#and maybe I'm missing something subjectively obvious

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[purplesaline]

Wait so the United States doesn't have the equivalent of the Canadian Human Rights Act?

Rather than multiple laws/acts that proscribed various methods of discrimination Canada has a single act that covers all such proscribed methods. For the record the federal act (provinces can each have their own that include more protections than the federal act, but never less) covers the following areas of discrimination

Prohibited grounds of discrimination

3 (1) For all purposes of this Act, the prohibited grounds of discrimination are race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, age, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, marital status, family status, genetic characteristics, disability and conviction for an offence for which a pardon has been granted or in respect of which a record suspension has been ordered.

[X]

It then goes on to list Discriminatory practices

Denial of good, service, facility or accommodation (seriously this is the first thing listed in the actual act)

Denial of commercial premises or residential accommodation

Employment

Employment applications, advertisements

Employee organizations

Discriminatory policy or practice (this is also related to employment though it's included as a separate section rather than a subsection, as is..)

Equal wages

Publication of discriminatory notices, etc.

Harassment

Retaliation (in regards to retaliating against someone filing a human rights complaint against you)

It's proving to be remarkably hard to Google this information. To find Canada's I just Google "Canada human rights act) and bam! One of the top search results is the Federal Government website that links to the act. Half an hour of searching and it seems like the closest single equivalent you guys have is the Civil Rights Act? But there's a couple? (1964 and 1991?) and when I search United States Civil Rights laws I get a page for office of tribal justice, department of labor, wikipedia, equal employment opportunity referencing Title VII, the FBI, national archives, fucking encyclopedia Britannica?????

Okay, I found the website for the department of justice civil rights division and while I can't seem to find a link to an actual act/legislation the site does cover all the protected grounds (not that I can find primary sources for this information anywhere ffs)

Race/color

Disability including temporary or in recovery

Religion

Sex, gender identity, and sexual orientation

Immigration/citizenship status

Language and national origin including ancestry and ethnicity

Family, marital, or parental status including pregnancy

Age

Genetic identification

Servicemember status

And there do appear to be prohibitions on discrimination in a commercial location or public place, which apparently includes denial of service but the example only covers "perceived personal characteristics like race, sex, or religion" so does that mean not all of the characteristics listed are protected in all situations??

You guys

I give up. It shouldn't be this hard to find this information. All I wanted to do is figure out if the recent Supreme Court ruling was somehow in violation of or contradicted any current legislation and figure out how they could justify that or if it meant they were declaring a law unconstitutional, but I can't even find a link to the applicable law!

No wonder folks seem to struggle to understand what their rights are down there.

[myunghology]

THE LITTLE THINGS.

summary the little things they do for you, just because they love you. part 1/2 !!

pairings riddle, leona, azul, x gender neutral reader (established relationship)

tw none.. i think IDK

a/n — YAYYY I HIT 1.7K give me more clout pls ily all

✧ — RiDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Teaches you even though it's incredibly late at night. His eyes are already telling you that he's tired— and you try your best to tell him to go to bed.

But noooo, he cares too much about you to let you fail your worst subject. He casually waves his hand to dismiss your ideas for him to get sleep, putting you first before anything else. Well, at least he's learning more as well from teaching you.

Your head would be laying on his lap as he explains literal calculus at 4am in the morning, since you woke up in the middle of the night, making HIM wake up as well, why not torment you as well by making you learn with the time?

You give him such attitude early in the morning, saying "I'm sorry calculus sucks so bad, I'm sorry it's boring?" and yet he's completely whipped for you to the point that he's willing to sacrifice his sleeping schedule for you to learn. It's for your own good!

Riddle's possessive.. But in a good way! He just cares too much, not possessive to the point he's controlling, but possessive in a way that he's just overprotective of you.

He's the "Don't let anybody do this to you, unless that somebody's me." type of boyfriend. Can you tell he gets jealous easily? Gets extra snarky whenever someone asks about you, especially when they don't know you two are dating.

The type to pull you closer wherever just from being possessive, and makes an excuse that's basically just "Because you might get lost". Riddle.. The hallway is currently empty?

He will forever be your first and last love. The little things he does for you, it's everything. To you, and to everyone else who sees. The way he ties your shoelaces— which you didn't even notice that was untied.

When you make a mistake and a small "I'm sorry." comes out of your lips while your eyes get blurry, shaking his head as he shushes you and reassures you, everytime without fail.

The way he looks up at your pretty face right after, as smitten as ever and in complete awe, it's not that obvious, but you can see it in his eyes.

The way he's incredibly patient with you, the way you push your luck just to annoy him— luckily not getting beheaded by your own boyfriend. He has always fully believed time has brought you to him, hell, even fate itself maybe.

✧ — LEONA KiNGSCHOLAR

Leona always finds himself ending up with you, one way or another. At the end of the day, he's home. To you. And that's what matters the most to him.

The way he's burying his face in your chest, making a giggle escape out of your lips, a giggle he especially loves, but of course, would never really admit it directly.

This time, it's your turn to tease him for acting like this. But who could blame him? You're so comfortable.. And you're so.. Everything, really.

The soft sighs of relief he lets out when he feels your fingers thread through his long hair, indirectly asking you to not stop, and just keep going.

He compliments you without even realizing. Like it's a natural response to everything you do. From your little "Isn't this bow really cute, Leona?" with a soft smile as he goes, "Yeah. It'd be cuter if you'd wear it, though."

And you're left red and blushing, it honestly depends if he's going to tease you for it or not. But we all know, your blush is never going to get unnoticed by the prince himself.

Gets defensive whenever you bring this topic up. He will NEVER miss a day of complimenting you— even if it's something random. It's either that, or something completely heartwarming.

It ranges from, "You're really short, you know? Could barely even reach the top of the door even if you stand on your tippy-toes. But it's alright. I like it like that." with a smug grin.

To, "What's wrong with you? You're gorgeous. You're gonna be keepin' up with me in terms of persuasion, with those adorable little eyes of yours, are you?" sir this is a wendys

Can NEVER say no to you when you give him that special look. When you look up at him he absolutely melts— and it's painfully obvious it hurts physically (And by that, I mean butterflies.)

"If my significant other thinks they can just bat their cute lil eyes at me and get whatever they want, they're absolutely right." Type of mindset. He'd never admit it or say it out loud, either. We all saw that coming though, let's be honest..

Grits his teeth whenever you look at him with doe eyes, and it makes him weak because he especially loves your eyes, and how much they can say about you and how you're feeling.

✧ — AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Provides you with anything you need, without you needing to ask, almost everytime he notices. For other people, they'd need payment. But for you..? Ah, just forget about the goddamn contract at this point.

Actually, there IS a payment you have to do. Can you guess? It's definitely something cheesy or corny. Kills myself

Everytime you give him kisses all over his face, he's definitely all read. Who could blame him? We know he's not used to affection like this. And the fact that it's coming from you.. I don't know if that makes it worse or better at this point.

But of course, this will always come with a payment. More of a punishment— maybe. Having to wipe all your faint lipstick marks off his face when he has to be in the mostro lounge, making him just a few minutes late.

He picks up your habits. From talking or texting, no matter how different it is, he'll pick it up. From how much time you two spend together, I can't really say anyone's surprised..?

So, don't be surprised when he randomly responds to you with your usual attitude, or even just talking or texting a little bit like you as well.

The best part is, he doesn't even notice himself. When someone brings it up, he raises an eyebrow and acts like he doesn't know what they're talking about at all.

Gets all flustered when someone mentions you. It wouldn't even be about your relationship and he'd still be a blushing mess. Why? Um.. I dunno..

They probably wouldn't even realize you two are dating until they see Azul's wallpaper is you two, and when he opens his phone, most of the widgets there are your little selfies you send to him for fun.

Whether it'll be a literal thirst trap ("He's getting all red, please stop?" - Jade). Or a 0.5 picture of you sent by a mutual friend, or even Floyd who practically towers over you.

note — 𝔹𝕌ℝℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔾𝔸𝕐𝕊 𝓑𝓤𝓡𝓝 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓖𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝚈𝚂 ꃳ꒤ꋪꋊ ꓄ꁝꏂ ꍌꋬꌦꇙ ฿ɄⱤ₦ ₮ⱧɆ ₲₳Ɏ₴ ᗷᑘᖇᘉ ᖶᕼᘿ ᘜᗩᖻS [̲̅B][̲̅U][̲̅R][̲̅N] [̲̅T][̲̅H][̲̅E] [̲̅G][̲̅A][̲̅Y][̲̅S] BURN THE GAYS ßÚRñ †HÈ GÄ¥§ B̶U̶R̶N̶ T̶H̶E̶ G̶A̶Y̶S̶ вυяη тнє gαуѕ ᏰᏬᏒᏁ ᎿᎻᎬ ᎶᎯᎽᏕ ᴮᵁᴿᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴳᴬʸˢ БҴЯҊ ꚌӉЄ ԌДҰЅ ႦႮჁႶ ႵႹჹ ყმჄႽ B̤̮Ṳ̮R̤̮N̤̮ T̤̮H̤̮E̤̮ G̤̮A̤̮Y̤̮S̤̮ B̷U̷R̷N̷ T̷H̷E̷ G̷A̷Y̷S̷ B̲U̲R̲N̲ T̲H̲E̲ G̲̲A̲̲Y̲̲S̲ B̳U̳R̳N̳ T̳H̳E̳ G̳A̳Y̳S̳ B̾U̾R̾N̾ T̾H̾E̾ G̾A̾Y̾S̾ B͎U͎R͎N͎ T͎H͎E͎ G͎A͎Y͎S͎ B͓̽U͓̽R͓̽N͓̽ T͓̽H͓̽E͓̽ G͓̽A͓̽Y͓̽S͓̽ B҈U҈R҈N҈ T҈H҈E҈ G҈A҈Y҈D҈ B͙U͙R͙N͙ T͙H͙E͙ G͙A͙Y͙S͙ B͒U͒R͒N͒ T͒H͒E͒ G͒A͒Y͒S͒ B̻U̻R̻N̻ T̻H̻E̻ G̻A̻Y̻S̻ ḄỤṚṆ ṬḤẸ G̣ẠỴṢ

[erinelliotc]

A few years ago I used to be that annoying "transmasc lesbians don't exist, this shit is harmful and invalidates both transmascs and lesbians" person, and now I'M the transmasc lesbian. Seems like the tables have turned, huh?

I've spent so many months, years, trying so hard to fit into these categories that I saw so many people talk about as if it were the definitive truth, and this shallow and simplistic vision seems to be gaining a lot of attention and traction here in Brazil. Isn't it ironic to free yourself from cisnormativity and heteronormativity and all these binary boxes to find yourself again trying to fit into other boxes and norms that don't actually describe your experience correctly? Because your experience with gender is so chaotic and confusing (as expected of a nonbinary identity, and even more so if you're neurodivergent too) that there's no simple way to describe it. Then when you find out what describes this, people say you can't identify yourself that way because two or more of your identities are "incompatible". I see people treating non-binarity as if it were an exact science, as if it were math, as if it were something simple and logical, as it is precisely the escape from what has been established in our society as the only two possible options, generating countless identities within a gray area outside this black and white vision, so of course it's something complex, abstract and subjective.

EDIT: One of my reasons for thinking this way was that I ignored that the transgender experience and the cisgender experience aren't and will never be equivalent. It's obvious that a cis man can't be a lesbian, but the same doesn't go for transmasc people, and I thought that admitting that was the same as being transphobic, denying the masculinity of transmascs, denying their male identity. I already had a debate on Twitter because people didn't want to admit that trans men and transmasc people in general can suffer misogyny and male chauvinism (as society can still see and treat us as women) because they also saw it as the same as saying transmasc people are women. The identity of trans people is a very complex experience that involves a series of factors that cis people will never experience. We cannot equate the trans experience with the cis experience.

I thought identifying as a butch lesbian was enough to describe my masculinity, but I realized that I felt like it didn't encompass everything I felt, I still felt like something was missing. Preventing and depriving myself of identifying with more explicit masculine identities was actually making me feel bad and dysphoric. So yeah, I've been avoiding identifying with male-aligned identities because I thought that would mean having to stop identifying as a lesbian, and I didn't want that, and I don't really feel like calling myself straight makes any sense.

I have a text in Portuguese talking about my experience as a butch lesbian, and I feel that now it also serves to describe my experience as a nonbinary transmasc (the part where I talk about not identifying with "traditional masculinity", but with a "different type", like "soft masculinity", is directly related to the fact that, in addition to being nonbinary, I don't identify as a man, I don't feel comfortable with the term "man", but rather with "boy"). I spent a few months wondering whether I was libramasculine or boyflux, and I ended up deciding that if I can't identify which one I am, maybe it makes more sense to just adopt both identities, maybe I am both then! I'm tired of trying to fit into supposed rules about being nonbinary. This is exactly how non-binarity shouldn't be. I'm supposed to feel free, not trapped again. My identity is my identity and that's nobody's business.

[bruhstation]

hello tumbled er

greetings and salutation. it is I, senja heterocaine, speaking to you through your favorite home screens. now you might be wondering: where on earth has senja heterocaine disappeared to these past 5 months? well the answer is as simple as it gets

I focused on my studies.

well yes that is the main reason. but that's like the nerd "obvious" answer. there’s other reasons too. some of which includes me getting into new interests, revisiting my old, hibernating interests, getting involved in university organizations and events, getting more involved in big family stuff since I'm the oldest and the only of-age grandchild of grandma from mom's side.... lots of stuff

so I just finished the third semester of premed school right. honestly speaking, with how I was losing motivation on drawing, the art block post-art fight, and lack of time, I decided to well, take a break. and it’s pretty convenient too since it was early on in the third semester. during the entirety of it I was feeling pretty proud of myself like "oh I've been studying a lot. I've taken a break from drawing and blog stuff. surely things will get better" and it did! not immensely but it's significant enough that for once I don't feel an indescribable sense of terror after the semester ends. the focus of this semester was about reproduction systems and growth and development which is pretty fun? we get to use models and medical phantoms hands-on and poke them with needles and other rube goldberg contraptions. I did miss breeding bacterias in petri dishes and seeing my friends burn the microbiology lab’s ceiling like last semester though. my grades are also improving… slowly but surely

(aftermath not pictured: me lounging on the couch scrolling through quora to see if there are people currently in college wanting to drop out)

maybe I was aiming too high. at least my grades are better than the previous two semesters and my social life is much better than it was back in high school. speaking of exams -- I went through my first osce exam around a week ago (practical exam to see if you can actually perform the skills labs lessons from the entire semester like you're a real physician). it was the most terrifying day of the month. my dentist said I have a big tongue and that’s why I can’t speak properly if I’m being too fast. ntm I WAS NERVOUS!!! MY FIRST OSCE!!! with how I memorized everything I needed, I was pretty confident that I'd pass, though. I didn't and retook the exam the next day. the prelude was the worst crash out ever

ah ptooey. I'll just take it like a champ. my tutor who's 3 years older than me and currently in the anesthetic rotation of co-ass told me that things will get easier but that's very subjective. he's a medical olympiad student after all. my parents are pretty happy though with how my academic life is becoming better so that's that

LETS MOVE ON TO SOMETHING LIGHTER. section B: what I've been getting into ever since bruhstation was put on cryostasis

you know Transformers One (2024)? the transformers movie directed by josh cooley? based on the Transformers(tm) franchise by Takara Tomy and Hasbro? most tragic break up movie of the decade? I watched it twice, squealed once, and left me broken and inconsolable for weeks on end. it made me revisit my dormant transformers interest after 5 years. I've reread the idw comics (mtmte, LL, taao, main transformers comic), and is currently checking out more (reading the wreckers saga right now). god it made me miss rodimus and friends' zany space opera adventures. I've always envisioned casa tidmouth to have the same tone as mtmte... the oftentimes dark humor, fridge horror stuff, weird magic/science, the roller coaster of emotions, confronting the past... its crazy good.

stories where misfits and knuckleheads band together in a confined space while having crazy doctor who-like adventures am I right. like I want casa tidmouth to be like that. remind me to thank 14 year old me for this trip down memory lane. and as usual, I tend to make self-indulgent crossovers of any interest I'm thinking about at the moment with casa tidmouth

a terrifying sneak peak on what's to come.

