“It’s a simple yes or no question” he specified, gently removing a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me to go?”

“No” you answered truthfully this time.

He smiled brightly.

“But—BUT,” you emphasized before he could celebrate, leaning slightly back and lifting your index finger for him to pay attention. “Like I said, I’m not letting you bail on your friends again, there will come a time they’ll get tired of it. You deserve to let loose and have some fun only with them”.

“But we were supposed to hang out today…”

“And we did?”

He frowned, clearly not happy with your answer.

“Come onnn,” you tried your best to convince him. “We’ll hang out again tomorrow anyway”.

“We will?” He perked up instantly, enough to make you feel shy all over again.

“I mean, if you want to, of course…” you corrected yourself. You had really become that used to seeing him both days every weekend now for it to be more of a given, huh?

“I believe it’s pretty clear by now that I always want to hang out with you”.

You tried to hold back a smile — needless to say, your efforts were miserable. “Okay then, we’ll see each other tomorrow”.

“Okay,” he smiled, satisfied with your new plans. “Let’s go out this time, since staying in is too boring for you now”.

“When did I ever say that?!”

“When you said that this,” he motioned around your place. “Wasn’t competition for a night out”.

“That is so not what I meant?” You argued.

“Still,” he laughed, eyes softening when they locked with yours. “I’m taking you out for lunch, okay?”

You smiled timidly, nodding your head. “Let’s see if you’re not too hungover first. Might have to end up taking care of you instead”.

“Now I might get blackout drunk just to have you taking care of me tomorrow”.

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hide your amusement as you looked away. “Never mind, I will be sending either Yeji or your mum instead”.

“I’m joking, I’m joking” he laughed, looking for your eyes to lock with his again and gently grabbing your hands that were resting on your lap. “I’ll behave. Just let me take you out for lunch tomorrow, hm? Just us two”.

Staring down at your hands in his warm, soft ones, you couldn’t help but get invaded with more questions than answers.

It felt nice… being touched by him felt nice. Being close to him as a whole made you feel all warm inside. And he was right when he joked about you being scared you wouldn’t want him to leave at all if he stayed any longer, because truth was you already didn’t. You wanted him to stay, as close as you were minutes before.

Was it okay for you to be this close? Both physically and also emotionally? To the point of talking every single day and finding a way to see each other more than you saw your own best friends?

Did you enjoy his touch so much because it came from him? Or was it because you missed being touched?

Was he like this with everyone else? With Dahye? Anyone else at all? Did he treat you differently from them? Or was he just a flirty person and what you were now considering to be some kind of special treatment was just him acting the same as he did with every other girl?

Were you beginning to fall for him? Had you really been that oblivious to your own feelings? Or were you just looking too much into it now because of Chan’s influence, and mistaking a platonic —and rather strong— connection for something more?

Would Yeji be okay with it?

Too many questions were invading your mind, one right after the other, and you couldn’t find a single answer to any of them just yet.

However, although you didn’t know what you were feeling and were unsure about what demons were from your past and which ones were new, you did know one thing for sure: You were never as happy as when you were with him.

So, with a soft smile and a nod of your head, pushing any other thought for later tonight when you went to bed, you said the only thing you could answer to his request right then. “Okay”.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin @shyshyshytwice @nicoleparadas @​broken-glowsticks

[seancurry1]

Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020. 

And you are a barnacle. 

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle. 

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started. 

All of that is true. 

And you are still a barnacle. 

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead. 

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry! 

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do. 

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect. 

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today. 

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel! 

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.) 

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do. 

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for. 

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket. 

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.) 

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching. 

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker. 

You are a barnacle. 

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

[semperama]

I wrote this last night when I was trying to distract myself from...everything. Set in 3x15, post-well collapse.

----

Buck is bleeding.

It’s Eddie who notices. He pulls the oxygen mask Hen just put on him to the side and nods down at Buck’s lap where his hands dangle over his knees. “What happened there?”

“Eddie, don’t—” Hen starts to say as the ambulance jolts into motion, Chim up front at the wheel. But then she looks at Buck’s hands, and Buck looks down at them too, and he sees what they see—rusty crust of dried blood, some of it bright red and oozing sluggish, dripping between his feet. A few of the nails are cracked or half ripped away. Now that he’s looking, his fingers throb. The pain is dull and distant, but it’s there.

“Buck,” Hen says, half dismay, half resignation. She reaches, hesitates.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says. He’s talking to Hen, but he meets Buck’s gaze and holds it. “Go check him out.”

“No.” Buck fights the urge to put his hands behind his back, like that’ll make a difference. “It’s nothing. Just a few scrapes.”

But Hen already has the antiseptic in her hands, and she takes Buck by the wrist, pulls him closer and leans over him.

It stings. He hisses, flinches. An ache haunts the back of his throat, and he can’t tell if it’s from residual panic or from screaming Eddie’s name, sobbing in Bobby’s lap.

“What did you do?” Eddie says. He’s still so pale, and Buck wants to take his hand away from Hen so he can pull Eddie against him, rub color and life back into his limbs.

“This idiot thought he could dig his way to you with his bare hands,” Hen says.

It sound crazy when she says it like that, but it wasn’t crazy, it wasn’t. It was essential. If Bobby hadn’t pulled him away, he would have gotten to Eddie eventually. His heart would have stopped beating otherwise, so—it would have worked. He could have done it.

Eddie won’t stop staring at him. And it’s fine, because Buck doesn’t want to look away either, or to let Eddie out of his sight ever again. He isn’t—he wasn’t supposed to be on this ambulance, but he’d turned to Bobby and said, Shouldn’t someone stay with him? And Bobby had looked at him for a long time before nodding, Okay, go on, and Buck was climbing in behind Eddie before the words had even fully left his mouth.

“Buck,” Eddie says, admonishing, and that’s—Buck laughs, short and sharp.

“You cut your line.”

Eddie grins. It’s dim with exhaustion, but it’s still—it’s— “Please,” he says. “You’d have done the same.”

Would Eddie have done the same, if their places were reversed? Would he have clawed at the earth, if it was Buck down there? When he was swimming through all that water, that impossible distance, was he thinking—like Buck was thinking—about how it wasn’t supposed to end this way? There was still so much inside Buck, and he needed someplace to put it, and he knew, too late and with dozens of feet of mud between them, that Eddie was that place.

Does Eddie know? Should Buck tell him now?

He opens his mouth, but he thinks better of it when Hen reaches for his other hand. No, not now. “Maybe I would have,” he says instead, “but you’d have given me hell for it.”

Eddie nods minutely. His gaze feels like a weight, pinning Buck to the uncomfortable bench. “Yeah. I would have.”

Hen finishes wrapping Buck’s fingers in gauze just as they arrive at the hospital. Now that he’s thinking about it, the pain is more pronounced, his heartbeat pounding in his fingertips. He jumps out of the back, and holds a hand out to help Eddie down too, but Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy and levers himself carefully to the ground without Buck’s help. It’s—considerate of him, avoiding Buck’s injured hands, but Buck wants to touch him so bad he thinks he might start screaming again. He settles for putting a steadying hand on Eddie’s shoulder when his feet hit the ground.

It hurts when he squeezes. He squeezes harder, until Eddie pats the small of his back and says, “I’m good.”

A nurse leads Eddie back to check him out. Hen and Chim head back to the station; they need to get the ambulance back, do their paperwork, help Bobby wrap up their shift, but they both hug Buck on the way out and tell him to call if anything comes up.

This is just a precaution, really—check Eddie’s lungs, check for hypothermia, get him painkillers for how sore he’ll be in the morning. Still, Buck stares at the doors that lead back to the exam rooms and doesn’t look away, hardly blinks. He wonders what the distance is between them now. If it’s more or less than the distance from the surface of the earth to the place where Eddie was buried alive.

At some point, Bobby comes, presses the keys to Buck’s Jeep into his hand and tells him they dropped it off in the parking lot, then leaves again. Buck must have spoken to him, but he doesn’t know what he said.

