#and Bill's biology being broken

[matrixbearer2024]

I currently have two AUs that I don't exactly know what to do with or what to properly call them LMFAO- I'll probably write something on Ao3 for it eventually since there's a ton of BillFord and FiddStan in there but yeah-

1st AU: Timelord Stanford (Dr Who what if)

This case was inspired by an RP I had with someone's Bill Cipher on @gftimelord where the triangle starts to be on the mend with Stanford after their ruined past. This to me makes sense because the Doctor is inherently very lonely despite the savior god complex. In that AU where Ford is functionally immortal and Stan and Fidds both at some point die due to his complacency and arrogance— he searches for a companion that can actually keep up with him.

So when Bill visits him during one of those window hours set by the Theraprism, they talk about the triangle's impending demise with their plans to essentially erase him from existence. It's not an outlandish idea given that any inpatient seen as a lost cause would or could be disposed of when it comes to cosmic entities. It's simply the easier option.

The doctor(Ford) is more impulsive, nonchalant, and egoistic compared to his counterparts because he does have the walk to back his talk(this man has been broken by the nightmares and guilt he carries from the deaths he caused; also time war) problem being he doesn't fear death as much as he fears being alone. He's had a fair share of close calls with the grim reaper, but always like some horrible twist he survives. After all, it is a saying that we covet the most what we don't have.

So yeah, he jailbreaks Bill essentially and whatever power limiter is stuck on the triangle get tied to his sonic screwdriver instead and they simply go around the multiverse doing whatever. Most of the reason why Ford isn't caught yet largely has to do with how scared most entities are of him. The doctor is never armed, but it doesn't mean he won't kill.

2nd AU: Modern Era AU (Set in 2024)

This one is more of a shitpost thanks to the young trio I drew a little while back, I'll draw more of them for this at some point while I also try and figure out a decent human Bill design that I like in my artstyle.

But this AU heavily features these four idiots as Undergrad students fucking about college life as they would. This AU is supposed to feature like a more cultivated genius Stanley based around my own dynamic with my brother since I do like me some happy Stan twins.

It just so happens that Ford is also a very much EQ negative idiot and falls for an upperclassman(one year his senior) in BSSE[Software Engineering] who is a close friend to Fidds. He goes by 'Cipher' as an alias since he's a prodigy for his age and very young ethical hacker.

So yes, that's where Bill comes in. Haven't figured out what I want his full name to be yet shoot me some ideas! Ford is very shy when it comes down to talking with Bill whereas Stan is completely chill.

Both Stan and Bill get along very well in this AU because they're similarly chaotic the same way that Fidds and Ford get along because they're the ones holding the other two back from doing something undeniably stupid for shits and giggles.

All of them share some fundamental subjects together(i.e. Math, Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Statistics, Research, History, etc.) or take elective courses just so they could chill together. Stan is typically the one who adjusts to the schedule of the other three since he takes BSBA[Business Administration] and is the odd one out when Ford does BSCMB[Cellular Molecular Biology] and Fidds does BSEE[Electrical Engineering].

The FiddleStan in this AU is gonna be c r a z y mostly due to Fidds in this AU is the heir to his family's computer company, so lowkey spoiled nepo baby but also on a very tight leash with his parents. Stan is the kid where 90% of his childhood was parents either forgot him or straight up did not give a flying fuck. So these two kinda work as complements and it's why I decided to pair them together after chatting with a friend about the group dynamics.

So yeah, simpy and adoring Ford and silently aware but shy Bill + rebellious Fidds and supportive Stan. All the more when I actually plan for this AU to have some typical gravity falls shenanigans anyway thanks to a place on earth called the Oregon Vortex.

[I'll likely make fics and comics of these AUs, reply to this post if you want to be tagged for whenever I post something]

Yeah I need to properly name these AUs.

[blorbologist]

In a modern world what type of engineering do you think Percy would specialize in?

Hi anon!

This is a complicated question that, personally, varies from fic to fic based on what you want to emphasize from Percy’s canon portrayal and what you don’t mind leaving behind (in the name of realism/drama/fluff/etc.).

I’ve broken this down into parts because this is gonna get long, I have thought over this for a few days so bear with me!

First of all, I’m gonna open with the disclaimer that Percy in the Campaign (and Tal’Dorei Reborn too) is… insanely accomplished. He’s a D&D character, so he’s allowed to be. For the sake of giving us a concrete list to work with, here are some of the canon engineering-ish things he’s accomplished):

Inventor of firearms (thus has good knowledge of metallurgy, chemistry and both fine detail work and larger scale forging. Can work with hot metal and explosive materials.). Also makes his own shot.

Bad News (singled out because it has a scope, thus lenses, so he can work glass too, or at least know what he needs to commission it. Though his failure to repair his own glasses suggests the latter lmao.)

Trick arrows for Vex (similar skillsets to the above, except the grappling and tangling arrows have a little more chaos to their construction.)

Diplomacy (it needs to be charged with lightning attacks, however he at least has a primitive understanding of circuitry to get it to conduct that. Originally supposed to have a galvanized battery, but they ended up using a behir lightning gland - so can incorporate biology too. Also counts as a prosthetic in the show’s canon.)

Various other explosives (again derived from the gun skillset.)

Death from Above’s modifications (has a good understanding of comfort - he’d need to know a little wood- or leatherworking for the stocks and grips of his guns too.)

The Umbrasyl trap (large-scale simple mechanisms.)

Vax’s raven skull broach (can adapt his skillset to aesthetic work. Bird skills are very fragile and thin, so difficult to replicate. Has some skills applicable to jewelry making.)

Victor’s prosthetic hand (... *a whole ass prosthetic*)

The Heart of Whitestone (clocktower with complex mechanism, so: horology, lots of gears and such. Implies some architectural skills.)

Whitestone’s streetlamps (powered by the acid pit beneath Whitestone, so pretty much a primitive battery of sorts. Some civil engineering.)

Plans for a warm steam/water heating system to keep Whitestone’s streets clear of snow (again with civil engineering, as well as steam and piping.)

Toy guns for his children (presumably pop or potato guns.)

Sketchbook (I list this here because he clearly has a good eye for proportions and aesthetics, and can depict what he sees and/or imagines with accuracy.)

*Doty 2.0 (I only include him at the end because it’s unclear how much Percy helped with the construct-aspects, vs the gun-arm this Doty has and general help. I doubt it’d be a specialization, but he’d at least have a vague idea of how it works.)

That’s a lot of skills for one person to have, and gives us many avenues to work with! 

I personally change from AU to AU, depending on a number of factors:

Do I prioritize keeping violent invention consistent for Percy, or moreso the impact his legacy has on the world/guilt? 

Is manual tinkering his job or his hobby? 

In a similar vein: is he well-off enough to tinker for fun, or is he in poverty or otherwise disconnected from his family’s wealth and thus needs to pay the bills?

Do I want vengeance/Orthax involved as his muse? If so, how big a role? 

With that in mind, here are my main heavy hitters:

I’m very fond of Percy being involved with computer science and/or software/hardware engineering, because there isn’t really much he can do with weaponry that would revolutionize the world these days*. However, machine learning and such have been tools of great harm the last few decades. Manual tinkering can be left to a hobby, while Orthax and Ripley are somehow involved in him being behind some programming that the police or military organizations can abuse to fill him with Guilt. This is what I go with in Cat’s Cradle: Percy is responsible for a key innovation in facial recognition tech, named 0RTH-X or something, in his fervent desire to identify his family’s killers. And he could develop this completely independently even living off ramen and eggs!

Likewise, robotics is another interesting and topical field - namely drones and police robots. I don’t think he would be too involved in the circuitry of these (it’d be a great way for him to meet Tary, though), but their construction and/or weaponry could be Percy’s creation. The vengeance as a muse angle is a touch more iffy here, but you could pull it off. It’s a lot more hands-on than the above, which is great for tinkering, though his impact on the field is less likely to be as massive as a too-effective bit of programming. There’s also flexibility - he could do this on payroll, or be a random robotics nerd… with the caveat that he’d need significant personal resources, most likely. Put him in a FIRST Robotics competition or on BattleBots lmao.

However, if the obvious boom boom is important, and you want him to revolutionize weaponry… nuclear engineering is right there. By necessity this Percy would need to be heavily involved in the government of whatever nation you set him in, which might remove some of the autonomy behind his decisions and alleviate him of some responsibility. You can also very easily turn it to him trying to make up for his legacy with some nuclear power. It’s difficult to tie this one to his vengeance, unless Percy goes more ‘fuck the whole world and let it burn, and the Briarwoods too’. (Maybe have him be working on nuclear fusion, which we’re just cracking now? Very topical.)

If you want to stick close to canon, firearms engineer is an option! However, it personally stretches belief for me that he'd revolutionize guns in the modern era when... jazzhands at Everything. It's also harder to tie into vengeance, because why make his own fancy gun when he can buy one reasonably easily (in the USA, where I usually see modern AUs set - less so, say, where I am in Canada lmao). But! You could definitely take that angle and just have him produce a new sort of gun. The caveat is that the consequences for this invention getting out are uh... a very sensitive and topical subject with a lot more emotional baggage for a lot of your (again, USA-centric) readers. So for all those reasons this one is not one I favor.

You could lean more into the chemistry/metallurgy angle with a materials engineer Percy. Have him develop a new alloy that has broad applications that ends up finding military/firearm use too. Or some new explosive substance! Boom boom! This could combine the physical tinkering angle along with just how massively revolutionary his canon invention is, and you don’t need to do much research (just bullshit a fancy new metal that does X Y Z lmao). However, this is another that would require a sizeable source of funding for Percy to make this, and with little direct application to fucking up the Briarwoods, and is more chemistry-heavy than many other types of engineering. (Perhaps less so if it's just an explosive material he can make in a garage lab, however the chances of him blowing up his workshop and needing to pay fines/repair it would still exert a decent financial burden.)

Going from the micro to the macro, a civil engineer could work well given his post-canon going-ons. Architect or otherwise, it’s a very… rich-nerd job, and would feed into his posh image, and also have good potential for consequences should he design something that falls to fire/some natural disaster and kills people. There’s absolutely no tie-in to Orthax and creating something for vengeance here, though - which, if you want a Percy who didn’t invent something knowing it’d kill people so long as it killed the Briarwoods too, is great! It’s far less hands-on, though, and likely less into gadgetry than we’re used to - and instead leaning into his artistic side with drawings and schematics, as well as his understanding of physics.

I can tentatively suggest optomechanical engineering, because Bad News does use scope lenses, and he’s confident enough in glassmaking to try to fix his own glasses. However, he also completely fails at this in canon, and could have commissioned those lenses easily enough (vs needing to custom build much of his guns and such himself). So this is moreso if you have an AU where you want Percy involved with lasers, telescopes or photography. (I’m fond of Percy retiring from using guns to instead ‘shoot’ with a camera, for what it’s worth.)

Of course, these are just broad fields of engineering catered to Percy and his skillset: not every Percy needs to be an engineer. Clockmaking, coding and tinkering for fun don’t require a formal education. He can crack it as a mechanic or a gun buff too - you can tie his need to create and tweak and work with his hands (or, alternatively, to get vengeance with a tool of his making) any number of ways. 

I personally have a few limits: I can’t see Percy being a biochemist/bioengineer/etc. (too messy), or anything too theoretical where he doesn’t get to feel directly involved in creation. I also think he’d grumble and huff about making anything out of plastic, but that’s just my take because I think it’s funny that he has Opinions about the materials he uses.

Hope this was of some use anon (and others, I spent a few hours on this so I hope other people enjoy it too kgtrnktnr). Shoutout to @essayofthoughts for helping me with the list of creations and what they imply about his skillset <33

(Not quite relevant, but most modern AU Percys would 100% have a 3D printer and absolutely adore the things. He’d have so much fun, just imagine. But a Percy who works with metal might grumble and huff about working with plastic instead, a la Chetney.)

[alto-tenure]

Claire for the ask game

nobody will ever believe I didn't send this ask to myself. anyways here's the set from the last time I did this, and now here are four more!

Headcanon A: realistic

Claire’s dealt with a lot of casual sexism from being a woman in one of the "harder" sciences, and has been outright rejected from positions she was otherwise qualified for. This is why she was eager to join the time machine research -- Bill as head of the project showed her respect.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

She absolutely does not understand the sciences with less connections to math. Physics? Some parts of chemistry? Those can be broken down into numbers. Those make sense. But a lot of biology is memorization-based, and for her memorizing numbers and formulas is easier than terms and definitions.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Claire knew Hershel was going to propose to her.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Claire actually does have a sister but she's trans and this is why she doesn't show up in the records because she doesn't have her legal name or sex change. (This is the basis for an AU I have.)

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

10.29.23 Sunday

1:13 am

I feel bitter, I have this windblow....I wanna punch but it will be on air... I feel bitter angels!

I can't find my soul-mate... I can't find my own group... I mean new friends are different on your group...Group means more than new friends that you meet along the way....Group means it is like your some good old friends,who are willing to take you as you, no matter how crazy you are or how crazy you can be...

I'm still thinking of SEX with someone mutual with me willing to show genuine care and love...

I hope to meet him soon....I feel bitter!