I've been working on my oc projects too. you may have seen some of them on artfight (graciela, saudade, altair, etc) but I've been focusing the most on graciela and saudade's universe, children's heterotopia. it has the largest amount of characters in any story I've created (not counting casa tidmouth), the most effort put into planning the stories and weaving in its themes about capitalism, patriarchy, period-typical bigotry, etc. there's human experimentation and they're given powers that range from punching super hard to time and space displacement. I also inserted whatever I wanted into the story. sure, yes, there's a lesbians-only organization of which its members are named off the knights of the round table, theres a mafia that focuses more on the family drama and attempted parricide from all angles, and tragic assassin maids of which their names are wuthering heights references. also if you've been following my main tumblr hajimedics for a while, you might've seen my three fairly oddparents ocs. well I've given them the tezuka star system treatment and inserted them into children's heterotopia as well.

I've also gotten into UTAU production! I've made a number of UTAU covers but haven't uploaded them to youtube. only shared them around with my friends on priv twitter. a good friend of mine assisted in the creation of my own UTAU voicebank! their name is TORKA (like "torque"), their voice bank has a slight accent when singing in japanese (because I'm their voice lol) and CV-only, their in-universe lore is that they're an intergalactic train conductor picking up wayfarers and outcasts trying to find a place in the vast universe, and I love them dearly

moving on! this is a thomas the engine and company blog THIS IS A LIFE UPDATE POST

I'd rather not discuss about how I'm doing mentally in deep detail BUT what I'll say is that I can't confidently say "I'm doing better" or "I'm doing worse" because it always depends on the days. things are okay-ish nowadays. some days are scary. some days are boring. I still experience delusions, (ironically) worried about my anhedonia, and believe that certain bouts of confidence will trigger a jinx, but I think I've been controlling myself well? at least? I keep internalizing the belief that I'm an adult. 20 years old. I have to act accordingly and my life in real life is ten times more important than the internet. things are going to change more and more once I graduate premed and began the co-ass program. I have to think 10 steps into the future. building successful connections before you turn 30. sigma grindset and all that. sorry that was my father using my body as a spirit medium

AND ALSO. ALSO. BACK TO THE BLOG DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME I PROMISED TO MAKE A COMIC BASED ON THE RESULTS OF THE 1000 FOLLOWERS POLL AND NEVER DID UNTIL NOW. I'm terribly sorry. I promise I will get into it I SWEAR procrastination is kicking my ass. I have to plan the dialogue and script and stuff AND DRAW BUT

BUT HERE’S THE FUNNY THING

THE BLOG REACHED 2000+ FOLLOWERS A FEW MONTHS AGO

NOW WHAT DO I DO TO CELEBRATE?

I don’t know honestly. I haven’t done the 1000+ followers celebratory comic, and NOW I HAVE 2000+ FOLLOWERS. THERES 2000+ OF YOU NOW!!!!! THAT’S CRAZY (IN A GOOD WAY)!!!! I thank you all for sticking with bruhstation through thick and thin for around 2 and a half years. I’m glad for all your support, fanarts, asks, and such truly. like wow. 2k. in such a short time too! thanks guys. admittedly, I feel kind of guilty to leave everyone hanging for months with nothing to give, especially with such a high follower number. and realistically? I don’t think I’ll be able to draw as much as I used to. like I’ve said earlier, I’ve been busy with my personal life and oc projects. it’s not like I’m abandoning this blog any time soon? I’m just speaking from a logical perspective, given my status as a student and (possibly, hopefully) future doctor too. I don't want to burn myself out posting like thrice a week, answering asks daily, I want to take things slow. at my own pace. maybe I'll focus on designing side characters as well and thinking about their roles in the story! but that's for another day. I’m just glad everyone’s still sticking around and enjoying my silly stuff

I do want to draw more for this blog! I want to put thomas and co. in more situations. make them dance for all our entertainments. but when you’re an adult, you realize that you have your own priorities. you can’t always do the things you wanna do. you can’t just drop something you don’t like out of the blue. sometimes you have to sigh, scratch the back of your neck, and brave it while saying “I sure am getting old”

oh and also I'm a butch lesbian now. still he/they (heavy preference on he/him), still preferring masculine terms like "mr", "sir", "guy", still as crazy as ever. still aroace too and not interested in dating, something that's been a constant in my identity ever since I'm in early high school. little have changed I can assure you this. I am still senja. senja heterocaine from the net.

and thus concludes senja’s life update post! what will the next post after this be about? something gordon-centric again? serious colored art? old men yaoi? silent hill UK localization? place your bets. everyone loves a good laugh

[mionemymind]

Lost in the Universe (Part 1)

Summary: Y/n is transported to a different universe and by chance, meets the Wanda that inhabits it.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Slight Angst?

A/n: I know I haven't written in a while. But recently I've been on a surge to start writing again. I hope you all enjoy and please tell me honestly how you feel about it. Hopefully, I'm not too rusty.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Part 2

Y/n dropped into a new universe, barely landing on her feet. She scrambled to find balance as the portal above her closed. “What the fuck?” Y/n wiped off her hands as she looked around the unfamiliar area. 

“Are you lost dekta?” Y/n spun around at the sound of her voice. A smile plastered on Y/n’s face when she saw Wanda. She took a couple of steps when she felt something was different with the girl in front of her. “Wanda?”

The brunette chuckled at the obvious confusion. “It’s me dekta.” Y/n still grew apprehensive. She looked around the location she was in. They were on a simple farm surrounded by acres of grape trees. There was a barn and home in the distance and sheep and cows grazed the plain. “I don’t think you’re my Wanda though,” Y/n said as kindly as possible. It was scary to be in a new world without a clue as to how they operate. Even though Y/n knew that the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly her Wanda, it still gave her some type of peace knowing there was a version of her here. 

“And you’re not my Y/n.” Y/n’s nerves eased with the comment as Wanda broke the distance between them. “So let’s get you back to my home and figure out how this happened.” 

“Make yourself at home.” Wanda took off her dirty boots at the front and walked to the kitchen. She took the kettle out from the drawer and filled it with water. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Is that your favorite in your world?”

“It is!” Y/n yelled from the front of the house. She took off her shoes and jacket, hoping to not get the house dirty. The entrance of the house led them into a decent-sized living room filled with various decorations and plants. 

Y/n didn’t mean to snoop but she couldn’t help but look at all the photos framed on the wall and tables. The first photo that caught her eye was a picture of young Wanda and Pietro back in what Y/n could guess was their hometown. She picked it up and analyzed it in detail.

“I miss him,” Y/n whispered to herself. Wanda noticed this as she walked in with two cups of hot chocolate. “We were only five in that photo. I think we went to the zoo that day. Probably one of our better pictures when we were younger. Everything else is either him or me or the both of us crying.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Wanda nodded for approval, “is your Pietro still alive?” Wanda could sense this was a sensitive subject and gave Y/n one of the cups while directing her to the couch. 

“Yes, my Pietro is still alive. Currently, he’s away on work.” Y/n gave a small smile, the feeling of missing Pietro grew inside. “I’m happy to hear that.” Y/n took a small sip of her hot chocolate, making sure not to spill the hot drink on herself. 

“So your Y/n likes hot chocolate?” Wanda smiled in agreement. “Yes, my Y/n does like hot chocolate. She’s the only reason I have some. I’m just glad that part of her is with you as well. I hope it finds you comfort though because it must be scary to be in a completely different universe.”

“Well,” Y/n thought maybe lying would help ease her anxiety, but the presence of Wanda, even though it wasn’t necessarily her Wanda, made her want to tell the truth, “it is scary. I’m just hoping they find me. But you have been pretty calm for this whole ‘I managed to drop on your farm out of all the locations in this universe’ thing.” 

“Your humor appears to be the same no matter the universe,” Wanda playfully said. “But the reason I’m not freaking out is because in this universe, I’m aware of my other counterparts. Luckily enough, you dropped into a universe where I have my powers.” Wanda proceeded to show off her magic, covering Y/n in red swirls momentarily. 

“Are you able to drop me back home?” Wanda politely smiled, setting her cup down on the table nearby. “I’m sorry dekta. I unfortunately don’t have that type of power as of yet.” 

Y/n sighed in defeat, her anxiety coming back with worried thoughts. Wanda reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand in a comforting manner. Even in different universes, Wanda Maximoff cared for Y/n Y/l/n. This was a simple fact that would not change. “However, your Wanda is currently on the hunt for you.” 

“She is?” Y/n placed her cup down, her hand still interlaced with Wanda���s. “The rules of the universe don’t allow any conversation to happen between each other but we can still feel each other. So when you dropped into my world, I could feel the slight imbalance. But, you just happen to be dating one of the most powerful people in the universe.” Y/n blushed at the compliment, already knowing that she was lucky to even date Wanda in the first place. 

“And the perk of dating powerful people is that we can feel other things in different universes. Right now, I can feel her dropping into other universes, trying her best to find you.”

“What if she can’t find me?” Y/n pouted. Wanda smiled even more. It was refreshing to see that their love expanded beyond her world. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek with her free hand, “This is something I will share only with you.” Listening intently, “You and your Wanda have a special connection. Think of it as a tether. Right now, she’s tugging on that tether hoping that if she continues to pull on it, it will lead back to you. No amount of magic, power, or science can cause this tether to break. It might be a little tangled with how many universes you might’ve accidentally gone through, but she will reach you in time.” 

“So believe me when I say this dekta, Wanda will always find you.” Wanda kissed Y/n’s forehead and proceeded to get up. “In the meantime, my Y/n is away on a mission. You’re free to stay here with me until all of this gets sorted out.”

Wanda walked back to the front of the house, putting her shoes back on. “Is there anything I can do to help out while I wait?”

“Wanna help me with the goats?” 

After a long day of work, Wanda and Y/n lay in the hammock near the campfire, admiring the stars that the night offered. “When I looked at your photos, I noticed none of them were of just you and I, how come?” 

Wanda blushed at the directness and was thankful that it was nighttime. “You see, my Y/n and I aren’t dating yet.” Y/n faced Wanda with a ridiculous look. “Are you serious? How come I haven’t confessed? If there’s a world where there’s a you and an I, then we must be together.”

“I’m not sure. We bought this farm together to get away from the city and have some peace time before they spring our next mission on us. Even then, she doesn’t seem to have the courage to confess.” Wanda sighed, her patience was running thin but she knew it was worth the wait. 

“Do you need me to get myself together?” Wanda laughed at the offer, clearly imagining two Y/n’s talking to each other. “I’ll probably be the one to have to confess first if she doesn’t do it soon.” 

“Just to be sure, does the Y/n here like you like that?” 

“Oh, I’m more than positive that my Y/n likes me back,” Wanda cockily states. 

“What makes you so certain? Back then, it took me forever to confirm that my Wanda even liked me.”

“Cause within our tethers, I can feel her. I’ve only ever felt her. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to tie me to her if she didn’t feel the same way.” There was more to the truth than Wanda could let on, because in every universe, Y/n and Wanda always fall in love with each other, no matter the circumstances, no matter the era, and no matter the time. 

“I didn’t know the universe could be kind like that.” 

They continued to star watch when a red portal in the sky opened up and out came two figures. One landed roughly as the other descended slowly onto the ground. Y/n and Wanda got up from their hammock and walked towards them. 

“Wanda?” Y/n yelled out in the distance, hoping it was them and not an alien invasion. “Y/n?!” Wanda came rushing into Y/n’s arm, feeling her worries slip away as she finally was with her again. “I thought I lost you,” Wanda stated with worry. Today had been a long day for her and America Chavez. Hopping from universe to universe was hard, especially with a young teen that has no clue how to control her powers. 

“You could never lose me,” Y/n stated confidently. Wanda pulled back from the hug and sealed a kiss, one that made both of their knees weak and minds numb with love. Pulling away slowly, pressing their foreheads against each other, Wanda said, “Let's go home dekta.” 

Y/n nodded in agreement and intertwined their hands. They walked back to the portal but not before Y/n waved goodbye to this universe’s Wanda. “I hope she confesses soon!” 

Wanda smiled back in return and waved. Telepathically, Wanda said, “Thank you for taking care of my Y/n.” 

“Anytime, Wanda.” 

Part 2

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog @sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @shadowybailiffdreamer-donkey @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @second-try-stevie @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me @ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha @itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @isitallreallyworthit @coxmicbabygirl  @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff @imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy​ @olsensnpm​ @psychadelichues​ @whitelotus00

A/n: I just used the same tag list from Fake Memories. If you didn't want to be tagged, I'm sorry.

[bbystark]

toxic!ghost x soft!reader

summary: ghost meets a soft little thing and quickly makes her his and his alone. (based on a request from @catoncrack59!)

a/n: tysm for the request, i'm sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted i did get carried away haha. enjoy!!

mdni mature themes

first sees you when he's freshly home from deployment, stalking the aisles of his local grocery store to fill his empty fridge.

there you are, politely tapping the shoulder of an elderly clerk and asking him where something is. you're in the cutest little sundress, eyes big as you point to an item on your list to show the employee.

he finds himself immediately enthralled. you laugh he gets a glint of your pearly teeth, your canine glinting in the florescent lights, and he's completely done for.

he forgets his quest for frozen tv dinners and finds himself trailing you throughout the grocery store, at one point pretending to be interested in tortilla chips when you glance his way.

you finally stop in the dairy section, quietly browsing the options while you chew on your lip. he briefly wonders what your lips feel like- soft no doubt- and why you needed help finding something so simple.

his question is answered when he's in line at checkout, one person behind you. you make small talk with the cashier, and he learns you just moved here for work, managing a new woman's shelter downtown. what a sweet thing, he thinks, so selfless.

it continues like that for weeks, simon tailing you all around town just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile and calming demeanor. he doesn't know what it is about you, maybe it's how polar opposite the two of you are.

simon thinks you would never be with someone so opposing of what your entire life radiated, but it only fuels the fire he has to claim you.

then he gets deployed. almost goes insane, can't stop thinking about your curves and sickly soft features.

more than once angrily fists his cock in the showers thinking of you beneath him, innocent eyes beckoning him closer.

he almost never feels satisfied after, watching his spend circle the drain feeling mildly disgusted with himself and the fact that you literally weren't even aware of his existence.

finally gets back after months and once again sees you at the grocery store and simply decides that life is too short and you're going to be his one way or the other

decides to grow a pair and ask you where something is, and oh! look at that, sweet little you even guides him to the exact aisle and shelf it's on. he makes up some bullshit about trying to bake and not knowing where to begin, knowing you'll eat the lie up.

ends up getting your number for, you know, baking advice and soon thereafter he's in your little house baking cookies with you

you fall for him almost immediately, big soft man who bakes. simon barely tells you anything about himself, omitting details and changing subjects whenever anything personal comes up. but you don't even notice, too dumb and in the middle of falling in love

simon begins to subtly change after the first two dates

he's already obsessed, and the man hasn't even gotten a kiss on the cheek. but your obvious budding adoration for him just isn't cutting it. no, he wants you to himself.

it's the least he deserves right? a soft, kind, sweet little thing just for fucked up, damaged him. his own personal angel.

He starts with subtle manipulation, getting into your head when you have small tiffs with family and friends and saying they aren't good for you. "you're better off without 'em luv. forget it and come gimmie a hug."

then he's purposefully sabotaging your work, deleting important files and changing things in your calendar so you'll be late or miss things completely. it sends you in a tailspin, and soon you start messing up on your own, completely overwhelmed.

he's always there though, wiping tears off your cheek with calloused thumbs and comforting words.

asks you to move in with him before he even asks you to be his girlfriend, but obviously in this economy you say yes

living in domestic bliss, ignorant bliss, in your case, but bliss nonetheless

then he pushes it a little too far and says he doesn't want you to go to a family dinner back in your home city

you snap at him for the first time ever, and simon would never admit that he chubbed up a little at the sight of your irritated and upset face- it was a sight really, his little princess throwing a tantrum

you tell him that he's being ridiculous, that it's holiday season and you haven't seen your family in forever. simon throws it back in your face with a "aren't I your family luv? gonna leave me all alone here?" and a carefully timed voice crack.

you concur and cancel your flights, and simon apologizes by fucking you so raw you honestly forget what had you so upset when you wake up the next morning.

continues to slowly cut off contact with the outside world. your phone breaks and he replace it with a flip phone like his, saying social media was rotting your brain and this would be good for you. you listen to him, of course.

nearly goes insane when he gets the call that he has to ship out soon. thinks about locking you in the apartment, hiring one of his old buddies to drop groceries off every once in a while.

while tempting, he knows he has to tread lightly with you. he needed to take his time, so he settles with getting you a pretty necklace with a gps tracker in it and wiring his apartment and your car with cameras. crazy? no! he just wants to make sure you're safe and also not interacting with anyone but him and him alone

besides, with his great manipulation guidance, you had basically cut off all your friends and family. the ones who stuck around eventually left (simon threatened them)

so he wasn't worried. however, he does grow worried when he's lonely one night on deployment and pulls up the footage of his apartment, and watches as you find one camera by accident, and go on a rampage throughout his apartment and find the rest. oops, simon really shouldn't have rushed putting those things up.

doesn't really stress, knows he'll just have to wait and go find you again. at least now he won't have to hide just how much he loves you.

enjoy your freedom now and good luck when that man finds you

request more

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Christmas Shana! May I ask for some Merlin and Arthur? Maybe the time travel Ygraine one, or something else entirely 🎁🎄🎅🏻

Queen Ygraine is cursed to die during childbirth and the baby is stolen from his very crib that same night.