It’s fine. Eddie is fine, and Buck should be embarrassed that he still can’t draw a full breath. In, out, he tells himself. In, out, until the doors swing open and Eddie is there again, some color in his cheeks, smiling.

Buck gets to his feet, but he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They hurt more now, waves of pain pulsing up his arms. He wants to reach out.

Eddie’s close. One foot away. Less. No earth between them.

Buck could touch him. Buck wants to touch him. But Eddie beats him to it. His hand lands on the back of Buck’s neck, and Buck is so relieved, his knees nearly give out.

“Home?” Eddie asks. And—he’s asking for Buck to take him there, but there’s something in the way he says it, something in his eyes and the way they’re locked on Buck’s. He could mean something else. Yeah, you are, Buck wants to say.

“Home,” he says instead.

Eddie’s palm lingers on his neck. Buck’s own hands throb. He flexes them, takes comfort in the ache. He doesn’t have to dig anymore, right? He doesn’t have to dig.

[rosenclaws]

Prompt list time!! I would LOVE a smutty #58 with sub!Eddie Alden getting railed by his 5"1 gf and being surprised at how much he likes it. (You can't tell me that Eddie wouldn't be down for at least trying pegging)

58 - “No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.”

a/n: Full disclosure I have never written anything like this before and I'm not super into pegging myself BUT I will do my very best for you!! Please feel free to correct me or offer suggestions bc this is my first time writing this <3

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, sub!Eddie, pegging (strap on)

"Come on Eddie, you promised." You were crawling over him.

A pout on your lips and puppy dog eyes on full display. See you and Eddie may have gotten drunk one night and placed a bet at the bar below your apartment. He wins and he gets to tie you up, you win and you get to peg him.

Guess who won that night.

Eddie had never done anything like this and neither have you but you were always interested in it. Eddie usually likes to be in control, there's something tempting about giving it all up and letting you take care of him in such a personal way.

"I know baby, so eager." He kisses you softly, cupping your face as you sit in his lap. You grind your hips against his clothed cock.

"Shit." He groans as you sneak your hand below the waistband. He tries to switch positions but you snap at him. Your voice much more commanding than he's ever heard and fuck it makes him shiver.

"Lay down Eddie. Be a good boy for once." His eyes go wide as you press against his chest.

He doesn't fight it as you take control. Loving the feeling of being told what to do. He happily laps at your cunt when you sit on his face. Grinding onto his nose and taking every command and he doesn't even try to hide the whimpers when you take his cock in your mouth. Your mouth is a gift sent from the heavens he's sure of it. All of you is.

"Are you ready?" Your voice is sweet as you ask. He's on all fours and he can feel the cold touch of your lubed up fingers.

"Yeah baby," You kiss him gently as you slide a finger in.

He groans into your lips as you work him open. Keening at the praises your whisper into his ear. He needs to relax and you take your time making sure he is. Working him and whispering sweet words until he had given into the pleasure.

When he's prepped and ready you get the strap ready. It's on the smaller side but you can always work your way up. He's never felt this pleasure before. The lube is dripping down the strap onto his thighs.

The cold helps him calm down as the tip breeches his ass. He moans, burying his face in the pillows as you slowly slide in. His breaths come out in short puffs as you bottom out.

"Such a good boy Eddie, taking it so well." You run your fingers through his hair. Tugging at it and forcing his head back.

"No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” He moans loudly as you start to move. His back flexes as you grab onto his hips. What a sight this is. He's a disheveled, panting, moaning mess. Your normally cocky boyfriend is nothing but putty in your hands.

"Fuck fuck." He fists the sheets into his hand. You reach around and stroke his cock, adding more pleasure than he can handle. With a loud moan he comes hard. The veins in his arms popping as he grabs hard onto the sheets.

"Did so good for me baby, my pretty baby." You run your nails along his back soothingly.

Waiting until he's fully relaxed until pulling out. Eddie lays breathless on the bed. The warm fuzzy feeling making his head buzz. He smiles up at you when you climb back into bed. You pet his hair softly and kiss his forehead.

"You okay?" He nods and grins. Already planning on when you can do that again.

[doublejango]

I am already seeing virtue signaling posts from people saying "I don't care what you believe or how you voted..."

That's great. I care. I care a lot. The outcome of this election effects me, but so much more than me. I care. It matters. And if it really doesn't matter to you? Good for you. If you are privileged enough, safe enough, and entitled enough to truly not care about how the election will impact other people... I can't even imagine what that must be like. Nice, I guess?

I spent most of last night and this morning crying.

I'm done with tears now, and have moved on to rage.

And you know what? I promise not to let it burn out. Because smiles and positivity may work for many of us, and I'm not going to lose mine either, I promise not to lose my queer joy--they can rip it from my cold dead hands, not to get too damn dramatic here--but I'm also not in the mood to start forgiving and smiling and welcoming Nazis into the bar.

So. I will hold onto anger. I've been tolerant and accepting long enough in life... and have learned something important about what causes the worst harm.

I have been gay bashed before. Violently. Blood. Broken bones. Lost teeth. And you know what the worst part of the recovery of all of that was, the part that did the most psychological and emotional damage? It wasn't the actual bashing itself. It wasn't even the memory of exactly what it felt like to have something swung full force into my face with extremely violent intent. It was the denial from my "friends" and family afterwards. The people who wanted to deny that it was a hate crime. The people who wanted me to shrug it off and not be upset about it. The people who loved to say oh well it wasn't that bad. You know what helped? Letting myself feel fury. Letting myself name the attack as hate. "It wasn't that bad," though, they said, asif it was their judgment to make--endless hours of dental procedures, pain, wounds that never fully healed, the trauma, the lost work, the new experience of vomiting blood with broken jaws and knocked out teeth. Because it wasn't that bad. And there was so much self-reproach, because I could have avoided it. I wasn't the intended target. He was swinging for a lesbian with me. When the attacker burst out of hiding he was swinging for the side of her head, her temple. I jumped in between them. Didn't think. It was an impulse. Protect the people you care about. So I took it to the face. And I grabbed him. I threw him, and fell doing it. I remember being on my knees in the mud. Seeing my teeth in the mud. Seeing my blood just. Everywhere. And knowing I needed to push back to my feet immediately because it might not be over.

We were lucky. It was over. He hadn't expected anyone to fight back. He ran.

But the people who claimed to love me didn't want to deal with the idea that it was a hate crime. They wanted it to be random and meaningless. That made their world a little safer, I guess. And their denial made my world colder. And my recovery lonelier. Harder. They put me down for "bringing it on myself." As if it would have been more virtuous to let this woman take that attack to her temple, as if I would have been more valid for standing by and watching it happen.

There are so many more stories I can tell you, but the lesson is almost invariably the same: the ugliest hurt is often the one caused by the people who just turn away when you identify what happened to you. The hurts that cut the deepest and last the longest often come from the people we thought we could trust, because they want you to just get over it, don't talk about it, admit it could have been worse, don't call it That.

The betrayal from people who are supposed to have your back? That deepens wounds, deepens trauma.

I won't be that person. I won't tell you to smile and turn the other cheek when someone shows you they hate you. Do whatever you need to do to survive--physically, emotionally, psychologically. Just don't give up, and don't let the cowards force you into feeling shame for not giving up and letting the world break you.

Never be ashamed to refuse to break.

Never let someone shame you for choosing strength. For drawing your line in the sand.

I wanted the "exciting" times of my life to be behind me. But they're not--so be it. I'm not going to tone myself down to be safer. I don't care about my own safety anymore. Any self-preservation drive broke a long time ago when it comes to homophobia. I promise to always be ready to fight. To be a queer menace to "polite" society. I promise to be out and loud and gay, to be a shield however I can for those who can't be out, who can't fight back, who can't even speak up because it wouldn't be safe for them to do so. They are valid, too. And I love them. And I will have their fucking backs. I promise to, in my real off-the-internet life, be someone who will always jump in and speak up if I see queer people being harassed or shamed--especially if they're young. I am older. I will fight for my baby gays. I will love them.

And I will never, never put anyone down for refusing to welcome Nazis into the bar. We don't look the other way and quietly tolerate them. Not here.

