#and I feel like people need to acknowledge that more

[hopegrasping]

Hii a lot of you seem to not get what I mean by this. I'm not saying shitty looking diy are bad. And the ppl making your clothes in the first place that I'm referring to is. Sweat Shop Labor. And while I wasn't As Specific As I Could Possibly Be, I'm kind of shocked none of y'all got this. Harsh reality is, a lot of us Are buying fast fashion pieces at least a few times a year,, ESPECIALLY those of us who are beginners bc !!! Most beginners Don't have the community and resources needed to diy or ask a neighbor. Most of my time avoiding fast fashion has been me spending HOURS of my time thrifting for Years. Bc I was Scared to Look Even More Raggedy than I Already Was. This wasn't caring about fitting in or even about what other people thought. Where I grew up it was either Look Alright (which ie. for me meant Don't Be Symptomatic Of Your Circumstances. It's a pretty backwards bullshit rule ik, too bad we share a world with all the stereotypical assholes you see in the movies. hardly any exaggeration to their cruelty if you haven't already experienced it first hand, like those examples are Barely fictional most times if at all) or... Get Fucked. And that's the case for A Lot of people. Part of being alternative requires the critical thinking to at least be aware of that.

A lot of you have really gotta take a step back when interacting with posts that are in ur community tags. We are neighbors. You are preaching to a choir and accusing your missionaries of blasphemy. Some posts are for beginners who are still scared to "look bad" bc Outside Of Very Specific Online Spaces, regardless of how nice the people YOU know, a lot of us are actually still being ridiculed and shat on for posting our diys. Have you ever been on tt? It's NOT pretty. Ppl eat beginners Alive if they post outside of designated community tags.

So no, it's not bad for diys to look like shit. We as a community literally like that here. But *DIY* will not *INHERENTLY* look *SHIT*. With the exception of people with disabilities that literally prevent them from doing so (and that's Not *All* disabled people btw, you know your limitations better than anyone else fr), most people WILL get better over time. This post is for the people who needed a reason to keep going, not for u to tell me things looking like shit is fine actually SOME PEOPLE DISAGREE! And it's important that we acknowledge that we live in a world of shitheads AND that some people just. Have Preferences.

The idea that diy looks like shit 100% of the time isn't what we need. Diy is For Everyone and that means we need to include ppl who aren't even in our circles. And in order to do that we do need to be encouraging towards people who Actively Want To Learn This Skill.

Everybody likes talking community and how we can all play our part but sometimes I feel like we really hold each other back when it comes to really learning skills beyond the bare bones basics. You want a community sewist? They need to know from the start that they can do a good job even if it'll take some time. Because if they feel like, and read this literally, every last one of their diy projects is going to turn out Shit.. they're Not going to feel comfortable offering their services to anyone. I Know it took a lot for most of us to get comfortable with looking grungy, or maybe it didn't and you've always liked the messy imperfect look. Some people are literally different than you and need a little friendly support pleaseeee stop assuming the worst from people it's Really annoying.

Let go of the idea that diy will inherently look shit. All your clothes are handmade you just don't see the people doing it.

[s1eepy-bear]

‧୨🌿୧ ₊˚ Confetti

pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x fem!reader

summary: you're the new secretary of the team and you meet them for the first time today. among them, a cute brunette stands out.

c/w: MDNI! silly, fluffy, cute, slow burn

a/n: i thought i would get over being nervous after the first time posting but ig thats not the case lol, hope you guys like this one!

button divide by @bernardsbendystraws~

The elevator rises silently, the ground dropping away as the people outside the ex-Stark Tower quickly become distant dots. “Here, it tastes gross, but you’ll need this.” Mel hands you a cheap paper cup filled to the brim with room temp coffee. You accept it with a quiet thanks, but groan internally. Who in the world would do this to a new employee, but your boss is none other than Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, so maybe you should’ve expected this.

To Val’s credit, she puts up a compelling front to the public. She spoke confidently in court to Congressman Gary as if she had nothing to lose. When you first met her during your interview, she smiled confidently and greeted you warmly with a firm handshake. 

But now, she barely acknowledges Mel when she hands her a piping hot starbucks coffee, fixated on a call with someone important from somewhere important. She was unabashedly thirty minutes late, leaving you waiting around in the lobby area earlier. You wonder if making people wait made her feel powerful.

You sip the stale coffee quietly; the dull, bitter taste makes you wince. Val ends her call just when the elevator emits a soft ding, indicating you have arrived at your floor, though she is still tapping away at her screen with her manicured fingers. Her eyes flicker to you for a moment, then dart back to her phone. “Ah, right.” She mutters dismissively, likely having already forgotten your existence. 

The metallic elevator door gently slides open, the three of you make it a step out, and a blaring POP! Sound erupts and gold bursts at your eyes, causing you all to flinch, eliciting a gasp from you, and a small yelp from Mel. 

“Welcome!” A hulking, tall man in a red Captain America-like suit beams excitedly, his voice booming with a heavy Russian accent on his tongue—the beard on his chin wiry and unruly. His large hands make the party popper in his grip look comically small, and a party hat sits atop his bald head. He stands over all of you, an obviously home-made welcome poster stuck unevenly to the white, pristine wall behind him. Specks of gold, sparkly confetti, gradually float over and around you, reflecting random glints of light everywhere, some stuck onto your hair and shoulders.

You know why you’ll need that coffee now.

“Alexei, what the hell!?” Val snaps, her voice full of fury as she throws her hands up, but the man named Alexei doesn’t seem bothered at all. Mel mutters a small “Oh my gosh” to herself with a hand to her chest, attempting to calm her heart. 

A short woman with a bleached, slicked-back bob appears behind Alexei, doubling over, howling with laughter, trying to catch her breath. “Oh my god, you should’ve seen your face, Valentina- That was too good!” She wipes away tears from the corners of her eyes with her thumb. She also has a Russian accent.

“Yelena, you’re in on this, too?” Val scoffs in disbelief.

“We must celebrate new girl!” Alexei gushes boisterously at first, but your stunned silence finally registers after a few seconds, and his excited beam shrinks. “Oh…Uh, sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly to you, clumsily batting at the confetti in your hair and shoulders. “I’m uh, Alexei Shostakov, The Red Guardian!” He perks up again at the end, clearly proud of his title, and you can't help but let out a small chuckle at that.

“Yelena. Sorry about the scare,” Yelena, still amused, introduces herself, though you already know who she is. “We just wanted to mess with Valentina, you got caught in the crossfire.”

“I swear to god, Alexei, if you just shot something or someone…” A tall, more athletic-looking man with short, dirty blonde hair and neatly kept stubble rounds the corner of a hallway, presumably leading to more rooms. You recognize the person to be John Walker, his shirt is damp with sweat from working out just a moment ago. His gaze subtly hardens when he spots company. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Val rolls her eyes. “This is your new secretary, if you will. She will be working closely with the team, taking care of anything you need.” She gives a dismissive flick of her wrist towards Alexei, Yelena, and Walker. 

"You're all theirs," she declares at you, already turning on her heel. Mel offers you a quick, apologetic smile and “good luck” before hurrying after her boss towards the elevator. 

You let out a small sigh of relief, take a moment to reset your emotions, and turn your attention to everyone. “Alexei, Yelena, Walker, it’s a pleasure.” You smile politely and give them your name. You take in your surroundings and suddenly, you lock eyes with a set of dark blue, wide eyes peeking over one of the couches.

Has he…Been there the whole time?

“Oh, um…Hi,” The figure emerges timidly from behind the couch, revealing himself to be surprisingly tall.

Why are there so many tall people here?

He has a head of wavy brown hair, and the ends of his hair curl at the nape of his neck. “I’m uh, Bob.” He smiles bashfully, looking down slightly. His hand messes with the sleeve of his comfy, oversized sweatshirt rather adorably. The dark blue sweatshirt matches his eyes, enveloping him like a warm hug. He closely resembles a puppy that thinks it’s in trouble and you feel an unexpected warmth towards him.

“Hello Bob,” you can’t help but want to tease him. “You’re cute.”

Bob’s face explodes with redness. Yelena whistles loudly as she makes her way to the kitchen. Alexei barks out a laugh. 

“What the hell?” Walker scoffs, acting grossed out. “You just wish she said that to you.” Yelena jokes, to which Walker rolls his eyes at her.

Bob’s mouth opens and closes, busy trying to find an appropriate response. He eventually settles for a small “thank you.”

“No problem, Bob.” He lowers his head in shyness when you give him the prettiest smile he's ever seen. The kind of smile that makes his heart beat a little faster.

“I usually…Don’t hide behind furniture…” Bob stammers out, one hand rubbing the back of his neck out of nervousness.

From the kitchen doorway, Yelena calls out, "Since your official tour guide has abandoned you, I can show you around." She walks into view toward you, a glimmer of mirth in her voice. "Unless you'd rather Alexei give you the 'Red Guardian' version. You'll probably learn less that way."

“Nonsense!” Alexei frowns. “What’s wrong with mine?” 

Yelena smirks playfully. “She will probably be stuck listening to you talk about your trash ass car for hours.”

“My car is not ‘trash ass’.” Alexei tries to protest, but Yelena has already started pulling you away from the common area. Her grip on your arm is firm but not unkind, and she moves with a swift efficiency that leaves Alexei's complaints behind. You catch Bob’s eyes when you look back, he gives you a little wave, a timid smile still gracing his lips as the spacious common room shrinks from view. 

“Catch you later, Bob.” You say more to yourself.

[kelltonic]

★Spencer Reid Heacanons☆

Mostly Domestic + Dating, normal habits, + a bonus of Hotch’s sister x Reid

A/N: I tried to keep it very open while being descriptive cause I personally hate when I’m reading a really good fic or headcanons post describing the reader and it’s just… not me. Anywho, first time writing for Spencer!! Recently got back into criminal minds - but I’m only on season 6 (^-^;)

Warnings: None!! Just fluff ♡ (no use of Y/N or specific gendered reader, aside from bonus)

Dating ♪

- Spencer has a habit of lying on top of you on the couch or in bed, his head resting on your chest or occasionally in the crook of your neck. It’s calming, listening to your heartbeat, grounding even. If he’s had a particularly hard week at work, he’ll come home saying little to nothing, and just lay there with you. He can’t stop holding onto you, you’re his lifeline.