Uther rages. The grief and the fury of losing them both leave him a broken man and a broken king. The grounds of Camelot turn to mud with all the blood he's spilled and the air turns grey and harsh from the burnings. He sends knights to every corner of his kingdom, but his son remains missing, not even a body to be found.

Tristan and Agravaine de Bois send letters, blaming Uther for their sister and nephew's death and proclaiming they are subjects of Uther's no more. It's a blip in torrent of grief - Uther can't even pretend to mourn the loss of his brothers in law in the face of that of his wife and son.

"I still think we should have killed him," Tristan says, watching the servants pack up the contents of their manor with a scowl.

"He would have killed you and then I'd be stuck doing this alone," Agravaine replies, a blond, blue eyed infant in his arms. "So our revenge will have to wait."

"Alone?" Nimueh scoffs. "Thanks. Is this not revenge enough?"

Tristan softens, reaching out to brush the back of his index finger against Arthur's chubby cheek. "He's not revenge. He's our nephew."

Agravaine briefly tightens his hold on the babe before relaxing. "Where are we going? I suppose Mercia is the obvious choice."

"That old man won't be able to help gloating to Uther and we don't want him giving us a second glance," Tristan says. "Cendred's kingdom is a better choice, I think. That's our where our grandfather's castle is anyway."

The two of them plus a sorceress should be more than compelling enough additions to his court for Cendred to relinquish it back to them. Or at least turn a blind eye when they take it back themselves.

~

Merlin is fourteen and standing by his mother's side, keeping his head down and not moving or thinking or looking or anything as the lords come to collect taxes.

No matter what they say, no matter what they do, he's not to move.

There's cries of pain from the smith as one of the lords kicks him down, shouting at him for how little they have. He's the most educated man in the village, he's the one that keeps track. He's the one that warns them how short they are.

They are especially short this year.

There's the sound of sword being unsheathed and Merlin resists the urge to bury his head in his mother's shoulder. He's not suppsosed to move.

"Oh, for goddess's sake," a new, young voice says. He doesn't sound that much older than Merlin. "This is a waste of time. If you cut off his head, will gold coins fall out?"

"We're here to collect taxes!" he insists.

The young lord scoffs. "And if we were sent to squeeze blood from a stone, how long would you spend with your hands pressing into bedrock? Look at them!"

"We can't just let them get away with it," he argues. "If you're father hears about this-"

"He'll hear about it because I'll tell him myself," he says, annoyed. "We could take everything they have and we'll still lose money when they starve to death and we have to send people to bury the bodies or risk disease settling in. The wages for those soldiers will cost far more than everything this little village has to offer."

"They're on our land, they pay the tax!"

The young lord's voice goes hard. "I think you'll see that they're on my father's land and it's ultimately his responsibility to collect taxes for the king. Which means this is decision, not yours."

"Yes, and he decided that-"

"Well I'm deciding differently and he can yell at me about it then!" he snaps. "Put your sword away before I draw mine."

There's a tense, heavy silence. Then there's the sound of a sword going back in its sheathe and, "Yes, Lord de Bois."

Lord de Bois sighs and then raises his voice so his voice carries travels to everyone standing there, to the whole village standing there and waiting. "I'll return within the week. If there's any sort of bookkeeping you have, gather it for me."

"Y-yes, my lord," the blacksmith stutters.

There's the sound of footsteps then hooves.

He lifts his head and only sees the back of the young Lord de Bois's blond head.

Merlin wonders if when he returns, he'll be allowed to look.

[sunkissedscribbles]

The Beach

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x poet!mentally ill!reader

genre: angst, a wee bit of fluff

tw: mental health issues, swearing

word count: 2008

summary: enzo comforts you when having a mentally rough period

a/n: my soul needed this one. i don't really want to label reader's mental state because in my mind bpd was the starting point but I think it would fit under the terms of depression as well, that's why I haven't specified it in the pairing (and because i'm not a specialist). also, it contains one of my poems I have not yet posted on my main.

playlist: The Beach - The Neighbourhood

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It hasn’t even been a month since the new school year started, only two weeks. Two weeks got you utterly exhausted, and even that was an understatement. It felt like you had forgotten to talk, taking a little too long to answer, to process things – to think. Your head felt heavy with emptiness, your entire body ached as it didn’t seem to be able to release stress, holding onto it deep in your bones, low in your back.

It wasn’t just fatigue, it was emotional and mental exhaustion that made you want to lie in bed all day, yet your sensible side made you get up every day and go to your classes.

Those damn lessons.

You went to all of them, tried to siphon in as much of each subject as you could but your mind was elsewhere all the time.

At how sick you were.

At how tired you were.

And in the afternoons you did nothing other than lie in bed, trying to convince your mind that it was okay, there was nothing wrong with you, and that you needed to study.

Just five more minutes.

Oops, It’s been ten minutes ago.

Anyway.

You’re gonna start studying at next-hour-o’clock.

You didn’t.

At dinner you were only pushing your relatively small portion of food back and forth on your plate, your mind foggy with very negative thoughts as the chatter of your friends next to you blurred into an indistinctive mess of different voices over your head.

You were silent,

and lethargic,

all the time.

It was after dinners when you lay in bed, hoping this was a phase or something you’d eventually get over. But in the back of your mind, you knew you wouldn’t.

And you didn’t really want to, either – you felt so down, so numb that you felt like you couldn’t move in the direction of getting better.

Not properly.

Not permanently.

Lying there, alone, you couldn’t think of anything better than causing your own pain, physically – at least you’d feel something, wouldn’t you? Even if it’d hurt – maybe you’d deserve it. Maybe you’d deserve it because you had spent your entire summer not doing anything valuable, pushed down these feelings of despair, hurt, pain, depression. You didn’t study saying you couldn’t pay attention and you were tired – of course you were when you kept staying up endlessly, only getting mere hours of sleep and not eating enough.

Maybe you did deserve to feel this way.

You missed the affection, just a hug at least, from your friends. But you have been so withdrawn from them and they were all beating around the bush, not knowing how to corner the question of your visibly deteriorating mental health.

It was Enzo though, who paid the most attention to you; he knew you like the palm of his hand, even if you hadn’t realised it. He cared about you, probably more than he should’ve. He’d known all your mood swings, and even when you had better days, he knew you were going to be just as down, if not even worse in just a matter of days.

He couldn’t bear seeing you like this, he missed the carefree, loving Y/N you were. He missed his Y/N. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his heart as your tone only made it obvious just how tired and ill you were. Every time he saw you scribbling into your notebook he knew contained your poetry his heart ached, even when it was just two words.

He knew you were starting to give it all up.

Life.

You didn’t cry, and that was obvious – you’ve never been one to cry much or cry immediately when something relatively bad happened, or when it was something that you took too personally, nor when one of the bandages you thought were securely protecting your wounds were ripped off, not suddenly but slowly to hurt even more as it stuck to the surface of your heart. No, you took it, held yourself together, trying to maintain the facade you built so well and perfected over the years of suffering from whatever game your mind was playing with you.

Because the more people knowing you’re hurt the more able to hurt you.

Because the more pain you show the less people will think of you.

Because the more you trust the more leaving you and hurting you in the end, the more betraying you.

You were more on the bottling-up side, but the bottle always spilt in the end when it couldn’t hold more.

More suffering, more floating, more silence, more pain.

So, two weeks after your seventh and last year at Hogwarts had started, here you were, writing a new poem in the Astronomy Tower.

I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace, you wrote the last two lines, the cool autumn breeze in your hair.

“Y/N?” Enzo’s voice echoed through your ears, and closing your notebook, you looked up at him. This was the day the bottle broke – you’ve been crying before writing your poem.

Startled by your red eyes, he looked at you with concern. “Y/N, were you crying?” he immediately crouched down in front of you, and as he took your face in his palms gently, you could feel the dam break again. You didn’t like this. No, you couldn’t be crying in front of him.

“Just, uh, tired,” you answered in a low tone, trying to convince him – or yourself, rather.

He looks down at the notebook and shakes his head, “Liar. Let me see.”

You hesitated – how could you possibly show him what you were feeling? It took you weeks to be able to put it into words, and it’s not too happy. “Please,” he asked softly, one hand caressing your cheek, the other reaching down for the notebook in your lap. And you let him, knowing he’d get what he wanted anyway.

You saw his facial muscles twitch and tense up as he read its title, his hand falling off your face: ‘goodbye.’

His eyebrows knotted in a frown at first, glancing up at your once lively eyes, now missing the bright, pure shine they used to have.

You watched as his expression became sad and even more concerned as he breezed through your lines written.

these lines; I plan them to be the last ones I write and speak, so that I can be free in a world where pain doesn’t exist, where no clouds disfigure the sky. I go tonight; I don’t regret and don’t look back, I’m not afraid to leave anymore, I give up the fight, I end the war. i lie down tonight and drift to sleep, I unite with nature forever, and release the built-up hurt and pain. I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace.

“Y/N, you–” he shook his head as he lifted his head again, meeting your eyes. But you, you couldn’t look into his, you felt like you’d break immediately. You were afraid of what emotion would look back at you. Hurt? Sadness? Disappointment? Or would he look at you differently?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head, keeping it hanging low.

He cupped your face again to make you meet his gaze, gently yet forcefully tilting your head upwards. His eyes, as always had that caring look in them, mixing with concern, and a sense of fear that he’d lose you washed over him.

He’d lose you, before it was nature’s job to cross your path together, before he could even confess to you.

“...Why haven’t you told me?” he asked in a low, broken voice. Fuck, he couldn’t lose you.

You couldn’t answer him at first – how could you tell him that you’d been feeling like shit for weeks again? That the longer you’re alive the less you’re living? The more days you survive the more of your want to live, and the more of your shine you lose. you took a long breath and with a tremble tugging at your lips, you shook your head while a stray fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/N, darling…” he pulled you in for a hug and as his arms enveloped you tightly, your salty tears started raining down your cheeks again, lading on the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m sick…” you sob into his chest, not able to hold anything back anymore, not in front of him as your fists clutch the fabric on his back. “And I’m tired too.”

You weren’t fireproof, that was for a fact, and he knew it too, probably better than anyone. You didn’t want to burn in your own flames but you felt it, felt it burning you and spread over onto him, burning him too. You were holding on to him for dear life, hoping your own miserable state of mind wouldn’t murder you.

“...I hope I don’t burden you,” you trembled against his body and he held you tighter.

“You could never,” he assured you, shaking his head. “Never, honey. You’re not a burden.”

You didn’t need to say much, he’d known almost everything already. He just held you tight against him, as if you could just slip away and disappear if he wouldn’t – and the truth is, you could’ve, especially in this state. And you kept gripping his hoodie as you slowly calmed down in his arms, while his heartbeat gave yours a soothing rhythm to follow. 

You were slowly coming to your senses that felt numb all this time – his cologne was a nice mix of sandalwood and citrus which filled your nostrils and made you feel at home, even more at ease, his touch warm and soothing under your sweater, rubbing your skin through the thin layer of your shirt, his voice sending your mind into a state of contentment as he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and yet again, you couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. You’d been friends for a long time and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you two have built up over the years.

Then the three little words left his lips involuntarily; “I love you.”

You felt him stiffen against you as the realisation that he indeed said that out loud hit him, and coming down from your surprise, and trying to control your rapid heartbeat, you lift your head from his chest and meet his eyes. How could he love an emotional wreck like you?

“Y-you what?” you asked as if you hadn’t heard it right.

He gulped, trying to swallow his fear of rejection before repeating his words, “I said I loved you,” he led his hands onto your waist under your sweater as you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, but kept drawing you in lightly.

Without any further hesitation, you crashed your lips against his, afraid this was only a dream, hence wanting to enjoy every second of it and take it to the fullest.

His lips were so soft and moved so in sync with yours, and you wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever, wrapped in his embrace, with your lips connected, your tongues dancing around, making your mouths a ballroom, available for only them.

You pulled back just to come up for air and to clarify one thing. “I love you too.”

Your words sent a jolt of electricity and happiness down his spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours before reassuringly whispering to you, “I’m not leaving. We’re in this together and you can count on me, anytime, anywhere. Just- don’t shut me out. Please… I need you here with me.”

You nodded against his skin and let out a heavy sigh. You knew it would be a long way, a really deep dive. But until it was him swimming with you it didn’t matter that you were out in the open. It wasn’t a sudden light, a newfound wave of relief taking you out to the shore, but the beach seemed closer than ever. 

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 10/12

Anonymous asked: Scratch: Won't anyone think of the children!! If you're gonna be smooching then get a room!!! also Scratch: Time to go manipulate more children into destroying their relationships! @manorinthewoods asked: There are two events in which Scratch has, so far, gained emotions: one, when he discovered that the Serkets stole an incredibly important magical item and hid it for centuries or millenia; and two, romance in his workroom. ~LOSS (20/9/24)

@manorinthewoods asked: "Is it because there’s a ‘good’ and an 'evil’ way for a God Tier to die?" On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate this brain fart? ~LOSS (20/9/24)

Wait, is that a brain fart? Because to me, it still scans.

Prospit, the 'good' moon, would naturally be associated with heroism, and vice-versa for Derse. Am I missing something really obvious?

Anonymous asked: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Death's Bell grows ever nearer. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. But will it determine whether the thief is trully a sinner? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Honk. I guess we'll see :o) @ben-guy asked: The showdown between Vriska and Terezi really is one of the watershed moments of HS imo. You've questioned if Vriska has matured enough to escape death by mysterious transcendental judgement engine… but let's not forget the meanings of the words in question, and their inherent linguistic and philosophical ambiguity. What if her death being caused by her pursuit of a heroic (albeit foolish) plan tragically makes her growth the cause of a permanent death instead? What if Terezi's decision to kill her is just regardless of Vriska's motivations, making her growth a moot point? Of course, this feels a lot less mutually exclusive, which goes against the implications of the clock imagery. […]

How did Scratch phrase it again?

The terms of a God Tier permadeath are defined according to the case of the individual - which implies that Heroic and Just are subjective, even to Sburb. It sounds like there might not be any ironclad rules, and that everyone's ruling works differently.

Yes, Scratch appears to be outlining some universal examples here - but what does, say, 'corruption' really mean? There are many equally valid interpretations, and a lot of them are contradictory. Maybe each death uses the definition that makes the most sense to that player.

In any case, I think Vriska's fate is currently meant to be unclear. She's designed from the ground up to be a complex, morally ambiguous character, and you could construct a valid argument for either outcome.

For my part, I'm fully convinced this will resolve as Just. I've been predicting Vriska's death for most of the Act now, and it's extremely fitting for it to happen at Terezi's reluctant hands. All those Incidents are finally coming full circle, and they're coming for her.

@morganwick asked: Note that Scratch starts talking about dark pockets and needing to speculate immediately after Vriska sees Karkat and Terezi's corpses. That's all Terezi needed to see, which means it's all Scratch needed to know - and all Hussie needed to know as well.

True! The fight that Scratch couldn't call was part of a doomed timeline. Its outcome was completely irrelevant to the story - and therefore, there's a good chance that Hussie didn't bother to decide on the victor. Author Theory survives another day!