3:43 am

Oh! My God... I don't know what to feel... Done, showering at 3:45 am... The leopard is hurting coz of what Miles or dread-locks guy did to me awhile ago... Miles or dread-locks guy or Miles' wife texted me this...

Miles' cute2x wifey... You are now part of my showbiz world but all my emotions are real... I miss my some old good friends... I need friends to share this in reality but all of them are gone, in a way they are in USA or other parts of the world or super busy on their own family...

I don't know... Where are my true fucking friends??!

It is shocking coz messages are supposed to be private... Or was it my WRONG SENT?? probably or possibly... Or typographical error??? hmm... it can be...

Miles is hurting me for this...

4:05 pm

I need to calm down though it hurts,angels...

4:18 am

I'm hurting angels... I believe I have sanity and maturity... That's life... SOME ALLEGATIONS ON ME OR ON YOU...

But still you love the person... He is a child... So sad...

4:41 am

Can't sleep...I have windblow... Whew! I feel sad....It is weird... I have to work and think of money and meet new souls... Religious,hygienic and someone will care and love me truly... A new set of friends hoping and praying....

Waiting for rewave and work is work...

11:10 am

Good Day! Angels... Mastering this "Kill Bill" hmm... Just like my first rap song that I learned the "Kiss Me More"... I practiced that around 100 times just to get the timing coz it was my first rap song.

Did I mention here that I used to be one of the singers in bar club here near the SM Bacoor, the "Water Village"....My voice was kinda different before actually we were 3 singers there...

We were 3 college graduate singers of Mr Pio or Daddy Pio, thanks to him for allowing me to heal and giving us our allowances those days and for taking care of us....We were 3 singers there, 2 from La Salle me and the other singer and the one from PCU? if I'm remembering everything correctly and one was my churchmate or religion mate in Iglesia Ni Cristo or Church Of Christ ( my old religion???)

I'm already a college graduate those years then whenever I got broken-hearted it is my way to heal my inner soul...

I stopped going to medicine school on my first year and I got a lot of side comments and bashers about me, not being able to pass my med school. But it wasn't work that way... It was my own personal thing to grow as a human adult. I finished B.S. Biology in "De La Salle" here in Cavite... But my entire first year was in " Far Eastern University or FEU" where I got good fair good grades until my 2nd year college that I transferred here in De La Salle Cavite.

Unzipping things that it is not actually my character... But these days came that I have to put my heart's content...

Whew! It is so childish and immature if I had explained my grades in FEU... But these days came that I have to put a shield on me...To be fair on some bashers, some old friends and some old teachers or some neighbour or even some old religion-mates who keep on saying that they care for me or just a reverse???

11:43 am

My grades in FEU angels are reverse here in De La Salle the grading system.... So,there you go the real explanation... But I was just an average student and I never kill anyone's ego or pride at the back stage without them knowing... There were "lazy days" and days of questioning a lot of things in my head. Days that I wasn't that "FOCUS" yet...

Well, anyways... It was my own personal life and my own life....It was about my shallow virginity and my innocent days...

My "shallow virginity"?? Does anybody cares for it these days??? It was a weird topic,you broke it and someone's got it and they caged you for 16 years and nobody wants to have it....So, it is just a shallow thing to talk about... But, it is something for someone but it didn't measure your entire whole being, even being brainy or not...

1:15 pm

You can't have a group with children and people who don't like you at all... I'm not gonna dwell on those people who couldn't just understand the rule in the world... Why, would I push my view and why should I care to let them comprehend the real flow in the world...

Still, waiting for rewave in Iqor... I have to dwell on my work status and I need money... I still wanna meet soul who can love and care for me and a group of people who can accept me...

Though, I never say I don't like HIM... I like HIM...

2:18 pm

2:29 pm

I always wanted an "orange" lip tint then I accidentally bought that "red orange" coz that was the only available color on that store that day... Then, I'm able to use it today to express my inner pain... Did someone make my lips bleed???

Anyways, it is Sunday here... Happy Blessed Sunday!!!

I feel bitterish and sad and depressing... Worrying so much of my future angels....I always lost spot in the crowd these days....Nobody actually like me these days... I feel sad and depressing... Still, thinking of money and my job... I still wanna see sand-dunes and some plastics at the right timing coz there is no LIFE here for me....But I need a job waiting for that fucking rewave in Iqor...

I still feel fat,old,wrinkled and ugly... I have so many complexities these days... I feel super old... I hate this "deep smile lines"... I wanna meet new soul who can care and love and new group just for me with intellectual mind.

5:09 pm

I still have windblow....Not my ideal life here with Uncle Jun... All my dreams fell apart since 2007... I feel bitter...

Thinking of money and my own future... I really wanna travel and to remove my deep smile lines... I have so many frustrations.

5:55 pm

Uncle DD is suddenly here... Shocking... Simply checking their house at the side...

Uncle DD told me that why I didn't tell him that they are already have an electric there... I told him, I thought Uncle Jun was the one who told him...

I'm not sure if Uncle DD is having ( present continuos tense ) sanity...

6:16 pm

This Uncle Jun seems strange as well... He commented on Ivan that when did he do his circumcision? Hmm.... Strange...

I need a job angels... I wanna have my own life,thinking of money...

7:24 pm

Done, eating dinner and tomorrow is an another voting day for baranggay or small councils in this fucking hometown...

Not really happy... Not happy being here but I have to be here for awhile....I need a job and money... I feeel bitter for not able to fix myself on the 2nd spin of my 2nd childhood...

This is so funny right? The term 2nd childhood can be used as negative or positive... If it is something positive meaning you have your job or success in life then you can fix your teeth again and perfect your nose probably, be skinny though you are old but supposed to be golden or perhaps having children and husband and doing my perfection on beauty like removing my deep smile lines and me with my baby John able to join dog show... These are positive 2nd childhood!

Everything fell-apart on me... My stars are not on the good alignment... I'm always defeated for 16 years... I lost my spot... I never feel beautiful... Sometimes, I wanna cry... Never got the chance to meet positive people on the other side of the world coz of the windblow or trap in this fucking hometown...

I just need to move on and get a job and work and hoping I can buy starbucks everyday....I know walking is sometimes healthy and it is sad you are accepting the fact that you will have your "death march" but then someone just broke your heart...

8:19 pm

I'm thinking of money and my rewave.... I'm still thinking of money and rewave...

I feel frustrated on SEX! I feel that someone just took my right to feel and to feel beautiful or my right to be loved by someone...

This is really serious angels... I feel depress for not being able to meet a good soul who is willing to show love and care and respect my needs...

"The Needs"....The "needs" on someone... I want someone mutual... I feel depress...

[laura-apexart]

Day 20 7.27

Ceramics assistant to Alejandro who is also a biologist -grew up in Cali and very knowledgeable and passionate about biology, climate and the process of ceramics and clay and really all things! 

(Self taught —last 6 years—and has a beautiful studio with a gas kiln and she teaches workshops and classes  and also does commissions for restaurants etc. Trained as a scientist she is very methodical and structured about her process--systems based.

She is amazing in her outlook also a city tour guide so very knowledgeable about the cities history. “Matter is matter “. Clay as living, having memory, talking back to you. Her studio is across from the national university of Colombia -Bogota 

We do wrist and hand exercises before we begin, I love this as a way to begin work! Body work and care, out of necessity for longevity-body as the most important tool! Weigh out clay and then kneed to get out air bubbles. She shows me a special technique so the clay looks like a duck with a spiraled bill. Properties of clay -earth, can be recycled or broken/remade, so consistent with an ethos of caring for the earth and maybe a greater philosophy for living.

We talk about how much you can tell about a person from the way they handle the clay—she’s recently started working with a 15 yr old who is struggling and she is very determined to understand him and learn different ways of working/teaching to meet his needs. We talk about teaching--being structured and disciplined with students but also gentle and open, offering different methods and techniques for working.

The relationship between Physics, chemistry -centripetal force--she teaches me to use the wheel for the first time with a specific method--I can see how intelligence emerges from the hand and muscle memory and it feels good to play---and the pedal reminds me of working with my sewing machine and I love that I can just make something and then smush it! I don't know that I would have the patience required to measure everything out and replicate objects by hand in such a methodical way as she shows me--maybe! I am impressed.

At around 1pm we walk over to Por feura de La lInea on the outskirts of Teusaquillo —a historic district of landmarks buildings housing cultural institutions-

Jewelry maker / metal smith  Wendy and Daniel who studied art administration and makes furniture works with Laser cutting and also does 3D printing. A collective that met at the university and help advocate for emerging artists /young artists find spaces and get paid for their work! Emphasis on wellness of the artists , creating security so they can produce good work. They also maybe do some freelance Work for cultural ministry?  They gave me a map of all the cultural districts in Teusaquillo which includes their space and collective that they are trying to unify and is very helpful in giving me a sense of direction and where to go when wandering around this neighborhood.

[nansitr0n]

WHO: Nansi Tran, or nansitr0n.

WHAT: launching of IAMNOTMYDX - I Am Not My Diagnosis , a personal project to raise awareness about problems that exist in mental health and law enforcement authorities to promote change.

WHY: Because what happened to me could happen to anyone.

WHEN: Tuesdays/Wednesdays for live streams, content and posts. TBD.

HOW: Tumblr (as of now), but my hope is to create an archive of my trauma recovery on YouTube. Because this is valuable data that could not be produced twice without ethical concerns.

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

I was just 20 years old in 2015, when I recognized my desire to make sure law enforcement and other first-line professionals receive proper training in trauma-informed treatment for individual and cultural differences. Living in the North metroplex of Texas as an Asian American adult woman, I had somehow lost custody of my own life after being detained and labeled as a danger to myself and all those everyone around me. Apparently that could happen if you request for help due to self-harm tendencies.

Instead of communicating with me about my problems, law enforcement was quick to rule out my sanity when they met with my incestuous father. He had somehow convinced the police officers with his broken English that I was delusional and needed to be detained at the nearest psychiatric ER at the public county hospital. You would think they would finally listen to me after the 7th consecutive time failing to call for help.

In 2017, mental professionals had labeled my self harm attempts as attention seeking behaviors. I was so angry that anyone would assume what was happening to me wasn't happening at all. Like how dare they, not being the ones to experience what I've already lived in. I had been stuck home for 2 years eating nothing but frozen lasagnas waiting for my father to put my car back together.

Following the completion of my bachelor's, he promptly took apart my car as a graduation present to replace all the parts so I could drive to future places of employment safely. After years of empty promises, I knew better. I was trapped and broke from all my hospital bills, pills, and dysfunctionality. And because of my age, I wasn't qualified to receive help for family trauma as I was always reminded by the various crisis resources I've contacted throughout those years.

When I turned 24, I met someone who I was convinced was safe enough to navigate the world with as the adults people claim I should be. By that time, with the damages I've brought upon my fight or flight system, my panic attacks were recurrent and often outside outpatient recovery. It would always be met poorly as my partner would voice his discomfort about my "tantrums". Being grateful for the life I currently had, I attempted to forget what all had happened to me and move on. Unfortunately, you can't fight biology as my heart had suffered quite a lot throughout the years of my recovery.

When I turned 28, I had somehow miraculously managed to regain custody of myself. My life was actually stable as I was happy living my adult life the way I have always imagined. By this time, I had successfully convinced myself that everything that had happened to me resulted from miscommunication.

Late October 2022, I visited home to pick up my mail and was met with a conversation that would quickly squash my false belief. After wishing me a great 28th birthday, my father asked me why I was not able to marry him.

Thinking it was a rhetorical question, I responded that I was his daughter. To my surprise, he responded with a prepared list of all the reasons why that should reassure me that his love is real.

Since then, I have spent the following months has been me trying to cope with the fact that all the events that happened to me actually happened, despite the many times the world had told me it wasn't. It's been difficult, as I have learned that because of the exceptional rule that I'm an adult now, I should be getting over it and moving on when trying to open up to my family.

But today, as the almost 29 year old that I am, I would like to finally come to terms with what has happened to me. I would like to move on from it, without denying it ever happened because without it, I wouldn't be me. As sad as it is to admit, I am trauma. I have survived a lot, learned a lot, and hope to teach it one day so that it doesn't happen again to someone else.

My goal is to study and be studied for the effects of adverse childhood experiences that have shaped my brain differently since my development years. With the limited amount of data out there about the subject matters, I hope to share my story and advocate for changes in the mental health and law enforcement community.

Until very recently there has been a dearth of empirical research on incestuous fathers. Even though the number of cases of intrafamilial sexual abuse coming to professional attention has skyrocketed, reaching close to 100,000 in the United States in 1985, studies of the perpetrators of this abuse have been scarce. Professionals have been forced to rely on several less-than-definitive resources.. Williams, Linda & Finkelhor, David. (1990). The Characteristics of Incestuous Fathers. 10.1007/978-1-4899-0915-2_14. Until very recently there has been a dearth of empirical research on incestuous fathers. Even though the number of cases of intrafamilial sexual abuse coming to professional attention has skyrocketed, reaching close to 100,000 in the United States in 1985, studies of the perpetrators of this abuse have been scarce. Professionals have been forced to rely on several less-than-definitive resources.

[lihikainanea]

I miss the horny pills blurbs from the beginning of this account. It was so funny and cute.