- When he’s awake and energetic, talking to you is his greatest form of affection. But when he’s sleepy or emotionally exhausted, just touching you is all he needs. He tends to hug you from behind, resting his head in the crook of your neck or just beneath your jaw. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep and you’ll progressively feel the weight of his body increasing, almost like a weighted blanket - but breathing.

- He loves playing with your hair. Whether it’s long, short (or even shaved) - he loves the feeling of brushing his hands through your hair. If it’s long, and it’s during a time he cut his, he brushes through your hair, kind of as a reminder of his. That being said, he loves it when you brush his hair. He usually forgets to, especially after his work when he just wants to sleep - so sometimes you brushing his hair soothes him to sleep.

Normal Habits ☀︎

- The moment he discovered audiobooks, he either:

Became absolutely obsessed, as it meant he could listen to his favourite novels literally wherever - and no one would realise it. However, he was a little annoyed he wouldn’t be able to listen to his favourites in the original languages, like Russian. There weren’t a lot of accessible audiobooks for him like that. That was until Garcia managed to scour the depths of the web and found the dodgiest recordings of old classics in a multitude of languages, almost like an early birthday present. She somehow found a recording of the bible in the original Latin, which made Spencer practically scream in joy. However, Garcia along with everyone else thinks it sounds more like a reading from the devil himself.

Or alternatively…

He despises audiobooks. Not in general, sure he acknowledges it makes books more accessible for people who struggle with visual reading, which is what he respects about them. But for himself, he hates them. The voices are either too monotone for him to appreciate, or when they try to do the voices they just aren’t how he imagined them. Not to mention they’re way too slow for him.

+ Bonus!! (Hotch’s little sister! Reader)

- At first, Spencer was terrified to ask you out. On one hand, you were one of the first people to stay fully engaged in one of his 30-minute rambles about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. On the other, you were Hotch’s sister. His respected friend, partial mentor and more importantly - his boss. That’s why the day after your first date, his blood ran cold the second Hotch called Spencer up to his office. Surely Hotch wasn’t so low to fire one of his team members purely because he spent the night with his sister? His little sister who he seemingly cares more about than anyone aside from his son, despite being a fully capable adult. Fortunately, that had nothing to do with the meeting Hotch called. It took weeks until Hotch actually picked up on any of the signs between you two. Now that was one of the most terrifying moments of his non-work life.

[xoxolaw]

+ THE TURNING POINT

this is an interactive story. if this is your first time seeing this, then hop over to introduction - to get the idea behind this story.

+ CONTENTS

+ CH A1

She didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t really have the energy to.

Even though a part of her wanted to be alone—to sit in silence, to disappear into herself—she didn’t mind him sitting beside her. Si-eun didn’t speak either. He didn’t ask. He just pulled out a chair and sat down like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Soft light filtered in through the windows, golden and gentle, slanting across the wooden desks. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped, and in the quiet, the steady scratch of Si-eun’s pen filled the air—calm and rhythmic, like breathing.

For once, the silence didn’t press down like a weight. It didn’t feel heavy or sharp or like something that needed to be broken. It felt… gentle. Like a soft blanket laid over both of them. Not to smother, but to keep them warm.

She folded her arms on the desk and rested her cheek against them, turning her head just enough to glance at him.

Si-eun was leaning slightly forward, his face angled down toward his book. His dark hair fell a little into his eyes, catching threads of sunlight like black ink streaked with gold. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, lips parted like he might be about to whisper something—but he didn’t. He kept reading, turning a page with quiet fingers.

She wondered if he was really focused on the words. Or if his mind was drifting like hers.

“You’re not going to ask?” she said softly. Her voice barely disturbed the air between them.

Si-eun didn’t look up. “About what?”

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” Her tone was even softer now. “Me, standing in the fighting ring. And the girl. Lying there. Covered in blood.”

Something in the air shifted—not dramatically, but just enough to be noticed. Like a single thread pulling tighter in a woven pattern of calm.

His pen paused mid-sentence.

For a few seconds, the only sounds were the distant ticking of the clock and the faint creak of a chair as someone shifted in a back corner of the room.

Then, he set his pen down with quiet care and turned to face her.

“I did,” he said simply.

No judgment. No hesitation. No fear in his voice.

Just quiet acknowledgment.

She looked away, pressing her forehead a little deeper into the cradle of her arms. Her throat tightened.

“I thought you’d say something,” she admitted. “Ask me questions. I thought you’d… look at me differently.”

“I did look,” he said gently. “But you didn’t look like someone who wanted to be asked.”

Her chest tightened. Something about the way he said it—so honest, so kind—made her feel seen in a way that wasn’t invasive.

And then her phone buzzed with a loud ping, the notification cutting through the moment. She didn’t move to check it.

“There are already plenty of people who want answers,” Si-eun said quietly, his gaze dropping to his bag. “You don’t need one more.”

She watched him rummage through his things, eventually pulling out an old pair of wired earbuds. The cords were tangled, like they hadn’t been touched in a while.

“You listen to music when you study?” she asked, voice still a little hoarse.

“Sometimes,” he said, working to untangle the knots. “When the silence gets too loud.”

He didn’t offer them to her right away. Just rolled the cord slowly between his fingers, thinking.

Then, without fully looking at her, he turned slightly and asked, “Do you want one?”

She hesitated. Blinked. “I don’t think I can focus right now.”

“It’s not for focus,” he said. “It’s just to breathe.”

That made her pause.

And slowly, she reached out, took one of the earbuds, and slipped it into her ear. He did the same with the other.

A soft instrumental began—just a few slow guitar notes and a gentle, steady rhythm. Nothing dramatic. Nothing flashy. Just something that filled the silence without demanding attention.

They didn’t speak after that.

He turned back to his book, flipping another page. She just stared at the floor tiles, watching the sunlight crawl across them inch by inch. Every now and then, their shoulders would brush, barely there. Every now and then, a song would shift, and they’d both pause, just for a second, to listen to the transition.

And slowly, the storm inside her—the sharpness of guilt, the ache of not knowing who she was anymore, the fear—began to quiet.

Not vanish. But soften.

She didn’t know if Si-eun truly understood her. Didn’t know if he even could.

But he hadn’t walked away.

He sat with her.

And right now, that was more than enough.

---

The evening was lazily drifting into dusk, that soft golden hour where nothing really mattered except being a little stupid with people who didn’t make you feel wrong.

Baku, Gotak, and Jun Tae found her first—she was leaning against a lamppost near a quiet corner, her phone in hand, looking like she’d been standing there for years.

“Yo, you seriously vanished,” Baku said, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “We were about to put your face on a milk carton.”

“We even asked that grumpy old lady with the candy stall if she saw a lost little ghost wandering around,” Gotak added with a laugh.

Jun Tae just shook his head, arms crossed. “You know how to stress people out, don’t you?”

She gave them a small smile. Barely there—but real. What struck her more than their words was how nothing felt different. They weren’t avoiding her. They weren’t tiptoeing around her. The people at school had already started whispering behind her back, treating her like something broken. But these three?

They were the same.

“So what’s the plan?” Baku asked, bouncing slightly on his heels. “We gonna get kicked out of somewhere or just sit around being philosophical?”

“Dumb stuff,” Gotak said solemnly. “I’m done being wise.”

The next hour was spent being as dumb as possible.

They challenged each other to find the weirdest object on the street. Gotak returned with a half-melted ice cream cone stuck to a plastic spoon. Baku found a mangled sneaker with barely any sole left. Jun Tae somehow lured a stray cat into posing for a selfie. The cat looked like it hated them all equally.

Eventually, the sneaker was declared their group mascot. They took turns posing with it like it was a celebrity.

Y/N suggested sneaking into the small, overgrown playground nearby. It was technically off-limits, which of course meant it was perfect.

They dared each other to swing as high as possible. Baku tried to jump mid-swing and failed spectacularly, crashing into the sandbox and eating a mouthful of sand. Everyone laughed so hard they nearly cried.

Si-eun didn’t do much. Just sat on one of the swings, occasionally adding a dry comment that somehow made everything even funnier. And every once in a while, Y/N would glance at him—still quiet, still steady—and feel that same calm from earlier, like he was anchoring the space around him without even trying.

Eventually, they ended up outside a 24-hour convenience store, sitting on the cracked concrete steps, passing around cups of instant noodles.

“This tastes like cardboard with seasoning,” Gotak muttered between slurps.

“We should open a five-star restaurant,” Jun Tae said. “Just serve these with fancy names.”

“Cardboard a la spicy,” Baku chimed in.

They laughed, leaning into each other, the warmth of the street lights wrapping around them like a second skin. And for the first time all day, Y/N could breathe without everything hurting.

---

Later, when the night began to settle in for real, and the air grew cooler and softer:

“I’m gonna head home,” Y/N said, standing slowly and brushing the sand from her skirt. “Thanks. For staying with me today. I… really didn’t want to be alone.”

Baku gave her a light punch on the arm. “You better not disappear like that again. Seriously.”

Gotak nodded, face uncharacteristically earnest. “We worry about you. Even if we don’t say it a lot.”

Jun Tae smiled softly. “We’re always here. Okay?”

Her chest swelled with something warm and achy. “I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Then Si-eun stepped forward.

“I’ll walk you home.”

The others exchanged looks, said nothing. Just nodded and let it be.

The walk was quiet. Peaceful.

Streetlights glowed above them, casting pools of soft amber along the sidewalk. Shops were closing. A soft breeze brushed past now and then, cool against their skin. Si-eun didn’t speak, and he didn’t need to. His presence said enough.

Y/N hugged herself loosely. Not because she was cold—just because she was full. Her chest felt full. Not with fear. Not with guilt. Just… something softer.

“I thought today would be horrible,” she murmured.

He glanced at her. “But it wasn’t,” he finished gently.

She nodded.

“I didn’t know I needed that,” she admitted. “To laugh. To forget for a while. Just to… exist.”

He gave the smallest smile. The kind you had to be looking closely to catch.

When they reached her gate, she paused. The porch light spilled warm yellow across the gravel path.

“They’ll always be your people,” Si-eun said quietly. “Even if you run.”

She turned to him, surprised by the weight of his words.