@relaxxattack asked: i dont know if this counts as spoilers (it's a quote from andrew hussie) but i think your theory on scratch's omniscience is basically spot-on! "Doc here refers to the dark spots, the pockets of void on which his vision is built. These hint at limitations to his omniscience. As an alt-author figure, his omniscience makes sense, since the author has sweeping knowledge of story details as well. Because I "know everything," he "knows everything" too. Of course, as I write the story, there are plenty of things I don't know yet, and the "not knowing" is always an important part of the process in this largely improvisational medium. The known gaps are worked into the story, evaded through time skips and other tricks, filling out the surrounding narrative until certain answers become clearer, and then revealed at the right moment. The voids are built around, and in a real way, become foundational, almost load-bearing gaps in knowledge, just as he describes. Pillars of shadow. So his dark spots are not only a limitation to an otherwise ridiculously overpowered villain that can be exploited, they're a feature of a specific type of "authorial omniscience" copied into his profile." -- Andrew Hussie

...and it's officially Hussie-approved! Let's fucking go!

Anonymous asked: One kind of less obvious thing he says about circumstantial simultaneity is that it weaves together perfectly disparate chronologies such as a pair of distinct sessions, so it seems it is at work when there is communication between sessions, such as conversations between humans and trolls. ie: The troll sending the message is circumstantially simultaneous to the human receiving the message. Ditto for the memos. Anonymous asked: Posting for someone else again. -DJ || I interpret Circumstantial Simultaneity to mean a very simple thing: "those events happens at different times, but at the same meta-time". Especially if the things happen in different worlds, and so happening at the same time is impossible, because different worlds have isolated timelines. - RM

That makes a lot more sense than my interpretation. I think I was thrown off by Scratch's insistence that Circumstantial Simultaneity is 'not fully comprehensible to a mortal mind'. His use of such phrasing led me to assume that the concept was more complicated than it appeared, leading me to try and puzzle out the 'real' meaning of the term.

So, in a nutshell, circumstantial simultaneity is when multiple sections of reality are linked by shared events, allowing their local timelines to synchronize. Seems straightforward enough.

Anonymous asked: i don't think scratch technically lied. there are multiple ways in which scratch could die in the same way that there are multiple ways in which anyone could die - an axe could theoretically kill you, but that doesn't mean there has to be a timeline where you get killed with an axe

The semantics here are pretty interesting.

Scratch has stated that there are multiple ways to kill him, which could mean:

That there are multiple scenarios which have a non-zero probability of killing him.

That there are multiple scenarios that would hypothetically cause him to die, if they actually occurred.

These two statements have fairly similar meanings, but, as anon pointed out, there's an important distinction between the two. Statement 1 requires Scratch to actually die in some timelines, but Statement 2 doesn't require him to ever die, in any timeline.

Scratch has stated that he'll only die in one timeline, which means that there is only one scenario that will ever lead to his death. All other scenarios will never lead to his death - and thus, even if they could 'hypothetically' kill him, the probability that they will kill him is zero.

@heliotropopause asked: Never change, Noir. is that the oil jug WV uses for his mural in act 2? how'd it get to Scratch's lair?

I don't think it's the same jug, for the simple reason that both Carapacians emptied out the whole thing for their respective shenanigans. This ain't no Alchemy Jug!

abysswarlock asked: I like to think that the meta joke with the disks are a parallel of how the kings scepters hold small instantiations of skaia that exist within skaia itself, in this case the story of homestuck exists in disk form within the narrative itself.

Perhaps, but the Scepter's recursion is explained to be a game mechanic, whereas there's currently no explanation for the disk's existence. I guess Hussie himself could have put it there, but, like... why?

Anonymous asked: ‘His army thus inspired would spearhead a major re8ellion. Surely one at least on the scale of the sectarian revolt crushed 8y the High8loods, who thereafter for8ade its mention, or any invoc8tion of the heretical sym69ls at all, even in private journals.’ do you have any theories about this line?

Karkat's leadership shines in times of immediate crisis, which is part of why he struggled to keep his team together in the Veil. He doesn't know how to motivate people without an immediate, in-your-face threat - but since his ancestor was leading a rebellion, that probably wasn't an issue for him. The threat was omnipresent.

In short, I think Karkat Senior was always in Vantas Panic Mode. He'd have spearheaded Alternia's first rebellion with vim, vigor, seemingly infinite stamina, and sheer, bloody-minded determination - and if he was anything close to as likeable as Karkat, folk heroism was virtually inevitable. I can't wait to learn more!

@semaphoricwave asked: w.r.t. learning Mindfang dates the Summoner: it makes you wonder if Vriska's obsession with Tavros was the Alternian equivalent of comphet. She had no respect for his agency in the scenario (not difficult to develop when you're able to mind control people), but also she didn't seem to hold much stock in her own agency in all that, either. It's not even a cueball fortune, she just seems to want to be true: this boy she wants to 'make better' (but doesn't know how) is meant to make her happy. Anonymous asked: so with the revelation of the summoner, this makes TWO characters that vriska canonically was in/pursued as part of a romantic relationship that were descendants from her ancestors romantic partners. girl is inventing new kinds of comphet 😭

Vriska, for god's sake. Terezi is right there.

@iknowitsgreen asked: I find it so interesting that there's now an implication that Vriska literally expected Tavros to grow wings and fly to safety when she threw him off that cliff. The question is, did she simply resent Tavros for proving her fantasy wrong, or did she convince herself that Tavros chose to be paralyzed over showing his wings to her? It somewhat recontextualizes her early treatment of him either way

Layers upon layers upon layers. Vriska was fucked up about Tavros from twenty directions at once, and should never have been let within a thousand feet of the poor guy.

@manorinthewoods asked: Since trolls growing wings is apparently some sort of mythic event, presumably the God Tier wings of Vriska specifically tie into this. A God Tier troll gaining wings would be much more significant to the troll than to the human reader, as their culture places incredible emphasis on the meaningfullness of such - and perhaps the God Tier ascension could be likened to such a 'pupation'. ~LOSS (10/9/24)

It would explain why both Vriska and Aradia got them, but John didn't. The trolls have a lot in common with insects, so it stands to reason that in their culture, an insect's metamorphosis would be associated with divine apotheosis.

Anonymous asked: It’s super fascinating riding along as you go through this sequence because when I first read homestuck literally all the mind games went over my head haha. I saw what happened, and had a decent grasp on the characters, but the idea that Gamzee was manipulating Terezi? Never occurred to me. Everything about “why didn’t Terezi suspect Gamze” was just a mystery I never solved (mostly because I never understood gamzee, and still don’t) So Thank You so much for helping me understand better, years later! It’s so wild to look back and know what happens, but still have a limited grasp on why it went down that way.

Thank you for the kind words!

And yeah, a lot of Gamzee's schtick seems to be focused on obfuscating what he's actually doing. The real smoking gun there was the near-complete loss of Terezi's deductive abilities, at the exact moment Gamzee should have entered her radar.

@skelekingfeddy asked: ive always seen the grand highblood as not a troll, but like, the head of the imperial drones. when asked why his blood is black hussie said ‘Because he’s a huge gross monster? I don’t what sort of answer would be meaningful.When the highbloods were setting up the judicial system, they said ok we’re going to need some judges for this thing. Then they said ok how about these massive brainless monsters, that would be so perfect.’ […] its a headcanon of mine that hht is technically the same species as the mother grub. same with the imperial drones. if the mother grub is a queen bee then the drones are…well, drones. and hht is, like, a drone foreman, or sergeant, or something. i imagine that trolls and the drones’ species evolved a reproductive symbiosis, but then the empire took advantage of it and co-opted the drones + hht as enforcers

There's such an interesting untold story here, about how the early trolls might have cyberized a formerly symbiotic species, and essentially made them its slaves.

I've always been interested in how, exactly, the trolls developed their symbioses, and what they might have looked like before Alternian civilization became what it is today.

Anonymous asked: terezi tries to play disc 2 on a gramophone because she literally doesn't know how a cd works - sgrub is all run via grubtech, and most of her humanning has been with mr turntables who even if asked would probably describe a cd through obtuse metaphor likening it to a vinyl record

Oh, good point. Terezi's from a civilization which left CDs behind a long, long time ago.

Hey, come to think of it, why does the Veil even have a…

...oh, right. The room isn't 'canon', so I probably shouldn't be trying to theorize too hard about its contents. It's not really part of the story.

@catlikeascendant asked: I had the impression that just like mindfang was vriska's FLARP character, Redglare was terezi's. That would explain terezi having the outfit and responding to the name, at least @somebody0214 asked: Terezi did roleplay a lot as the Redglare so it would make sense she would respond to Redglare. @dissonancies asked: I'm honestly not sure Terezi does know about her ancestor. […] Vriska had the journals, but she tries to keep her cards close to her chest- remember, "Mindfang" was Vriska's roleplay name. Who's to say she didn't just "casually" "suggest" Redglare for Terezi's character, without telling her why?

Vriska, just how many of your friends have you been molding into their ancestors?

I won't be mad - I just want to know.

Anonymous asked: Equius Sr being fit to Inherit the cueball due his passive Voidiness is another point to sharing classpects with Equius Jr, the Heir of Void. @cationicflood asked: now that youve met the Expatri8, you know now why Scratch didn’t know Vriska had the cue ball until Terezi told him — it’s spent untold centuries ensconced in Zahhak-flavored Void aura. Even when it was in Vriska’s possession, it so happened she was quite literally neighbors with Equius.

We've talked a lot about how I believe Scratch's 'dark pockets' represent information that Hussie hasn't decided on yet. It's admittedly a little difficult to reconcile that with the fact that Void, an in-universe Aspect, is strongly implied to be the source of at least some of these pockets.

Maybe Aspects can work on a meta level, as well as a literal one. Like, perhaps Void is the aspect of author uncertainty, and therefore, anything that Hussie hasn't decided on out-of-universe is canonically 'hidden by Void'.

Anonymous asked: Mindfang warning Vriska about looking into the cueball…. So what you're saying is that Mindfang warned Vriska about the *stares*

It literally keeps happening!

@wolygan asked: So based off of the troll Ancestors we have seen, what do you think the rest might be like? also what do you think of the ones we have seen, since we don't know much about them yet. @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: Hi! I'm wondering if you have any updated thoughts from your initial ancestor theory post about the ancestors we haven't seen yet, given we know a bit more about troll history now

Not a lot! I'm obviously curious about the others, particularly Karkat's, but it's hard to come up with any concrete theories, other than 'their experiences and personalities will parallel those of their descendants', which is a freebie, based on the Ancestors we already have.

Anonymous asked: To be fair to EQ,Nepeta was far and safe when Gamzee attacked, and she could easly hide out of harm way with her skills. He just miscalculated and didn't realise she would follow him and attack Gamzee after he died.

True - but at the same time, he knew that Gamzee would still remain at large after his death, and that he, Equius, would no longer be able to protect Nepeta.

Even if she hadn't attacked him immediately, Gamzee would have remained a significant danger to everyone else on the Veil, Nepeta included. Had Equius fought back, he could have ensured that Gamzee would never be able to harm her.

@martinkhall asked: It's obvious to us that's not Vriska's handwriting. But just because Terezi can smell what the words say doesn't nesisarily mean she can smell the difference in how they're writen.

Plus, would Terezi necessarily be familiar with Vriska's handwriting? After all, most of the trolls seemed to communicate exclusively through modern technology. Would they really have any cause to pass notes to each other while FLARPing?

Anonymous asked: I would push back on the assertion that Heroic and Just deaths are the only way stories can work. One can be slain by a villain but not be a hero, and that can still matter to the story. A certain event from A Song of Ice and Fire springs to mind.

Oh, for sure - that's definitely correct outside of Homestuck. But within the comic, they really might be the only ways to die that Sburb considers 'dramatic' enough to be permanent.

Outside of the God Tier system, though, anything goes. After all, Equius was slain by a villain, and he didn't exactly die a hero.

@flerponius asked: Not really relevant to anything that's going on right now, but I thought you might find it interesting. In the Homestuck physical books, AH comments that the 4 grist types unlocked by default at the beginning of the comic (not including build grist) are related to the players quests; specifically, each grist type is a blight on the land it's found on, and the players quest would involve removing it from the land. I don't think this was explained anywhere else in the comic.

Oh, interesting. I wonder what they were supposed to be for?

Like, how does Rose's chalk relate to bringing life back to her oceans? Did Hussie have different Quest in mind for her, back then?

@manorinthewoods asked: The human session is shaping up to have lasted for less than a week due to Jack's interference, while the trolls slogged through over 600 hours (probably 612, to be specific, or 25.5 days) of relationship drama, powerleveling, and the production of inane yet somehow powerful weapons. Which of these is a more 'normal' length for a session? Did the trolls take too long, or were they rushing? Do bigger sessions last for longer? ~LOSS (2/9/24)

I'm pretty sure the troll session was closer to a 'typical' length.

According to Karkat, the human Reckoning arrived significantly sooner than normal - I assume this was due to Jack's double regicide.

If the human session had gone more smoothly, I imagine that it, too, would have taken several weeks. Like the trolls, the kids would have been able to hang out in person - and unlike the trolls, it probably wouldn't have devolved into multiple homicides.

@cheyj05 asked: Hey, just so you know it's pretty much impossible to read your liveblog in order on mobile. Searching the act 1 tag doesn't work so you pretty much would just have to scroll ALL the way back, which is impossible @cheyj05 asked: Ignore my last ask, I figured out how to do it

Mind sharing how, actually? I've been assuming that this was impossible, due to the Tumblr app's, uh, unique issues. If there's a way to browse the tags properly on mobile, I should probably add it to the pinned.

Anonymous asked: What do you mean "barely wind-themed", John made a car fly with his wind powers, why is a boat less believable?

You're not wrong. I guess I meant more that the boat's Breath energy looked a lot less like actual wind, and more like the abstract idea of Breath. It might just be stylistic, though.

@wolygan asked: I read another liveblog for Homestuck, and they just got to meeting Jade and then wrote a short essay on how they are convinced that Jade is the seer of light, just thought you might find that funny to know.

I do find that funny to know! Hussie got 'em again!

[just-an-enby-lemon]

"The kid seems scared.

Tip had always been a little nervous. Or at least that was the reality when the two had met.

It was fairly obvious for everyone that met them that the child had not been treated well by their formar guardian and in a way that Elphaba sadly recognized still seemed to afraid of facing the same pain and rejection again.

Still lately the kid seemed more relaxed and open, treating her with the same easiness and earnest they did Jack. More determined to learn than eager to please. Following her around with questions and vibrating with excitement as she turned wooden sticks into dolls and toy swords alike. It made her think of Nessa in a very bittersweet way.

She failed her sister and she would not allow herself to fail another young person she became responsable for.

That's to say Tip's strange turn to the same scared kid she met soon after leaving her behind and being declared and enemy of Oz scared her.

"Miss Elphaba, I have something very serius to tell you."

Maybe they want to leave. They are not in fact different in the same way Elphaba is. Tip is a normal if deeply magical child who just ended up in the care of a horrible woman. Being her aprenticce is actually the only thing turning them into a dangerous and hated figure.

"I understand."

The kid takes a deep breath. Elphaba tries to think on the best words to explain that of course they can leave if they want to and that they can take as many provisions as they need. Tip will never again be a prisioner.

"I don't think I am a boy? Wait no. I know I'm not a boy. Like the idea of it is still a bit scary because it seems like it will be a big deal but I'm fairly sure I'm a girl actually. I just never though about it before but Jack called me she accidentaly and it just makes sense. I am still the same Tip and please let me keep being your aprentice." She says in a single breath.

"What?"

The girl looked scared. "I'm a girl." She says. Than in a smaller voice. "I can try to be a boy if you want?" It does not appear to be something she wants and the fact she still sugests it breaks Elphaba's heart a little.

"Oh! Oh. No, no, that's fine. Do you want to be called something else?"

Her eyes go huge and she stops deep in thought before answring.

"Uh. I guess so, but I'm still thinking on it. I don't mind Tip for now."

"Okay, tell me when it changes?"

"Will do."

"Anything else?"

Tip looks a bit shy for half a second before a excited smile covers her face. "Could you let me borrow a dress?"

Elphaba laughts.

"You are too tiny for my dresses, kid. But I can help you magic one for yourself. "

Her eyes shine. "Cool!"

[...]

"Morrible says you'll marry some prince soon." Dorothy says making a face.

"I don't see why you are soo distraught, my dear, I'm pretty sure she'll find me a great prince." Glinda says with false cheer.

"I doubt it. Princes are all very dull."