 Anonymous asked:lei i sent an anon ab loving the horny pills blurbs from way back, and i’ve expanded. bill has just had the most intense, frustrating shoot of his LIFE. he’s been going on ab it and tiger knew he’d be wanting to dominate when he got back, he didn’t say it, but she knew. when bill gets home, he sighs with relief at her, still pent up but says it’s not working down there. usually she smiles and helps him unwind and they do their uniting tomorrow. but now? she’s a sobbing mess, hormones on over drive. she shamefully admits to taking the horny pills so she’d be able to keep up with what he gave her and now she’s in physical pain from how pent up she is. bill knows he needs to scold her about doing stupid shit FOR him, but his poor heart, shes wearing the cutest little panties and when he glances at how it’s soaked through? he debates just popping some of the male ones she had left over from before. (does he take it? does he just let her sit uncomfy to prove a lesson? or does he just help her out with his hands and mouth?)

Omggggg baby, you're an OG! you been here for a long time. Thank you so, so much for sticking with me throughout the years, and for still being around. I think that is just so cool.

And indeed, those little blue pills--oh my god, it was a fave of mine too. Poor Bill and his terrible hay fever, and he probably considers it more than he's willing to admit when tiger absolutely breaks his biology, because Bill is a good due and he wants to give his girl what she needs.

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS. Allow me to perhaps take some liberties because horny pills are a bit of an unknown area for me.

So one delicious thought I had is like, what if Bill took a little blue pill because he had to?

Hear me out.

We all know that sometimes, Bill is just so tired. It’s after a long shoot, when his body is beat up, his mind is toast, he’s a walking zombie. His most basic brain functions don’t even compute, let alone any ahem, extra curricular activities. He sees tiger and he just kind of collapses into her arms, hugs her as tight as he can--but then he’s practically snoring on her shoulder. He needs rest, lots of it, he needs proper food, he needs to reset his circadian rhythm.

And listen, it usually only takes him a few days to catch up on his sleep to the point where he feels human again. He sleeps for hours at a time, but every time he wakes up tiger is fluffing his pillow, pulling him so he’s sitting up, and putting some delicious smelling thing in front of him--soup, stew, pasta--anything nourishing and hearty, that isn’t the jar of peanut butter he’s been known to eat when he’s on set during his 18 hour days.

“You look like you gave yourself fucking scurvy,” she grumbles, “All thin and gaunt and shit. What is this? Look at this.”

She pokes at his rib sticking out, and Bill whines--loud and exaggerated. Then he pouts.

“I’m sorry big guy,” she placates, giving him a kiss.

And like, after about two days he’s all caught up on sleep and on good food. After about two days, suddenly he’s noticing the tiger is just puttering around the apartment in booty shorts, and Bill? Bill loves the booty. Suddenly he’s becoming painfully aware of just how long it’s been since he's been with her, since he’s had her moaning for him, since he’s felt that delicious wet velvet grip around him. His mind is all in, the filthiest fantasies running through his head, but right when he’s supposed to feel blood rushing to his groin--he doesn’t.

There’s nada. Nothing. Not even morning wood.

It’s fine for another day or two, but then he’s just starting to get pent up. That warm body pressed to his at night, those soft lips sucking on his thumb, the sheer weeks it’s been since they’ve been together. And tiger, bless her heart--tiger never pushes. She knows that sometimes he’s ready to pounce her the minute he walks through the door, and some days he needs a bit more time to get back right. She’s ready whenever he is--but she doesn’t push. And when she wakes up one morning to him rutting against her, his soft and sleepy moans in her ear, she smiles and sighs in relief--she’s pretty goddamn pent up too. He smells so fucking good, he’s so warm, and it’s been too long since she’s felt the delicious stretch of him filling her out.

There’s only one problem. She scoots her ass back into him and grinds down, but there’s....nothing. The morning fog clears from her brain and she opens her eyes.

“Just keep doing that,” his gruff voice in her ear commands, “God I need you.”

She moans, reaching back to run her fingers through his hair as she grinds her ass into him again. His hands snake to her front, cupping her breasts as he rolls his hips into hers. But after a few minutes, there’s still....nothing. And suddenly his soft groans in her ear turn into a frustrated huff, and he pulls away all too abruptly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, throwing himself onto his back. He presses his palms into his eyes.

“Easy Billy,” she soothes, rolling over.

“No,” he says petulantly, “I need you. I need you so fucking bad kid, and I’m...I’m broken again.”

“You’re not broken,” she eases over, putting a leg over him and settling on his waist, “You’re exhausted. And you’re more of a visual guy anyway, so let’s see if this works.”

She pulls her shirt over his head, taking his hands and placing them back over her breasts. She steadies herself, and then she grinds down on him--hard. He moans long and deep, his hips jutting up automatically.

“There we go,” she sighs in pleasure, “Just like this.”

She cups her hands over his, gazing at him as his jaw slackens.

“I need you big guy,” she purrs, “Only you can make me feel good like this.”

And like...it should be working. For all intents and purposes, she’s hitting every single one of his bullseyes. But while he should be harder than a rock, there’s still just...there’s nothing happening south of the border for him. And after a few minutes, his face goes from slack with pleasure to worried, concerned--and then angry, all over again.

“Oh come on!” he cries, lifting her off of him and sitting up in bed, “Seriously?!”

He lets out a frustrated cry, his head in his hands.

“Alright,” tiger says, “You’re just not ready, bud. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh I’m ready,” he snaps, glaring at her, “I’m so fucking ready. And this is a very big deal, tiger!”

She sighs.

“I’m broken,” he flops back onto the mattress dramatically, but tiger pulls him back up.

“You’re not broken,” she says, “You’re exhausted. You’re beat up. You’re a mess. Give yourself a break, bud. Your mind says yes but your body clearly has some catching up it still needs to do.”

He whines again, but she swats at him playfully. He grabs her, moving her so she’s straddling his waist again.

“I can...” he offers, hooking a finger into the waistband of her panties.

“No,” she says immediately, “I want it with you. It’s been so long, bud. It’s better when it’s with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s silenced with a kiss.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she says, “We’ll try again in a day or two.”

She lets it go for now. She needs it just as bad as he does, but there’s no sense in dwelling on it--she knows it’s the worst thing to do. And she knows that the more he obsesses over it, the worse it’s going to get.

But like, here’s the thing. Maybe this time Bill’s biology is legit broken and just needs a bit of a push--because by the third or fourth day, Bill is so pent up that he’s in legit physical pain. He’s walking funny. And tiger giggles a little, as he glares.

“My balls are full tiger,” he snaps at her and he palms his crotch for emphasis, “Full, alright? I’m dying here. It actually hurts.”

“Bill, why don’t you--”

“No.”

“Why not? It’ll help.”

“No.”

“Come on, don’t be a drama queen,” she sighs as she goes to loop her arms around his waist, “Bill, plenty of guys have this problem.”

“I don’t have a problem, tiger.”

“And it’s an easy fix. One pill. The most prescribed pill in the entire world. Just to give your body the little push it needs,” she reasons.

“No.”

She thinks for a moment, and then she changes her approach.

“Please, big guy? Just think about it,” she says, her voice much quieter now, “I...I need you, too.”

And like, that’s the thing that gets him. Knowing that she needs him, and that he’s not giving her what she needs. He hates that thought, and it’s the small kick he needs to drag his mopey, impotent ass to the doctor. The visit takes all of 5 minutes and is far less traumatizing than Bill imagined. The doctor barely examined him. Just asked a few questions--30 years old, smoker, under lots of stress--then the doctor scribbled the prescription without even another glance. Bill makes tiger take it to the pharmacy for him, which she understands--fans lurk everywhere, and she knows it makes him uncomfortable. When he finally has the small packet of pills in his hands, he heaves a heavy sigh.

“We are not to speak about this ever again,” he glares at her, “Promise?”

“It’s really not a big deal bud. But yes, I promise,” she holds out her pinky and he loops his through hers.

“For you,” he sighs, and then he pops open the pack and dry swallows one.

It takes about half an hour to kick in. Tiger is in the middle of cooking dinner when it does, but Bill just runs in and frantically shuts off all the burners on the stove, picks her up and throws her over his shoulder.

“I’m hard!” he announces, “I’m hard as a fucking rock, kid.”

“Amen,” tiger says.

But like, the problem is it doesn’t go down for like, 4 hours. Which is fine, because they have some catching up to do--but 3 hours in and tiger is begging for mercy. Bill’s on overdrive, his stamina never ending, and tiger already can’t feel her legs. Bill decides the little blue pill ain’t so bad after all.

(a massive, huge, colossal THANK YOU to @ilovetheideaofu for finding this blurb that I literally SPENT HOURS TRYING TO FIND)

[epicspheal]

Hi Spheal!! I hope you're doing well!

Anyways my question is, How would the medical field work in the Pokemon world(At least by your headcannon?)

I'm glad you're back in the land of Tumblr.

Hi there @namelessbaron! This an awesome question! This is going to be a lengthy response because you have touched upon my special interest.

So basically the human medical field (as in the doctors that take care of humans and not Pokemon who would be more akin to Veterinarians honestly) is very much like our world but better in some key ways. For starters it's a lot cheaper in the Pokemon world and being in debt because of medical bills is just not a thing there. I will say in human medicine there isn't as much cooperation between humans and Pokemon as you would assume. Not to say human doctors never use their Pokemon while caring for their patient it's just that like in the real world where we have people who have huge phobias of animals, there are people in the Pokemon who have a fear of Pokemon. Part of the oath physicians take is to do no harm and that means mentally and emotionally as well as physically. So while doctors in the Pokemon world are trained on how to use Pokemon in their practice, there is a HUGE emphasis on how to treat patients by yourself and with other humans. Because you never know when a patient will come to you who has a fear of Pokemon in general, or maybe a fear of the specific species of Pokemon you have . For example my trainersona Cami has definitely had to not use her Krookodile or Ninetales because patients were afraid of those Pokemon specifically, but she's also had plenty of patients who love to hold onto any of her Pokemon (her Audino in particular) for comfort. That all being said a lot of specialties in human medicine do use Pokemon a lot. Pokemon that can learn aromatherapy or can use aura are often used in Psychiatry and Pediatric settings, ghost types are often used in forensic pathology. Luxray are seen heavily in radiology departments. Fighting types are used in Emergency Medicine, Sports Medicine and Rehabilitation Medicine. Many dragon, steel, water, fighting and flying type Pokemon are also used in Wilderness/Disaster Medicine as it's in the field and you have to contend with combative wild Pokemon, harsh elements in addition to trying to save someone's life. Pokemon like the Machop Line, Lillipup Line, Audino and the Ralts Line are often used extensively in medical clinics that specialize in working with people with mobility issues, sensory issues and those who are highly allergic to certain substances. Humans who have powers (aura, psychic and ghost powers) often find their way into human medicine if they don't pursue being a trainer as their powers greatly enhance certain fields. There's even specialties that are devoted to humans with powers.

One thing in the Pokemon world that is significantly better than our world is medical education. The biggest thing is that it's standardized across regions so as long as you graduate and you pass the licensing examination you can practice in any region as long as you sign up for their registry. There's not nearly as much hoops to go through that we have to do in our world if you say want to practice internationally or even in different regions/states/provinces in the same country. It's also significantly cheaper overall and part of that is that it's standardized to 6 years instead of 8 like it is here in the US and other countries. Medical school in the Pokemon is broken up into three parts: the pre-med years (learn basic biology/chemistry/physics), basic medical education (anatomy/physiology/pharmacology/pathology) and clinical rotations. Technically someone in the Pokemon world could get their medical degree in as little 4.5 years if they blaze through everything in the minimum of 18 months. But most take the full 6 years mainly because it's easier on their mental health, it is again far cheaper in the Pokemon world than it is in ours, and it allows them to really explore what they want to do with their career. Because everything is so standardized it's not uncommon for medical students in the Pokemon world to study abroad in different regions to gain more exposure.

For example for students who want to work with patient populations with mobility/sensory/extreme allergies, many will take a semester in Alola since Alola's medical schools and residencies are world renowned being good at training humans and Pokemon to make the world accessible (think the ride Pokemon of Alola). If you want to do sports medicine or wilderness/disaster medicine then studying abroad in Galar or Unova is the way to go. If you're super interested in research and the idea of academic medicine appeals to you Kalos and Kanto are good spots to study abroad in. Bringing up my trainersona, Cami studied abroad in Kanto, Kalos and Galar during her time in medical school since she was interested in doing research and also she (once she became champion) decided she wanted to go into wilderness/disaster medicine.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Modern Scenarios with Genshin Boys

Brainrot time - be glad, today was supposed to be angst but I had a change of heart.

"Hey, pick on someone your own size!" The first time you met Childe was when you were being bullied by some annoying bullies that had nothing to do but want to pick a fight. It was something you can handle really, and you were about to disperse the commotion when this big guy suddenly appeared as if you were his knight in shining armor. "It's the duty of the strong to protect the weak!" Did he just-?! THE AUDACITY!

Spurred on by your annoyance and your want to prove your strength, you joined the Karate club in your school where you heard he is part of. And in under a month you reached the second tier of the yellow belt. But you needed to become stronger, to reach that guy's black belt status so you can spar with him. He was too high to be directly involved with your training after all.