And for a moment, it felt like she could cry. But she didn’t.

She smiled instead.

“Goodnight, Si-eun.”

“Night,” he said, waiting until she disappeared inside before turning away.

What she didn’t know was this—

That earlier that afternoon, when he had left the library for a moment, he had pulled the others aside.

“She doesn’t need questions,” he said, calm but firm. “She just needs space.”

Jun Tae had frowned. “I know what happened. It wasn’t her fault. That fight… it just went wrong.”

Gotak crossed his arms. “We know who she is. She's not a monster.”

“Yeah,” Baku added with a small, almost fond laugh. “She’s still her. That doesn’t change.”

Si-eun had only nodded.

That was enough.

Because even when she couldn’t defend herself— They would.

And even when she felt like breaking— They would stay.

And that, more than anything, meant she wasn’t alone.

continue to CH A2

crafted for you with love by - xoxolaw

[itoshiierae]

hii theree !!! can i request hcs for yandere!izana ??? 🥺🥺 been having a lot of brain rot of him ever since edits of him landed on my fyp after so long 😣

ᡣ𐭩 notes: ohhh you already know this man has abandonment issues and if you ever try to leave him??? yeah, no. he goes absolutely feral. the moment you even think about walking away, he’s already three steps ahead… 🫣

ᡣ𐭩 cw: yandere themes, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, obsession, implied stalking, isolation tactics, babytrapping

𖥔 yandere!izana who never tells you not to leave, he just makes sure you have nowhere else to go. your favorite café suddenly closes down after three years of operation. your old friends??? start pulling away without warning, offering vague excuses like “just busy” or “need space,” until their replies stop coming altogether. basically everything outside of him starts to crumble, until he’s all that’s left for you to lean on.

𖥔 yandere!izana who doesn’t track your location himself, he has people for that. he doesn’t believe in invading your privacy directly. he believes in keeping you safe efficiently. so every place you visit, every person you interact with, someone reports it to him directly. and if you ever mention how eerie it feels??? he just hums, “maybe you’re just not used to being protected properly.”

𖥔 yandere!izana doesn’t handle jealousy with tantrums. he handles it with strategy. “he’s just a friend,” you say. “mm,” he hums, barely acknowledging it. but then your friend suddenly gets blacklisted. and the worst thing is, you don’t even realize he was the cause of it…. not until much later when you start putting the pieces together. but by then, you’re already isolated, already tangled in a web spun from his love and obsession.

𖥔 yandere!izana who takes you to rooftops. not just any rooftop, but his rooftop. the one he’s claimed as his own escape from the noise & the world that’s always demanded too much from him. he likes the idea of having you up there where no one can interrupt, no one can reach you unless he says so. the elevation is more than just physical; it’s symbolic. you belong in a place no one else can touch.

𖥔 yandere!izana who lets you believe you’re independent. that your choices are your own. but if you could only see the strings he’s pulling behind the scenes — the favors, the threats, the quiet influence. you’d realize you’ve always been moving inside the circle he drew around you all along.

𖥔 yandere!izana who babytraps you after you threaten to leave him following an argument about how possessive he’s become.

“look… you’re not going anywhere. i’ll take good care of you and our baby.”

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur acknowledged Marc’s arrival with nothing more than a glance. Not welcoming, not drawing attention to him, but noting that he had chosen to arrive here; there was no need to single him out, the same as the rest of the group. 

The woman with the scar cleared her throat. She didn’t uncross her arms, but she did speak, her voice rough and quiet. 

“I don’t remember what happened,” she said. “… To my arm. Not exactly. I… I remember the sound. Of my fire alarm, uh… I remember how it smelled. After everything, y’know. But… but I think my brain skipped the in-between? It’s like… like I was there, and then I was gone, and then I was screaming.” 

A silence followed her, one where Arthur only nodded - listening, interested, though not saying anything that might pressure her in any direction. 

The man by the window glanced over. “… I was in the kitchen,” he said. “No combat zone. No battlefield. Was my mother’s birthday - would’ve been, if she was alive.” 

Someone in the group made a sound at that, almost sad - nothing more than proof that they were listening. 

“I was making eggs,” the man continued. “Then I wasn’t. I was on the floor, the pan was fucked, I thought there was fuckin’ — glass in my hands, and I couldn’t get it out. But there wasn’t.” 

“Was it a memory?” Someone asked, briefly pulling Arthur’s gaze before he looked back to the man. 

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t know what it was.” 

Arthur nodded again. “A lot of trauma doesn’t announce itself,” he voiced. “It doesn’t come back in order, or fully formed. It stays in the body.” 

He looked over the group, for a moment - everyone was listening, even if some were still choosing to stare pointedly at the floor. 

“When we talk about memory,” he continued, “We’re also talking about absence. About silence. About moments we’ve tried to forget. Does anyone have anything like that? Getting it out of your body can be a great way to work with it.” 

A moment passed. Then two, then three. 

“… I don’t think mine’s a memory,” said the teenager across from Marc; freckled, short hair, sleeves pulled over his hands. “But I still feel it. Every time I brush my teeth, I mean. And - and I know that sounds stupid, y’know, but - I get this tightness in my chest? Like I can’t swallow? Like - like something’s gonna go wrong. So I just… decide to do nothing. And then I feel like shit all day.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Arthur replied, almost immediately. “The body doesn’t need something to be rational to respond to it. It just needs to have felt something once.” 

Someone hummed, either in agreement or comfort. Then came the next voice, thin and papery, from an older woman; she also held a cane, leaning it in her hands as she sat. 

“I used to keep a pair of shoes outside my bedroom door,” she informed. “For thirty years. I don’t know why - my husband thought it was silly, he said someone would trip. But if they weren’t there, I just… couldn’t sleep.” She tilted her head. “Last year, my niece found them and asked if they were her mom’s. I don’t know why she did that - her mother died when she was four.” 

The teen muttered ‘Jesus’, at the same time Arthur nodded. 

“Trauma anchors itself,” he answered. “It doesn’t leave just because you don’t look at it. It can build routines and habits, like what you see in yourself; and it can build other things, for people like your niece.” 

There was another hush after Arthur’s words, as everyone listened. It was in the air how much they actually listened to it versus how much they just pretended to, but he didn’t mind; the purpose of the group was to socialize, to understand that you weren’t alone. 

“… I used to wake up to sirens,” said a man near the back, quiet. “Not real ones. Just the sound in my head. Every night at two or three in the morning, I’d get a full adrenaline spike. Throw on my boots, try to figure out who needed me.” 

A few people hummed, nodded. Arthur did as well, his eyebrows furrowing again; something he only did when he took a mental note. 

“I don’t really talk in these,” spoke a woman to Marc’s left. Her voice was quiet, but she was smiling gently. “But I like hearing everyone. It makes me feel less… I dunno. But… last week I cried because someone bumped into me and said sorry. And it was just so nice.” 

“I get that,” agreed the teen. “My roommate said good morning once, and it was a lot.” 

Arthur didn’t speak much during the group, though he smiled and nodded frequently; his eyes always shifted to whoever was speaking, listening softly, politely. He never pushed anyone to talk, never demanded more; though he did find himself wishing that Marc would open up, speak any at all; even just in response to someone else. 

Marc ends up following that schedule he's been given.

...Somewhat.

It turns out that having meals at set times is actually the easiest for him to do; No, he's not enjoying the process of consuming food - which isn't the kitchen's fault, because everything is rather decent in quality and taste, all things considered. He's just lacking an appetite, and nothing he consumes makes him feel better in any shape or form... but he does manage to eat a suitable amount. Enough to keep him going, enough to make sure his body won't crumble and fall apart. ...As bitter as the coffee is, he's actually enjoying that one the most; A habit of his he can keep holding onto, having a cup of coffee in the morning. It feels... good. Secure. Familiar. Would be even better if he were to allow himself a bit of sugar or milk to go with it...

He's not there yet - allowing himself to even have that one cup of coffee in the first place is almost dancing at the edge of being too much, too generous, so he's going with a plain, black one for now.

The rest of that schedule that Harrow has created for him turns out to be a bit more of an issue - because Marc does not really want to go and see what's going on in the community room, does not want to join anyone doing anything. Since the other had phrased said task rather broadly, however, Marc decided to take it quite literal - found something going on, took a seat a bit further away, watched it happening. Looked at some guys working on a puzzle, then looked at a young girl painting at a closeby window.

...Trying to not come across as super creepy while doing that, yeah. He's, uh, not really eager to be seen as a weirdo... for rather obvious reasons.

He ended up doing that for a bit, then went to get himself something to read; Apparently there's a library existing within this facility, and Harrow had ordered him to go there, pick something up he'd like to read through. That task turned out to be rather easy to do as well - Marc sure as hell did not expect the library to look the way it does, and he also did not expect it to hold so many different books to begin with... many topics, many genres, almost anything a heart could ever desire.

Journaling, however? That's something he hates - he knew he would, but once he'd sat down in front of those stupid empty pages, he'd stared at them for almost a whole hour without writing a word. Everything had felt wrong, not worth it to be noted down, too stupid... all of that combined.

---He did manage to write something into it, in the end, despite it all - one single sentence, written in neat, slightly curved letters: I don't like writing journals.

--

He's never too late for anything, prefers to be early, if Marc can somehow manage to do that. And despite having decided the evening before that he would not join that stupid group meeting - because honestly, why should he? - he's... well, here.

Having stopped at the door frame, glancing into the room, Marc watches other people take a seat at whatever chair they seem to prefer; Harrow's already there, ready to start it all off---

Marc could still leave, turn around and make his way back down to his own room. Enjoy the peace and quiet there, the solitude, the white walls and white floors and white ceilings. He could change his mind about it all, could nope the fuck out and do something else...

But it's written onto his schedule and... what else is he even supposed to do? Drawing? Solving a damn puzzle? Well, he could read another book, but... he technically isn't asked to do that until later today, so...

...A sigh, Harrow's voice beginning to echo through the room - as much as it can, with it always being so quiet, level. Means that Marc is now a tad bit too late, if he's being strict with himself... Shit.

A swallow, a lick of his bottom lip, and Marc finally kicks his ass - enters the room with quiet, tentative steps, walking over to where the rest of the others are already sitting and waiting for whatever is going to happen; Eyes are on him, Marc can tell, and he has a brief, rather awkward lookaround before taking a seat on one of those empty chairs - ends up sitting closest to Harrow in a suitable distance.