I may not be around much for the next few days. I need to handle my own shit. My own fury. My own grief. Because right now, there is so much grief.

But I won't be going anywhere.

I will fight to stay.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not giving up.

If I end up on my knees in the mud again, staring at my own blood and teeth, metaphorically or in fucking reality, so be it. I will get back up. And I will keep getting back up. I won't let go of the anger. The spite. And I definitely won't let go of my love for every queer person, the ones I know and the ones I don't, because that love is what will give me strength to get through this. Whatever comes next.

I may not have much sense of self-preservation. But goddamn, I will fight for you.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i keep finding myself wondering.. why did she open the drawer where the gun case was hidden? i’ve seen people say it was a mercy to curly, so that maybe he could open it to use it for a quick and less painful way out, or defend himself if jim broke in.. but i can’t really believe that. she’s a nurse. she knows curly can’t even really move, let alone move with the coordination and dexterity required to open the gun case, get the gun out from it, and actually use it on anyone. plus, while jim obviously doesn’t have a lot of reservations about hurting curly, i think she knows he wouldn’t kill him, because if he would, why wouldn’t he have already done it? so i don’t think it’s for his potential self-defence.

could it be.. that she’s taunting him? here’s this case. we both already know that there’s a gun inside it. you can’t open the case. i can’t open the case. you can’t use it to defend yourself anymore. neither can i, because i never could. the same goes for hurting yourself, you can’t do that with it any more than i could, even though you’re in so much pain now that there’s no way it could hurt much more with the gun. you can’t even tell me how to unlock the case, even if you wanted me to have it now that you know so much more than you did before, back when i wished you’d have let me take it. of course, knowing you never would, i hid it. it’s been here the whole time, literally right under you, and you never knew. and, to top it off, i’m proving to you that i never would have used the gun on myself, because watch how easily i can do the same thing with tools that were directly entrusted to me, because of the nature of my job. and you’re going to watch, because.. what else can you do? you can’t even turn your head to look away.

but then, anya is so gentle, that seems like it might be out of character for her. and like, maybe the situation just got to her that bad that she’s acting this different, and i can’t really wrap my head around another possible reason, but i keep fixating on that. why did she open the drawer? like, maybe she was going to try and brute force her way into it, guessing codes at random until it opened, and she became impatient and took the pills? maybe, after taking the pills, she started to feel bad for curly since she locked him up in the room with her and she tried to open the case and give him one last act of mercy, but died before she could succeed? maybe she figured that jim would find his way in no matter what, and since her own safety was no longer at risk since she’d die anyway, she left it so he could go through with a mercy killing, trying to leave him with no option other than to step up to the plate and take responsibility as the new captain for putting curly out of his misery? maybe she thought that since swansea had the utility axe, he would be the one to break into medical and would be smart enough to brute force his way into the gun case, and take out this maniacal, incompetent tyrant of a self-imposed leader, saving daisuke and possibly himself, and putting curly out of his misery?

ultimately, we obviously can’t get a concrete answer from canon.. but does that mean i’ll stop wondering about it? no, it actually means i will never stop thinking about it.

i need everyone to understand the poetry of curly turning a blind eye to anya’s suffering only to be robbed of his autonomy and voice as she was and then forced to observe jimmy’s crimes and the abuse of his own body

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

Heyo I was seized by plot bunnies, so have a little DCXDP! Note, this IS heavily inspired by @phantomfen 's ao3 work https://archiveofourown.org/works/57152017

I highly recommend reading that, but this isn't connected, just inspired. This snippet is also inspired by the song "The Tale of The Shadow" by Sail North. I hope you enjoy!

This is Dead on Main because they're my favorite~

The Shadow:

The wooden boards groaned underneath my weight, as I paced in front of the boat I had purchased. I had finally done it. Bruce wasn't going to be happy, but when was he ever happy with what I did? I shook my head, straightening up as I heard several pairs of booted feet. Turning, I saw a gaggle of hardened sailors making their way down the docks towards me.

My own boat bobbed happily in the water next to me. It was smaller than anything that would normally carry cargo. I just hoped we weren't seen as a new rival pirate company. Bruce already dealt with the majority of them, but they always kept breaking out of jail and reclaiming their territory. The idea to claim it for myself was tempting, but that could come after I had found my prize.

For as long as I could remember, Alfred had put me to bed with a variety of stories. Above and beyond my favorite, besides anything set in the regency era, was the tale of The Shadow. A spectral ship, empty of any Captain or crew, but supposedly full of treasure, waiting for the right Captain to claim her. The only person said to be on the ship was some deck boy strung up to be thrown overboard. It wasn't known what the boy could have done to earn eternity on a damned ship, but I hoped I wouldn't find out.

Alfred couldn't tell me where the treasure had come from, but he did tell me of the many times someone tried to claim The Shadow for themselves, but each time, something would go wrong. The weather would turn, the crew would mutiny, a kraken would come and swallow their ship, the ship would come alive and kill the crew, the story would change but stay the same. No one was able to claim her.

The very idea sent me swooning. Tim and Dick both told me not to bother trying to look. Damian thought I was an idiot for believing the ship existed at all. With our nighttime activities of defending Gotham from gangs, pirates, and worse, I didn't know where they got the audacity to be such blatant hypocrites. If someone like Deadman could exist, then so too could The Shadow.

"Ready to go, Captain Jason?" A man I had hired on as First Mate stepped up beside me, a grin twisting his rugged features. He was unshaven, wearing sturdy clothing meant for hard labor. His hair was short and rusty brown, his eyes were a dull green, watering a bit. He slouched, turning to glance back at the men as they loaded themselves on, and began the process of getting the ship ready to sail.

My grin was sharper than his, and I hopped across the gap, landing on the top deck of the ship. Turning back to him, I gestured the man to follow. We toured the ship, and I made sure everything was flowing as it should. I had made sure to do my research on how ships ran, especially old ones, since the legend of The Shadow was as old as seafaring itself, maybe older. I knew how to sail a modern ship as well as, as many of the older versions of ships as I could sink my teeth into. I was ass at canoe, though I had no idea why. Kayaking was fine, and so was a little speed boat, but not a canoe. I kept getting flipped.

…

We cast out to sea, radio on and scanning for any unusual traffic. We were equipped to fish, and that's technically what we would be doing the most of. There was no telling how long it would take to find The Shadow, but I had made a map of where it had been sighted, color-coded by decade. We would find that ship, and I would… I would shove it in Bruce's face to stop doubting me. I would have finally proven myself to him, and he wouldn't have any choice but to pay attention!

Weeks passed, slowly sailing to each spot The Shadow had been spotted. We would occasionally put to port to speak with the ones whom had made the report. The crew was a little irritated with how long that method would take, so currently we were sailing out for our next destination, a series of sightings in the middle of the Atlantic.

"Captain! A storm's on the horizon!" One of the crew called from the crow's nest, sounding really worried.

"Size of the clouds?" I called back, already striding to the back deck to pull out my spyglass and get a better look. We had yet to see a storm yet, but it was sometimes said The Shadow would use them to travel, seemingly popping up once the storm passed and scaring the shit out of people.

"Too big! This storm'll tear us apart!" He called back, the nervous strings of his voice ringing out and alerting the rest of the crew that something wasn't right.

"Captain?" First Mate stepped up, hand reaching out for the spyglass. I handed it over easily, watching him as he held it up to his eye and looked through carefully. Pulling the lens from his eye, he glanced at me, giving a sharp nod.

"This is the best sign we've gotten so far." He announced, getting cheers from the crew. Shouldn't I be the one making that kind of announcement? Oh well. "With any luck, The Shadow is amongst those clouds! The treasure is close!"

The crew crowed in excitement, pumping their fists in the air. I dismissed them back to work, not liking some of the looks they would throw me when they thought I wouldn't notice. This crew wasn't my best idea, but it was almost over, I could almost taste the treasure on the air. We would split our shares, and be on our way.