Finally when the fateful day comes, he looks at you with admiration at the other side of the mat, your determination and fast rank up had him enamored. But you had different plans. When the spar session started, you maneuvered around his kicks and finally did what you've always wanted to do— you wiped your dirty, uncovered foot against his face in a kick. Somehow he fell in love more.

You've been his lover for a while now, and restaurant dates are nothing uncommon in your relationship. And you know his habit of leaving behind his wallet even if he offered that tonight's date would be taken care of. After your lovely dinner session, lo and behold, he DID forget his wallet. But as the considerate lover, you took the liberty to bring your wallet with you even if he said you shouldn't-

Only to realize you brought the wrong wallet, only counting spare change for chicken nuggets. As compensation, you two spent the rest of the night forced to pay off your late bill by doing the restaurant dishes. It was not at all part of your itinerary, but as you start singing to alleviate the boredom and with Zhongli singing along, you had the most fun dancing around the kitchen with soapy arms and loose aprons.

You didn't even know that Zhongli could sing and dance that well! Plates were cleaned faster than any of you expected, and after the IOU contract that you're for sure fixing the next day, the two of your walk home hand in hand with the brightest smile you two had ever shared.

Oh, god, more frogs. Welcome to Biology class! You are partnered to be laboratory buddies with the ever enigmatic, science genius Albedo. He was so epic during Chemistry class, and you were praising the gods for finally bringing this ray of hope to raise up your grades effortlessly. You would think this class would flow by ever so nicely as you finish the plant studies, that is until zoology started and the professor starts talking about dissecting kits.

Your first project was to bring a frog to school to prep up for dissection. Okay, very wack, you thought as you turned to Albedo to ask how you two would even get a frog for the project. Until you saw a curious glint in his beautiful, teal eyes. Next thing you know he was over your house and as you two go around the fields in casual wear.

The fact that stores exist for buying frogs SPECIFICALLY for Biology and dissections was something Albedo held back from you, opting to wish to experience the class firsthand and beyond. It was in all honesty to get to know you better, even if most of the time you tripped on your ass over the mud of the fields trying to chase or run away from a frog. In the end he finally suggested to just buy one, to which you were furious, thankful and elated that you at least got to know the genius more.

Heavily inspired by Driver's License. You've just recently broken up with your boyfriend a day before you got your license to drive, something you were so proud of and excited to exercise together with your lover. But yet here you are crying your eyes out as you drove on the long and winding road of... somewhere. A deserted area with the next stop over or town miles and miles away, so when you happened upon a dejected voyager who clearly needs a lift, you offered him to be a hitchhiker. Xiao was thankful, really, but the ride was ever so awkward with the obvious puffy eyes and tear stains on your cheeks.

At one point, you remembered your ex once again and had to pull over before you end up killing the both of you through tear-stained vision. With sympathy, your hitchhiker offers to drive and a listening ear to your burdens, and it indeed lifted your spirits as he offers helpful advice on your pain. You part when you reached his home with a huge thank you for the lift, and you realized that you were just a town away from him.

The next time you saw him was an embarrassing moment you didn't expect to happen or come by so fast. Awkwardly standing by the roadside where your car was supposed to be, towed away because you didn't realize it was illegal to park there, an motorcyclist with a neon decorated bike suddenly pulled over in front of you. And when he takes off his helmet to offer you a ride, the smirk on Xiao's face doubles the embarrassment. You accepted the offer.

You are a secret agent tasked to assassinate a target you've been following and gathering data on for weeks now, the perfect opportunity happens to be a gathering of high class people, a party or ball even. You thought it would be a quick and easy operation until you realized a man named Kaeya seem to be hovering around your target too closely for your taste and ease. It seems the guy has a body guard in hand. Now your focus was on swaying this bluenette, who was thankfully very, very receptive and welcoming to your advances.

When you finally FINALLY managed to let him off your case and successfully separated him from your target, you hurried over to finish the assassination as you realized you've been lingering for far too long— only to see Kaeya about to stab your target before your interruption. It seems that instead of his body guard, Kaeya was actually a hitman hired to kill your target too, and had been dancing around together with you because he thought YOU were the body guard.

"Woah, this your target too?" "Hell yeah." "Yoooooo!" How ironic, you two laughed the coincidence out nonchalantly as your target bleeds to death besides you both. After escaping your almost jail time when the true body guards came to check on their boss, which made a very awesome action sequence as you exchanged bullets next to Kaeya, you learned that your agency had recruited a new fellow under its ranks. You didn't need a name and face to know who the sly bastard was.

You're not really the type of person to be into parties, not since high-school, and still no in college. Things were already a pain to deal with as the midterm examinations rolling in, but your roommate somehow managed to drag you into a popular college organization's midyear party before unceremoniously dipping to drink with the org members. As you cradle your alibi cup in a corner, staring into the raucous party, you realized someone else who's solo is accompanying you in silent brooding.

The two of you awkwardly introduce yourselves to each other before realizing that you've already met once or twice in campus grounds. "I don't really wanna be here." "Me neither." "Wanna dip?" Your relief didn't even need words to confirm your wants as you two slipped away from the mess, growing in intensity that you wouldn't even be suprised if the local authorities were to be called later on.

A little food date in the local 24/7 fast food restaurant nearby and exchange of numbers made your night a little bit better. So when you two found each other in another party you were dragged in again, your hand was held warm and tight within his as you two snickered, skipping out of the venue to have your own little party.

Hello there, welcome to the start of the fluffy days. Figured you're all sad and broken enough to finally enjoy some good ol' flutters.

@sk1nnyangelic @kookieyachi @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader @scarletroseneko @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop

[gondwana]

the internet spreads misinformation, especially when it comes to women’s innocence (or persecution). we are mutuals and i’m a feminist., what they call these days a “terf” used to be “witch”. i am not transphobic, that’s more misinformation about what feminists believe… i’m not saying this to upset or attack you, just to inform you that there are many people who still want to silence feminists / women in generals voices. what they call a “terf”/“witch” does NOT believe that women are weak/incubators - that’s a very conservative/“republican” (im not american but i think thats comparable) ideal, bioessentialism, which is as far away from feminism as you can possibly get… feminism, and radical feminism, are about liberating and empowering women - every woman has the right to bodily autonomy. Every so-called”terf” agrees on this with you, whilst every conservative misogynist disagrees- they believe in the “role” of a woman being that of a mother and nothing else, etc.. Anyway, i just wanted to share since we are mutuals and i think misinformation is not a good thing . Peace and love to you <3

the problem with trans exclusionary radical feminism is not the radical feminism part it's the trans exclusionary part. I have absolutely zero beef with the aggressive and endless pursuit of women's autonomy. what I have beef with the idea that "women's autonomy" does not include the right for trans women to be safe and not aggressively questioned or ostracized.

of course I have overlaps in my beliefs w terfs. that doesn't make me uncomfortable or confuse me, and it doesn't make me question being very very trans exclusive when it comes to my philosophy about feminism.

also, in terms of misinformation, there is a LOT of misinformation that gets spread around terf circles on Tumblr. like, there's a whole masterpost of alleged crimes done by trans women, and they all link to like, extremely republican/alt right websites, or the link is broken and goes nowhere. and I've read those articles, and they're uncited, or the sources are deleted. it's all fucking fake. trans women being the enemy is so fake. a trans man being some sort of tragic loss of a butch woman is so fake. young feminist women are being brainwashed, because the world is a nightmare, and they're scared, and terfs tell them that biology is to blame.

like, the only Work that terfs have really been able to Get Done has been the oppression of trans people, like with all of these bills being passed thru u.s state governments restricting care for transgender youth. that does nothing for the advancement of feminism. that does not make women safer. women are not living in a world that is getting better. and it's like, these terfs celebrate these fucked up bills in order to feel better about the fact that things are not getting better for women. in fact, if roe v wade is repealed, things will be much much much worse. I think it's a nightmare. i cannot imagine someone else's oppression being further enshrined in our institution being treated like a consolation prize for the fact that women, cis and trans alike, are still treated like shit everywhere.

idk why you are defending terfs. I don't think there is anything there for you in their philosophy. i don't think that they're the modern equivalent of witches. witches were like, women with property that the government wanted to steal. not women on twitter sending death threats to trans women.

this message has been very long. I genuinely don't understand why you're trying to defend the term terf. I do not find confrontational feminism a problem. I find it necessary. but like, terf rhetoric is bioessentialist at it's core. it is what defines it. it is of the opinion that "maleness" is the "opposite" of "femaleness" and that being amab is evil and bad and violent and, in reverse, that women are good and virtuous and victimized. there are a million ways to be amab. a million ways to be afab. a million ways to react to male/female socialization. sex needs to stop mattering if we're ever going to get anywhere, and making sex-segregated rules about bathrooms/sports etc, and restricting people's access to hormones is like, NOT how to do that. and that's what being a terf is to me. it IS about controlling people's bodies. it IS about transphobia. it exists because regular ass radical tear misogyny out by the roots feminism wasn't trans exclusive enough . lol.

anyway,

[babybluebex]

what do you see...? [álex garel x fem!reader]

summary | eight years after eva's passing, álex learns how to love again, and how to forgive himself. pairing | álex garel (eva, 2011) x fem!reader (y/n) word count | 4.6k warnings | god, so much angst. spoilers for eva (2011), mentions of death, álex being the best girl dad ever, hard conversations author’s note | alright so... this is so sad. i'm not even gonna sugar coat it. i cried the entire time writing it. so, make sure to thank @monsieurbruhl, who really is the inventor of sofía isabella, and enjoy (and also i am on standby to pay your therapy bills lol)

You first met Álex Garel when you were a student, back in 2043. You had been attending university for several years and, in your last year, you heard the rumors of a hot, young professor that had started teaching at the robotics school. You remembered the way your friends would titter whenever they encountered him in the halls, but none of you ever truly knew Dr. Garel. You were a simple literature student at the university, trying to get your science credit in order to graduate and move onto graduate school. Your one biology class coincided with Dr. Garel’s lectures and, sometimes, you would sneak in the back and catch the last five minutes of his lecture. If he ever noticed you, he didn’t give any indication, but he always found a way to give you a crooked smirk in the halls and say hello.

You graduated, and went on to graduate school in the fall. There, you became more acquainted with Dr. Garel; his office was situated next to your advisor’s, and you found yourself bumping into him once a week when you came in for an appointment. He seemed different than when you used to sneak into his lectures: He kept the blinds of his office closed, he didn’t accept visitors, his office hours were short and only by appointment, and his lectures were so empty. The life, the light, that he had had before was gone. He was, by all accounts, a shell of a man. He was always in the same place, sitting outside, smoking a cigarette, a small collection of ash and dead cigarette butts at his side. One day in the winter, when you had shared a few tight smiles with him, you dared to say, “Can I bum a smoke?”

Álex Garel had looked up from the book in his lap and squinted in the sunlight, and he had chuckled in recognition. “You,” he said. “Are you even old enough to smoke?”

“I’m a grad student,” you told him. “I just left mine at home.” Technically, that was the truth, but you weren’t about to admit to him that you had quit smoking and was only using the request as a way to start a conversation.

Álex shrugged and gave you a cigarette from his pack, and you sat beside him as he lit it for you. “You know,” you started, taking a drag. “Smoking enough of these will kill you.”

Álex scoffed. “I know,” he said. “I’m trying to speed up the process here, shit’s taking too long naturally.”

The admission was so blatant and sharp that you laughed, because it had to be a joke, right? But Álex’s honey-colored eyes sobered you. Shit, you realized. He wasn’t joking. You ended up being late to your advising appointment because you were simply talking with Álex, and he left you with his number loaded into your phone. Still, you couldn’t get rid of the depressed, chain-smoking professor from your mind. You called him the next day and, on that ensuing Friday, he met you for a drink. Naturally, the drink turned into two, then three, then a kiss, then another, and, the next day, you were waking up in Álex’s bed. Technicalities were your friend, because, technically, your relationship with Dr. Garel was allowed. He was a professor at your university, but he wasn’t your professor. There were no broken rules.

As important as technicalities were to your relationship, omissions were just as important.

You were guilty of your own omissions. After a month of dating, you happened across an old news article that featured your boyfriend, along with another woman. The article, housed in the university archives, stated that, two days prior, a woman named Lana Garel had died, along with her young daughter Eva. Álex had been interviewed and, although the article made sure to note how rude and sour Álex was, he said that he, along with his brother’s wife and daughter, had been hiking when an avalanche had swept Lana away and hurt Eva. He said that Eva later died at home, and added to not bother his family any more. You spotted the date of the article: December 8, 2041. A year and some change ago. That meant that, the day you met Álex and asked for the cigarette, December 6th, he had been mourning a year since his family died. You never told Álex what you had accidentally learned.

When you graduated with your master’s degree two years later, Álex asked you to marry him. It was a quiet affair, taking you to dinner the night of the graduation ceremony and presenting you with the ring that you had a hand in designing. You and Álex had talked about getting married, but the proposal still shocked you. You were married within the year; but, with marriages and nosy family members, came the question of children. Álex always clammed up whenever the question came about, swiftly polished off his drink and went in pursuit of another, and left you to explain that, well, Álex and I haven’t really talked about it yet, but it might be a while, we’re waiting to see if he’s granted tenure or not.