"Met many princes did you?" She jokes lightly, trying to find a way to change the subject. She loves the kid dearly and for all it's bleak consequences will always be glad the tornado ended up bringing the girl into her life but she would preffer not to discuss those subjects. Specially not in her own bedroom in a rare moment of relaxation.

"Well no." The girl pouts. "But most boys are dull and I can't imagine liking to marry even the ones that aren't. I guess I just thought you were the same? I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. And I sure hope marriage is unimaginable for you, you are way to young for it."

The girl smiles a tiny bit before frowning.

"I can imagine myself marrying a girl one day."

"Oh!" Is all Glinda says.

"I told Aunt Em once she told me to never say it again, she told me I was too young. But I'm ten now and I feel the same. " Dorothy rarely talks about home, sometimes Glinda tricks herself into beliving it is because her the kid just loves Oz better, that she forgot all about it, but she knows deep down that Dorothy will always miss Kansas, always miss her uncle and aunt and Toto, she just accepted home as a place she'll never return to. In the good days Glinda knows Dorothy would also miss Oz, would miss her munchkin friends and mostly would miss being Glinda's apprentice. In the better days she thinks about bringing Dorothy's family here. After all Kansas always seems sad and hungry. "Girls don't marry each other in Kansas." She continues. "But I though maybe they did here. "

"I think they do everywhere, Dorothy, is just some people pretend they don't because the different scares them."

"Like the Wizard and the animals?"

Glinda had only recently convinced Dorothy to only speak her very dangerous beliefs on the Wizard in private and even there she sometimes corrected the kid. But right now it felt too much like liying to Elphaba she couldn't do it, not when she knew Dorothy to be right.

"Yeah. Just like that."

And after a second she adds.

"Between us, I would also like to marry a woman".

Dorothy smiles, just a little bit.

[...]

She knows she should not be here.

But it's fun, she likes the dancing and the food and the small chance of going back home with something that can actually help Elphie. Maybe a magical item or even just some usefull information.

Besides the girl she is talking to is very pretty and fun and smart and she is not open about it but she's definitivaly not the biggest fan of the Wizard either. Oh and a great dancer.

"I'm sorry" the girl says "but I think I did not catch your name?"

Now it's the moment to say something clever like 'i never gave it to you' or maybe just invent some fake name. She can't say her name. It's too easy of a conection to make. But she doesn't need to lie. After all it was never really her name. And she has a name now. Has had it for days and just keept it a secret in some weird form of fear. But it felt like time. She would tell it to Elphie and Jack when she went back.

"Ozma. I'm Ozma. What's yours?"

[...]

Dorothy had never had so much fun at a party before. Her new friend was the most beutifull girl she ever met and the funniest and cleverest and it had never felt so easy to talk to someone before. In fact the only thing Ozma didn't appear to be was a good dancer but Glinda had teached Dorothy well and she found herself leading the other girl steps into the best dance she ever had.

She noticed Ozma did not gave any surname but it was not her place to pry. She just hoped to mert the girl again.

"Dorothy." She says and takes the hand. For a second she considers continuing in the way she was instructed to (Dorothy Upland at your pleasure and a kiss to the hand) but while she loves Glinda that's not really her. And she somehow trusts Ozma enough to be honest. "Dorothy Gale." She shakes the hand just like Uncle Henry used to.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 23

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, oral sex, handjob.

Part 23

"Have I already thanked you for agreeing to come with me?" Art asked after he entered the hotel where Liana was staying. His parents had also arrived. "You know I wouldn't miss you at the Olympics, right? And in London, no less!" She rolled her eyes because he hadn't stopped saying 'thank you' since the moment he bought the stupid ticket (which she wanted to pay for herself, but he didn't exactly ask her). "I love London. It's not a punishment or anything," she smiled genuinely.

Art smiled back, but he had known for some time that she loved him just as much as she loved London, and if he wanted to be arrogant, maybe even more than she loved London. And God knows how much he loves Liana. So why can't he talk to her about it? They talk about everything except that. They act like people who have been in a relationship for a decade. People whose dilemmas are about kids and home design. Why can't those be their real dilemmas? Has Art sentenced himself to a life beside Liana that will never be full and complete? Will he always have to settle for almost because he didn't insist on how ridiculous their agreement was?

"Can't wait to see all the places you love. All the buildings you told me about." His smirk widened into a real smile when he saw her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her cheeks reddened. She was truly the most beautiful person he knew. He can't believe he grew up beside her all his life and didn't realize how beautiful she was for half of it. "Maybe I shouldn't introduce you to Melissa, so you won't fall in love with her by mistake," she said in response, and he raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. I'm definitely capable of falling in love with your best friend," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as she swallowed. They both realized how loaded his statement was only after he said it. After all, Liana had been in love with his best friend. She was capable of that. It's not the same thing. He knows it's not the same thing. And yet. It's not far-fetched in their reality.

"Are you excited?" she abruptly changed the subject. "What's the worst that can happen? I'll lose in the first rounds with you and my parents in the audience, all of America watching me, and I'll become a meme. Just another Sunday," he lay down on the bed beside her, burying his head in her chest, letting her fingers run through his curls. "Or you'll win, and then win again and again," she said in response, and he chuckled. "What are the chances of that happening, Lia?" he sighed, afraid of disappointing so many people. "High. But in any case, you know I don't care, right?" she asked, moving his head a bit, making him look at her with wide eyes, absorbing every word she had to say. "I don't care as long as I know you're enjoying yourself and doing what you love to do. That's like the only reason I'm willing to watch you play tennis. Because I know you love it and it excites you. In any other scenario, fuck tennis," she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing and moved again, allowing him to rest his head back on her soft chest. He could fall asleep like this. He had fallen asleep like this before.

"So if I quit tomorrow, you wouldn't care?" he asked without looking at her. Because he didn't plan to quit. He was far from it. He loved playing tennis. He loved seeing Liana in the audience. He loved winning. "I'd throw you a party," she replied, making both of them chuckle.

"I brought you something," she murmured, gently moving him again so she could get up. "It's not too much, so don't get too excited," she added as she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a box wrapped with a ribbon. "Lia, you shouldn't have." His hand found its way to his neck for a moment, unable to think clearly. His heart was beating irrationally. The fact that she thought of him enough to give him something for the tournament, even though she was already flying with him, gave him chills. "Don't be stupid, open it," she smiled. And for once, Art listened to what she told him to do instead of giving her instructions. "What is all this?" he muttered, not knowing what to focus on.

"Okay, the headphones are supposed to be really good. They're for listening to your meditations if you're with someone in the room, or the songs you like to listen to before games. The book is just because I know you might get bored in the Olympic Village between games or training or whatever, so you have something to pass the time. And there's this really silly picture my mom gave me two months ago. Art, have you seen it?" She talked so fast, and Art felt he could cry. "It's from that time you got a skateboard for your birthday," he stated, examining the framed picture. Liana and he were seven. He was holding his first racket in one hand and hugging Liana with the other. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were swollen. Liana, on her part, had her arms crossed, standing next to a small skateboard. She looked displeased.

"Yeah, and you cried and acted like a little bitch even though you got a racket for your birthday," she laughed heartily, and Art couldn't take his eyes off the picture in front of him. "I wanted to have what you had," he said honestly, remembering that feeling exactly. As a child, he couldn't let go of her at every shared moment. He followed her like he was her tail. Probably even then, he would have wagged if she asked him to. She never asked. "It's for you to put in your room because two and a half weeks is a long time, so you feel a bit at home. After that, I might want it back. It's too cute," Liana continued, partially ignoring what he said.

"Is that mine?" he suddenly asked, pulling out a simple white cap from the box. "Yes. Okay, it's weird, I know. But you had that period where you wore a backwards cap and really looked like a smug, annoying dickhead—" "Oh yes, I remember. You didn't stop telling me how much you hated all my caps," he rolled his eyes.

"Well...I lied," she said without blinking, and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "You looked really good with those silly caps. It was awful," she rolled her eyes. "And then there was one time I was at your house one summer, and you were in the pool, so I just took that cap. I thought maybe it would make you stop wearing them, but you just wore another one the next day. An insufferable person," she spoke quickly, as if the speed would make what she said less significant.

"When was that?" For every word she said quickly, he spoke his slowly, swimming in this moment. "The summer of age 16, like 10 years ago, I think?" she tried to remember. "Lia, did you have a crush on me when you were 16?" The familiar smirk spread across his face. "Oh, fuck off," she rolled her eyes, and he put the box on the bed beside him, stood up, and approached her. Wrapping her in a hug with his big hands.

"Thank you," he said quietly, feeling himself melt into her. "You know I've got your back, right? With or without tennis. You and I will be okay," she said, looking at him again. Art kissed her in response, unable to find any words other than 'I love you' (which he wasn’t allowed to say) to sum up the discussion.

After three weeks at the London Olympics, Art Donaldson won a silver medal in the doubles tournament and a gold medal in the singles, all while wearing a backwards white cap in every match. The kiss he gave Liana after his victory was captured everywhere. It was called 'iconic.' Nobody knew who Liana was, but she was the first person to receive his attention, and his parents or Tashi, who were sitting there, weren't surprised at all.

They said goodbye to his parents and decided to stay another week in London. This way, Art could meet some of Liana's friends and see places she loved. Besides, he could use a vacation. Tashi tried to resist, unsuccessfully. It was also Liana's birthday, and Art wanted to take her to a nice restaurant.

They sat next to each other at a bar in London, with some of Liana's school friends sitting across from them. Art connected with them instantly. In a flash. Overall, seeing Liana so immersed in her element, so social, was like exploring her anew. Discovering the person she had been all these years without him.

"Does anyone want something to drink?" he asked, and after everyone told him what they wanted and someone else went with him, Liana stayed with Melissa, who looked at her as if she had fallen from the moon. "You're so in love with him it's embarrassing. I don't know what this act is for," Melissa said the second everyone walked away. "There's no act, we're fine. He's my best friend," Liana shrugged and finished her drink. "Girl, I'm your best friend. The blond guy who looks at you like you hung the moon and sleeps with you most nights of the week, he's your boyfriend." Melissa almost laughed at the absurdity. There wasn't a single person around the table who even asked who Art was to Liana. It was obvious to everyone that he was her boyfriend. His hand was on her in a half-hug, so nonchalant, as if he was born in that exact position. As if he belonged right beside her.

"He doesn't look at me like-" Liana rolled her eyes. "What are you afraid of?" Melissa interrupted, not letting her continue deceiving herself. There isn't a person in the world (literally the whole world since their kissing photos were published) who thinks Liana is just Art's best friend. "I guess, I don't want to get hurt again," Liana murmured, looking at Melissa with a pitiable expression. "Oh, babes, sweetie, everyone gets hurt all the time. Who the fuck has the energy to be afraid of that?" She hugged her, a crushing hug. "I need to visit you more. You're losing it over there in America," she concluded as everyone returned to the table.

Art's hand returned to the same spot, only this time Liana's head rested on his shoulder, as if she was born right there as well.

Two days later, Art insisted they go to the restaurant he had reserved. "Art, we're going to celebrate at your parents' house in two weeks anyway. You're really overdoing it," she said when he just told her about his plans. "Hey, we never celebrate your birthday on the actual date. It feels unfair. Just let me spoil you for a bit," he looked at her with a gaze she found hard to refuse.

So, Liana found herself sitting next to him at a Michelin-starred restaurant, telling him occasionally that he was crazy for the amount of money he spent on this meal. Reminding him that there was no real reason for this extravagance. But every time Liana took a bite or sipped the wine, he saw her face change, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. He knew it wasn't a waste. He knew he had made the right decision, and he knew that tonight might take a turn very soon, so he decided to savor the good, certain moments as much as possible.

After they finished eating, Liana took him on a tourist bus tour, which made them both roll their eyes and laugh, feeling like kids again. They weren't bothered by the people asking to take pictures with Art. What did bother them was the rain that started to pour in August, causing them to catch a taxi to the hotel, drenched. "That was a really extreme ending to this evening," Liana said as they both laughed. "Thank you, Art, this was really over the top," she said, looking at him with a gaze that quickly changed from amused to grateful.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Liana. Like, ever." He said, his gaze was piercing. Demanding. "Haven't you figured that out yet?" he mumbled and sighed. "Okay. No more thank yous. Do you want to shower with me?" she smiled, and his look filled with mischief as he moved towards her and unzipped her dress. They were under the warm water quickly, with Art gently moving her hair away from her face, and she closed her eyes. His hands were so rough from tennis, but his touch was soft.

"You're so beautiful, Lia. It's unbelievable that you're mine," he murmured, and she opened her eyes. He looked at her, too, and knew he had crossed some kind of line. Because they didn't say it out loud. They didn't say what everyone understood. They just acted like it, and Art was about to ruin it. Or change it. Or improve it. He was about to break it. "You're beautiful yourself," she replied, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him. He deepened the kiss immediately. And it wasn't hurried or sloppy; it was serious and mature and deep. They took their time, refusing to break apart until they ran out of air to share.

Art didn't know how he found himself on all fours before her again, but he loved looking up at her sometimes. When she looked back at him, and they both knew she had the power to destroy him, but she would never use it. And Art was beginning to believe he also had the power to destroy Liana, but he would never dream of using it. His mouth was on her pussy, and even as he explored her from within, he took his time, just as he had with her mouth earlier. And the sounds she made, which he was already used to but would never tire of, made him feel like he could come without her touching him at all. "Fuck, Artie, I'm close," and he loved when she called him that because it only happened when she was needy and coming and desperate and his, and he knew she was in that stupid state because of him, and she also knew he was the one making her feel so good, in such euphoria. And with that thought in his mind, he felt her come, half leaning on the wall and half on his shoulder as he held her shaking legs. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. Come for me. I'm here," he talked her through it, making her orgasm even more intense.

And after she recovered and managed to give him a handjob while they both giggled at her inability to function, they managed to shower and get dressed. "I have a present for you," he said suddenly, with his hand on his neck, knowing this was going to be a pivotal moment but staying calm. "Art, you're overdoing it. The meal was enou-" "Please, Liana, just let me give it to you," he interrupted her because he knew the arguments would come later anyway; right now, he needed her less combat ready.

"Okay," she mumbled, and he went to his suitcase, pulling out a small jewelry box. "Art, what is this?" Liana looked at it as if it were a contagious disease wrapped in a bow. "Relax, it's not a ring. But it might make you angry, and I want you not to be mad at me. Can you do that? Not be mad before you let me talk?" he said, playing with his fingers to steady himself as he spoke. "What's going on, Art?" her voice became more serious. Every note of amusement left it as he handed her the box and sat cross-legged on the bed in front of her.

She looked at the key inside and then at him with a raised eyebrow, feeling her heart pounding faster. "The house is ready," he said, not taking his eyes off her. "Actually, it's been ready for a few weeks. The designer finished completely." He continued, seeing that Liana didn't move for a second. Not even blink. "I'm moving there, and I want you to move in with me." His look was almost desperate. He was so afraid of her reaction, as if he knew she was about to shatter him. "Art, that's not what we agreed..." she said quietly, afraid to move. "Fuck it, Liana. We haven't been in what we agreed to for a long time. We haven't been friends with benefits from the minute we agreed on it. You know that." He closed his eyes and took a long breath. "You built that house. The interior design consists of your ideas too. You love that house, and Liana, I'm pretty sure you love me too, and if you don't say otherwise, then I just want you to agree to live with me. That will be the new agreement," he was desperate. His voice shook, and he didn't speak logically, but he tried to convey a point.

"That will be the new agreement?" she asked, biting her lip, and he could see she was giving in. "Yes. The new agreement will be that we're in love and live together in the house we built for ourselves." He moved closer to her, his voice steadier as he kissed her neck and heard her sigh. "I can't pay for that house, Art. It cost you an insane amount of money," she mumbled. "Liana, the money doesn't matter to me. I have more money. Just what I earned from the Olympics covers that house. I'm not broke in any way." He tried to dramatize that this was the last thing that mattered to him.

"Okay," she said after a few seconds of silence, surprising him. Making him move back a bit and look at her. "Okay?" he asked, confused. He honestly thought it would take him more time. That he would have to twist and convince her.

"Yes, I think we can be in love and live together in a beautiful house. It's something we can handle," she shrugged and started to smile. "So I can say I love you without fearing you'll run away from me?" he continued, not believing he didn't have to struggle. "You already stated that I love you, so I think it would be fair if you also say you love-" He didn't let her finish the sentence before he kissed her. "Happy birthday, Liana Levy. I love you," he smiled into her mouth.