Arms cross in front of his chest, a firm, slightly unhappy yet somewhat curious expression on tired features - a drilling gaze thrown at someone who stares at him, which causes that guy to finally look away. Good. Marc hopes it stays this way.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog may 2k25

books

edith wharton, the house of mirth - first reread since high school, even better than i remembered (although the early stuff with rosendale is also even more antisemitic than i remembered lol). lily bart really just one of my favorite characters in all of literature… girl too pretty to get a job but too possessed of a certain inner spark to marry out of her money troubles, trapped by her circumstances, doomed by her upbringing, suffering as much for her occasional flinches away from the expected course of her life as for her desire to walk to its end… this book just rules

sofia samatar, a stranger in olondria - cozy and pleasurable to read in a way that put me in mind of some childhood fantasy reading. i really love samatar’s prose and i admired how meticulous her worldbuilding was, as well as how expertly she seeded exposition into the book, but i don’t know that i was ever fully grabbed by this… glad i read tender first because if i’d read this i’m not sure i would have felt a need to seek more samatar out and then maybe i never would have read tender and learned that this book is like a tenth of what she can do.

jeremy gordon, see friendship - i really wanted this to be a third-time’s-the-charm thing for me and novels by people whose internet nonfiction i like, but, alas, it was Merely Okay (although i guess that still puts it in first place in that niche genre for this year?). i think the premise is pretty good — magazine writer feeling pressure to Do A Podcast learns that high school friend’s sudden death wasn’t from natural causes but from a heroin overdose, decides to pitch a podcast on investigating the story — but the execution was just kind of whatever… the novel is written in a very bloggy/internet nonfiction style and in theory this makes sense given the protagonist’s vocation but in practice while it was easy to read i felt like it also kept me from ever really feeling anything for any of these people… the observations felt like blog observations and not like things a novelist was telling me or realizations or feelings or thoughts characters were having. it hit its beats but faintly, feeling more like an outline of a story than a real one. i felt like it didn’t dig enough into its potential conflicts, everything sort of resolved too easily… i read an interview with gordon where he said something like, unlike his character, if he got the sense his continued employment depended on making a podcast, he would probably keep doing what he was doing until he was fired, and i feel like the vibe of that casualness seeped into the book even though on paper the protagonist didn’t want to get fired. all the character voices sounded basically the same… i also felt a certain, hm, debut novelist anxiety about needing to articulate reasons for doing or thinking or saying things that didn’t really need to be explained (i recognized this as a habit i have to fight in myself at times lol). idk. didn't land! will say i got nervous seeing blurbs on the cover from brandon taylor (the first disappointment in this category this year!) nd lauren oyler but was like well authors don't get to control their blurbs... but then in the acknowledgements he names oyler as a friend. so. alright. lmao.

kai bird & martin j. sherwin, american prometheus: the triumph and tragedy of j. robert oppenheimer - obviously a huge achievement (research for the book, which was published in 2005, started in the 70s…), and a solidly written one. i had a phase in high school where i was watching the “i am become death” clip on youtube a lot so i think i’m kinda the target demo for this but i was pretty into it throughout… comparing to the last Tome Biography i read, which was david skaal’s book about bram stoker, i would say i found the digressions less interesting but the central “character” about a billion times more entertaining, which i think is a big part of the book’s appeal… oppenheimer was just such a presence (complimentary and derogatory at the same time), according to everyone who ever met him, and the book seems to capture both what made him so enthralling to those who fell for him and what made him so unbelievably annoying to other people. the authors clearly have a lot of admiration and even affection for their subject (often calling him “oppie” in the narration lmao), but i found them also pretty fair-minded about his flaws, both interpersonally and in terms of his post-war stumbles in attempting to influence nuclear policy… although the context they provide also suggests that this may have been a fairly doomed prospect all along. speaking of context, i liked how clearly, almost exasperatedly, the book emphasizes that hanging out with communists in the 30s was literally the most normal thing in the world for anyone even a little left of center… and the stuff about strauss’s anti-opp crusade really made me feel like if anything the movie underplayed just how much this guy was victimized by the US government in really astonishingly illegal ways!

emily witt, health and safety: a breakdown - my impression of this book was that it was a memoir of getting into the rave scene and finding it unexpectedly transformational, and it was that but also it was kind of just the story of the last like ten years of witt’s life? witt is a very good writer sentence to sentence but i felt like as a book it could have used a little more shaping… but maybe i just didn’t want to read a journalist reflecting on the first trump era / COVID / 2020 protests because i have read that 1 million times including in real time as it was happening. i almost found myself feeling at those parts of the book like i did a million years ago when i read david levithan’s book about three teens living through 9/11, which was like: well i didn’t really get anything out of this because i was like, there, but in ten years people who were very young or haven’t been born yet will be able to read this book and get a sense of what it felt like. i liked the rave stuff because i like books about scenes, perhaps because i am constitutionally incapable of belonging to one myself, and liked her writing about the way listening to techno while on drugs made her feel, the idea that techno kind of broke up reality in a way closer to that of poetry than of prose, that it offered in her phrasing (iirc) “not meaning but space”... i feel like i wanted more of that, as well as more of her disillusionment/distance with the social circle she had when she met the boyfriend who got her into the scene, which sounded interesting but didn’t get delved into. i dunno, she sort of fell for this guy and dropped or change a huge chunk of her identity, and i wanted some more reflection on that and maybe less on what it was like covering parkland even though that was interesting too… but like interesting in a way where maybe these should have been different books. i also… this is possibly straying out of my lane. but. the romantic relationship that gives the book its spine wound up coming to a really brutal end in which the guy spends lockdown smoking catatonia-inducing amounts of weed, gets brutalized at a protest she asks him to come to while she escapes with her press badge, and then spirals into a pretty severe manic episode. and… i feel like… perhaps the book would have benefited… from her not writing about this like… three years after it happened. idk. i do actually know, thankfully only in short-term form, how destabilizing it is to try to have any conversation with someone who is severely manic with twinges of psychosis, and how even as part of you knows something is seriously medically wrong reality has become so bizarre so quickly that you find yourself still trying to engage with them like they can have a conversation and taking their comments personally. and i can’t imagine how much more traumatic and terriyfing that would be if it were happening to me via my partner that i lived with during a pandemic (and she actually captures this quite vividly). and it does sound like his post-breakup behavior was annoying and like he too perhaps had not processed this period of his life particularly well. but… i dunno. it felt fresh in an odd way. (i also kind of agree with the goodreads reviewers who are like, it’s a little weird that she doesn’t link this outbreak to his years of heavy drug use and especially the months of constant pot smoking beyond a line about how not everyone who travels this road makes it out or whatever.) idk. just my onion!

carmen maria machado, in the dream house - really liked this one! the stories in her body and other parties were sort of hit or miss for me as stories, but i like her a lot as a stylist - i think her prose is simple with a very elegant ear, and she and i clearly have some overlap in aesthetic sensibility that makes her sentences very pleasurable. and in this case i also thought the book as a whole was a success. the central conceit functioned both to create formal interest and at times to really effectively dramatize the emotional core of the narrative - i especially looooooved the running footnotes linking moments in her story to tropes from fairy tales and folklore, i thought that was so cool and sometimes incredibly poignant. rare buzz book w!!!

maša kolanović, underground barbie (trans. ena selimović) — i LOOOOVED this book omg!!! it’s a first-person novel, or maybe a collection of vignettes, about a young girl at the start of the yugoslav wars, in what is in the process of becoming croatia (NB: i have like zero geopolitical context and did some start-of-book googling to grasp the basics here lol). the book’s incredible innovation is that it focuses almost exclusively — like, truly, i would estimate 95+ percent of the time by sentence count — on what is most important to this kid at this juncture in her life, which is… the sprawling, highly involved, increasingly deranged narrative web she and her friends spin across their afternoons playing with their barbies. the stories play out, by and large, as stories about the barbies (and, more and more over time, as stories about dr. kajfeš, the mauled off-brand ken who emerges as a sort of freak hero and carries much of barbie world’s gleeful weirdness and occasional brutal violence). i mean: WHAT a concept! i’ve really never read anything that captured childhood in this specific way except for, like, the scene in sally j. freedman where she plays concentration camp (you could not publish that in a children’s book today but judy blume is a genius)... the monomaniacal focus on what the barbies are up to only sporadically interrupted by a hint of the devastation spreading across the region is so darkly funny but also honestly kind of moving to me because of what a dedication it shows to a certain kind of honesty (through exaggeration — but honesty nonetheless) about the world of children and the belief that it’s worth articulating. also there are adorable little drawings throughout!!!! really really great book strong recommend

movies

down with love — ok i actually watched this months ago but forgot to put it in my media post so am putting it here now. anyway rewatching this for the first time since high school, having since actually seen some romantic movies made before 1995 lol, i found it as delightful as and considerably more impressive than i remembered. looks amazing incredible performances really funny smart gender stuff but all in the service of giving everyone a good time and sending us home happy. i love to have fun!! when i was in high school a friend of mine watched this and said she didn’t like it because she found the twist unbelievable and that’s a core memory for me because it’s the first time i can remember recognizing that it was possible for a person to just completely miss the point of a movie they had watched.

minority report — this movie is weird and like kind of gross and unpleasant but also kind of zoomy and fun… it’s alright. great cast tho

the accountant — sat on the couch doing some digital chores/work while n. watched this. kind of weird as a movie in that it’s like, not really smart in the way that movies this focused on documents usually are or aim to be, but also not that heavy on the ass-kicking for an action movie (which is what i was expecting based solely on the trailers for the sequel)... i’m not sure about anna kendrick. like, her whole deal. but i think the concept of “you know those movies about extremely autistic-coded characters whose secret autism basically gives them superpowers? what if we did that but the guy was autistic in canon?” is sort of inherently an intriguing pitch? and i do feel like it could have been about 500 times more offensive than it was.

mission: impossible—fallout — most awesome movie of all time i will not be taking questions

mission: impossible—dead reckoning — not as great as fallout but improves on every viewing for me… i really love how slapsticky and fun all the setpieces are. hayley atwell is sooooo hot in this but also really great at doing action choregraphy/blocking while maintaining the physicality of someone who is not in this life and hasn’t done this before.