Finally, after a year of marriage, the pot boiled over. Your family had learned to stop asking questions about children, but you still wanted to know. “Al, I deserve this,” you told him. Álex was stalking around the house, ignoring you, and you followed him. “Ever since we fuckin’ met, you’ve been weird about having kids. Like, I get it, it’s a scary thing, but you won’t even tell me why you don’t want them. I mean, do you want kids? I don’t even know!”

FInally, Álex stopped his lumbering, and he shoved open the door to a coat closet. He rummaged around in it for a moment, still ignoring you, and finally he threw something at your feet. It was a book, big and thick, bound in worn red leather. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud, and your words escaped you with hurt. He said nothing to you; he grabbed his coat from the hook and left the house. You sank down to the floor and gently cradled the book, and you opened it carefully. The spine popped and cracked with age and disuse, and, on the first page, you saw a picture of a little girl. Her skin was flushed, her hair hanging in a bob at her chin, her eyes bright and happy. There was a small handwritten title under the girl’s picture, handwriting that you didn’t recognize. It said Eva.

The scrapbook was full of pictures and videos of Álex’s niece. The videos were embedded in the pages, a small blinking dot in the corner, and you tapped twice to watch them. One video was of Eva walking outside a car, the camera situated inside, and, at the end, there was a flash of your husband’s smiling face. There were pictures and videos from when Eva was little, a toddling little thing holding a woman’s hand. There was only one picture of only Álex and Eva, taken from afar; the two were ice-skating, and Álex was looking at Eva with the utmost love and adoration. The caption at the bottom of the page was in the unfamiliar handwriting, and it said Álex and Eva. The very last picture was of Eva asleep in a bed, curled up, her cheeks ruddy with life. Álex’s handwriting declared it December 5- Eva’s Last Day with Papa.

You cried. You couldn’t help yourself. Eva was Álex’s daughter, not his niece. Álex had a little girl that had died, a little girl named Eva that had his nose and bright eyes. Your tears fell from your eyelashes and onto the pictures of young Eva Garel, and you wiped them up with your thumb. Old Gris, the little robotic cat that Álex had had for years, gave a soft yowl and butted his head into your knee, and you smoothed your hand down his metal body.

When Álex returned later, you were still on the floor, crying. When he joined you on the floor, you saw his face pale and streaked with his own tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he began softly. “It’s still hard for me. Lana and I had had a thing years ago, before she was with David, and I never really let go of it. When I finally learned she was mine, it felt... It felt like the stars had aligned. But me and Eva and Lana went hiking one day, and there was an avalanche. Nobody knew it was coming, but, by the time it reached us, it was too late… We never found Lana’s body, and Eva was hurt. I had only just found out she was mine earlier that day… I brought her home, and she died that night... I can’t have another kid, querida. It would kill me. I already lost the greatest thing I ever had… I can’t do that again.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, chasing out your tears, and you pulled Álex’s head onto your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly, kissing your husband’s hair.

Álex’s answer had the coveted technicality, and the requisite omission: “Because I killed her.”

It would take a while for you to get an answer on what that really meant. You never worried that Álex had been malicious towards Eva; rather, you were concerned that he simply had nothing to do with it but blamed himself. To you, it seemed that Álex suffered from survivor’s guilt, and that he seemed to wish that he could have done more to save Lana and Eva. You could never understand why Álex thought the way that he did, but you didn’t need to. Any answer was enough, and you forgave him.

Later that year, you discovered that you were pregnant. Álex was pleased— of course he was— but he also didn’t hide his sadness. He didn’t have to, and you didn’t want him to. He had every right to be upset over having another baby, but, as he told you on the way to the doctor’s appointment, he was a little thrilled. “I wasn’t around for Eva’s early years,” he told you. “I didn’t even know she existed until she was ten. I had such a short time with her, and I want to be better. I have to be.” The doctor told you that day that you were having a little girl and, when they showed you and Álex the image of her inside you, just a little squirming shape of a thing, Álex had to leave the room. When he came back, he smelled of cigarettes, and he was sniffling as he pressed his head to your belly. That became a normal thing for him: every night, he would put his head on your belly and would listen for any sign of life. Thankfully, it was always there. A kick, or a faint heartbeat. Álex cried nightly about your sweet little girl, and he named her Sofía Isabella.

Eventually, the omissions came to an end. It was abrupt and unpleasant, and it made you feel sick. You were at dinner with David, Álex’s older brother, whom Álex had told you had chiefly raised Eva, alongside Lana. David had been drinking a little, the old Garel family curse of addiction, and he said, “Y’know, now Álex will finally have a daughter he didn’t build in a lab.”

“What?” you asked with a confused chuckle. Álex was out of the room, doing something in the back garden (probably smoking a cigarette that he had promised you that he would stop but had yet to fully quit), and you were sorta glad that he wasn’t around for the conversation.

“Has he never…?” David asked, and you shook your head. “Eva was a robot. Highly advanced, probably the most advanced thing in the world. I dunno what happened, but Álex shut her down when she was about ten or so. I mean, yeah, Lana had died and he was pretty broken up about that, so maybe… I don’t know. I guess Eva’s tech was just too outdated or something, and the accident made her unrepairable.”

The car ride home was quiet, and you reached over and took Álex’s hand when he pulled into the driveway. “Al,” you whispered. He loved when you called him that. “Was Eva… How did Eva die? You’ve never told me.”

Álex lowered his eyes. “She was injured,” he said simply. “From the avalanche.”

“Injured how?” you pressed.

Álex sighed. “Querida—”

“I-I know you don’t like to talk about her,” you said quickly. “But please. I won’t ask about her again.”

“What did David say?” he asked sharply. “David told you something, didn’t he?”

You swallowed thickly, and you traced your finger along the back of Álex’s hand. “He told me that she wasn’t… That you… That-That she…”

Álex sucked in a deep breath. “She was a robot,” he said. “Yes. Her mother, Lana… We were colleagues years ago, and maybe even more at one point. But I left the project and assumed that Lana quit as well, but Eva… I’m not really her father, it’s more of a sentimental title, but she… I had a hand in creating her.”

The air was heavy, and your heart ached. “Why did you shut Eva down?” you asked. “Was her tech outdated, or…?”

“She killed Lana,” Álex said. “She didn’t kill her, exactly… Didn’t actively hurt her, but she was involved in her death. Asimov’s laws say that a robot can’t allow a human to be harmed, even through inaction. There was no avalanche. That was a story I made up to try to protect them… All of us. The world couldn’t know about Eva. Nobody could. She wasn’t supposed to exist in the first place.”

Your chest felt tight, and you tried to take a deep breath. The only thing you could manage to say was your husband’s name. Álex made you promise to keep the secret, and he said that only he, David, and Julia, the head of the robotics school at the university, knew the truth of what had happened. You agreed and, with a heavy heart, promised Álex not to ever tell Sofía. Not just about Álex’s missteps as an inventor, though; “She can’t ever know about Eva being a robot. She can know that she had a sister and everything, but Sofía can never know the truth about Eva.”

Álex couldn’t have lost count, even if he wanted to. It had been eight years since he had lost them. He could still recall the cold nip in the December air as he found his little girl in the snow, and he could still feel the soreness in his arms as he carried her back home and set her to sleep. The warmth of her body had astounded him; of course, Gris was a warm little thing, but Eva was different. Eva was his daughter, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Eva was warm and smelled like her mother, and Álex had to hold back tears when he remembered the way that life had fizzled from her eyes and she fell still when he mumbled those words. He hated them. He couldn’t even bring himself to say them, even in his own thoughts. To a point, he supposed, he hated himself. If he had simply not been so selfish, if he had protected his daughter, she might still be alive.

But eight years had passed, and the statute of limitations on raising the dead had long since expired. Álex hated to use that word for Eva: dead. It sounded so wrong, so dirty. Too tragic. But it was tragic. She was his greatest invention, the best thing he had ever made. He barely knew her for a week, and it was hardly even a day that he knew himself as her father, but he missed her. She would be eighteen now. He wondered what the small cottage in the mountains would look like if Eva was still around. In his head, he saw that Eva had brought that feminine touch that he sought, the blankets and pillows and warmth.

But now Álex had you for that feminine touch. Not just you, either, but little Sofía Isabella. She was a stunning thing, and Álex would lay awake at night and wonder just how this bundle of warm flesh and blood had managed to come from him. He was used to creating life, but not like her. Not like his little princessa. The nickname was apt; Sofía was a princess. She was so loved and so incredibly spoiled, but Álex could hardly fathom her being any other way.

The little princess had a routine that she had to adhere to, even on the worst of days. She required Papa (the first time she had called Álex that, he had to leave the room because it was Eva, not Sofía, Eva called him Papa, there was no way Sofía was calling him that) to wake her up and hold her, and she required to be carried to Mama, still in bed by that time, and she required snuggles from her parents before the day could begin. So, even though an astute chill filled Álex’s bones at the tragedy of the day, he carefully entered Sofía’s bedroom. His little girl was still asleep, her petite mouth open as she cuddled her pink blankie. Álex sat down beside her on her tiny bed and watched the three-year-old sleep for a few moments more before he settled a soft hand on her arm. Sofía stirred a bit at her father’s touch, and she opened her eyes with a sleepy smile. “Papa,” she mumbled, wriggling up into Álex’s lap, and he kissed the top of her head.

“Good morning, princessa,” he whispered. “Did you have nice dreams?”

“Mhm,” Sofía said, mashing her cheek into Álex’s chest as he stood up. His free hand went to hers, and Sofía pushed his thumb into her mouth. Sofía, even though being a healthy three year old, still had an affinity for her pacies, and you and Álex were trying to curb that by only allowing her to suck on Álex’s thumb. If Papa wasn’t around, she couldn’t have it. The tactic worked surprisingly well, and Sofía only sought Papa’s thumb in the morning and after naps.

Álex made sure to nab Sofía’s blankie as he rose from the bed, and he carried the little creature back to your bedroom. Sofía gave a tiny yawn around her father’s finger, and her light eyelashes fluttered as she started to fall asleep against Álex’s chest. She only opened her eyes when Álex laid back on the bed, and Sofía slowly crawled from his lap and went to you. Sofía was such a gentle thing and it surprised Álex whenever he saw it in action, and he watched with a melting heart as Sofía settled herself on top of you, lightly resting her head on your breasts. She reached out for Álex’s hand, and he turned on his side as Sofía resumed her little routine.

It didn’t take long for you to wake up, and you groaned a bit. Your eyes found Álex first, watching his two girls, and you knew what he was thinking. You knew what today was, and you knew that Álex would only be thinking of Eva all day. You reached out carefully and took Álex’s hand, and you tugged him close, until his head laid next to his daughter’s. “‘Morning, Papa,” you mumbled, brushing Álex’s wheat-colored hair from his forehead.

“‘Morning, Mommy,” Álex whispered, and Sofía gave a little squeal as she wiggled herself back into Álex’s warmth.

“And good morning to you, princess,” you chuckled lightly. “Oh, you’re just the sweetest thing.”

Sofía continued her happy little wiggling, and your gaze caught Álex’s. Already, the day seemed to be weighing on him, and your arm fell around his shoulders. You two had been talking for a while, and it was only the night before that you had agreed that Sofía should know about her sister. “Princessa?” Álex said. “Mommy and Papa wanna tell you something.”

“Okay,” Sofía said, holding Álex’s hand around his wrist as she continued to suck his thumb. “Tell me wha’?”

Álex drew in a deep breath and, when he sighed, you could hear his watery emotions. “Today is a very special day for me,” he started softly. “I get really sad today, and I want you to know why…” He paused, and his honey-colored eyes searched your face for a moment before he sat up and leaned against the headboard. Carefully, he tugged his daughter into his lap and gently stroked her hair, and you watched his eyes fill with tears. “Baby, I… Before you were born, before I even met your mommy… I had a little girl. Just like you.”

“Huh?” Sofía mumbled. There was a little tap against the ajar bedroom door, and Gris gave a purr as he pushed himself in and jumped onto the bed.

Álex sighed again. “You know how me and Mommy made you?” he asked. “How you grew in Mommy’s belly and everything?” Sofía nodded, and Álex said, “You had a sister, princessa. She grew in a different mommy, but I was her papa, just like I’m yours.” You admired how Álex only told her enough; Eva did grow in Lana’s mind, after all.

“A sister?” Sofía mumbled around Álex’s thumb. “Where’s she?”

You had never really ever had to explain the concept of death to Sofía, so Álex’s hesitancy didn’t surprise you much. “She… She died,” he said softly. “She had to go away for a really, really long time. And she… She’s not coming back. Her name was Eva. But today is a sad day for me, because Eva died eight years ago today… She would have been eighteen, if she…”

“Why did she have to go away?” Sofía asked, wriggling in her father’s lap. She seemed totally enamored with his story, and you tried to hide how you were drying your tears. Álex, though, didn’t miss a beat, and he reached out for your hand.

“She got hurt,” you said softly. “There was an accident… Eva’s mommy had to go away too.”

“Hurt?” Sofía repeated. “Like when I get an owie on my knee?”

“Sorta like that,” Álex mumbled.

“But you always make it better, Papa,” Sofía whimpered. “You couldn’t make Eva better?”