…

Ocean spray blew into the air, flung across achingly familiar wooden planks. I glided across the damp wood, watching the ocean thrown around by my storm. The Shadow slipped across the water, my awareness brushing across something new. The souls wrapped around my throat like pearls shuddered at the foreign feeling, their rest disturbed. Interest piqued my mind however, the beauty of the ocean was unending, but then, so was the loneliness.

It had been a while since someone and tried to take what wasn't their's. My treasure had been safe for generations at this point. It had been so long, I thought the last person to know of my existence had finally died. I shouldn't have been so hopeful though, humans are too tenacious. They think they can just come aboard my ship, and hurt my charges. Maybe this can be the last time I have to defend. Maybe I can leave them with a lesson so harsh, no one else comes looking for me and mine. Maybe I could even keep a few of them for myself.

The wind I had been using to propel myself forward, ceased. I watched, flitting between portholes, flickering behind rigging, swarming the sails, as a boat drew closer. It teemed with people. They so badly wish to join my collection. I fingered my pearls, body clacking whenever I moved. The strings dangled across the ground, creating an eerie symphony.

Orders were shouted across the deck of the nearing ship. One voice stuck out from the rest. A young man with black hair stood at the helm, calling orders. A wild grin was on his face. Despite the distance I could see every detail. This young man looked as if he had found the thing he had been searching his entire life for. The way that emotion lit up his face was almost enough to make me blush.

This young man wanted me this badly? No one had come to purposefully seek me out in so long. Where maybe my heart was at one point, fluttered with emotion. Maybe this one. Maybe I could keep this one.

The boat was now close enough for them to clearly see my deck. Silence reigned as they all stared. Activity exploded, the Captain bursting forward. He stared at The Shadow, my ship, eyes sparkling and wide, his mouth hung open and everything. Tears sparked in the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed them away quickly.

"This is it boys!" The Captain called, grabbing a rope and swinging over to me. His feet thunked on the wood, the first step made on this ship since…

Thunder filled the air as every boot landed on the deck. I flinched, hiding beneath the deck and staring up at them from between the floorboards. It had been so long since the souls around me were in a body. I fingered my string of pearls, the sound of the clattering drawing the attention of several of the sailors. They crossed themselves, glancing around nervously. I had to stifle a giggle. They had sealed their fate by coming after my charges, no amount of prayer could save them now.

My attention moved to the Captain, appearing in his shadow, watching him.

"At last… I've heard more stories about this magnificent beast than I can remember. The captaincy is within my grasp. It's right here." He murmured to himself, inspecting different areas of The Shadow. He opened doors, peaking in at empty rooms, followed closely by a few members of the crew. One of them had a knife in his hand, unsheathed, like he was going to kill the captain.

I frowned at the idea. That wouldn't be ideal. I could speak to a soul I had collected sure, but it was much easier if they had a body to move with. I tossed my head in exasperation, holding back a giggle as more of the vile sailors crossed themselves at the rattling clack that accompanied my every motion.

Pearls dripped down my body, strung across like a tight net. Each pearl was a soul I had collected on the seven seas. I kept them safe from those who might wish them harm. Here, with me, they could sail until time expired, feeling nothing but joy at the freedom bestowed to them. Being able to wander the earth, one with the oceans they had so loved? What more could a sailor want? They felt no hunger, no thirst, nor heat nor cold. I would take them around the world, even beneath the waves sometimes, to see magnificent wrecks.

I hadn't caused all of them.

The captain was stroking the wood of the bannister he leaned against. His thumb was gentle.

"I can't believe it. The Shadow is real, and looks as beautiful as if she had just come off the lot." He grinned, head tilting back to expose his neck. His eyes closed, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't need anything else. I can die happy now, just having found The Shadow." He pulled away from the wood, hands going into his pockets.

"Captain! We've searched most of the hold already, it's just full of moldy rocks and bad water!" One of the sailors stomped up to the Captain, a scowl on his face.

The Captain raised an eyebrow, looking the slightly shorter man up and down. "And? We've definitely found the right ship. What do I care about treasure? You'll still get paid what I promised." The Captain waved away the sailor, running his hands over another section of railing. He was approaching the helm, staring at it like it could answer every question he had ever had.

I wasn't sure how to react to him not caring about the treasure though. No one who sought out my ship knew that I was guarding it. Everyone wanted to find and take the treasure for themselves. The crew didn't seem to like that the captain didn't care about the treasure.

My mind whirled with possibilities as the crew began to tear through the ship, trying to find me. This Captain might really be someone worth keeping around. At least for a little while. I could always collect him after I finished with the crew. It would be nice to have a soul here independent of me. Then I would know his decisions were his own. Not to mention, I can't just let him leave after finding me, and I don’t think his crew will let him leave either. I grinned at the idea that these sailors were now all mine.

The Captain touched the helm, awe on his face.

I plunged into the woodwork of the ship, stretching my senses out through every piece of rigging. Snapping out, I grabbed every throat, wringing them like so much laundry. The crew were dead before a sound could be uttered. Another string of pearls clacked into being, wrapped around my body.

The captain was staring at me, his eyes a startling blue. I hadn't seen a person with such blue eyes before. They were almost as beautifully blue as the ocean in all her moods. They would be perfect to add to my collection of the most precious objects I could find.

In a flash, I revealed myself, watching as the Captain's beautiful eyes widened, showing even more shades of blue within their depths. There was nothing for it, I was utterly besotted. I had to have them. My hand reached out, cupping his face. The man was taller than me, but it didn't mean much when my feet didn't have to touch the floor.

"You–! You're not tangled in rigging! You're the treasure!" The Captain gasped, one hand covering his mouth, while the other carefully reached forward. It was if I hadn't just killed his entire crew before his eyes.

My own hands reached out, I cupped his face, feeling the strong jawline beneath my palms. It was so strange to be touching living flesh. The Shadow had already absorbed the bodies and nutrients of the men, their bodies no longer hanging from the rigging. I hadn't touched skin in so long…

The Captain began to scream, reaching up to try and shove me away. His eyes were so pretty, they would look better as the centerpiece for my favorite necklace. The pearls on that necklace had long gone dormant, but the souls inside had been important. Probably. How long since they last spoke to me? I pushed the thought away, wiping my hand across the empty sockets of my new Captain.

The wounds healed, and the man stopped screaming, his hands slowly lowering.

"Much better. Ahhhh, these are so pretty!" I exclaimed, wanting him to know I hadn't just thrown them out. "It's been so long since someone sought me out. Even longer since I had a Captain… it seems like that was what you were hoping for?" I asked, floating around my Captain, giggling as he spun around to my clacking.

"I…" He wet his bottom lip, head tilting this way and that, probably trying to follow me. "I've dreamt about being the captain of this ship for as long as I can remember." He was even telling the truth, rare that. The emotions bleeding from him were a desperate yearning I hadn't felt in ages. Usually I would only feel them from the terrified sailors that would flee before my storm.

My grin stretched too wide, but that was okay. He couldn't see it anyway. I looped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my flat chest to his own. The sound of the pearls rang across the ship.

"Welcome then, my Captain. Where are we going?" I asked, eager to find the first place I hadn't decided on.

Captain looked like I had dangled something precious in front of his face, only to snatch it away again. He scowled, trying to shove me off. I just clung tighter, phasing through his scrabbling hands so I didn't go anywhere. My grin turned to a bit of a snarl.

"You wanted to be my Captain, didn't you? Did you think there would be no price to pay? Now tell me. Where are we going?" I nuzzled into my Captain's throat, not wanting to scare him too much. It had been millennia since I had been human myself (was I ever actually human? Or did I imagine that?), so I would have to be patient with my Captain. Maybe I wasn't speaking his language?

Captain choked on air, but had stopped trying to push me away. His heart rate had spiked, rushing faster through his body as I stayed snuggled up to him.

This was going to be the start of a beautiful partnership.

[madeby-meru]

Jason Epsiode 9 Thoughts

Yesterday I played whatever I could of episode 9 on Jason's route and finished watching the rest on youtube, so I wanna share my thoughts (generally speaking tho, I actually enjoyed the episode! it was honestly refreshing after.... everything, lol)

beware of spoilers under the cut <3

Okay, this was quite surprising for me. From what I had spoiled myself already I could tell that I was going to like some things about the episode, but I was not expecting to feel overall so positive about it!