'Happy birthday Amanda, I miss you' will probably be the first message Liana sees when she opens her phone in the morning, but that's a worry for another day. Today, she's celebrating the best birthday she's ever had, probably because she's finally celebrating it on the actual date.

Hey guyssss, how are we doing? Let me know what you think as always, it literally makes my day. Also, send me more requests for blurbs. I love them and I will do at least another one between this and the next chapter. Patrick will come back to us. I just needed Art and Liana to be more stable at this point. Hope you're still enjoying it <3 

taglist (if anyone wants to join, just ask): @suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[icarusredwings]

Camping

pt 1

pt 2

A heart warming 1000th follower special!!

Logan takes the X kits camping. Simple right?

Wrong.

Children in this school are expected to be top of their class... If they aren't.. They at least need to be able to take care of themselves and use their powers decently well. For good of course.

Now you may be thinking 'Or what?'

Well- Or else you have to go with Wolverine for a survival training exercise. Aka- Summer Camp.

"Are we almost there? I'm tired." The lion boy groaned, his pack the heaviest amongst the children due to his natural strength and the fact he greatly overpacked.

"You're always tired, Leo.." Owen mutters, rolling his eyes. "But he's right. I'm starving."

This- of course, was Wade's cue.

"Hi starving! Hi tired! I'm dad!" He smiles widely as he treks behind his husband in khaki shorts and a button up shirt with a few random badges in it, his pack quite large due to his ability to carry the most in this little team of theirs.

There were a total of 12 children this time around, most being Xkits or... well.. Kids that Logan have decided to adopt under his own metaphorical wings. Unlike Warren who has legally adopted Issac under his literal wings. His mother being none other than Laura herself. Clone business and all that.

“This is stupid..” The 11 year old grumbles, wings dyed black tucked in as he holds his pack on the side. Why he chose to wear skinny jeans in the middle of the woods? Well that would be the stubbornness of his grandfather in him.

“Maybe you should have participated in Gym and you wouldn't be missing a credit.” Logan tells the taloned boy, who grumbles under his breath how unfair it is to be related to your teacher because he targets you. “You're not even my real grandfather...” He'd grumble.

“Ooh but technically he is, chickadee. See you're a clone of Laura and Laura is his daughter, which makes you..” Wade whispers to him with a big smirk.

“Gabrielle is a clone of Laura too and she's her sister. Not her daughter. So why do I have to be her son?”

Wade laughs. “Ha! What? You wanna be big guys son? That's even worse, trust me. Besides! You got different Dna then Laura cause your daddy is fancy pants rich mcgee-” He pokes, only for his hand to be slapped away. Holding a hand up to his mouth, Wade whispers. “Between you and me, He likes being a grandpa. Don't let him lie.”

“Shut up! You're scaring the wild life with your big mouth.” He growls through grit teeth.

“Ooh.. Touchy subject..”

Let's just say that Logan was getting real tired of people using his Dna to splice together more mutant children. Especially if they were just going to be raised as weapons..

There had been twelve kids on this trip, each chaperone had 3 kids to look after, well..Four each if you counted Logan and Wade as a pair, seeing as Wade was technically a risk and the only reason he was allowed was because Logan was here. There wasn't exactly a hospital out in the woods, so if he got sick or someone who couldn't regenerate got stabbed- there would be a serious issue.

Each teacher was responsible for an equal number of children, meant to coach them and encourage them to use their powers when out in these deep Canadian woods. They could have gone to the woods in the US But Logan refused unless it was these woods in particular. Those were his requirements. He got Wade, and he got to go to Canada.

Between them, There was Logan, The leader of this group (for obvious reasons), Wade (his cheerful husband), Morph (The current mentor of Ivo), and Father Wagner (Second in command for obvious reasons)

The girl behind them groaned loudly. "You're not our dad, though." She mumbled, replying to Wade's dad joke, having been volunteered by her mother to go on this trip. Something about "connecting more with your roots," she said. She, the daughter of Forge's cousin, would much rather have been in the shop, good with electric tools rather than starting fires, chopping wood, or walking long distances.

Harley, a rabbit girl with far too much sass for someone her age, scrunches her nose. “Ick! It smells like a wet dog here!” She says.

“Gabby! Get out of that puddle!” Logan scolds her, watching as she played in the mud. Taking her fingers she smirks, wiping it on her cheeks like war paint. “Why!? I thought the whole point of being in the woods is to be dirty?” She gets up, shaking off with a big smile, splating mud onto some of the other students.

Harley whines. “Mr. Sydney, Gabby got my dress dirty!”

Owen shifts into Harley for just a moment. “Mr. Sydney, I chose to wear an expensive skirt on a camping trip in the middle of summer!”

“Oi! I don't sound like that!” She starts, balling her fists and glared.

“Hey- hey. Children. That is enough, Ja? Do you really vish to mock your team mate?”

“Yes.” Leo mutters.

The girl growls at the lion, who makes an ‘eep' noise and runs behind the blue tailed man.

“Owen has a point, though, Harley. Mr. Howlett told you that you might get dirty.”

“Uh-yeah. Key word. Might.”

Morph rolls their eyes, groaning. “You sound like Issac right now.”

“I do not!”

“She does not!!”

“He's gross! And icky and mean!”

“She's so prissy and spoiled!”

Wade and Morph glance at each other, smirking before laughing. Yeaahh.. these two were definitely gonna get caught holding hands at lunch in the future. When you've been around kids this much, it's just something you know.

Logan and Kurt look at each other with that ‘Sigh. Kids.’ Kind of look before Kurt flicks his tail. “Okay okay! Who wants to hear a story?”

“Is it a church story?” Cherri asks.

“If it's a church story I'm gonna fall asleep.” Leo mumbles, already yawning.

“Well… I suppose not then. Erm. Wade- NO”

Wade shrugs, leaning on Morph's shoulder. “Good choice really.”

Morph nods, agreeing that Wade's stories were far too mature for this group of 9-14 year olds.

Kurt smiles awkwardly “Mr. Sydney?”

Immediately, the shit eating grin that comes onto their face makes him shake his head. “Nien. Logan?”

He doesn't answer. Their leader is sniffing the air, looking ahead as if he smelt something that perhaps would put them in danger.

“Whatcha sniffin’dad?!” Gabs asked, coming up front to sniff too, their noses twitching.

All Leo, Cherri, Harley, and the other students tried to smell too.

“I don't smell anything.” Owen mumbles, a bit upset.

“Eh don't worry, kid. It's more of an animal thing.”

“A hot animal thing. Woof. I might just skip gym all next semester just so I can come out here and-” He whispers a little too loudly.

“Wade! Shush!” Turning, he waits for them to tell him what it was they smelled. “Hands.” He says and there's a couple that raise. Gabby is currently in the back, jumping with her hand up.

“I know, I know!!”

“I know you know. You can tell me after them. Leo?”

“Is it.. a deer?”

“Close. And you just smell Cherri. Cherri? Whatcha smell?”

“I smell berries. And I hear water.”

“Very good! Harper?”

“It's Harley! She's Harper!”

Logan's hands go up. “Okay, Sheesh. Well, What do ya smell princess?”

“I smell…a cat?”

“Close! Anyone else?” When no one else raised their hands, he sighs. “Gabby?”

“It's a lynx!!” She yells, as if she was holding it in this whole time.

“She gets that from me.” Wade tells Morph, who smirks. “are you sure she aint yours?”

“You see I've been wondering this for years now.” He says, letting go of their shoulder and went to gabby, squeezing her to death. “Huh? My big girl!”

“Ahh!! Papa!!” She giggles, making an “omph” noise when he squeezed the air from her.

Kurt smiles, looking quite happy out here, humble and was silently remencesing on the times Logan and him would come out here, how they'd play chase and tag. Sighing, Kurts tail flicked sorrowfully. But that was a long time ago.. a long time..

“Wade.. Drop it.” Logan says, the way you would A dog.

“If you say so.” Putting his hands up, Wade drops the girl with a soft “Aahh!” as she lands on her feet.

“Now..obviously we aren't going down that trail if there's a Lynx so we'll be camping ealier then expected.”

The children cheer.

“Thank god for the lynx.” Kurt mutters, even his feet starting to get a little sore. They've come about 8 miles already and he really thought Logan was going to force the entire 10. I suppose in his growing age he's been relying on Bamfs far more than he would like to admit.

“You all are getting better at your tracking, but you missed something. If you turn your head a bit you can see a downy woodpecker. They're common around here but they don't have the classic red color we're used to. They're kinda striped.” Logan says to them.

"Hey Joey!” Morph says. The Kangaroo kid known as “Roo” aka Joey, was one of the kids under Kurt's tail of teaching. “Look at this. Who am I?" They then shift into an exact replica of Logan, mimicking him.

"Oi yuall see thathere wud pecka!?" They say, clearly in a very terrible aussie accent.

Joey and the other kids laugh.

Logan rolls his eyes, smiling. "Oh, stop it. I'm not even Australian.” A moment after saying this, He gasps, grinning a bit as he pointed. “Look kids. That's a red breasted nuthatch!”

“Oi chaldren i'z a red bested ‘uthack!”

Wade laughs a bit too hard for this to be a light joke. “I don't know Mr. Howlett, you have some competition.”

He blushes, grumbling. “I don't sound like that..”

“I ‘oint sownd wike dat, mate!”

It's Kurt who giggles now and Logan can't help but growl in that frustrated tone. “Alright alright! har har. Enough.”

“Yeah guys! You guys should respect your elders.” Wade pips up, making Logan nod and then stop. “Wait- what??”

“Oh I'm sorry gramps. Did you forget your hearing aids? I said-”

“You married that old man. So you can't tease him too much.” Morph mutters, interrupting Wade before he went down that rabbit hole.

“Oh, hell yes I did and I f-”

“Ah-Heh-hem! Children!” Kurt coughs into his hand, smiling a bit with a dash of purple across his cheeks.

“Right. Anyway… Race you to the campsite! Last one bunks with Ms. Wet dog over here!”

“Hey! Wait! Wade!!” Logan calls, not wanting them to get split up. It was still a good 100 meters until the campsite and the path was narrow here.

“No way you're beating me!!” Gabby says, taking off after him. Despite their protests, Some of the other kids took off too. The only ones who didn't were Leo, Ashley, and Carmen. Ashley and Carmen were older, 14, so they listened to the adult heros more than the younger ones. Owen wanted to stay with his mentor, Mr. Sydney. He was a nervous kid like that. Always near an adult.

Harley wasn't going to go either until Cherri took off and then Issac followed Harley, who mentioned something about him flying was cheating.

“Hey!! You know they're clipped!”

“What? I can't hear you from way back there!” She teased.

“....Storm is gonna kill us..” Moprh mumbles as Kurt decided to take initiative, trying to keep up with the children so they didn't get hurt or lost. “...Yup.” Logan mutters.

“..Mr. Howlett? Can you carry me? I'm tired.”

“You're always tired, Leo..” Logan sighs, picking up the lion cub, giving him a piggyback for the remaining walk.

Leo lion owned by @bougiebutchbinch

_______

Request by @joykai

Owen/Ivo owned by @rabiessnail

Issac/Harley/Cherri owned by me

[uplatterme]

Just a sample or two, I’m sure you’ll manage.

—sub!dottore/dom!reader, zandik!dottore, transmasc!reader (this is mostly dottore!receiving so no mention of the reader’s genitalia, but it’s still implied reader is transmasc), masochistic!dottore/sadistic!reader | imagined knifeplay (cuts), overstimulation, crying, degradation, slight dumbification, slight blood play, pain kink, unnegotiated kinks but everything is consensual (idk about safe or sane though because it’s dottore)

—i don’t know how to feel about this fic tbh. but it’s here. it’s okay. (edit: i reread it and its quite good)

Zandik knocks over the cup of coffee on his desk when he hears his door getting banged on. He swears that whoever is outside that door is going to get it, he’ll tear them apart into shreds and feed their body to the tigers…

With an annoyed face, Zandik opens up the door, ready to “politely” tell them to get the hell out of his face. The words are already on the tip of his tongue but he rests easy when he recognizes that it's only you, his next-door neighbor.

He quickly tries to remember if his room is a mess. Fuck, he did do laundry a while back, yeah? Does his room smell good? Is his bed fixed?

He panics, why are you even here?

He thinks all of that within three seconds.

“Zandik! I hope I'm not bothering you?” You stand outside his door, bearing that smile he somehow can’t say no to.

“You’re fine, come in.” He says as cool as he can, you’re the only person in your darshan that he can get along with. Hell, you’re the only person in the Akademiya he can tolerate.

“So, uhm.” You start, you’re carrying your bag so he assumes you just came from a class. 

“Yes?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

He doesn’t miss the way you seem to be dancing around the topic. It’s not as if he cares what that favor is, if you ask him to kill a person for you then he’d do it, no questions asked.

“Spit it out then.”

You sigh, sitting down on his bed.

“You know I'm a scholar of Amurta.”

“Of course, you never fail to not bring it up every time I ask you about the subject of human anatomy.” He states, as if that wasn’t obvious already.

“I may need a…sample of sorts.”

Oh, that’s an easy fix. Were you too shy to ask for his blood? That’s strangely endearing.

“How much?” Zandik asks.

“Well, a cup? Maybe two so I don't mess up.” You quickly answer, you appear to be surprised at his immediate response.

“For blood? That seems quite a lot.” Zandik questions, it’s not that he won’t give you it, he’s just a bit confused.

“Not that…”

“What is it then?”

He hears you whisper something and Zandik swears that his ears are fucking with him.

“…Say that again?”

“Seminal Fluid?”

He's stunned for a bit. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it back once he discerns that that’s not the proper response to this situation.

“C-Can’t you do it yourself?” He asks, looking away from you.

Despite his wanting to be with you romantically, you two have never engaged in any of the sort. The most you’ve done is the slight brushing of your hands when working on an experiment.

“Zandik, you know I can't.”

He almost asks again why that is when he realizes.

“Oh.”

He blushes furiously and to your perspective, this might look strange. But when he hears you tearing up someone’s guts next door past bedtime hours, it’s hard not to imagine himself being the one who’s in your partner’s position.

In other words, he’s dreamed too much of being dicked down by you that he forgot about your case to begin with, not that it really matters to him.

And he would never admit to this, but sometimes the noises get a bit too loud for comfort that he has to take care of himself alone while he visualizes you doing that to him. 

He hears you cough, standing up and trying to walk away from this whole thing as if nothing ever happened.

“You know what, I'll leave. I’ll find someone else.” 

It is an embarrassing situation, this was not a scene that he had expected and prepared for.

“W-Wait,” He calls out, his hand grasping your wrist.

“Zandik, you don’t have to. I’ll just pay someone else to do it.” You explained to him that it really isn’t that big of a deal. “I think I came here because you’re my go-to person.” You chuckle.

Zandik really wants to cuss you out, you can’t just say that to him out of nowhere and then decide to leave right after.

He stammers out a response, “I-I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

It’s just silence for a few seconds until you decide to leave him be to do his business, telling him that you’ll just be next door and to take as much time as he needs.

And when the door slams in front of his face, is when he realizes the severity of his decision.

You’re telling him he’s supposed to jack off while knowing that you’re aware he’s doing exactly that?

Zandik unbuckles his belt, deciding that he might as well get this over with as soon as possible.

Then thirty minutes pass by.

Zandik has not filled a cup, nor is he even halfway to a climax. He tries to think of everything. Well, everything but you, imagining things that would turn him on that aren't you or fantasies that involve you. 

He somehow finds this task to be difficult.

His cock is sitting on his leg half-hard, he’s racking his brain to find something that will make this easier and he soon realizes that every single time he’s masturbated somehow involved you in some kind of way.

He doesn’t want to believe that at all, surely not. 

Is he really that into you? 

He reminisces of each time you’ve been with him, the times when you lay an arm on his shoulder, pulling him closer to you without notice. The times when you whisper directly into his ear in the library that sends the poor man into a shock with how he feels your breathing on his neck, wanting you to lay those lips on his skin, to just mark him without care while trying not to get caught by the other students passing by your table.

Zandik whimpers just at the thought of it. He snaps out of his thoughts once he notices that he’s fully hard now, with precum even oozing out his dick. 

He plays with the white liquid, he relishes the fact that you’re able to affect him like this when you’re not even here, to begin with. He grits his teeth, warming the tip with his palm, the stickiness making Zandik slightly quiver from how messy it is. 