“There’s some things…” Álex started, and he bit his bottom lip as he tried to control himself. “There’s some things that Papa can’t make better, and this was one of them. I tried everything I could, baby, but Eva still had to go. But she wasn’t upset. She didn’t cry. She wasn’t scared.”

“Why didn’t you go with her?” Sofía asked carefully. “Were you hurt too, Papa?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Álex said. “You-You know those really scary snowstorms we get sometimes? Where the snow falls down the mountains and we can’t go into the town because there’s so much snow on the roads?” Sofía nodded, and Álex swallowed thickly. “Me and Eva and Eva’s mommy were taking a walk one day, and one of those storms snuck up on us. It hurt Eva and her mommy really badly, but I didn’t get hurt. I was able to bring Eva home, and I knew that she had to go away. I knew that she wasn’t meant to stay here. But I sat next to her and kissed her and told her a bedtime story, and she… She died. I did everything I could, princessa, but sometimes people just aren’t meant to stay with us.”

“What story did you tell her?” Sofía asked, pressing her head into Álex’s chest.

“Well,” Álex started. “She asked if I could tell her a story that her mommy used to tell her, and the same story I told you last night. The one about the princess who tells a story to a prince for a thousand and one nights, but the prince ends up letting the princess tell the stories forever. It was Eva’s favorite. But I didn’t tell her that one; I told her a different one.”

“What one, Papa?” Sofía asked.

You listened as intently as your daughter did. You had never heard Álex talk about the very moment when he had to shut Eva down— it was simply too upsetting, and you understood that— and you watched his red cheeks streak with tears. His arms went tight around Sofía, cradling her head to his chest, and he kissed her messy hair. “What do you see when you close your eyes?” Álex whispered, and he finally let a strangled sob escape him when Sofía shifted in his lap. You watched as years of regret and sadness and fear dissolved from your husband. He didn’t have to be afraid of the words anymore. He could say them to his daughter and not hurt her.

“You, Papa,” Sofía said, and Álex sniffled. “I see you and Mommy.”

Álex nodded, and he moved to have Sofía’s face between his hands. His palms almost entirely covered her head, and he pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, princessa,” he whispered. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You hear me? The best.”

“I love you too, Papa,” Sofía said quietly. “Can I have toast?”

Álex chuckled, sniffling and trying to dry his tears. You didn’t anticipate Sofía really getting it immediately, and you didn’t expect for her to understand until she was older. But, until then, you could manage a smile at how easily she accepted it. “Yes, baby,” Álex said. “I think toast would be nice.”

“Did Sissy like toast?” Sofía asked, shuffling around to find the corner of her blankie as Álex situated her on his hip.

You watched as Álex’s shoulders heaved with a sigh, and he got up from the bed, Sofía in his arms. “No, she hated it,” he said softly. “I… I like when you call her that.”

“Would she’ve liked me?” Sofía asked next, and Álex nodded instantly.

“Oh, princessa,” he said. “Eva would have loved you.”

You listened to your daughter’s babbling questions and your husband’s patient responses, and you leaned back and closed your own eyes. What do you see when you close your eyes? It was a simple question, nonsensical, but all-powerful. When you closed your eyes, you saw Álex. You saw him smiling, laying in the snow. You saw two young girls laying in their father’s arms, each more stunning than the next. You saw Álex gazing at Eva and Sofía with wonder and love in his eyes, and you watched him bury a kiss in Eva’s short hair before doing the same to Sofía’s thin curls. You heard your youngest daughter giggle, and you watched Eva stand up from the snow and dash off, and you heard Sofía’s calls of “Sissy, wait for me!” You saw Álex sit up as his girls ran and played, and you saw him look up at you. You saw him smiling. You saw him happy.

Maybe Álex didn’t admit everything to Sofía. But that was okay. Small steps had to be taken, especially with an admission like that, and you knew that, when Sofía was older, she would likely put the pieces together before either you or Álex could tell her. In fact, you could count on it. Sofía was so smart, the sharpest little knife in your drawer. It was a necessary omission. Maybe one day she would come to know Eva the way you had, with a sort of shining reverence that made pictures and videos of her glow with life. But for now, it was okay for Sofía to know Eva simply as her sissy who had to go away. There would be time for her to know the truth.

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Louis the Reaper - Part 2

This is a continuation of the AU I came up with for Halloween, where Grim Reapers are real in the Beastars world and Louis is one of them.

See Part 1 here: 

So with the backstory out of the way, let's move on to Louis's relationship with the Drama Club. I'll note that at this point, no one knows he's a reaper, not yet anyway.

While Louis is known in the Drama Club for being strict and controlling, particularly about the details of the Adler performance, he feels personally responsible for everyone involved in re-telling his failed love story to the world. He wants everyone to perform it as accurately and true to his memories as they can, having little patience for any actor who can't show it as they should (ex: Kai). However, he feels a personal attachment to the Drama Club members as a teacher would have with their students (being so much older than the others, Louis could very well be a teacher), precisely because he has them partake in what should have been only his experience.

Bill: Louis always knew that the Bengal Tiger had a hard time being himself around a (supposed) Red Deer like him. Bill normally tended to view Louis as a typical privileged herbivore; he can't take Louis's arrogance despite being that way himself, but he's also slightly unnerved by how unusually mature/adultlike Louis behaves normally. Even so, Bill is but an actor under his command/direction and he should know his place as such. Louis would much rather not bring up the numerous occasions he had to put Bill in his place and has contemplated teaching him a permanent lesson at times. However, he always stop short of doing that as he remembers when he was a rebel once, a problematic reaper who was punished with a crushing loss for his vestigial mortal hubris. As such, Louis does what he can to be merciful to Bill and recognizes that despite his personality and behavior, he truly did have the Drama Club's best interests at heart. If Bill were to learn that Louis was an immortal reaper, he would truly feel like prey for once in his life, even question his identity as a carnivore and alpha in society. In all likelihood, he would stay away from Louis at every chance he gets - an irony concerning the herbivore-carnivore dynamic at play. At worst, he might come to resent Louis for being an herbivore with more obvious strength and power than a carnivore like himself, Louis's position in the Drama Club being salt in the wound.

Aoba: Louis commends Aoba for being a carnivore who strives to live in harmony with others while being true to himself. Aoba doesn't really think much of that fact himself but looks up to Louis as an example of leadership and what it means to work to keep balance and unity between carnivores and herbivores. That, unfortunately, tends to be where Louis finds Aoba falling short, as he doesn't believe that. Louis, instead, has only known that his sole connection to both carnivores and herbivores is through how they both meet the same end -death- and are guided to the next world by his hand. If Aoba were to learn that Louis was an immortal reaper, he would end up constantly rethinking what he knew about Louis as both a leader and a symbol of kinship and prosperity. He might come to fear Louis -an irony in biology- or perhaps respect him even more as someone who would willingly dirty his hands to enrich a mere mortal like himself. After all, of all the forms an avatar of death would take to approach animalkind and share what he knows, why an herbivore? Humility, maybe?

Els: Louis takes note of how obedient, or perhaps loyal, Els behaved whenever she was in his presence. He admires her attentiveness when he gave her his directions and even her willingness to use her gifts and talents to further enrich the Drama Club of her own volition. When he looks at her, he is reminded of that same youthful optimism and fervor he once felt when he was only a mortal; particularly, he had those feelings around the time he was brought out of the dark dreary dungeons by Oguma and both became father and son. Those same feelings of new life lingered even after he had been inducted as a new reaper, eager to begin work in guiding souls alongside his father. He enjoyed the strength and power he got to share with his father and the souls who made it to the afterlife thanks to him gave him the will he needed to go on. But alas, Louis's expression falls as he remembers how the work of reapers is not as glamorous and ideal as he thought it would have been, and the sacrifices he had to make to further release himself from his mortal origins only served to weigh him down. If Els were to learn that Louis was an immortal reaper, she would initially be afraid but then be curious in an empathetic way. Just what tragedies and horrors did Louis have to see over his many long years of living? What was the extent of his suffering? How many times were the hopes he once held broken down and rebuilt again and again until he had nothing left?

These are just some of the Cherryton students affiliated with Louis I've examined. I'll do more of them later.

---

This is amazing!! You really should write this as a fic, it would be wonderful! I just know it

-Maeve

[dickspeightjrs]

Guardian Angel - (au / 3.2k words) *check tags for warnings*

ao3 link

Dean could see his breath cut through the air in front of his face. It was a weird feeling knowing that it’d be gone soon. 

He walked further along the river, the city lights reflecting off the still night water. So many people amongst those lights and not one of them would notice when he was gone. 

He was done. In every way. Life was drowning him. It had been pulling him under the water for years. Every time he thought he could stay afloat another hand came to grab his ankle and tug him under again. 

Dean hated to seem all woe is me, he knew other people had it so much worse than he did. It was that thought that had made him bury his inner turmoil for so long. 

That, and his brother, Sam. Life hadn’t been great to either of them but Sam had made it out of their small middle-of-nowhere town and to Stanford for college. He’d been there for two years now and Dean couldn’t be prouder. 

But, Dean also hadn’t seen his brother for those two years. It was safe to say he hadn’t been as successful as Sam. He’d been stuck in their home town with their deadbeat dad. Dean couldn’t afford to get out to California and he sure as shit wasn’t letting Sam use his money to visit. (It may also have something to do with the fact that Dean didn’t want Sam to see what a shitshow his life had become.)

So, Dean had been struggling but he got through on the thought that, once he saved enough money, he’d join Sam in Palo Alto and kiss this crummy town (and their dad) goodbye. 

That was until today at least, when Sam called Dean during his lunch break to tell him that he’d asked his girlfriend, Jess, to marry him. He was flustered because it had been a spur of the moment thing but the first thing he’d done after was ring his brother. 

Dean was over the moon for Sam. Until Sam told him that him and Jess, of course, would be moving in together. 

“But it’s okay,” Sam had said.

“You can still come out here,” he’d said. 

“We’ll find you your own apartment,” he’d said. 

Dean’s stomach had dropped. He’d been saving all the money left over after bills (which wasn’t much on a basic mechanic’s salary) to pay for the first few months rent on a place with Sam. He’d just needed enough to cover him while he found a job. Finding somewhere new and on his own would be even more expensive. It was going to take even longer now for Dean to get out. 

He’d congratulated his brother and ended the call as soon as he could. He could have broken down right there but he had to get back to work and couldn’t lose his job, now more than ever. 

Later, he’d trudged through his front door. He’d spent all afternoon thinking of what he could do now his plans had changed. But nothing motivated him. 

He’d been so in his head that he hadn’t noticed the state of his apartment at first. Once he’d entered the living room, he saw that everything had been overturned. The shelves and cupboards had been ransacked. 

Immediately, he’d felt sick when he saw that the tin he kept his savings in had been emptied. He knew straight away who had been there. His dad. John was the only other person with a key and there were no signs of a break in. Dean cursed himself for even giving John a key in the first place. John didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about stealing from his own son. 

So now, Dean had nothing. No plan. No money. No brother or father. Nothing. 

What was the point? 

That’s how Dean had ended up here. On the outskirts of the city, walking towards the bridge that led into town. 

Sam had a new life and it didn’t include Dean. It was obvious, but it was okay. 

He took a deep breath as the bridge came into view. He took determined strides towards it. He knew that if he hesitated for even a second, he wouldn’t go through with it. He’d chicken out like always. And for once in his life, he wanted to get something right. 

Blinded by his tunnel vision, Dean failed to see the person walking towards him. He only snapped out of his determined walk when he collided with the person’s shoulder. 

On instinct, Dean reached back to steady the person - a guy it seemed. “Sorry, man,” he apologised. “Wait. Cas? Is that you?” He couldn’t believe it. Castiel Novak. He’d recognise those blue eyes anywhere. 

Those blue eyes squinted back. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Dean’s heart sank. 

He and Cas had known each other in high school. 

They weren’t necessarily the best of friends. They were partnered for biology class. Despite what his appearance of tattoos and piercings might have made people think, Castiel wanted to be a doctor. He was smart as hell so he already knew it all. And Dean, well, he’d already figured out by then that he’d never amount to anything so he just didn’t try. 

The two boys would sit at the back of the classroom and mess around like two teenagers would. Cas was known around school for being a bit of a class clown and he easily managed to pull Dean down with him. 

They never spoke outside of biology. Castiel had his own friends and Dean, well Dean didn’t have any friends really. To anyone else, it was as if they didn’t know each other at all. But, regardless, those lessons with Castiel were oftentimes the highlight of Dean’s day. He always knew he’d leave school that day with something to smile about. 

Unfortunately, once biology classes ended, so did their fleeting friendship. Dean assumed Cas had gone to some top college and hadn’t looked back to their shitty town. 

But now he was back. 

And he didn’t remember Dean. 

Of course, once again, the friendship meant more to Dean than it did to Cas. Would anyone ever care about Dean the same way he cared about them?

Dean let his shoulders slump and he turned to carry on his journey towards the bridge. “Forget it.” he mumbled. 

He cursed himself for thinking, perhaps hoping, that maybe seeing Cas at this moment was a sign not to go through with this. A sign to keep fighting for something. 

What an idiot. 

He started walking away when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Dean,” Cas’ voice came from behind him, “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, messing around. Like we used to in high school? Of course I know you. I couldn’t forget you.”