From the beginning, I personally really liked all the tidbits of the common route. I liked seeing Tasha and Zahra play cards (seeing their relationship and how close and friendly they seem, what they like, etc), and I also liked the time spent with the inters, they were fun and I generally enjoy seeing the MC interact with other characters. I did miss some more interaction with the other routes, I chose Thomas to work with and honestly it felt like he was barely even there :/ it would have been fun to see him more with the interns and talk about the project he was working on. I don't know, I like this type of "filler" stuff that tells you about the characters and how they act and interact with other people and in different situations, it makes them feel more 3d and real and I fell like this is something the game lacks a LOT. It's nice that we are very focused on our route from the get go cause we get many moments with them, but at the same time it makes the experience very isolating and you dont get to know anyone much besides your route (you also have way less chances to get affinity with other characters, which bothers me honestly, I don't like feeling "locked" with the LI i chose). It gets boring for me but I understand that's just preference and that many people prefer this, so I appreciated all the common route moments we had this episode.

Now, Jason.

God, I absolutely loved it, the more I think about it the more I like it. I liked getting to know more about him, I liked the vulnerable moments, the looks to the side, the sad face, the smidge of angst. The special scene was cute, he looked so soft and kind while keeping that playful air. I wish they had some more banter and more jokes but I liked how they interacted in this episode and how it seemed llike 2 actual adults subtly flirting and connecting. He was very charming here.

HOWEVER, I need to be honest and mentioned all the stuff I didn't like at all.

First of all, it really bothers me that in the spanish version the characters don't seem to have a defined speech style at all. The way Jason speaks sometimes feels SO weird and it doesn't fit him at all. It takes me out so much to hear him speak like that.

Then the writing is... ugh. It feels like it has not been proof read at all, so many repetitiveness? It takes me out of the story a lot and honestly, it feels poor quality and that it has little care put into it

And it really bothers me how they repeated AGAIN the whole "i have never seen him smiled genuinely like this" GIRL YOU DID ????? ON EPISODE 7 ????? YOU SAID THE SAME THING THEN ????? is anyone editing these dialogues be honest with me beemoov

Lastly, my biggest enemy this game: Ysaline

I really, REALLY, don't like her. It bothers me how utterly dramatic she is with the whole "deal with the devil" bullshit (and the amount of times this sentence has been repeated is so obnoxious, we GET IT, be original ffs). Specially cause what the actual fuck has this man done for you to antagonize him and judge him so much? 5 random people that you knew for 2 days told you he was bad and you ran with it, girl have some actual thoughts of your own and stop judging people you know shit about.

Because I am seriously asking, what has Jason done to be "THE DEVIL"? Work hard? Cause that's all I have seen.

(And where did that episode 5 stuff with the "You owe me a favor now" go ???? did everyone forget about this ???? this "deal with the devil" bullshit again ???? I was expecting this to be a relevant line but we are going on episode 10 and I only hear crickets, it has't even been mentionned I really hate how utterly disconnected the episodes feel and how we have literally no plot)

And god Ysaline gave me so much second hand embarassment when she kept accusing him og using Tasha to spy on Devenementiel ????? GIRL? First of all, you are the new hire of a 7 people company, what the fuck would your 16 year old sister have ???? Devenementiel doesnt even have confidential information why would Jason even CARE. This was EMBARASSING.

Also, Jason telling her that he motivated Tasha by telling her that Ysa would be better ?????? Bro what makes you think that, all you have seen of this woman is her being an absoute mess, doing the most stupid and ridicuous bullshit, NOT WORKING (miss girl was out strolling around the city looking for apartments during work hours, she barely even worked that day), and not being able to even organize a damn birthday party. What about this woman is capable or competent? Aren't you supposed to hate incompetent people? hm?

I really mean this but these two have so little chemistry that is DRY as a desert I don't understand what Jason could see in her cause everything we know about the character would point to him disliking her. In his route what would make sense is for Ysalinne to be super hard working person, someone competitive and very focused on her work that takes her professional life seriously. THAT is someone that I can see Jason liking and somewhat admiring and wanting by his side.

Anyway, tldr: I liked this episode, I hope we get more like this, I hope Ysaline grows the fuck up and I hope we have more fun banter and jokes and flirting instead of creepyness <3

[sbocconichilista]

"I am a warrior, but maybe this is not my fight."

[WWDITS S6EP5 SPOILERS!!!]

Just finished episode 5, and you can bet your ass I have some shit to say. As it is something I've already discussed and like analyzing, I'll go on about the Nandermo situation for now, but I'd like to talk about other topics too, maybe in another post.

This episode was a rollercoaster, and I think all my worries are now at peace (at least the one regarding Nandor's growth). I imagined that Nandor was just about to throw another ginormous tantrum about the stupidest of the things, but I was positively surprised when I saw his attitude towards the situation: he honestly had valid reasons to be angry, reasons I didn't even think about at first, but they came to me as a slap in the face as Nandor spoke, as I can imagine they did to Guillermo. Obviously, the solution wasn't war, but I can see why he would react like this. He was a warrior, after all.

"You live a thousand years, and you think you know what betrail is, what horror is, but then, in a single instant, you find out you haven't the slightest idea of what men is truly capable of."

This is what he says. And although it seems so extravagant and exaggerated, his pain is real. He was so sure about Guillermo's loyalty, not because he expected it as a Master, but as a friend, as a companion, given that he has always been loyal to him: "I may have done a lot of things, Guillermo, but I never got rid of you". He's right when he says so, and honestly I, as probably Guillermo, never really realized how much has probably costed Nandor to protect Guillermo from the vampire world, how much he risked to keep him safe. He really has done a lot for him, and he also finally addresses his mistakes.

Nandor felt betrayed and this time I can do nothing but agree with him. Guillermo tries to justify it all saying that it's the "human world way", but Nandor was human too, and the type of loyalty he shared with his comrades he expected from Guillermo: this makes me understand how he really perceives him in his life. He feels bonded to him, and reserved fidelity to him; not always respect or recognition, but fidelity yes.

Still, I agree with Guillermo about some points. At first he sees the whole thing as another big absurdity came out from Nandor's neediness and I can't blame him for having been prejudiced (i was myself), but then he understands how hurt Nandor felt.

Although, as he said in the previous episode, maybe this thing between the two of them isn't meant to be: he now has a new purpose, and he invites Nandor to start healing and find a new one too.

"I am a warrior, but maybe this is not my fight" it's with this statement that Nandor finally aknowledges that he needs to let it go too. The relationship between them started with all the worst moves, and it can't go any further without continuing to inflict wounds to both of them.

When Nandor tells Guillermo to go away using Alexa, these lyrics are used: "get out, right now, it's the end of you and me", and I'm starting to think it could really be like it says. Maybe Nandermo will never happen, and maybe it's for the best. Still I keep my hope close, and I wish that all of this was just a big demolition to build a new foundation for a stronger and healthier relationship, but I won't bet too much on it.

This episode was a huge statement fr. I feel like I've left out so many details, but I guess if something comes up to my mind, I'll just post about it later. Also, I wrote all of this as fast as I could, so please forgive me if you've encountered some errors.

"When one is burned, one feels most at home among the ashes" said Nandor, and I think I'll do the same and go cry about this while re-watching the whole series 😔.

[itsgirlcraft]

God, HOW did you know, Tumblr? How did you know I just got my meds refilled?!

Forgive me if this is more of a vent than informative, but this is probably the best place for this...

I...God, the past week was INSANE and it's all because of this. Because I'm diagnosed with ADHD and have a therapist and my pharmacy just. They didn't even have it. My mom was too stressed 2 weeks ago, so I had to call the pharmacy myself. But I didn't know what to do with that information. I don't even have my doctor's number.