His control over his own thoughts and body is slowly starting to slip, his hips moving on their own as his cock longs for the warmth of his hand. He stifles back a moan, thinking about you has his mind going dumb.

He wonders if you know about these feelings of his, the way he has to excuse himself each instance your touches linger on for too long, his entire body stiffening as a pathetic noise tries to escape his throat.

“Haah…”

He wants to stay quiet, knowing that the walls are quite thin and that if he can hear you from back then, so is the opposite.

He breathes impatiently. This isn’t enough at all, he needs more.

Zandik wants to know how it would feel to have you explore his entire body, to have you see every vein and how his blood flows throughout his skin. He knows you’d grow fascinated by him, like you would with any cadaver.

His head tilts back at the thought of you slicing him open, drawing cuts with a scalpel on his thighs as he bleeds, the wounds aching as your tongue licks them oh so slowly. His cock twitches, the stroking of his length getting more and more desperate.

He grows weak as he envisions you squeezing them as you penetrate him, spreading him apart without any preparation whatsoever. He sobs at that, he needs you to put him into his place, to shame him for thinking such disgusting things. To treat him as nothing more than trash, that he’s a whore for enjoying these kinds of acts.

His left hand grips the sheets for stability, the other continuing to pump himself until he spills. His vision blurs from both the pleasure and the tears, almost forgetting about the reason why he’s doing this to begin with, too high of his lust for you.

He stumbles over, aiming for the cups you’ve given him. 

Zandik moans loudly as he finishes, not all of his fluid gets into the containers. In fact, most of it splattered all over his bed and his legs. He waits until he stops cumming, panting heavily as sweat drips off his forehead.

It’s worrying how much of a pull you have toward him.

He sits there for a few minutes, resting easy until he hears knocking on the door.

“Y-Yeah?” He calls out from his bed, too tired to stand up.

“Are you done?”

Zandik immediately rushes to the door, taking his blanket with him to cover his lower half.

He opens the door with a slight shake of his hand, openly oblivious to how he looks right now to you.

His hair is a mess, his face… 

He looks as if he’s in a daze, and he is, for the most part. There are traces of tears from his wet eyelashes, eyes staring at you as if he’s begging for you to take a bite out of him, to fuck him right then and there.

He looks so pitiful and vulnerable, an appearance that you’ve never seen of him, an appearance that he’d never show others, an appearance that he’d only show to you.

His legs are bare, the blanket doing nothing to hide the shape of his hips. There’s cum dripping down his legs and you knew you should have knocked later. But once you heard your friend sound like that, your urges got the best of you.

You’re sure glad you didn’t stop yourself.

“R-Right…You need it warm, yes?” Zandik says, embarrassed at what he’s just done and thought of while he got himself off.

“Yeah…” You answer, mind focused on his figure instead of what you initially came here for.

He hands you the containers you’ve given him, the liquid splashing. 

“Thank you, Zandik.”

“Of course, anytime…” He replies.

You could just leave, pretend as if you didn’t hear him earlier or those other times he’s fucked himself alone while moaning out your name, distracting you even if you were in bed with another.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

You know he’s into you, and the gods know you’d be lying if you claimed you weren’t turned on by Zandik right now.

The next few moments are a blur and Zandik is unsure how he’s ended up at a loss for words, his legs being spread apart by your hands as he’s forced to bear the shame of you seeing him already so stiffened despite just cumming a few minutes ago.

“So soaked…”

“S-Sorry…” He apologizes, trying to look away.

Zandik blushes at the fact he hasn’t trimmed there in a while.

“Cute.”

His heart beats loudly in his chest, unsure of how to process this whole thing.

He’s not complaining at all, no. He’s just surprised at how you’re being so forward with him like this, not sure whether to take this as a one-time thing or if there’s something more to your actions.

“What would you like me to do?” You question.

That’s a loaded question. What doesn’t he want you to do?

Everything, he wants to say. He wants to be greedy. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen for so long, it’d be a waste to just be shy and act like this.

Still, thinking that is easier than actually doing it.

“T-Touch me, please.”

“How? Won’t you show me how you do it, Zandik?”

He nods shyly, bringing his hand to his cock. He’s much more sensitive now than before since he’s just had his orgasm. He ponders on what lay behind those eyes of yours, staring him down intensely as he tries to focus on himself.

It doesn’t take much for him to be hard, especially with how your hands feel on his thighs. It’s shameful to see himself leaking so much already, a lot quicker than when he did this alone earlier.

His hips convulse while he strokes himself, “Aren’t you eager?” You ask him, but that just makes him whine impatiently.

This is a lot tamer than he had imagined but that doesn’t erase the satisfaction that he’s getting right now.

“I might cum…” He simply says, still keeping at the same pace.

“Are you asking for permission?”

Zandik whimpers out softly, nodding his head at your question.

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Does he? He thinks he does, but what if you don’t think the same way? A loud gasp escapes him, he can’t hold it for much longer. Tears start to form again from his ducts, a sobbing mess who just wants to please you as much as he can.

Chants of your name and pleading continue, yet it won’t seem like you’re taking that as an answer.

A  sudden pain shocks his entire body when he feels your nails digging down his thighs. Each second is a nightmare, your nails going deeper and deeper as blood drips down to his sides, staining the sheets of his bed.

God, that feels so fucking good.

“H-Hurts…” He says.

“Yeah? Maybe, If you answer my question, I’ll let you go.” You continue pressing on the newmade wounds, raising a moan out of him.

“I-I don't know…”

“Ah, but Zandik. Aren’t you the smart one?”

He sobs, he’s supposed to agree with you but doesn’t find it in his mind to do so right now. “Please—can’t hold it.”

You continue to stare at him in silence, even as Zandik loses control, apologizing repeatedly for finishing with your say.

His thighs twitch every few seconds, his eyelids getting heavier when he tries to focus on the fact that you’re still on top of him.

“My, I’m still here you know?” 

You make that perfectly clear when you shove your fingers into his gaping mouth, the taste of his own cum and blood makes him gag, yet you continue to push your fingers down his throat. He slobbers all over them, yet he takes it with no resistance. He wants you to go even deeper, to ruin his throat.

Eventually, you pull away. The sound that comes out of him is hoarse, yet he still stares at you with loving eyes.

“Want you.” Zandik begs, 

“Prove it, darling.”

[fairykazu]

NOT-SUPER-SECRET-CRUSH FT. SCARAMOUCHE contents: fem! reader, friends to lovers, requited love, highschool au, zhongli is ur dad, modern au masterlist | series masterlist | part two | part three

it was too early for this, the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead, snapping scaramouche's tired eyes awake. it was obvious he didn't get much sleep as his eyes were sunken in as much as he tried to hide it with concealer. putting his head down in his arms, yawning as ms. yae's aggravating voice rang in his ears. "scaramouche, lift your head up. you of all students need to pay attention." scaramouche took a deep breath as he rolled his eyes, what was the point of dissing him in the class when there's a student named itto who regularly skips this class? "scaramouche."

"ok." he lifted his head up, his hair disheveled. miss yae walked closer to the end of the classroom, her heels clicking with each step. "mr. raiden, don't make me call your mother."

scaramouche hissed back, "you would like that wouldn't you."

the silence filled the room as the pink haired teacher looked taken back. "just because of that, i'm calling her."

"whatever." after his last word, the class spilled back to normal as scaramouche felt as if he had to peel his eyelids back just to pay attention. but the noise was overwhelming as the lesson yae is making is coming out of one ear and out the other. trying to fight back the urge, he pinched himself but fell victim of falling asleep in the boring english class.

school wasn't the greatest for you because you're failing the two requirements to pass. math and science... screw the people who created this topic. if school was solely history and english, you would be flying out of the teyvat with rainbows, and you'd become the nyan cat or something.

when you arrived at your class, slightly late, miss guizhong greeted you with a smile, motioning you to come closer to her. she announced to the class to check their answers for homework as it was on the board. she turned to you, "name, you are not surviving this class."

"i know..."

"im not sure how you're not grasping this concept even if i had given you one of my best students to tutor you."

to be fair, haitham wasn't the greatest. he was the best student in your class, but he spent most of the tutoring with his not-boyfriend, bickering at any chance he could get.

"i know." it's really tiring to hear this even though you know you're failing, and you know you should get better by now. after all you are a junior now. but it's hard after years of getting used to being the bottom of the barrel. you tried to joke with yourself, 'at least, i have english and history!'

"if you know, scaramouche raiden, then you could ask him. he's one of the top students for these subjects." guizhong said, jotting down his name on a post it notes, giving you the yellow-colored paper.

oh wait, you forgot that scaramouche was a student that is soaring in the skies in this subject. maybe he'll help.

it was break and you spotted the familiar purple haired male from afar. you ran after him, attacking him from behind by pulling back on the lash tab. halting his way to his spot, scaramouche only turned his head to you. he was greeted by your smile, you tugged on the lash tab again, "hey, scara, can i ask you something?"

letting go of the back of the backpack when scaramouche turned fully to you, he rolled his eyes, as his friends walked ahead, assuming he'll catch up, "you did."

"haha, you're so funny." you glanced back at him, his face only told you to "get to the point."

"um, can you help me with ms guizhong's math class and miss nahida's bio class..."

scaramouche scoffed at the idea you just proposed, helping you? why would he even help you? you noticed how his face is not changing from his resting bitch face. you feared that you had to resort to older measures. "scaramouche, pleasseee! if you don't help me, my dad's going to kill me."

"how would mr. morax kill his favorite kid?" scaramouche raised a brow. "'cause, i'm literally failing like ... some of my classes... especially the class, my auntie is teaching...." you admitted, sheepishly. scaramouche's eyes widened, the daughter of one of the best teachers are failing. either you're really stupid or she sucks at his job. if he's being honest, it's probably the former. miss guizhong was great at her job.

seeing how scaramouche's porcelain poker face break, you took this as a chance to jab him where it hurts. you know that scaramouche isn't particularly good at the subject of english, especially when his teacher was literally his mom's girlfriend. "can you please help me with math and biology?" you began to whisper, "after that, i can help you with english homework from ms yae."

his face scrunched up as you could tell he was breaking resistence to your idea. itching the spot on his neck, he sighed, "fine. i will."

"alright! when do you want to meet up?"

"for?"

"the tutoring stuff."

"i did not agree to tutoring you."

"yes you did." you played a recording of scaramouche saying yes to the convo. just to annoy him, you started at the beginning and played his voice slower, a masculine voice going, "fine. i will." in reverb, basically catching the male red handed.

"you're insufferable."

"i know." you giggled as turning the opposite direction of scaramouche, not even looking back. unbeknownst to you, scaramouche was hiding a small smile.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Blackened Branches

TWO

Description: Hayden and Eric have a long history together but also secrets, hidden under blackened branches.

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely its own thing.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

“Hey...!” My mom shouted at Eric who stood with her jewellery in his t-shirt, similar to a kangaroo pocket. His eyes were big and stared at us in terror. It was obvious he was used to running for his life because he just dropped the edge of the t-shirt and ran over the bed. My mom tried to catch him, but he was too fast and small, and he succeeded in running around her and throwing himself down the stairs. My mom still shouted after him while I stood in horror next to her. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I also knew Eric's crime was serious.

“Did you let that boy in??” She turned and looked at me upset. I swallowed hard and looked towards the jewellery lying in a mess on the floor. “He’s a thief! You can't let someone like that into our home!”

“But Dad—” I tried, but she pointed towards my room.

“Go to your room! This isn't okay!”

With a lowered head, I walked to my room while thinking about what my dad had said. He had encouraged us to take care of Eric; how could I have known he would steal? I met Illowa outside of his room; he had messy hair and was still dressed in pajamas. He looked at me with empathetic eyes, and it actually felt like he was on my side this time, but neither of us could do anything about our mother's opinions. I was in my bedroom until lunch, and then my mom let me come out. I hadn't done much in my room besides thinking about Eric. I wondered what he did all day, what he ate, and who his parents were. I didn't find many answers but still couldn't stop thinking about him.

“You know, I'm still missing a gold bracelet,” accused my mom, upset at me when we sat by the table. I looked down at my plate with mixed feelings. I was ashamed, but at the same time I had tried to do something good. I didn't eat; instead, I sat in silence waiting for my mom to dismiss me from the table. She sighed loudly even if I thanked her for the lunch.

“I'm going to Dad…” I said carefully, and my mom turned her eyes towards me and scoffed.

“And turn him against me? I guess I can't stop you from trying, but even he will see that that boy is bad news!” She said while putting the dish in the washer. I didn't answer, just walked to the hallway. With age I had evolved other feelings towards my mom, and in that moment it felt like I hated her, a feeling that would come back to me in my teens, especially when the subject of Eric came up.

×××

My dad's music store was on a shopping street full of small independent boutiques. The store my mom worked for extra income sat on the same block also. The street had the potential to be cute with old architecture buildings and chrome street lights, but they had begun to tear down one building at a time replacing them with new grey square-shaped buildings. My dad's store, a small shop filled with guitars and keyboards, was in one of those older buildings. He had had the store all my life, and I felt just as at home there as in our house. I was sitting in one of the chairs by the electric guitars while my dad polished them with a rag. He looked upset when I told him what happened with Mom and Eric, but I could also see how he tried to come up with a way to stand up for his values without saying anything bad about my mom.

“It's better if you give him help when we're home, or even, maybe, wait until I'm home,” he mumbled and nodded to himself.

“Like he would come back after Mom yelled at him! You said we should be grateful for our life, but doesn't that mean we should be nice to poor people too? He probably stole because he needed money!”

I felt proud of myself that I had been able to stand up for myself and Eric. My dad looked at me seriously and nodded. It was obvious he agreed but couldn't say too much.

“Your mom was probably just stressed…”

“Say that to Eric. He's probably terrified now!”

My dad dragged a hand through his beard and looked out from the window.

“I will try to find him…” he muttered mostly to himself but then turned to me like it also was meant for my ears. I gave him a look with furrowed brows and pouting lips. He hated when we, his children, became disappointed in him, and he flashed a strained smile.

“We can do it when I close the shop at four. We can search for him then?” He added to make me happy with him again. Slowly I lifted my brows and gave him a small smile.

“We should bring him something to eat. And a sweater.” I spoke like I was the one with money, but my father let it be and smirked.

“Maybe he even wants to give your mother's bracelet back…” my dad muttered. I looked at him in disappointment again, and he swallowed hard, neither wanting to disappoint me nor my mother.

×××

It felt like we had searched for Eric everywhere. Everywhere but one place. The woods. I looked up at the high pine trees like it was a daunting new world. Even if my dad stood next to me, it felt like a darkness came from it and tried to push me away, push me to the comfort of our home. My dad stood and looked at me. He hadn't understood earlier how afraid of the woods I was and scratched his beard by seeing my terrified expression.

“Should I do it alone? You can go home if you want to,” he asked and looked down at me with worry. My first instinct was to nod and run, but I took a deep breath and took his hand. I wanted to be there for Eric. Otherwise, he would have believed I was on my mom's side. Because of the grey November weather, it had already started to get dark, and I hugged my dad's hand hard while we looked through the forest. Black crows sat on the branches, looking down at us as if they wondered if we were lost. One of them sat on a rock, following our every moment, and I started to wonder if they were guarding something. My dad laughed a little, but even he sounded nervous.

“Maybe we should ask them where Eric is? They seemed to know-” my dad started to joke, but it was just then we saw Eric sitting on another big rock. He looked up at us like a frightened deer and reacted just as fast. On skinny legs he ran through the forest’s uneven terrain. My dad dropped my hand at the same moment he started to run after Eric, so I stood left behind with a raised hand. I was surprised at how fast my dad could run, even if he didn't move as easily as Eric over roots and rocks, but he had his much longer legs though, and I saw him scoop up Eric in his arms. It wasn't at all how I wanted us to meet him. I wanted us to be kind and careful with him so he would want to come back to us, but now I watched my dad hold him in his arms in a tight grip while Eric screamed loudly in panic instead. My heart beated in my throat, and I let out a sound in frustration. I was so powerless.

“Hey! I just want to help you!” Shouted my dad while Eric kicked and hit him. At that moment it was just the three of us in the world of the forest; in my dad's world it maybe even was just him and Eric, but when a gunshot was heard just to the left of us, we woke up. My dad dropped Eric while I had sat down on the ground with my arms shielding my head in protection. Close to my dad stood a thin brunette woman in just a black nightgown and boots with a revolver pointed to the sky. My dad had raised his hands in panic while Eric had run to stand close to the woman.