the house of mirth — i said on letterboxd that this was probably the closest i’ll ever feel to how die hard marvel people felt watching RDJ’s tony stark for the first time… it’s such a faithful adaptation of the book that i almost feel like it would be totally opaque if you haven’t read the book because everything happens the same but you’re missing the significant portion of the text that is wharton explaining to us why things are playing out as they are. but i know at least two people who really liked it without having seen it so i guess it works if you’re a movie person? for me i was just like wow yeah i love watching my favorite book suddenly turn into a movie… it’s just the book but now i can watch it… i’ve really never had that with an adaptation before. also casting gillian anderson as lily bart (1) really convinced me the x-files hair department should be brought up on criminal charges, the pics i’ve seen of her did NOT familiarize me with her game (2) is really really inspired given that one of lily’s defining traits is that she is so pretty it’s like a superpower that also ruins her life because like... yeah... tru... eric stoltz reeeeally captures selden's charm that captivated me at 17 and also his self-satisfaction that drove me insane as an adult. laura linney as rich sociopath bertha dorset is having sooo much fun and is literally so funny... i had a great time and also felt (correctly) very sad!

mission: impossible—the final reckoning — not as fun as most other entries and somewhat bogged down with stuff that suggests studio interference and/or needing to cut back on budget because dead reckoning went so far over as a pandemic shoot (there are really only 2 giant set pieces compared to the typical 3, and a lot of Previously, On Mission Impossible clip shows in the first act), but these movies are my happy place and once he jumped off the plane into the ocean i was completely locked in to the end. personally i don’t mind how stupid the AI plot is because i personally can’t really distinguish between the stupidity levels of the plots of this series… i’m simply here to laff. lots of great actors putting their whole pussies into pretending to take extremely silly stuff extremely seriously + the two set pieces we did get were like truly and legitimately deranged and terrifying, i’m happy! i’m easily pleased! i would kill but not join scientology to get tom cruise's hip mobility routine!

other

chelsea gallery walk — on a tuesday we went to the chelsea galleries by the west side highway to simply investigate whatever art might be there and it was a cool fun way to spend an afternoon! we had done this i think once before and i really recommend it as a fun free NYC activity for anyone in the area… you get to see a lot of different stuff! i’m not gonna list all the artists we saw but i’ll say that i think my favorite was this michael armitage exhibit.

blonde redhead & bloc party at forest hills stadium — in a tragic turn of events, i somehow missed the memo that metric dropped out of the american dates for their joint tour with bloc party and was replaced by blonde redhead… devastating news for me but we still went and tbh? i had a great time! had never been to forest hills stadium and it was much pleasanter than i anticipated (partly because it’s much smaller than other stadiums i have been to which also meant that even sitting up in the bleachers the view was pretty good and it was nice to see the crowd of nostalgic millennials going crazy for their favorite songs), even though it was also SOOOOOOO FUCKING COLD on may 31st…. blonde redhead was pretty good but bloc party really did it for me! very unexpectedly! honestly the experience made me think i should see more live music, even if i’m going alone… i was surprised by just how much i was enjoying watching a band do their thing.

music

didn’t really have a single that stood out this month so here’s my favorite track from my favorite newish album, samantha crain’s “dart”

albums below the cut! (not quite as high volume as earlier this year... but a decent showing with some good finds)

mei semones, animaru — this is very cool and well done and too jazzy and sophisticated for my personal tastes!

samantha crain, gumshoe — really loved this album, which worked a great sonic groove and has some wonderful tunes… i wish i had more to say about it because it was probably my favorite thing i listened to this month! i just thought it sounded great and i liked how romantic it was in parts… sort of triangulating a space between songwriter/indie rock/folk-ish, mellow but not dull, maybe recommended for, hm, people who have at some point been into ani difranco?“ridin out the storm” and “dart” in particular i have listened to about 1 million times apiece.

salin, rammana — cool thing i probably won’t return to but sounded really good!

suzanne vega, flying with angels — this album was sweet! i like that she did a gender-flipped “i want you” not-quite-cover from the perspective of bob dylan’s chambermaid

car seat headrest, the scholars — every now and then a band that sounds like the killers but less pop (don’t @ me about the niceties of distinguishing between different types of indie rock) catches my ear for whatever reason… these guys were pretty good but would have more replay value if they didn’t have multiple songs above 5 minutes in length (including an 18 minute song… i don’t like you like that…)

lucius, lucius — decent if not particularly special indie pop. “old tapes” is a bop!

jenny hval, iris silver mist — this album was REALLY COOL. it’s much more experimental than i am usually temperamentally open to… but there was something really evocative and mystical and eerie and interesting about it and i’ve found myself returning to individual tracks more than expected.

self esteem, a complicated woman — this album is apparently strongly maligned? i thought it was alright. not quite as weird as i feel like it wanted me to think it was, and very corny in parts but in a way i sort of liked? (the flavors of corn i accept… hard to predict). i liked 69, a song about the bold truth few are brave enough to speak (69ing is hotter in theory than in practice) (if this isn’t true for you congrats on your multitasking skills for real)

blondshell, if you ask for a picture — what’s going on with the indie songwriter girls… this is like the third album this year i’ve listened to where i’m like, why is someone writing in this songwriting register going with the most boring production in the world… i described “what’s fair” to someone as “like someone took a perfectly decent alt-rock song and like… drowned it…” and that’s kind of the vibe…

rincs, swimming pool disco & assorted EPs and singles — dave put their recent single “don’t wanna go to the pool” on a mix and i liked it so much i threw all their old stuff on my to-listen list… unfortunately most of it was more boring and meandering than i would have anticipated or wanted. i did keep some songs for future investigating but once i’d worked my way through i realized that i had been on some level hoping this would be teenage retirement (2014), the lone full-length album by short-lived punk band “chumped,” so i went and listened to that

awakebutstillinbed, chaos takes the wheel — it’s so nice that they legalized women in emo… too harsh for me to return to but i’m not gonna lie really hit the spot on a rainy thursday when i was feeling pretty emo!!! but then also made me want to listen to teenage retirement (2014) by chumped and also their 2013 self-titled EP that was better than i remembered… is chumped one of my favorite bands despite only having like 20 songs that came out more than a decade ago?

bloc party, silent alarm — and ummmm it turns out bloc party is really good? also sort of falls into “the killers but not” category… idk they played a great show and i’ve been listening to this album all day and it rules. i wasn’t actually personally into this kind of thing in high school because i was too busy cycling through exile in guyville/boys for pele/not a pretty girl obsessively for four years straight but i’m like old enough now that this kind of angular-guitar we’re-sad-but-we’re-dancing melodic-yelping indie rock makes me feel pleasantly nostalgic as a person who was 17 in 2005 and therefore like listened to this album even though i never listened to this album iykwim…. i think recent higher-volume album listening + indie production disappointments has also given me a new level of appreciation for the skill level involved in recording an album so that it sounds like you're in a room listening to a bunch of instruments play real loud. also they have a gay frontman and a lady drummer??? no one tells me anything, for silly reasons like i never shut up about how i don’t listen to guys&guitars music… only downside is i’m legit bummed i didn’t have this happen to me a couple years ago because wowwwwwww would this be a record teen quentin coldwater would love, i actively regret not finding my way to putting any of these songs on the resurrection mix lmao. "if it can be broke, then it can be fixed / if it can be fused, then it can be split / it's all under control, it's all under control" ... "if it can be lost, then it can be won / if it can be touched, then it can be turned / all you need is time, all you need is time..." like wow alright! alright!

[cod-dump]

Truly amusing to me that in our nikpricegraves au with granddadler and grandbell, Bell meets Nik and goes "ah yes, i understand this man. very good, you pass inspection. Now. I must Torture the Englishman." And proceeds to say things to Price about Adler and Graves that Price will never unhear.

___

Bell approves of Nik. When they meet they have an intense five minutes of silent eye contact before Bell nods. This one will do, good for their grandson. But John? Poor man already has the odds pitted against him.

As soon as Bell hears he's English there's already a biased. Nik is Russian, runs a PM and is an arms dealer. Bell already favored him before even meeting. And John is meeting Bell, the Bell. The CIA Boogeyman that Kate told him of. There's already a power dynamic.

Bell is hard to impress, they've seen it all by this point and Russell has made it hard for anything to catch them by surprise. John knew the moment they made eye contact that he had his work cut out for him. The man normally does not care to impress, but this was his partner's family. He refused to just not try to form an connection.

Russell, strangely, already liked him, or at least was amused by him. And that doomed him further with Bell seeing that the devil had the need to hate whatever their daughter's father liked. Especially people.

"Has... Bell blinked at all? Since we arrived?"

Dinner was supposed to be just getting to know each other but it felt like it was to negotiate an alliance. The feeling was supported by Bell's unwavering staring.

Nik liked them unfortunately.

"What is blinking if not a moment of vulnerability?"

"Nik..."

"Never take your eye off the target."

John groaned at the joke and Nik grinned, not taking it seriously. Why would he? He's already the favorite and his smugness shows that he knows it. Phillip wasn't any help, he was too used to Bell's... everything to be concerned.

"Ma likes you." He said, like that alone canceled out the fact that Bell was treating him like they were considering whether not they should invest any real interest in him like this was some kind of business deal.

Safe to say he didn't have much of an appetite, even when Helen Park strolled in. In her old age she's allowed herself some petty fun, flicking the back of Russell's as she walks behind him. Russell just huffed, like he was expecting it, and Bell finally turned their gaze from John. It felt like the playing field was being evened out as Helen sat next to John. She was quick to say something to him about his out of character quietness.

"Not a greeting, no acknowledgement. You didn't even get up to offer me a seat. Where are your manners?"

"Sorry, Aunt Helen."

She clicks her tongue, turning her attention to Nik, "You're a bad influence."

Nik doesn't deny it, just grinning. Bell and Helen lock eyes and there's a silent conversation occurring between them. Russell looks between them and clears his throat.

"I'll get the ribs."

That summoned Phillip, who was very quick to grabs Russell's shoulders and force him to stay in his seat.

"Nuh uh, you stay right here."