I was already knee-deep in college work and couldn't take days off from my medication. I've managed to scrape together 3 pills over the past several months, just in case. And I had to use every last one last week. I barely got a week's worth of work done in two days. And then I used my last pill to try to enjoy Halloween. And I did! I did have fun! I did enjoy it! But I went to bed at midnight...and I had quite possibly the worst possible mental health episode I've ever had the next day.

Last Friday was the closest to depression I've ever been in months, years, even. Between being unmedicated, sleep-deprived, menstruating, and the anxiety of college constantly on my peripheral, I was in the worst state I've ever been in. I can't shower while unmedicated due to overstimulation, and I was already 4 or 5 days overdue for one.

I'm used to being more tired and anxious when unmedicated, but this was something worse. I was too tense to lay down, too tired to stand, and too anxious to be alone with my thoughts. The only coherent thoughts I had were my anxiety. Periodically I would break down crying as I realized how helpless I was to the passage of time, knowing I'd need to do college work soon again. I didn't know if my medication would ever come, and if I may have to drop out.

Two weeks ago, I'd had a severe anxiety attack that came back repeatedly, related to college. I was scared I wouldn't be able to do the reading for both classes, and I'd have to drop out of (ironically) my psychology class. Running out of medication following that was the worst possible scenario for my mental health. That anxiety came back throughout the week I was unmedicated and crescendoed horrifically on Friday.

Like stormcloud, my life's improved with medication and diagnosis, but monthly prescriptions still creep up on me. I thankfully can handle offbrand medication just fine, but my pharmacy has a tendency to be incredibly unreliable. Even if I stay on top of it, despite everything, it's still likely that they somehow forget or are late again. I haven't been able to transfer to a different one nor get an actual doctor. I've been stuck with pediatrician despite being 20.

anyways can we start recognizing adhd as an actual and serious disorder that

can affect on functioning in every day life so badly that it interferes with taking care of very basic human needs

is not 10 yrs old white boy exclusive disorder

is not a fake disorder created to benefit medicine companies

definitely should not be reduced to “kid who cant sit still and wont stop screaming” stereotypes because adhd has a whole fuckton of symptoms ranging from serious memory issues to fine motor control difficulties

[skeletboi]

Part 13 of the Intridimensional AU!

First /// Previous /// Next

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Ford woke with a start when he heard a clatter down the hall followed by a loud swear. He sighed and stretched, trying to work the kink out of his neck. Fiddleford was sure to give him hell about sleeping in his study again, but he had a lot to catch up on after the impromptu two day road trip, and couldn't afford to sleep now. He stood from his chair and adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever mess Stanley had just made.

He made his way down the hall, heading for the kitchen, when he heard Fiddleford's laugh from the parlor.

“You coulda told me it was spring loaded! Sixer is going to kick my ass out so fast!” He heard Stanley say.

Ford frowned and made his way to the parlor, where he found Fiddleford kneeling in front of Stan with a small toolbox at his side.

Fiddleford looked up at the motion in the doorway and smiled brilliantly at Ford.

“Mornin’ Stanford. Did ya actually get some sleep for once?” He asked.

“Some.” Ford said. “What are you two doing?”

“Making out, obviously.” Stan said quickly before Fiddleford could answer.

Fiddleford turned bright red and shot up.

“No! We sure as heck weren't doin’ that! I was jus’ fixin’ ta tryin’ out the new robit leg!” He said, waving his hands frantically.

Ford raised an eyebrow as he looked from Fiddleford's red face to Stan's smug smile.

“Right. How is that working out?” He asked, stepping further into the room to get a better look at Stan's leg.

“It's fucking great!” Stan said. “Although Fidds here didn't warn me about the spring loaded knife holder he put it in, so I owe you a new lamp. Put it on my tab.”

“Fidds?” Ford asked, frowning.

“Your ‘assistant’ here. Ya know, Fidds!” Stan said, smiling mischievously.

“You used to call me that all the time in college, Ford. You still call me that ‘cassionally. It don't bother me if Stan calls me that, too.” Fiddleford said, leaning down to pack up some of his tools.

“I am aware of that, yes. I just find it… interesting that Stan is calling you that.” Ford said, doing his best not to pout and surely failing.

“I got myself a long name, seems only natural. Anyways,I'm ‘bout done here and was gonna make some breakfast. You wanna join?” Fiddleford asked as he packed the last of his tools.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Ford responded, glancing away.

“Work-schmerk. Eat somethin’ will ya? I haven’t seen you consume more than a protein pill and coffee since you dragged my sorry ass out of that motel.” Stan said.

“‘Least have some toast, Stanford. I did plenty of work while you were gone. I know ya like yer schedule, but it ain't no rush- it's not like we got a real deadline.” Fiddleford added.

“Keeping to the schedule is paramount!” Ford replied.

“For who? Do you have a boss you're not telling me about?” Fiddleford asked jokingly.

“No!” Ford responded too quickly, making Stan and Fiddleford jump. “No, I don't have a ‘boss’. I just would prefer to maintain our original timeline.”

Stan stared at Ford, wondering what would cause such a guilty reaction and coming up empty.

“Well I'll meet ya in the lab with some toast in a bit then, but I ain't starvin’ myself to death for yer silly schedule.” Fiddleford said in a way that suggested this was a normal argument between them.

“Fair enough. You know where to find me.” Ford said, turning on his heel and making his way to the lab.

Fiddleford sighed as he stood then turned to Stanley, holding out a hand to help him up.

“That leg is gonna take some real gettin’ used to, so don't rush it.” He said as Stan took his offered hand and managed to get off the couch without falling.

“This definitely feels weird already.” Stan responded, taking a wobbly step forward.

“How's the pain? I know that magic goop healed it up real well, but is it hurtin’ at all?” Fiddleford asked, taking Stan's other hand to lead him another step forward.

“It's not hurting. All I feel is pressure, like my leg is asleep instead of gone.” Stan replied, taking another step and nearly falling.

Fiddleford caught him before he could take them both down and laughed.

“Didn’t I jus’ tell ya to take it slow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not real good at that, though.”

“So impatience runs in the family, too? I ain't too shocked by that.” Fiddleford laughed.

“It didn't used to. Ford used to be way more patient than me.” Stan thought aloud.

“That don’ surprise me much, either. When I met him he was a lot more patient, ‘cept when it came to his work, but he has been actin’ a bit odd as of late. Did he ever sleep walk as a kid?”

“Sleepwalk? No. He was on the top bunk in our room, so I definitely would have noticed.”

“Int'restin’. He didn’ used ta sleep walk in college either and we shared a be- I mean I also wouda noticed. Anyways, he’s been sleep walkin’ a lot recently, but he avoids the question if I ever ask him ‘bout it.”

Stan frowned as he took another step, wondering what could cause sleepwalking in an adult. Stress, maybe? Ford did seem a bit on edge, but Stan had assumed that was because he had found his twin brother missing a leg in a shitty motel room. There was definitely something more going on here, but he had no idea what it was.

“Why you?” Stan asked, looking up at Fiddleford.

Fiddleford frowned in question.

“I mean, he's out here lookin’ for monsters or aliens or something, right? Why does he need a mechanic?” Stan clarified.

“Ah, right. Well he's workin’ on this project that was a bit more complicated mechanically than what he’s use ta doin’.” Fiddleford explained, sounding suddenly nervous.

“That is a very vague answer, Fidds.” Stan deadpanned.

“I- I don’ quite know howta ‘splain it. I don’ even know how he done came up with the idea… I-I-” Fiddleford stuttered.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Fidds. Didn't mean to stress you out, I was just making conversation. We can talk about something else.”

Fiddleford nodded, a nervous smile on his face that just made Stan more curious.

“Well then, Ford mentioned you left your wife and child behind in California to work for him, that seems a bit more than casual!” Stan said with a shit-eating grin.

Fiddleford neary tripped backwards.

“Well! I- No! I love my son, I'm goin’ back! I jus’ gotta help Stanford here a bit longer, I reckon!” Fiddleford said quickly.

“Right, right. Interesting that you mentioned your son, but not your wife.” Stan said, his smile widening.