Dean turned around to look at Cas. He could see Cas’ lips carry on moving with speech but the sound didn’t reach Dean’s ears. He didn’t know what to think or feel or say. 

When he still hadn’t said anything, Castiel stopped his ranted apology to take a breath and look at Dean properly. Dean didn’t know what the other man could see in his face but whatever it was made Cas’ expression change from one of confusion to soft concern. 

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel reached back across the gap between them and touched Dean lightly on the back of the hand. 

Was he okay? 

God, how could he answer that question? 

Am I okay? Dean asked himself. No I’m fucking not okay. 

The adrenaline that had been pushing him through the last hour after finding his apartment trashed, left his body. The whiplash of emotions he’d been feeling drained the energy out of him. He didn’t want to die but he couldn’t carry on with this blackness tethered to him. 

Am I okay?

I’ve never been okay. 

Before he could stop them, tears began to fall from Dean’s eyes. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “I’m not okay.”

With no hesitation, Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean struggled to speak through the sobs that had started racking through his body, so Castiel just squeezed tighter and stroked a comforting hand through Dean’s hair. 

When the sobs subsided, Dean pulled away from Cas and immediately cringed at the scene he’d just created. 

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry, man.” He wiped the tears from his face. “Look, just forget this happened. It was good to see you. I gotta go.”

Dean tried to leave again, turning once again to face the bridge. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice cut through the night air. “I’m not letting you go anywhere right now. Not when you’re like this.” Blue eyes looked at his earnestly. “Please, Dean, if something happened now, I’d never forgive myself.” He looked behind Dean, at the bridge looming.

Dean didn’t know if Cas had actually figured out his plans but it had been so long since someone had asked if he was okay and actually seemed to mean it. 

Maybe, Dean was being naive. Maybe this would lead to disappointment again but he had nothing left to lose. The bridge would still be there tomorrow. Nothing would change if he left it another day. 

Castiel could see that Dean had relented so he reached out to quickly squeeze Dean’s hand. 

“Come on, there’s a 24 hour coffee shop on the corner. We can talk if you want? Or just have coffee.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which Dean was grateful for - he wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to. 

*  *  *

Half an hour later, saw the two men sat opposite each other in the corner of an empty coffee shop. The only other person was the guy behind the counter, who seemed fixated on cleaning one of the coffee machines. 

Dean’s leg was bouncing under the table and he resisted the urge not to bite his nails. Anxiety coursed through his body and seeing his reflection in the shop window didn’t help. The lights in the room showed the harsh truth of the toll today’s events had taken on Dean. 

Castiel hadn’t said much, other than asking for Dean’s coffee order, which Dean was grateful for. But, Dean knew Castiel hadn’t only been offering coffee when he’d invited him here. 

“So,” Dean started, “you’re probably wondering what the hell that was all about..” He smiled self deprecatingly. 

Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s sitting on the table top. “Dean, I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

The feel of Cas’ hand on his made Dean want to cry all over again. The gesture was so small but it had been so long since someone had touched him with any kind of affection. 

“No, Cas. It’s okay. I guess I need to tell someone.”

And from there Dean spent the next hour just spilling his guts to Castiel. Every gory detail of his entire life. 

And Castiel just sat there and listened. Dean had never felt so heard. Normally, someone would listen just long enough to be polite and then change the subject to whatever they’d wanted to talk about. 

But Cas, this dude Dean hadn’t seen since high school (who he’d barely even known then either), had sat for an hour and listened. And he never let go of Dean’s hand. Giving him the anchor he needed to stay in the moment, to feel stronger than he had in years. 

When Dean finished (he’d left out what he’d been planning to do right before he’d bumped into Cas, though he imagined Cas had guessed) he felt like a weight had been lifted. 

He looked to Castiel and saw tears forming around beautiful blue eyes. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine what this must have been like for you to live with all these years.”

“Thanks, man. I don’t like talking about it much. I know other people have got it worse, y’know?” Dean shrugged. 

“Someone else’s problems don’t erase yours, Dean.” Castiel moved his hand to link his fingers properly with Dean’s. “I promise you.”

Dean shrugged again but kept hold of Cas’ hand. He didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to argue with Castiel. 

“Now,” Castiel continued, “I do have an offer for you. You can think about it, you don’t have to say yes. And I understand that it won’t just magically fix all your problems and -”

“Cas, you’re rambling, dude,” Dean smiled. 

“Sorry,” Castiel blushed. “Well, I’m only in town for a few days - I live in San Francisco now.” 

Dean’s stomach dropped. Of course, the one ray of light he’d had in days was leaving for fucking California of all places. Fuck California. 

Castiel must have seen the shift in Dean’s mood again, because he lifted Dean’s chin from where he’d been focused on the scratches on the table. 

“Dean, let me finish,” he said, softly. “As I was saying, I live in San Francisco but my roommate just moved to live with her girlfriend. So, if you’d still like to be close to your brother and have a fresh start, the room is yours.” 

Dean stared wide-eyed at Cas.

“D-Dude, are you sure?” 

“Of course.” Cas assured him.

Dean saw nothing but sincerity in his expression. 

“Look, I can’t guarantee I’ll be the best company most of the time. I’m not used to actually living with someone anymore. Unless you count my dad, I guess, but he’s gone most of the time, God knows where.” Dean shook his head. 

“It’s okay, Dean. We’ll figure it out together.” Cas smiled, shyly. 

A thought occurred to Dean. “But, dude, I have no savings now. I wouldn’t be able to pay rent until I find a job,” he sighed. “And mechanics are probably dime a dozen there. I ain’t special.” He shrugged. 

“Dean, look at me.” 

Dean took a breath and met Cas’ gaze. He still felt so uncertain about his place in this world and he was so used to the rug being pulled from under him. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe would drop. 

“You are special.” Castiel implored. “We may not have seen each other in years, and we weren’t even that close back then, but I can see it in you. You are special. You are talented. You deserve to have a future. In whatever way you want it.” 

“But Cas.” Dean sighed. 

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Castiel frowned. It was a statement not a question. 

Dean couldn’t get over how well Castiel could read him, after so little time spent together. It was like he could see into Dean’s soul. He glanced down at their clasped hands, he certainly didn’t know what that meant but he was grateful for the source of comfort. 

Squeezing Cas’ hand, Dean looked out the window at the street lights shining up at the intimidating bridge above. “I guess, I don’t.” He smiled, softly. 

Silence cushions the two men for a few moments, Dean continues to look out of the window. It’s late so there’s barely anyone out but there’s a few stragglers walking the street, a couple of people rushing home after a super long day at work. And two people walking hand-in-hand along the water edge. They seemed so into their own little bubble that a meteor could hit and they’d be none the wiser. Dean’s mouth lifted at the edge. 

Maybe he could have that one day. 

Fuck it. 

“I’ll do it.” He turned back to make eye contact with Castiel who had been patiently waiting for Dean to gather his thoughts, softly stroking Dean’s hand. 

The responding grin from Cas shone brighter than any of the street lights could ever hope to. 

*  *  *

Two days later, Dean packed up what little possessions he had in his car and started the road trip with Cas back to San Francisco. 

Castiel had insisted that Dean didn’t need to give him a ride, he’d happily fly like he’d originally planned, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He saw it as a perfect opportunity for the two of them to catch up and learn each other. (Plus if he had to do the drive by himself, he was scared he’d change his mind and turn right back around.)

Dean decided not to contact Sam and tell him about his move just yet. He wanted to be sure it was going to work out before getting him involved. He left a note for John but he doubted his father would ever see it. 

It turns out Cas is still as funny and goofy as he was in high school. People shouldn’t be fooled by the tattoos that covered his arms (which Dean looked forward to seeing more of when they got to know each other better). He looked all the part of a punk ass dude but really he was a dork who had a slightly questionable obsession with bees. 

Dean laughed more on that road trip than he had in years. 

*  *  *

It was early evening by the time they arrived at Castiel’s apartment. The sun was casting an orange light through the windows, which made the whole place quietly glow. 

As soon as Dean walked through the door he knew he was home. He wouldn’t be turning back. 

Castiel took Dean by the hand and showed him to his new room. Forgetting the room itself for a moment, the view from the window was beautiful, the evening sun filtered across the bed. Dean could see himself being happy here. 

“It’s not much,” Castiel said, “but it’s yours now and you can do whatever you want with it.” He smiled warmly at Dean. 

Dean beamed back at him. “I’ll wait until I’ve actually got a job before I plan any home improvements,” he chuckled, “Gotta start paying rent first.” 

“Dean, take your time, honestly, it’s ok-” 

Dean’s finger on Castiel’s lips stopped the other man from speaking. “Cas, dude, first thing tomorrow I am job hunting. You’ve given me a chance when I probably didn’t deserve it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life repaying you.” He blushed slightly at what his last few words sounded like, though the idea wasn’t completely unwelcome. 

Castiel understood the unintentional double meaning too, if the pink on his cheeks was anything to go by. 

*  *  * 

Dean still had his bad days. Days when he couldn’t help but feel like such a burden to everyone around him, Castiel especially. Days when all he wanted to do was pack up and run away. Even some days when he wanted to look for the nearest bridge again. 

But for every one of those days, Dean had plenty more that made him keep fighting. For every day that he fell to the floor, he had someone to fight his corner and pick him back up again. 

And, in the end, Dean never needed to redecorate his room. It turned into the guest room less than two months after he arrived. 

-

A/N: I went on a bit of a rollercoaster with this one! First I hated it, now I quite like it and am thinking of doing a couple of timestamps/sequels in the future maybe.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill! 

- 

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(just tagging a bunch of cool peeps, let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in future works)

[sisterofiris]

Do you ever feel kinda guilty for going into history? Like of course what we study is important, but I feel sorta guilty when I see all this stuff about global warming and the dying ocean and all the people in need and that I'm not really doing anything to help. I'm not trying to say I'm super smart or anything, but I could easily go into these higher fields and try and help, but that's just not where my passion really is. But what I study doesn't help people really either. So I'm conflicted.

Yeah, I’ve thought about that too. A couple of years ago, I had a long conversation on the topic with a friend of mine, who studied with me then took a year off to work as a schoolteacher in Madagascar. When he came back, he told me he wanted to continue in that direction, because he felt like he was having a greater impact on the world. That’s entirely justified. Some people feel called to helping others directly and making it their career - and it’s true that history, especially ancient history, falls short of that.

That said, studying history doesn’t mean you’re not helping anyone. For a start, history does help in its own way - historical precedent can guide us in the present, and prove that we are not the first to have a certain experience. But even when it doesn’t help directly, choosing it as your field doesn’t automatically make you bad or selfish. Here’s why.

You can’t save the world by letting your wellbeing pay the price for it. Sure, I could have gone into marine biology. I could have joined politics. I could have left my country to volunteer in a refugee camp. But I’m not good at any of those things, and frankly, some of them (like the refugee camp) would distress me to the point I would be unable to do my job. Even if it didn’t weigh down on me, my efforts would still be half-hearted - because sure, I care about marine life, but I struggle with biology. And the world doesn’t need half-hearted, or worse, broken-hearted helpers. It needs you strong and passionate. If history does that for you, study history, and let other people become scientists and activists. Don’t work in a field that breaks your spirit out of a sense of duty. Remember that the first person you have to save, always, is yourself.

Saving the world doesn’t have to be your job. There’s an idea that your life should revolve around your career, and that if you’re working your “dream job” or in your “dream field”, that should be your only passion, full stop. Never, ever, ever fall for this. You can - and in fact, you should - have other passions and activities on the side. Being a historian doesn’t exclude you from attending climate change rallies or volunteering at a local soup kitchen on the weekends. I don’t talk about other areas of my life online, because it’s not what my blog is about, but that doesn’t mean history is all I ever do. You can write about dead Hittites and also help living people.

You don’t have to save the world to make a difference. There was a time when I was in a really, really bad place. The people who helped me through it were, for the most part, historians. Sure, they may not have saved the whole world - but they helped save my world, and that matters whole lot to me. You can have an impact on someone’s life regardless of what your job is, and you don’t have to make a difference on a global scale to make a difference. Just be kind. Be gentle to humans, animals and your environment alike. Lend an ear or a hand. Smile freely. Make the world a better and brighter place by having you in it. Give it a reason to be saved - not just because it deserves to exist, but because you, in your own small way, make it a good place to exist in.

All this is to say that there is no single way of helping others. Think of it like a battlefield: of course there need to be soldiers, ready and willing to lift the banners, lead the charge, and struggle on through the dirt and blood. But we are not all meant to be soldiers. If the world has peacemakers, and healers, and yes, scholars, it’s because it needs us too. It needs variety - different people working in different ways. There’s a reason we have a Malala Yousafzai and a Greta Thunberg, a Bill Nye and a Mr Rogers. And there’s a reason we have a you. So go be you, whatever that is. If you want to help, it will help.

[sunflowerhae]

-> you’re mesmerized ✉

-> love! triangle (Jeno, Renjun, OC)

-> ♡ ☾ ✓

playlist• heather, conan gray/Something, The Beatles/ flowers in december, Mazzy Star/ A BOY IS A GUN*, Tyler the Creator/ love again, nct dream/ soft universe, AURORA/ butterflies, kacy musgraves•

──────── ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❞

•December 3rd plays in your mind as u and Jeno stand by his locker on the first day back to school from winter break.