Russell watched Phillip leave before he immediately stood, Bell giving him a look of what John assumed was their version of amusement. Helen patted his shoulder, giving three seconds before she directed Bell's attention onto him.

"Bell, did you know John is fluent in Russian? Learned for his husband."

Bell locked eyes with him and John tensed. Genuinely, Bell's age did not shake the fact of who they were. They were terrifying. And Phillip’s family. The family part making them much more intimidating.

They leaned forward, staring intently before speaking, "Это так?"

John stared before he dumbly muttered, "Да, конечно..."

Just like that, Bell felt a lot friendlier. John looked at Helen who smiled. Nik nudged him as bickering arose from the kitchen.

"I told your old ass to stay at the table-"

"You are not going disrespect me while desecrating my ribs."

John snorts as the bickering gets louder.

___

I like the idea that Bell did not like Price at first and was very judgy before finally accepting him. Then they torment him with things he did not need to know about Adler. Like, Price has, maybe, a few more peaceful meetings with Bell before Bell decides they can just talk about their lovelife with him. Then he's wishing that Bell stayed with disapproving of him

[magicaldice]

Synopsis: Y/n goes to a party with her bestfriend without telling her toxic boyfriend. She unexpectedly meets Chris sturniolo & things start to unravel overtime.

⚠︎ : read at your own leisure.

any feedback, likes, comments or shares, are appreciated!

pt 1

Once I arrive at my house I immediately go to Katie's room for answers. You haven't answered Jackson yet, you don't want to face him without talking to Katie first.

"Girl I'm so sorry, I couldn't find you anywhere. I tried asking people if they had seen you and nobody could tell me where to find you" Katie said. "I had tried calling you over and over. I didn't leave the party until I knew that you were okay" she says. "What do you mean? Did you end up finding me?" I ask.

"After about an hour of me searching for you, you called me. You were laughing saying you were going to your friend's house. That you were okay and not to worry about you" she continued. "I had just assumed you went home with Lucy" she explained.

After talking more about last night with Katie and explaining how I ended up staying at Chris's house I went into my room. It was time to face Jackson and I don't know if I could keep it together. I mean I feel betrayed in a way, that I tried to call him and he just didn't give a fuck.

If the roles were reversed I would of came and got him. It hurt in a way that I couldn't explain. At the same time I feel a lot of guilt. I went to a party without telling him beforehand. I didn't know how to tell him I blacked out. Or the fact that I spent the night at a stranger's house. I shouldn't have been so dumb. What was I thinking?

I decided to call him, get this over with. The call was what you expected. Him lecturing you, telling you how bad you fucked up. After 15 minutes of listening to him scold you, he says he's going to pick you up.

My anxiety was at peak as I waited for him to pick me up. When he arrived, I so badly just wanted to disappear. I got into his car, and the silence was suffocating. But it only lasted so long. He drove around, calling me names and telling me how bad of girlfriend I was.

"Don't you understand y/n? You're a fucked up person. I don't understand what I did for you to treat me like this" he said. "I know I'm sorry. I just-" his driving became more reckless. "I'm sorry" I repeated. "No you're not. How could you be so fucking selfish?" He yells. "Theres a fucking video posted on social media of you all drunk dancing on a table like some fucking cheap slut " he said harshly.

Tears stream down my face, feeling so worthless and small. Jackson parks in a parking lot. "Listen. You don't get to just go out with your bad influence friend and expect me to not freak out, especially when you didn't even ask me first" he says in a more calm voice.

He grabs onto my thigh and squeezes as I stare out the window, fighting back tears. A pit forms in my stomach. "Babe, I'm sorry for yelling and stuff I just, I just care about you and want to make sure your safe" he expressed while rubbing my thigh up and down.

"I know, I understand. I guess I just wasn't thinking" I respond wiping tears from my eyes. His hand rubbing up and down my thigh makes me feel unbelievably sick to my stomach. "I was worried about you, ya know. I just want to protect you" he says gripping onto your thigh.

I nod my head, hoping that this conversation would end already. Jackson pulls a piece of hair behind my ear. "You know I love you right?" He speaks. I nod my head acknowledging his words. "Say it back" he demanded. "I love you too" I quickly said.

After Jackson and I had talked he drove us to his house. He said he wanted to hangout and spend time with me. I should have known what he meant. As soon as we got to his house, he was already being a little extra touchy. We had sex and then as soon as we got done he said he needed to go to sleep because he had work early in the morning. So he drove me back home and kissed me goodbye.

It made me disgusted with myself. He was right, I let him down and I felt terrible about it. Jackson didn't deserve to be treated like that. I mean he was my boyfriend, his feelings matter too.

later that night

from unknown number: how did things go?

to unknown number : is this chris?

from unknown number: yes maame

to chris: im gonna call you real quick

Ring. Ring. Ring. "Hello stranger" Chris says into the phone. "Can you please tell me everything that happened from start to finish" I say. "That would take forever" he responds. "Please. I need to know" I say clearly stressed about this. "You wanna smoke?" he asks. "What?"

"You seem like you need to smoke. I can come over and we could smoke, and while we smoke I'll tell you all about last night, yeah?" He spoke. "Fine. I'll send you the address" I said before hanging up.

20 minutes later Chris is at my door. I let him inside and we sit down in the living room. "You live alone?" he asks. I shake my head no. "My friend lives with me, she's at a friend's house right now".

He pulls out a blunt and lights it. "Okay so you can you just give me a run down of what happened" I said hoping he would be as detailed as possible. I watch as he inhales the thick smoke. "Well, we were dancing together. You looked like you were getting sick so I took you to the bathroom. I offered to stay outside the bathroom so no one would walk in" he said as he hands me the blunt.

I hit the blunt and listen while he talks. "But you told me to not to leave you alone, so I went into the bathroom with you". I cringe at the fact that he saw me sick. "After you stopped throwing up you sat on the floor for a minute, I didn't really know what to do so I just sat with you until you were ready to get up" he says. I pass the blunt back to him.

The weed makes me feel more calm. "After you got up off the floor bathroom you kept hugging me and saying that me and you should ditch the party" he continued. I start blushing from embarrassment. He hits the blunt, letting the smoke fill his lungs. "I told you we could go outside for some fresh air but you could barely walk".

He passes the blunt back to me. "You kept saying to take you to taco bell, so I helped you walk outside and get to my car. We went to the taco bell drive thru and I parked so we could eat". I shake my head feeling self-conscious about my actions.

"We ate and I told you I'd take you home so you could sleep it off. You said you didn't want to go home and that's when someone called you. You were telling whoever it was on the phone that you were okay and that you were going to stay the night at a friend's house".

"A few seconds later you tried to call your boyfriend. He answered but he refused to come get you. So you hung up the phone and said you wanted to stay the night with me"

I inhale the smoke from the blunt, letting it calm my nerves. "I was driving us back to my place when you grabbed my phone. I was confused but you pulled up the camera and started taking selfies. So I have a bunch of random selfies of you in my phone right now" he chuckled.

I pass the blunt back to him and then put my hand over my face. He pulls out his phone and starts to show me the ridiculous amount of pictures I took of myself. "Oh my fucking god" I spoke.

"After you were done spamming pictures of yourself you took your shoes off" he said right before hitting the blunt. "You kept saying how "free" and happy you felt. At that point we arrived at my house. I carried you inside and sat you on my bed. I told you that I was gonna sleep on the couch and you got mad"

"What do you mean I got mad?" I asked. He hands me the blunt and I take a hit. "You wanted me to sleep in there with you, you wouldn't let me leave the room. So I ended up laying next to you until you fell asleep" he expressed. "I waited for you to fall asleep so I could go sleep on the couch" he admitted.

"Im- sorry I don't even know what to say" I voiced. "You drooled on me" he blurted out. "What do you mean I drooled on you?" I asked confused. "You fell asleep on my chest and ended up drooling on me" he said. My cheeks turn pink once again. I fell asleep on his chest ."I didn't mind though" he said shrugging.

I passed the the rest of what's left of the blunt to him. "But yeah, that's pretty much everything that happened" he said. "How did things go with your boyfriend?" he questioned. I shake my head. "It went exactly how I expected to go".

"Which is how?" He questions again. "He just kinda yelled and stuff. Just the usual shit" I said truthfully remembering how the interaction was. "He sounds like a bitch" Chris said nonchalantly. I look at him, our eyes lock. And as much as I try to read his energy I can't. And it bothers me that I cant read his energy.

Eyes still locked on one another, he gives a short smile and shrugs. "What I was just saying. He doesn't sound like a very good boyfriend" Chris spoke. My heart starts to thump a little too fast at his words. "Anyways I should get back home, its getting late" he said.

"Yeah- yeah um- okay. Well thanks for coming over and telling me what happened. And smoking with me" I say. "Mhm" he says standing up and grabbing his phone off the couch. "You ever wanna runaway with a stranger again you know who to call" he says before walking towards the door. "Mhm I'll keep that in mind" I respond sarcastically.

After he leaves my brain gets to thinking. Is it weird that I feel his presence comforting? The only thing that bothers me is that I can never read his energy.

A week later

Madi and I have been texting, she wants me to come over and hangout tonight. Chris and her boyfriend Matt are going to visit their brother Nick at the college he stays at. So while they do that Madi wants to me to come over and hangout.

I arrive at Madi’s at around 8 pm. I knock on the door and a few short seconds later she lets me inside.

Madi and I smoke a blunt and bake some cookies. I’m very hopeful for this friendship, it seems so genuine and sweet I think to myself.

“How long have you and Matt been together?” I ask out of curiosity. “For 2 years” she replied. “What about you and Jackson?” She asks. “For a year”. Madi hands me a plate with some of the cookies we baked on it. “So has he always been an asshole?” She asked half way joking.

“A lot has changed since we first got together. When we first met he was super nice and charming. Super sweet and always making me feel special. But now it’s like he’s almost emotionally unavailable. I don’t know if that’s the right way to put it, I just feel like we have gotten so distant”.

“Do you guys go on dates at all?” Madi questions. “Um- no not really- the last time we went on a date was like 3 or 4 months ago”. Madi’s jaw drops. “Girl what the hell? How are you tolerating that?” She says as if she’s actually concerned and confused. “I mean it’s not the end of the world, right?” I spoke.