“Stanley! I will let you fall! ‘Course I love my wife! I jus’... well I didn't expect Stanford to ever reach out ta me after college, I ‘spose.” Fiddleford responded, his voice fading as he talked.

“That's a pretty intense pickle you got yourself in, isn't it?” Stan asked.

“It ain't no pickle. Stanford has always cared about his work more than anythin’. I've known that since the first week I met ‘im. He'll do this project a his either way, and we'll go our separate ways. He'll forget ‘bout me ‘ventually.”

“But you won't forget about him?” Stan asked, and didn't miss the way Fiddleford flinched at that.

“Well yeah, I ‘spose I'll hafta forget him, too.” He responded quietly, his gaze distant.

Stan frowned, unsure how to respond after that sudden change in demeanor.

“Well, I think your wife could forget about you, too. So there's that.” Stan said after a moment.

Fiddleford made a face and dropped his hands from Stan's, causing Stan to wobble and nearly fall over. Stan huffed but took the hint. He wouldn't be getting through to these nerds easily, but at least it was entertaining.

“Less talkin’, more focusin’ on your steps.” Fiddleford said, taking Stan's hands back in his own to steady him.

“Sorry, mom. I'm focusing.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and continued to lead Stan forward. It was getting easier with each step, but Fidds was right- this would take some serious getting used to.

____________________________________________

Well, life is a distopian nightmare, but these boys are keeping me sane. (for now)

Stan is a menace, and I love that for him.

[lucy90712]

We need angsty Kenan Yildiz storys!!

"Babe are you going to my match later?" Kenan asked 

"No I'm sorry I can't make it I have work until 5 then I'm going to the library to finish that group project that's due next week" I explained 

"You never come to my matches anymore" Kenan whined 

"I know and I'm sorry but after this project is done I should be able to come to a few more as long as they are after my shift" I said 

"I just miss having you there" he said clearly upset with me 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Kenan can you swing by the store on your way home we need a few things and I won't have time between classes and work to go" I said 

"Are you sure you don't have time I'm really busy today" he said 

"I mean I don't really have time" I said 

"I'll find a way to repay you if you can find a way to make it to the store" he said 

"I guess I can I'll have to take all the stuff to work though" I said 

"That works see you later love" he said running out the door 

~~~~~~~~~~

"What is it babe I've got training" Kenan said through the phone when he finally picked up

"Can you drive me to campus after you finish training my car won't start and I've already missed one class but I can't miss this afternoon as I have an exam" I said still stressed about the situation 

"Can't you call an Uber or get the bus?" He asked 

"The buses don't run from here you know that or I wouldn't have a car and an Uber is a lot of money we live quite far from campus" I said

"I'll send you the money whatever it is but I've got to go" he said hanging up 

~~~~~~~~~~

The tension between me and Kenan has been building up for weeks if not months. He's had a long and hard summer with losing in the euros with turkey and then pre season at Juventus and I've been as busy as ever. I wasn't able to go to much of the euros in fact I was only there for two days to watch one game as that's all I could afford in terms of the cost of going and losing out on money by not working. My parents are not well off at all so I have to pay every cent towards my education and my life in general so I have to work hard to survive. I'm lucky that I love with Kenan now but still I help him pay the bills as I refuse to live there for free as that wasn't how I was raised. 

I'll admit that I'm not home much but that's because when I'm not in classes I'm either studying in the library or working as that's the only way I'm going to get anywhere in life. My work ethic has been instilled in me since I was a child and I pride myself on how hard I work even if it means I'm not home much. This is Kenan's biggest problem with me as he wants me to be home when he gets home and to come to his matches but I can't and he knows why but still sometimes he gets mad at me. Kenan's schedule isn't anywhere near as packed as mine but still I find myself doing a lot for him which is my biggest grievance with him. It just feels like he's never willing to help me out even in the slightest it just seems to always inconvenience him in some way. That bugs me as I don't ask for much but sometimes I just need some support and he never seems to offer it. 

Today has been a particularly stressful day I left before the sun had fully risen and came back after it had gone down. I've had exams most of the day and then a closing shift at the store I work at so it's been a long day. My long day meant I missed Kenan's champions league game which he really wanted me to go to but I did tell him I wouldn't be able to make it. He was supposed to pick up a package before his game and take my car to get fixed but when I get back my car was still in the driveway and there was no package either instead Kenan was just laying on the sofa on his phone. 

"Where have you been?" Kenan asked 

"At school and at work like I said I would be why is my car still in the drive and where is that package?" I asked 

"I got busy so I didn't have time before the match" he said 

"Damn it Kenan can't you do anything to help me out" I yelled finally letting the tension boil over 

"Well your never here so what am I even doing helping you if never get to see you the boys keep asking me if we've broken up as you are never around" he yelled back 

"Look I'm sorry I can't be there every match but my education is important to me and to be able to continue with that I have to work you know my parents can't help me so I'm on my own I'm trying my best and if that's not good enough for you then maybe I'm not good enough for you" I said 

"Well maybe you aren't good enough" he snapped 

"You have to be kidding me Kenan you'd be a mess without me even with everything I have going on I still do so much for you while you'd barely help hold me up if I was falling" I said 

"Then maybe we aren't right for each other I don't need a girlfriend who needs me to hold her hand through everything" he said

"Fine then I'll go" I said 

I didn't know where I was going but I knew I needed to go so I grabbed my keys and slammed the door on my way out. It was dark and I couldn't see much of what was around me but I know the area well enough to roughly where I'm going. I just kept walking taking lefts and rights where I felt like it which is when I noticed someone walking behind me which isn't abnormal but my instinct told me that something wasn't right. To be sure I took a few quick turns only to see the guy still behind me but that could just be a coincidence so then I sped up hoping that would help me lose him but he sped up too. 

That's when I started jogging but that didn't help either which is when the panic sets in and I don't know what to do. The first thing that comes to my mind is to call Kenan but after our argument I don't know if he'll care enough to answer or come help me. I thought about my other options but none of them were going to help me or get to me in time so I had to swallow my pride call Kenan.

Please pick up. Pick up. Come on Kenan for once please just help me. 

"What y/n" he answered 

"I'm being followed I've tried to lose the guy but he's still following me now I'm running but he's running after me please Kenan help me" I said panicking 

"Where are you?" He asked 

"I'll send you my location" I said 

"I'll be there as soon as I can just keep going" he said 

I did exactly as he told me and kept running until I saw a car speeding in my direction which I knew instantly was Kenan. He must've seen me as he stopped the car just in front of me and hopped out. I ran straight towards him and he stopped me by pulling me into a hug and holding me tightly to his chest while I caught my breath. He yelled at the guy who was following me but I didn't hear a word he said I was still panicking and trying to calm down. 

"It's ok you're ok I'm here now" he said 

"Thank you for saving me I was so scared" I said 

"I would never leave you to be hurt by anyone else and I'm sorry for our fight earlier you're right I know you work hard and I could do more to help you" he apologised 

"I'm sorry for what I said too I know I should support you more than I do but even when I'm not at matches I'm thinking about you and the team" I said 

"I have an idea that might make things better and I know you'll try and fight me on it but I think it will make both of our lives so much better" he said 

"What is it?" I asked 

"You quit your job and I'll pay for your tuition and you don't have to give me anything towards the bills that way you can focus on school entirely and you'll have more time to come to some of my games" he suggested 

"Actually if you are really serious and you wouldn't mind then I'm happy to go along with that plan" I said 

"Then it's sorted and I'm sorry I wish things didn't have to get to this point for us to come up with a solution but I'm happy you're ok" he said 

He kissed me then we got in the car and went back home where Kenan helped me write my resignation email for my job and he got me a ticket for their next home game. Weirdly I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders straight away knowing I'd get to see Kenan more and I wouldn't have to stretch myself so thin that I could break at any point. 

[scary-grace]

Shigaraki x Reader WIP Poll

I started but didn't finish a bunch of fics for Halloween, and in an effort to distract myself from everything I'd like to get into them! Below are excerpts from four fics I got a decent start on. Once you've read them, vote in the poll at the bottom for which one you think I should finish first!