•although it was a month ago, u still remember it like it was yesterday

•u and Jeno had gone to the fair in your town

•the last one of the year. They called it the winter festival

•basic

•but ur friend group had a tradition of going together.

•everything was going fine, until you and Jeno had broken off from the group to look at the phat christmas tree.

•you had forgotten a sweater, and Jeno was more than willing to give u his, along w one of his famous eye smiles

•u swore up and down (In ur own head) that that was the day you knew you liked (loved) him

•Jeno couldn’t stop staring at you in it. And when u turned to him, all he said was

•”it looks even better on you than me.”

•and then he kissed u

•yeah

•so this is love

•you thought something would happen when you went back to school that Monday.

•but nothing came. Just Jeno refusing to meet ur eyes

•or talk to u://

•Jaemin said it was because he was scared and that you just needed to be patient

•u accepted it, and waited for the day he kissed u once more

•by Christmas break, y’all were back to being best buds™️

•and you thought maybe when Y’all returned for school, he would have worked up enough nerve to seal the deal w you

•but on that first day back

•in front of his locker

•Jeno locked eyes on the new girl, heather, for the first time

•the way he looked was absolutely beautiful.

•he had wide, open eyes

•and he couldn’t stop staring at her as she walked by and Laughed at something her tour guide said to her.

•yeah, he looked absolutely mesmerized

•but it wasn’t directed at you

•and you knew you lost him

•by lunch, heather was in your group

•turns out Jeno had history with her. And he wasn’t as “scared” as Jaemin said he was at making moves

•all the boys loved her, and while you really wanted to hate her

•u couldn’t deny that she was an absolute angel

•she had an eye smile, like Jeno

•and dimples

•and long, beautiful eyelashes

•and a beautiful laugh

•and she could keep up w haechans jokes, and chenji so easily called her noona, something they never did w you

•Jaemin tried flirting w her, but Jeno looked so protective over her, that Jaemin turned to you and shrugged while wrapping his arm around u

•u wanted to throw up when heather politely asked u and Jaemin how long u had been together

•and Jaemin threw his arm off u, and made gagging noises while the rest of the table laughed

•heather got red, and mumbled an apology to you while bowing.

•You wanted to hate her, you wanted to yell at her. But then, ppl would know that you liked Jeno. Jeno would know. And that was too embarrassing

•so you smiled at her, laughed, and shook your head while holding up a hand

•”Jaemin and me? Please, I’d rather die a lonely virgin with 50 cats”

•Heather laughed, and scooted closer to you, and said “it’ll be so nice to have a girl friend!”

•yes, u wanted to throw up.

•but u just wrapped your arm around her, like Jaemin did to u

•and reassured her that you two were already getting married, while she laughed

•over the course of the next two weeks, she spent more and more time with ur group

•and in three weeks, it was no longer just you and jeno by his locker every morning, but you, Jeno, and heather

•you and her were talking about how terrible the lunch food was

•when Jeno came up, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder Before giving her a kiss on her forehead, to which she blushed furiously for

•your mind went back to four nights ago, when heather scream texted u (“JSNSISHEVRB”) that Jeno had drove over to her house with milkshakes, took her to a park, and asked her to be his gf

•u cried all night, four nights ago

•after he says hello to u, y’all three talk for a while before the bell rings.

•Jeno and heather start walking towards class, talking about some random thing, while u walk slower in the back, basic third wheel style

•you couldn’t stop staring at their interlocked hands.

•u felt bad. Because heather had easily become ur best girl friend

•but u loved her boyfriend

•and u lowkey wanted her to die

•:/

•u felt like this wasn’t fair.

•u had known Jeno far longer than she did

•why did she get him?

•your thoughts silently went on like this for three more months after this incident.

•May 1st.

•every 1st, your group developed a routine of going to this cafe, just down the street from haechans house

•you would all order milkshakes and fries and sometimes burgers or onion rings

•and you would all just have a good time

•you were feeling a lil down today

•heather had told u that her and Jeno kissed for the first time, and said they loved each other

•to make literally all matters worse, she was wearing the sweater Jeno had let u wear, all those months ago

•the pain in ur heart had numbed. It didn’t hurt so bad anymore everytime you saw them w interlocked hands, or w his arm around her, like now, where they sat across from you in the half circle booth.

•you couldn’t stop looking as ur usual waiter, Jane, came up.

•”hey y’all, I hope you don’t mind, but we have a new worker that needs training, and since y’all are so sweet, I figured he could practice on you? Is that okay?” Her sweet southern bell accent made it hard to say no, not that your group of friends would anyway.

•u actually knew Jane quite well. She was in ur grade, and sat next to you in art.

•u loved her honestly

•u also loved how the blush on Haechan’s face increased, and he couldn’t look up to meet the sweet red heads eyes, which were actively looking at the young boy

•ah, young love

•u made a mental note to talk Haechan up to her tomorrow in art (which you texted Haechan under the table, and he looked up at u in surprise with a smile on his face)

•when u looked away from Haechan, up to the new waiter standing in front of you with a shaky voice and nervous eye

•u felt like the air was sucked out of u

•oh my God that’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen

•you knew u looked mesmerized

•wide eyes, open mouth

•u looked like jeno, three months ago

•jeno saw this

•he didn’t say anything, but he saw it

•tbh, jeno did like u on december 3rd

•and he was going to tell u he liked u on the first day back, after break

•but heather was,,

•amazing

•the one thing he ever needed

•his soulmate, he thinks

•that didn’t mean he still didn’t care for u

•but when u so willingly befriended heather, he thought u were okay

•so he never questioned it

•but the way you looked at the waiter,,

•he thought you looked mesmerizing

•so he was going to help u, bc u deserved it

•when the waiter got around the table and finally turned to you to ask for ur drink, he locked eyes on u and

•my man dropped his pencil pad

•he got so red, and went to pick it up, but halted when you started giggling at him

•he sent a smile ur way, then went to reach to get the pad

•renjun had liked u since freshman year

•he hated biology, but ur beautiful smile and the way you threw your head back when you laughed made it waayyyy more bearable

•he had never talked to you, and barely saw you when sophomore year came around

•but that didn’t mean he didn’t think abt u

•u were literally always on his mind

•he was so excited for Advanced Art 3 this year

•he had heard there was a lot of portrait drawings

•and he had gotten marked down before for drawing you for assignments when he wasn’t supposed to (not by much doe because they were THAT good)

•so he was excited to freely be able to draw u

•but bruh when he walked in and u were

•THERE

•ugh he was sad

•not that sad tho bc

•u were THERE

•he saw u a lot with the only other girl in ur friend group, so he felt too embarrassed to say hi

•but he promises his bsf, mark, that he would have if u were alone,,,

•all the damn time

•(mark don’t believe him doe, i agree)

•he had never looked directly into ur eyes

•which is why everytime he drew u, he felt like the eyes were wrong

•so wrong

•but he couldn’t place what it was

•but having u look into his eyes now

•my god he was so excited to go home and draw u

•but u,,,u were not excited

•bc wtf just happened

•u,,at the time,,didn’t know u had just met the loyl

•bc u had only ever really liked jeno before

•u decided to push that shit D O W N

•but jeno

•he was like “nah”

•he had said that he wanted to pay, and before anyone could argue (k like anyone would argue) he grabbed the bill and shuffled heather out of the seat so he could get out

•he grabbed her hand and walked towards the cash register, where jane was standing

•when u saw them holding hands it,,weirdly didn’t bother u

•all u could think abt was that beautiful waiters smile

•jeno and heather walked up to jane nd were like

•”jane, 🅱️ls get our waiter, we have to play cupid.”

•renjun: comes out from the kitchen

•jeno: “y/n, the girl sitting over there? yeah, this is her number”

•jeno: slides over the bill, w ur # written on it (he put it in the section that said “Tip_______” bc he thought he was funny. like, ur tip is a whole ass gf)

•renjun: blush

•jeno: “just tell her who u are bc she doesn’t know we’re doing this but we can tell y’all like each other uwu”

•renjun: huh *sweat*

•jeno: “mkay byeyeeeee”

•renjun indeed did text u that night

•after texting mark first (“JAJSNSNDBSBDBD BRUH GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED” “new phone who dis” “MARK DIS IS SERIOUS DIENDJAJSB”)

•and mark coached him through what to say

•so naturally, renjun looked like a fucking idiot

•but u thought it was cute uwu

•and u were sharpening ur ax to literally murder jeno uwu ❤️✨🌙😌

•when renjun asked u if u wanted to go on a date uwu

•and u were like “ummmm yeth”

•u agreed y’all would over the weekend

•but yet

•when u walked into art the next day and bumped into a rando

•and looked up

•and you and renjun locked eyes

•u had a feeling y’all would be hanging out sooner than the weekend

•the thought had u smiling wide while you said hello

fin.

──────── ❝ end ❞

[lihikainanea]

i know you wrote one time of tiger being insatiable and bill passing out on the floor because he’s had enough, but did you ever talk about what happened after that? like, maybe it’s a day later and tiger oh-so-softly approaches him to see if he wants to go again and he’s just like no tiger i physically CANNOT

Oh god I just can never get enough of this concept, of tiger tiring him out and Bill just can’t take anymore. And like, this is so new for Bill you know? He prides himself on satisfying his lady, on breaking her to pieces, but he’s shit out of luck when tiger is in one of those moods where she just can’t be satisfied. She wants it so much, and Bill is just like...poor Bill is in legit pain. He’s trying so hard. Everything hurts, and when he really gives it his all and manages to make her come again he thinks for sure that’ll be the last time and she’ll knock out....until 3 minutes later, when she’s stroking his hair and biting at his neck and grabbing at him again. I love this image of Bill needing water so he gets up and hobbles to the kitchen where he just deadass lies down there on the floor and falls asleep.

And that’s probably what finally gets through to her that she wore her big dude out--and come on, you KNOW she’s a little proud at that. So when she finds him in the kitchen, she just scratches lightly at his chest, tugs on his arm.

“Tiger no,” he whines pitifully, “No more. Please no more.”

It’s pathetic. He can’t even open his eyes and his speech is whiny as hell and all warbled.

“I know bud,” she laughs softly, “Let’s just go to bed.”

“No more,” he says again because he thinks she’s trying to drag him back for another round, “You broke it.”

She bites back a louder laugh.

“No more,” she says, “Let’s go to bed to sleep big guy.”

She tugs on his arm but he’s deadweight.

“No more,” he mumbles again, and I’ll bet she just drags him down the hallway by the arm, because he can’t move anyway.

And tiger--my dudes, she is a merciful goddess. She’ll let him sleep. She’ll let him sleep the whole night and recuperate. And the next morning, Bill is maybe already out of bed when she wakes up--both because he really needs coffee, and because he’s a little scared he would have woken up to her pawing at him for another round and he just...he’s man down. Literally. He didn’t even wake up with morning wood, that’s how broken he is. And he’s just standing in the kitchen, staring groggily at the coffee machine, watching it drip. He jumps a miles when tiger snakes her arms around him from behind, and he side steps her before she can palm his junk. Backing right up against the counter, he just looks at her and lets out his foghorn whine of despair.

“So that’s still a no this morning then?” she laughs.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he looks at her incredulously, “Tiger you broke me. You broke my biology.”

She quirks a brow, but Bill is still all bug-eyed.

“Look,” he gestures frantically to the front of his boxers--the flat front, with a bulge barely visible where he would usually be standing at attention, “It’s dead. He’s dead.”

“I’m sure I can help wake--” she reaches for him but Bill dives out of the way.

“How can you STILL be this cranked up?” he asks accusingly, “That is not fucking normal.” 

Tiger shrugs, pretty offended.

“How can you STILL be this down for the count?” she snaps, “Come on, isn’t your refractory period supposed to be short? You’ve had all night.” 

Both of their comments cut the other pretty deep. Bill pouts and tiger bristles, but eventually after a few seconds of silence they both look at one another.

“Truce?” Bill says, offering his hand.

“Yeah,” she takes it, “Sorry bud. That was harsh.”

“Same kid,” he sighs, “I want to help, but tiger I...I physically can’t.”

She looks thoughtful for a moment, and Bill suddenly realizes with dread what she’s thinking.

“I’m not taking the little blue pill,” he snaps, pointing at her in warning.

“You did once! Come on it wasn’t so bad?”

“I thought it was an allergy pill tiger,” he crosses his arms, “You know how bad my hay fever gets.”

“Fine,” she sighs, “Can I use Jason, then?”

“Of course you can use Jason,” he says all too quickly, “Please use Jason. Use Jason as much as you want. Do you want something else? We can get another toy delivered like, tomorrow.”

“Jason will be fine,” she says, and she slowly walks towards him. He eyes her warily but lets her wrap her arms around his waist, “But can you...hang around? Maybe do that thing where you kiss my neck just how I like?”

“Deal,” he kisses her softly, and he turns to grab the coffee pot that’s finally done brewing--except tiger tugs on his elbow.

“Great! Now is good,” she says, dragging him away.

“But the--”

“Coffee can wait,” she drags him down the hall and back into the bedroom, and Bill just sighs.