After me and Madi continued to talk for about 2 hours, getting to know eachother better, we sat in the living room to watch a movie. Shortly after the movie was put on, I had fallen asleep.

Chris’s POV

After me and Matt visit our brother Nick we head back to the house. I'm tired and just want to go to sleep at this point. On the drive home I scroll through my phone and go back to the pictures y/n took on my phone.

That girl is something else. She kind of intrigued me in a way I couldn't properly articulate. I haven't talked to her for about a week, last time I saw her was when I went to her house to smoke. But I was okay with that considering were not really friends.

When we arrive to the house I wasn't expeceting to see Madi and her asleep on the couch. I look over at Matt who looks just as confused. "Did you know she was here?" Matt whispers quietly, trying to be quiet since Madi and y/n were asleep. I shake my head no.

Matt walks over to Madi and picks her up off the couch, carrying her to his bedroom. I stare at y/n for a moment, not exactly sure if I should wake her up or let her sleep. I walk over to her, "y/n" I whisper. No response. I put my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. "Y/n" I say quietly. She groans in response.

"Did you need to go home? Or are you staying the night?" I ask. Her eyes barely open. "What time is it?" she asks in a strained, obviously tired voice. I look at my phone and check the time 1:23 a.m. "Its 1 am you can stay here if you want" I offer. "Fuck" she mutters.

"You okay?" I ask, watching her sit up on the couch. "Just tired. Didn't mean to fall asleep" she says. She grabs her phone, squinting as the bright light of her screen hits her face. "Fuck" she says again. "What? What happened?" I ask curiously. "Jackson. He texted me almost 2 hours ago asking where I was" she said.

Y/N POV:

Seeing Jackson's message put anxiety in my body. He's gonna be mad I didn't answer. "Did you tell him you were hanging with Madi?" Chris asks. "No. I tried calling him before coming over to let him know but he didn't answer the phone".

Chris sits down on the couch next to me. A little closer than I was expecting but I didn't mind. "Can't you just tell him you were hanging out with Madi" he says. I nod my head, still so tired. "He's gonna find a reason to get mad" I say outloud. Chris doesn't respond, he just stares down at the floor. A moment of silence passes.

"I don't like him" he says. "You don't even know him" I quickly respond. "Don't need to know him to know that he doesn't treat you like he should" he responds. "You've known me for like a week and all the sudden you wanna tell me who I can and can't be with" I say getting defensive. "Never said you can't be with him, I was just pointing out an an observation" he responded quicker than I could process. Silence falls between the two of us. Too tired to enertain this conversation.

"Sorry, I should probably head back home" I say even though every part of me just wants to go back to sleep. Chris doesn't respond, he just nods his head. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, trying to convince myself to get up off this cozy couch and leave. "Just stay here" Chris says.

I look over at Chris wanting so badly to listen to him and stay here. He looks back at me, looking just as tired as I am. I let out a deep breath once again. "Just stay" he says repeating himself, letting his hand fall onto my thigh. I look down at his hand on my thigh, staring at it. Chris looks down and realizes I'm staring at his hand on my thigh and he quickly removes it.

I get a weird feeling in my body. Before I can even get a chance to overthink the feeling Chris stands up and walks into the kitchen. "I think im gonna go home, but thank you for the offer" I say finally getting up off the couch, grabbing my phone. Chris opens the fridge and grabs a water bottle.

He walks back into the living room and nods his head. "Drive safe" he says before sitting back down on the couch. I put my shoes on and say goodbye before walking out the door.

Once I get home and into my bed my phone dings.

I check to see who texted

from chris: goodnight stranger

[angel06babysworld]

sexist!rafe x puppy!reader

both AU’s are from @cameronsbabydoll 🫶🏻

Silk Ribbons and Quiet Girls

The first time Rafe told her to change, it wasn’t even mean. He said it with that calm, flat tone of his, like he wasn’t asking—just stating fact.

“You can’t wear that, Puppy.”

She paused with her arms half-up, tugging on the sleeves of her cropped hoodie. “Why not?”

“Because you look like every other girl in this school,” he said, walking past her into his bedroom. “I don’t date girls who look like they’re begging for attention. You don’t need to do that, not when you’ve got me.”

She blinked, unsure. Then slowly, she dropped her arms and followed him inside. “Okay,” she said softly. “I didn’t think it was bad…”

“It’s not about bad. It’s about respect.” He sat on the edge of his bed, legs spread wide, elbows on his knees. “You want people looking at you, Puppy?”

Her eyes went wide, horrified. “No! No, I just—this is what all the girls wear—”

“Yeah. And I’m not dating all the girls.”

She chewed her lip, her fingers curling into the hem of her hoodie. “What should I wear, then?”

Rafe smiled, slow and satisfied. “I’ll pick your outfits from now on.”

From that day on, her closet started to change. He brought her skirts that hit below the knee, soft cardigans, little white blouses with buttons that stopped well above her chest. He told her to wear her hair up, tied with satin bows, or braided. Something neat. Something pretty. No more glitter on her cheeks. No more lip gloss unless he picked the color.

At first, it made her nervous—she’d never had anyone tell her how to dress before. But the praise that followed made her stomach flutter.

“You look like a girl a man would come home to.”

“Now that’s a good girl. No one’s gonna think you’re cheap in that.”

“See? Doesn’t that feel nicer than parading around like the others?”

She beamed every time, her tail practically wagging.

She started asking him what he wanted without being told. She’d tilt her head and chirp, “Should I wear pink or cream today?” or “Do you want me to stay home and tidy your room while you’re at practice?” She brought him lunch at school like a little housewife-in-training—cut the sandwich crusts off, tucked napkins into the bag, always with a scribbled heart on the side of his water bottle.

At first, he laughed. Then he started expecting it.

One afternoon, he came over to her house after school. Her mom was gone, and Puppy was waiting in the kitchen with her hair pinned up and a little apron tied over her pleated skirt. She’d baked something—well, tried. There was flour on her nose and the pie was sunken in the middle, but the whole place smelled sweet and warm.

“You cook now?” he asked, lifting a brow.

Her face lit up. “For you! It’s not great yet, but I’m learning! I watched a video on how to make a crust from scratch. I burned it a little, but—”

“Shhh,” Rafe said, pressing two fingers to her lips. “You don’t need to explain every little thing, Puppy. I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes welled up immediately. “Really?”

He nodded once. “That’s what I want to come home to.”

She was practically glowing the rest of the afternoon. She curled into his side on the couch while he half-watched the game, her head on his chest, fingers tracing mindless little hearts against the fabric of his shirt. Every few minutes, she’d whisper, “I love you,” and he’d hum in acknowledgment, petting her head like a loyal thing that knew its place.

Later, when she asked if he liked the new dress she picked out—high neck, long sleeves, white lace like something out of a vintage bridal catalog—he didn’t even look up from his phone before answering.

“That’s what girls are supposed to look like. Finally getting it, huh?”

She nodded, proud. She didn’t notice how little space she took up now. How quiet she’d become. How carefully she asked before doing anything. She just knew he liked it—and that was enough.

Because if Rafe was happy, then she was doing her job.

And Puppy loved doing a good job.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead

[tjodity]

Elaboration on the tr!Ros disability thing--

I am making this connection largely because I am a bit chronically ill and have mental health issues, both of which contributes to me needing varying amounts of assistance with life compared to an ordinary person. That is to say I don't necessarily believe that this is an intended reading, I'm just connecting parallels because of my personal history.

That said, I think there is something about tr!Ros's whole struggle that really does resonate with that experience. Ros places such a high importance on being competent and independent. The most visible motivation for this is her desire to be helpful to the people around her, which is what she has voiced as her reason for wanting to become stronger most frequently.

But below that is the certainty that she will be left alone, that she will have no one to turn to when it really matters, which is something she's been voicing at the start of the Realmathon.

And below that, much more rarely voiced, is the desire to be a fully fledged, autonomous human being, capable of doing great things and treated with respect.

I think this is why tr!Ros is so continuously resistant to things like being handed armor and weapons, given physical protection and immunity from her harmful actions, and does not internalize any assurances or compliments she's given by the people closest to her. She is sort of treated with kid gloves by the people closest to her.

Aimsey loves her, but will also frequently override her decisions, brush aside her concerns, and corral her back into the castle to keep her safe. The Kingdom cares about her, but they also don't really ever acknowledge that she has an interiority and problems that run deeper than resources and physical protection. She is treated like she is extremely susceptible to harmful external influence and fits of emotion, and not like she has a complicated, flawed system of morality and logic she operates off of. She is frequently shut down, isolated, dismissed or demeaned under the pretense of her safety or her own good.

And I think the consistent conflict and the parallel start to come in here when this desire intersects with the fact that she is somewhat dependent on other characters. She dies a lot. She struggles with fighting on a PvP and PvE oriented server. She is easily overwhelmed emotionally and physically. She is prone to destructive behavior that leaves difficult consequences. She is suicidal. She loses important items like her elytra on a somewhat regular basis that make large chunks of the server inaccessible for her.

And I feel like the fact that she does need help with a lot of stuff is frequently used against her to undercut her desire for autonomy and the fact that she's a fully fledged adult human being. She is corralled into the empty Castle and told to stay there. When she talks about how she wants to do things on her own she is scoffed at and immediately handed whatever item or resource she was working for. When she expresses jealousy or dislike towards anyone on the server she is dismissed as childish. When she talks about wanting to be independent her need for assistance in the past is used to shut her down. Her violent actions are used to wave away any perspective on morality she may have.

IDK. I feel like tr!Ros's struggles are relatable to the struggle for personhood when you are disabled and/or mentally ill in a way that requires assistance and how people sometimes treat you.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

when the love nest starts to crumble.

Not proof read, im just in my feels so Im sorry if this isn’t the best.

As my hands shook, i picked up the phone call, desperately trying to calm my shakey voice.

“Hey, im sorry I just needed to vent. It was never my intention to get so worked up, I swear. You know how hawks gets, one thing leads to another and then the flirty teasing turns into harsh daggers. It truly wasn’t my intention to say it, i dont even know why I did, it’s not as if it’s a recurring thought in my head, it just….kinda came out.

‘Go fuck your other fans you fucking magpie.’