Necromancer Shigaraki

            Tomura stares at your body, torn. You’re just barely dead. He watched you take your last breaths only seconds ago, and he knows even without touching you that your skin’s still warm, your blood still liquid, your brain still alight with electrical impulses. You’re the perfect candidate for a resurrection, and Tomura needs a perfect candidate, or it’s not going to work. Spirits of the restless dead might be drawn to Tomura like moths to a bug zapper, but the real money in necromancy comes through resurrections, and Tomura’s never done one successfully.

            That was fine while Tomura’s master was still in charge, but when he was captured, his guild disbanded. Tomura and his friends had to find a new home, and their new guildmaster gives zero shits about potential and all the shits about results, which means that Tomura’s inability to manage a complete resurrection has gone from an awkward conversation to a significant problem. Tomura’s friends have made themselves useful to the Hassaikai guild already. If Tomura can’t, he’ll be out on his ear.

            He needs to resurrect somebody, and he needs to do it fast. You’d be the ideal subject if your last words hadn’t been a demand to do the exact opposite.

Demon Shigaraki

In all of Tomura’s depictions, he’s missing something – his index and middle finger off his left hand. Offering him yours should get his attention. You adjust your grip on the handle of the knife and speak. “I conjure you, Shigaraki Tomura, instrument of destruction and symbol of fear. Come to me.”

            The circle hums to life around you. The book said it would do that. The book also said to explain. “Someone took everything away from me. I want to pay him back, but I can’t.” Bitterness fills the back of your throat, stings your eyes. Your hatred for Keigo chokes off your voice for a moment. “Shigaraki Tomura, spirit of entropy, dominion of grief, vengeance is mine. Help me claim it.”

     You set your hand on top of the ninth symbol, spreading your thumb, fourth, and fifth fingers wide, leaving a clear strike at your index and middle fingers. Seeing them there, isolated on the red-chalked concrete floor, turns your stomach. How hard will you have to strike to amputate them? What if you can’t do it? This is insane. You need to move on. Move towns, move countries, dye your hair and change your name, go under and surface again somewhere far from Takami Keigo, where you’ll never hear his name again. Is vengeance against the guy who did you wrong really worth mutilating yourself? Do you really hate him that much?            

Yes. You do.

Crossroads Demon Shigaraki

Tomura doesn’t know how time passes for humans when they’re alive, but he knows how it passes for you because of how you wake up. Most of the souls at Tomura’s crossroads were dead before they knew what hit them, and they wake up slowly, peacefully. They seem to know they’re dead already. They get up fast and walk faster, dissolving into nothingness past the edge of the crossroads before they even realize that Tomura’s there. But you knew what hit you. You know something went wrong. Tomura knows, because when you wake up, you lurch upright, clawing at your chest and struggling to breathe.

You’re dead. You don’t need to breathe. You don’t need to shiver, either, but your spirit’s shaking all over as you press your hands against your chest, touch along your arms and legs, reach up to the back of your head and press down hard. Tomura remembers what your body looked like on the road, and you must remember, too, because with every injury you can’t find, your panic increases. Your hands keep returning to your chest, the back of your head, like you’re trying to hold your body together.

You don’t have a body anymore. There’s nothing there, and Tomura doesn’t like the way watching you makes him feel. “Hey,” he says, and you freeze in place. “Pull it together. You’re dead.”

Cyborg Shigaraki

You work your fingers beneath the net, pulling it up and away from his neck so you can cut it away without getting the knife anywhere near his skin. Once you’ve made the necessary cuts, you get to work unwrapping it, sliding your hand behind his head and lifting it as gently as you can manage as you tug the net free. He’s almost dead weight, but not quite. When you lower his head back to the sand, you take a moment to move his hair out of his face.

            You get a shock from there. His eyes are open, their irises blood-red, and there are scars over his eye and the corner of his mouth. As you watch, he blinks slowly, then focuses on you. The voice that passes through his cracked lips is raspy and quiet, so quiet that you have to lean in to hear. “Leave me.”

            “I can’t do that,” you say. You can’t call for an ambulance – there’s no cell service down here, and in the time it would take you to get back in range, it’ll be too late. “Nobody should be alone when they –”            

“Won’t die.” He coughs, and a spatter of blood exits his mouth. Blood wells up around the driftwood spar, too. “Once I take it out.”

[miffy-junot]

An anecdote about young Napoleon

Here is a story from the memoirs of Antoine-Romain Hamelin, a man who, through various circumstances, ended up witnessing a lot of Napoleon's Italian Campaign. Hamelin had travelled with Josephine Bonaparte from Paris to Milan to meet her husband (more information here), and Josephine promised to introduce Hamelin to Napoleon to help him get a position in the army.

Finally, we arrived in Milan. A short distance from the town, I saw the brilliant staff approaching, escorting the general in chief who was already repudiating republican simplicity. He placed himself near the gate, and this is how Madame Bonaparte made her entry into Milan. I had my carriage stopped so not to get involved in this triumphal march and I went to stay at the Albergo Imperiale.

Madame Bonaparte told me to come one evening after dinner, so that she could introduce me to her husband. So I went to the Palazzo Serbelloni and, after having wandered through the decorated galleries of trophies, I arrived at the salon. As soon as I had greeted Madame Bonaparte, she took me by the hand and introduced me to the general. She had already spoken to him about me, and she told him in a few words who I was, the motives which brought me, and the desire she had that I might be useful to him. While she spoke, he fixed his eagle eyes on me, so as to make me lose my composure; then he said to me “Who is this man?" My embarrassment redoubled. However, I replied that I had nothing to add to all that Madame Bonaparte had just said kindly about me. “That’s good,” and he turned his back on me. It's bad, I tell myself, very bad, and if it hadn't been for my 230 louis, I think I would have taken the road back to Paris. Madame Bonaparte, who had sat down again, beckoned me to come and speak to her. “Ah that,” she said to me, “now that you’ve been introduced, you have to come and have dinner with us tomorrow." "By God not," I replied, "if I was introduced, I was not received. I will wait.”

Despite my reluctance, I returned to the General Staff two days later. When I went to greet the general, he said to me, "Why didn't you come to dinner yesterday?" -"General,because you didn't tell me." -"Madame Bonaparte hired you." -"I'm not here at her house." -"Come tomorrow.”

Things got better, I took courage and went to the invitation. When I arrived, Bonaparte did not return my greeting, and did not speak to me once during dinner, nor afterward; Madame Bonaparte, who saw my discomfort, said to me “Don’t lose courage, he is like that with all the people he doesn’t know; and then I think that you don't please everyone here."

I therefore continued my visits interspersed with a few dinner invitations. One evening when there were few people there, the general seated on the arm of an armchair and surrounded by a circle who listened to him respectfully, spoke about astronomy with Monge and Abbot Oriani. In the discussion, he came to talk about the parallax of fixed stars. Everyone was silent, but me, like a stunned frank, I interrupted him by telling him that he was in error, and that we did not know the parallax of the fixed stars, because of the length of the sides of the triangle, proportionally to which its base was not appreciable. Everyone lowered their eyes, and I had not finished my argument when I felt that I had done something stupid, and that I would have much better to keep quiet. Bonaparte looked at me with eyes which did not announce anything good, but a moment later he approached me and “So you have studied astronomy,” he said to me. -"General, I have always sought to educate myself." -"I wouldn't have believed it."

From that day on, he treated me politely, chatted with me about Paris, about my family, about the society I saw and had great fun at the expense of the beauties of the time. Finally, one day he said to me, “Where are you staying?” -"At the Albergo Impériale." -"You don't belong there." -"General, it is accommodation." -"Come and stay at the General Staff, I will notify Berthier, and you will eat with us." And here I am in an unexpected favor for having committed an imprudence.

After lunch, Madame Bonaparte often took me to her apartment so that she would have someone to chat with at ease. The general seemed to find this good, and there, I saw him in his most intimate interior. He loved his wife passionately. From time to time, he left his office to come play with her like a child, tormenting her, making her cry out, and lavishing her with big caresses that sent me to the window to see what the weather was like.

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