I never meant it in a harsh way, i know he likes the attention but I know deep down hed never do anything to hurt me, especially not cheat on me. He just, wouldnt stop teasing. Wouldnt stop fake complaining that he had to sign so many autographs today, so many half naked girls wanting their tits signed, it just made me snap. He knew I was having a shitty day, he knew I wasn’t in the mood to be teased, I specifically warned him before coming home to be nice to me….he just, never fucking listens. And now? Well….its all fucking gone. Our love nest has been set ablaze and he fled the roost. I wouldn’t blame him for never coming back, i wouldn’t blame him for finding some other young songbird to fill his days with. God, fuck, just thinking about him with someone else during rut is making my stomach turn, fuck. How could I of been so fucking selfish and stupid?! Im such a fucking waste of time and atoms. God fuck. I need a drink. “

Mina was on the other end of the phone, listening intently to my rambles, offering a few ‘hmms’ and ‘oh shit’s to acknowledge what I was crying about. She offered comfort, offered to meet me at the bar and have a few drinks together, but I declined. I didn’t need any company right now, I just needed someone to know where I was in case I got too drunk and ended up sleeping in the gutter for the night. I flicked my location on so she could watch over me for the night, and told her I loved her,then hung up.

The bar was dark, filled with a few groups of people drinking and laughing together, their happiness felt like personal attacks, shoving their well deserved smiles and giggles down my throat, taunting me that I would never again share a laugh with the love of my life, that I pushed away. I grabbed a few shots and a tall cocktail before slumping in a seat with a table that was pushed to one side. As I drank, I couldnt help but run through the argument again in my head.

“I bet you’re loving this hawks. I bet you fucking love the attention.”

“Of course I do, what young man wouldnt? But they’re nothing on you baby bird, you’re the one I come home to.”

“But if it wasn’t me then it would be one of them. I don’t feel special, I just feel like one of the groupies that got invited back because she was an easy lay, and then she just never left.”

“Don’t be like that songbird, you know I love you and want to spend all my time with you. Dont i tell you everyday that I love you?”

“You tell me you love me when you’re fucking me yeah sure, but you spend most of your time out there with them, always finishing work late because someone else wanted an autograph, someone new wanted your attention and you just couldn’t step away.”

“It’s a part of the job y/n. I gotta keep the public imagine up, keep those ratings up or i could slip from number 2, you know that. You sign shit too, so don’t give me that.”

“I don’t spend my time away from you doing it. I don’t miss dinner dates for it. I don’t miss late night cuddles and movies for it. Why don’t you just….Go fuck your other fans you fucking magpie.’

The words stung as I replayed them. The sting of my words hitting him, almost visually hurting him. The way his wings flinched each time i spoke. And the way he didn’t even reply at the end, he simply turned around and flew off, throwing his chain to the floor. The more I drank the more sinister my words felt in my memory, the harsher they came out and the more upset I swore I could remember him being. I broke the only man who ever truly cared for me, and I broke the man who finally let someone in.

Suddenly, a sickeningly sad love song comes on the karaoke, a young man starts singing to the crowd of people he was with, his eyes filling with tears as he sang the lyrics as if they spoke the words he couldnt. He poured his heart out into the song and after hed finished, another guy from the group jumped up and hugged him, embracing him in a sweet tender kiss. I never usually had the courage to sing, but fuck it, i was drunk and sad, and a tiny part of me wanted to sing to hawks, as if he would be able to hear me wherever he was. I downed my cocktail and headed straight for the DJ, requesting he play Sam Barber - Indigo.

As the song began, I couldn’t help the tears from falling, singing each lyric like it was my own form of redemption, spilling the words my heart wanted to say about how I felt. Afterwards, two groups of people clapped, a couple of the women had tears in their eyes at my emotional rendition of the song, I nodded at them in solidarity, confirming that it was heartfelt and I was indeed broken. I walked to the bar to grab another drink when a man span on the bar stool to face me.

“Can’t believe how emotional you made that song, you did amazing little lady. Can I buy that for you?” He seemed a sweet man, fairly tall even when sat on the chair, with orange hair and sparkling green eyes. I thanked him and accepted the drink, feeling some form of pride that at least someone liked my singing, hawk always used to tell me it was like hearing a hawk screeching in the night. The man then offered a seat next to him, to which I politely declined.

“Thank you very much,but I don’t think I want company tonight. Kinda heart broken over here if you couldnt tell…” The man’s face seemed to softly slightly as he insisted i join him. I once again declined, and his true intentions seemed to peak through his facade,

“So someone buys you a drink and you won’t at least sit with them? What a fucking bitch. Trust me, you’re not pretty enough to come onto anyway, I was just trying to be nice.” His change in tone shocked me, I couldnt help but stagger back slightly, when I then felt another person behind me. Before I could spin around, I felt a hand placed around my waist, and then familiar wings engulfing my peripheral.

“God damn my man, you really lucked out, Yano being blind and a fucking moron. Because Yano, not that it’s complete common sense or anything, but when a woman says no it generally doesn’t mean convince me. But hey, it’s a good job her big, strong,albeit stupid boyfriend is here to protect her from creeps like you, isn’t it.” Suddenly a few of his feathers flew off from behind him, one knocking the guys drink onto the floor, and two others pulling the chair from underneath him. He fell to the floor with a thud, crashing down into his new spilled drink all over the floor. He tried to rebuttal, tried to square up to hawks to fight, but when he got closer hawks eyes darkened and his smirk grew even more across his face. The guy decided to back down, leaving and muttering that this place was a shit hole anyway.

After watching the guy leave, I swung around and cradled into his chest, sobbing between pants.

“Im so fucking sorry baby, I thought youd left and were never coming back. I didn’t mean to be so cruel, I swear.” He rubbed the back of my hair, shushing me as I sobbed into him, his wings now curling around me and pressing me into him more.

“Baby bird please, it’s okay, I just…needed some air time, clear my head before it got too heated. Plus, it meant I could try out this new chicks place that I HAVE to take you to later, fuck actually, do you wanna go now? It’s literally like a 5 minute fly, and the wings they have are to die for!” His upbeat personality never failed to surprise me, how was he so calm after our argument? He looked so burnt by my words that I wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to see me again.

“Baby, arent you angry? I said some stupid shit and…” he interrupted me with a soft kiss, smiling through it like he thought I was overreacting.

“Songbird, after watching you sing and not even because you knew I was there watching, it broke my heart a little. I knew you didn’t mean what you said, I knew I’d hurt you and you were just expressing, in your own stubborn way, that you were hurting and I was being blind. Listen, people fight, hell if you didn’t then I wouldn’t love you so much, it’s just how you handle it afterwards that counts. I know Im hard to deal with sometimes…no, most of the time, but hey, I know you love me, and I know you shout and get stubborn because you want me to be careful, to listen to you… im just a selfish asshole who likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much. But I’d never leave you, never leave our love nest and certainly never leave the future we have together. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll even have our own little flock squawking away in the skies, crapping on people from great heights and annoying every single little rodent they see, animal or not.”

His soft chuckle afterwards warmed the aching in my heart, not only did the man I thought I’d lost still want to be with me, but he had even thought about a family together some day. I swore I’d never shout at him the way I did again, my heart physically couldnt take the thought of him leaving, not now, not ever. As the tears flooded my vision, he kissed the top of my head and let me rest it back into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as I squeezed my arms around him.

“Dya think youd have to lay eggs? Or do you think it would normal but they’d come out all squished and eggy? Oh shit, do you think our quirks would mix and they come out with like some cool ass water wings? Or would they end up just being a normal swam? Okay okay,what if…” his rambles continued as we walked towards the door to leave the bar, him then swooping me up in his arms and flying us to the chicken shop hed mentioned. As he rambled, I couldnt help but stare up at him, completely lost in his own imagination, tracing the outline of his face, admiring how his hair flew in the wind, and how his arms felt so comforting and safe around me. My god was he a yapper, and impossibly annoying at times, but I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

[haliaiii]

america stuff

[moeblob]

A lil guy !

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

i was sort of wondering why exactly i've been sympathising with Eva so much, apart from, admittedly, bias- i did start considering that due to that, maybe i'd been internally exaggerating how Wolfgang & Co had been treating her. but i replayed some of Chapter 1, and honestly? now i'm of the opinion that Eva was justified to be afraid of Wolfgang, even if what she did in response was inexcusable.

because it wasn't just that Wolfgang told the others to be wary of Eva (and Damon) which caused them to feel othered. consciously or not, he literally attempted to control their movement on at least two occasions- when he attempted to stop them joining in on the exploration of the pharmacy, and then when he demanded to know where they were when they reached the dining hall last.

in his defence, i don't think Wolfgang was being malicious in doing so, i reckon he did genuinely believe he was protecting the others. but in doing so, for the two members of the group he disagreed with, he actively attempted to further restrict their freedom- in a situation where they're all already trapped!! i'm not surprised that Eva, with frustration, mentioned during the trial how much she'd been watched and suspected- multiple times, if i recall correctly. of course it got to her.

but that probably wasn't even the scariest part for her. it was probably just how easily Wolfgang had taken a leadership role within the group and how willing they were to listen to him without question. only Diana really spoke up against him on one occasion and got him to begrudgingly "allow" Eva and Damon to tag along. i mean, on that note, the fact that Wolfgang even casually commented that he wanted group decisions to be allowed by him, following the minor incident of Desmond taking initiative and checking the room locks, was extremely alarming!! like i mentioned, i don't want to villainise Wolfgang, but it does seem like he has the tendency to be rather controlling, whether or not he realises it. i would be willing to bet that the herd mentality implication was done completely on purpose, considering that Wolfgang's animal motif is a sheep and the writing team have done the symbolism in the game so well.

for all this, i can understand Eva's point of view. i know that, as Wenona had mentioned, there's a chance that Eva didn't actually feel threatened by Wolfgang, but i personally am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. because if she was honest about being on edge, that would be a rather reasonable emotional response, in my opinion.

what else are you to feel when you're at odds with an honoured individual who effortlessly holds the power to turn so many others against you too and potentially put your safety at risk, if not terror?

[momentomori24]

This may just be me, but I think if you ship a canonically very abusive, manipulative and toxic relationship, you don't get to judge or call anyone degenerates for their own fucked up ships, actually.