“If you ever touch my son again, I will let your daughter see her dad get a bullet between his eyes. Don't ever touch my fucking son again!” Screamed the woman, then she turned to Eric.

“Fuck off now!” I looked at him, still with my arms over my head, and for a few short seconds we looked straight at each other. He looked frightened but there was also another feeling there. It looked like disappointment and later that night I would wonder if maybe he was just as disappointed as me that we couldn't get to know each other. My parents but also his mom had destroyed our relationship, stopping us from getting to know each other, and being close.

I heard my dad cry in my mom's arms when I had gone to bed. His meeting with Eric's mom had affected him more than I had understood, so when I met Eric three years later, thanks to my dad, I was shocked. Even if Eric's mom had threatened him, even if my mom hated Eric, he had invited Eric into his life, but in secrecy.

×××

Three years later…

“Dad! Dad!” I shouted loudly when I came into the shop on a Friday afternoon. A mother and her ten-year-old son stood by the counter and looked at me strangely when I walked around the desk.

“Honey…!” my dad muttered, irritated, when he came around a corner with a music book in his arms. He gave the mother a smile, hoping for some understanding, but she looked at me up and down like I was an uninvited guest. Dad cleared his throat and walked around the checkout counter and scanned the book.

“28 dollars, please,” he said with a polite smile, even if the woman continued to throw glances at me. I was used to it, though, for some reason many adults got provoked by eyeliner and black clothes. Sometimes I liked that I provoked them, but I was also fourteen years old, so my need to provoke was equally as big as the need to be liked. However, this woman was not one of the people I felt I needed approval from, and I gave her a nasty look back. When she and her son had left the store, my dad turned to me. I wore a strappy top with laces under a black zip hoodie, and he fixed it so I didn't show my pink bra straps. It annoyed me when he fixed my clothes, but it was also a bit embarrassing when I understood he tried to cover my modesty.

“You can't come in here shouting like that; I have customers.” I rolled my eyes and looked around to see if he had some customers at that moment and saw a lean teenage guy standing by a keyboard, playing it without the sound on. Just like me, he wore black from top to toe and had a blonde buzz cut. My eyes stopped at him and looked at him up and down. I couldn't see his face, but just how he carried himself made me certain that he was cute. I swallowed hard and looked away. He looked just like the sort of guy my friends and I interacted with online, but we knew had hundreds of girls messaging them on the alternative community sites. I wondered if he was one of them. My dad looked between the boy and me, and he looked doubtful while scratching his beard and correcting his glasses.

“Eric?” He said towards the boy, who looked up. Big green eyes, framed with smudged eyeliner, looked at us. He stopped playing at once, like he had done something wrong. I didn't dare to look at him for many seconds because he really was as cute as I had thought, maybe even cuter.

“Come here, meet my daughter.”

Eric pushed his hands deep down in the pockets of his baggy pants and walked up to us in his heavy boots. I crossed my arms and pouted sourly when he came up to us. I couldn't say why I did that, but at that moment it felt like that was the only way I knew I would be able to handle the situation. Eric looked at me a bit curiously but then towards my dad.

“This is Hayden; you've met once before,” my dad mumbled like he didn't really want to say it. I looked at him confused, then at Eric. He looked back at me with those big eyes and licked his plump lips. I recognised him but couldn't at all say from where. Eric nodded a little.

“By the old oak…” he said with a low voice and looked down at the floor. I didn't understand what he meant at first, but when he looked up at me with a boyish look, I could see that thirteen-year-old in his face. I couldn't really believe that that dirty boy had grown up to be the perfect goth prince, but it was him. Eric. My mouth was dry, and I didn't get a sound out.

“Eric has helped me in the shop for a couple of months and I've had some lessons with him too…” said my father who gave me a worried look when he saw my blushing cheeks. Eric was probably not the kind of a boy he wanted to see his fourteen-year-old daughter crushing on, even if he trusted him enough to have him in the shop. Eric looked uncomfortable because I didn't say anything and he looked towards a box of reeds for clarinets that stood on the counter.

“Should I put them up?” He asked my dad instead of waiting for me to say something. I looked away in embarrassment. I had just lost my chance to actually speak to a cool guy instead of just the boring boys in my class.

“Yeah, thank you, Eric,” said my dad, pleased, and smiled brightly at him, like he was happy that mine and Eric's conversation never even started. Eric nodded, taking the box, and walked to the right shelf. I huffed in irritation even if I was just anxious with regret. My dad smirked a bit before asking me why I was actually there.

“Nothing, never mind,” I said, even if I had wondered if my friend Louise could have dinner at our place that day. I stomped out from the shop still with heated cheeks. I kicked a rock lying on the ground. Couldn't I be cool for once? Just once? So Eric would have been interested in me? I let out a loud frustrated sound but then gave the window to the shop a quick glance after feeling eyes on me. Eric stood by the shelf closest to the window, and to my surprise, he smiled a little, then gave me a lazy salute with two fingers. I looked at him and once again saw that thirteen-year-old kid on his face. A flashback of that skinny boy’s sad expression came to mind and I looked at his smile and smiled by reflex, happy to see him healthier. I answered his salute with a wave of my hand but then marched away in panic, embarrassed by my silly gesture.

I skipped seeing Louise that day; instead, I lay on my bed thinking of Eric. I thought back on every movement he had made, his cute smile and cool salute. I also cringed over my own behaviour and wondered if I could save it some way. It was also one of the first times I thought about how it would be to do it. The thought didn't feel as unpleasant as it had done before.

×××

“We totally had a moment!” I said proudly to Louise and Diane. We sat in the park, in the grass, with a Coke each, and enjoyed the sun even if neither of us wanted to get a tan. I had just fishnets on but had covered my legs with my plaid shirt.

“Was he like goth or just pretend goth like that guy Emma made out with?” Asked Louise as she lit a cigarette.

“Real, I think,” I said with a nod. I wasn't sure of what Louise thought was real goth.

“And he was super cute. Like, super cute. I hope to see him again this week.”

I smirked proudly and probably looked a bit cocky. Louise and Diane looked at each other in annoyance, and then Diane smacked her lips. “He probably has a girlfriend,” she teased and my smile fell. I had been so stupid that I hadn't even thought about the possibility that he was in a relationship.

“He’s probably fucking her right now.” Louise gasped but then laughed at Diane's comment. Diane was much more experienced than me and Louise and would say crude things just to shock us.

“At 2 pm?” I said with an attitude and laughed a little. Diane smirked at me. “You can fuck any hour of the day, you know.” I felt my cheeks get red because of my stupid comment but then came up with a way to make it less ridiculous.

“Yeah, but he's working. At my dad's shop.”

Diane sat up better and fixed the short pleated shirt she wore.

“Really? Can't we go there and see him then?”

I wished I could take back what I said, or at least come up with an excuse for why we couldn't go to the shop, but I couldn't, so just 30 minutes later we stood by the counter in Dad's shop. Diane started to walk around, looking at the instruments but also quite obviously after Eric. Louise stayed by my side while I waited for Dad to come out from the office.

“Hey honey, are you girls out shopping?” He said kindly, but I just thought he was being embarrassing, and I rolled my eyes.

“Nah, like we, no, like we…” I stuttered, too uncomfortable daring to say I was looking for Eric.

“Hayden! He's here!” Shouted Diane behind a shelf. I could see confusion sweep over my dad's face before he realised who it was Diane spoke about. He gave me a warning look, but I turned my gaze away, took a deep breath, and walked toward Diane. I wouldn't let her get to him. Eric sat in a chair by the guitars with a black acoustic guitar in his lap. He wore a black knitted sweater but with big holes so I could see a tank top in the same color underneath. His eyes were framed by eyeliner also that day, and in the sun I could see gold specs in his green eyes.

“Are you good?” Asked Diane, clearly already in a conversation with Eric. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the guitar without playing. Diane inspected him while I and Louise just looked at them from the corner. I thought Eric gave me a fast glance, but I wasn't sure.

“Do you smoke?” Diane nodded towards something by the guitar, and Eric lifted it so I could see the square in his front pocket.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, without looking at her.

“Can I bum one?” Once again it felt like he gave me a glance, but then he looked down at his pocket, taking out the lumpy package and giving Diane one. She looked between the cigarette and Eric while he looked down at the guitar again.

“No, I mean…” Diane seemed to lose her confidence, but I could clearly see her take a deep breath and fake it.

“I mean, if you want to come out with me?” Eric looked up at her again and shook his head.

“I'm working.”

“No, you're not!” Teased Diane with a light laugh.

“Yes, I am?”

“So what do you do?”

“I'm tuning the guitars?”

He looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, more confused than anything, but it could be interpreted as rude. Diane looked at him up and down and scoffed.

“You're not as cute as you think you are!” She said before marching away to the door. Eric made a confused face but then looked at me. Now I was certain he was actually looking at me.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked carefully. Louise went after Diane so suddenly I was alone with Eric, and I shrugged my shoulders.

“No…” He nodded a little to himself and looked down at the guitar. Alone with him, he didn't feel as threatening, and I took two steps closer to him.

“I didn't know you worked here,” I said and put my hair behind my ears even if I felt cooler with it hanging around my face. Eric put down the guitar next to him and nodded with a smile.

“I like it.”

I smiled too and took one more step closer to him. He dragged his hands over his thighs and scratched his platinum buzz cut with an embarrassed smile.

“Can I… get your number?” He said to my surprise and dared to meet my eyes. I felt something in my chest I could only describe as euphoria.

×××

I play a bit with a band called Mercy Murder. Like when some one is sick. We must lay about my age every time I play so it's a bit too much work.

You play the guitar?

I can play what ever.

Eric's texts had many spelling errors, but I didn't care at all. We had texted for three days nonstop, and the only thing I could think about was that I was writing to a cute guy like Eric. He was a musician, had older friends, was smoking and drinking, and had three tattoos and a piercing in his tongue. He was the typical bad boy, and it made the butterflies in my belly crash against each other. A bad boy was the dream, and I knew Diane would be so jealous.

Do you have a gig soon?

Nope not what I know. But you don't play any thing?

I play the piano but I don't like it. I'd rather listen to you haha.

I blushed while writing my flirty text but became nervous he wouldn't answer. When he hadn't answered for five minutes, I started to get anxious and regretted my message, but the feeling disappeared just as quick as it had come when his name showed up on the phone screen again.

You can come to the shop if you want. Tomorrow?

I sat up in bed and made a happy scream even if it was late and my whole family had gone to bed. I pushed my face against the pillow and screamed again while kicking my legs, but then I answered.

Sure. Okay.

I work between 11 and 6.

×××

I had put on my best outfit, a black velvet dress, fishnets, and my black Converse. I let my black-dyed hair be messy but tried to do my makeup as well as possible, even if my eyeliner always became uneven. I went to the shop after school with my heart in my throat. I hadn't told my friends that I would meet him because something told me Diane would try to ruin it for me. The only ones who could destroy mine and Eric's meeting were Dad or me. I didn't know if Dad would do such a thing; he most often didn't comment on my life, but if he knew what a bad boy Eric was, I had a feeling he would try to stop me from coming too close to him. 

I saw Eric already outside of the shop and felt at once my hands start to shake and my mouth getting dry. He sat on a bench smoking a cigarette while playing with something between his fingers. He wore the same outfit as the last time I saw him. 

“Hey,” I said with a too high tone that made me cringe. He looked up at me and smiled sweetly. 

“Hey, Hayden.” 

He moved closer to the armrest so I could sit down next to him. When I sat down, he took a last toke of his cigarette, then stomped on it. I didn't know what to say, and he didn't seem to know either, so we just sat next to each other, looking at people walking by. 

“Don't you go to school?” I asked after a while, and he looked at me. He licked his full lips and scratched his high cheekbone. 

“I do, but I'm never there,” he mumbled with a smirk and continued to play with the thing between his fingers. It was a small box of matches that he probably had used to light his cigarette. Just that he used matches instead of a lighter was a bit hot, and I felt my cheeks warm again. 

“Can you do that? Like, not show up?” 

“I don't know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “It seems like it.” He smiled a little and looked down at the ground. I wanted to ask what his parents said about that, but the memory of his mom with a gun flashed in front of my eyes, and it felt like his parents weren't a good first subject. I asked instead what school he went to, and then slowly our conversation became more and more relaxed. He asked me about my friends, interests, and about my two cats. It was a cute conversation, and he made me laugh several times. After 30 minutes I had been so relaxed I started to unconsciously look between his eyes and his lips. He really was pretty. So, so pretty, and his lips were plump and cherry red. I wondered how it would be to kiss them and how he tasted. I had never kissed a guy but knew now I wanted it to be him. I maybe even wanted more than that.

“I must go back to work now…” he suddenly said with a little sigh. 

“Oh…” I felt the disappointment make my limbs feel heavy, and I lowered my eyes. He stood up and dug his hands down in the pockets of his cargo pants. I stood up too, but for some reason it became awkward between us again when we needed to say goodbye. 

“Ehm…” he said and looked down at his heavy boots and my Converse. I played with my fingers and looked towards the shop, wondering if my dad had seen us. 

“Maybe we can see each other again?” I looked at him surprised but then smiled big and giggled.

“Yeah, yeah. I can come by another day?” 

Eric smiled brightly, a big, contented smile so I could see dimples and straight teeth. 

“Maybe we can meet by the oak?” 

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah, tonight,” he said and swayed on his feet with the same big smile. 

××× 

We met many nights by the tree in secrecy; we never talked about why we did it that way, but I had a feeling he maybe was just as afraid of my mom as I was of his. We talked about music, movies, friends, my family, tattoos, and politics. He was so easy to talk to, even if it was obvious he didn't want to touch the subject of his family, but after three weeks of seeing each other, he shared, but not really because he wanted to.

“Please, can't you show me?” I said with a giggle. I had seen two of his tattoos: a hangman on his chest and a sun on his upper arm; the only one I hadn't seen was the barbed wire on his back, and I really wanted to see it. “Please?” I tried to look cute and laid my chin against his upper arm. He sighed but smirked. He sat up better but looked a bit nervous. He had a black hoodie on that I was used to seeing him in, and he took a hold of the hem to pull it up. He tried to do it carefully, but it was then I saw that his hips had a bruise so blue it almost looked black. 

“Oh my god! What have you done?” I asked worriedly and lifted the hoodie more just by impulse. Eric pulled it down and looked away. He looked embarrassed, and at first I thought he had got it in a silly way, climbing the oak or something, but his embarrassment transformed to shame, and his eyes swam with anxiety. 

“Are, are you okay, Eric? Has something happened?” I asked worried but tried to keep my voice calm. I wanted to meet his eyes, but he just looked towards the woods. 

“It's… I get into fights with Mom's boyfriend sometimes.” 

I swallowed hard because something told me it wasn't fighting but abuse. Eric was a skinny guy, and I had a hard time seeing him fight a grown man. 

“He hits you?” 

Eric scratched his neck and massaged it lightly. 

“It's nothing serious.” 

I wanted to protest because his bruise had been almost black and covered his whole hip. Instead of asking more about the “fights,” I took the moment of honesty to know more about his life, and I asked him how he lived. 

“We live with him right now. Mom's dude. But I try to get away from there as often as I can; it's just… I can't just live off other people. My friends live with their parents and they aren't wealthy in any way, so the salary I get from your dad I use to be able to live with friends’ friends, but I must sometimes give the money to mom and… Yeah… ”

 Eric spoke calmly but still didn't look at me. I didn't really understand why he felt a need to listen to his mom but didn't say anything about it, afraid that would make him close up again. I took his hand in mine instead, and he looked down at how they clasped together. He smiled a little, and so did I. It was easy doing such a thing with him, and I felt warmth in my chest while we continued to sit in silence for a while. 

“Have you had a girlfriend?”

Eric turned toward my curious eyes and bit his lip, embarrassed. 

“Yeah… A few months ago, but it was just three weeks.” He smirked a little, and I smiled back a bit blushy. 

“Have you had a boyfriend?”

“No…” 

He nodded a little and looked down at our hands again. 

“Do you want a girlfriend?” I could now feel my heart beating against my ribs, especially when he looked up at me. 

“Do you mean… You?” 

My face heated from forehead down to my chest, and I nodded. He smiled brightly but looked as embarrassed as me. 

“Okay.” 

I giggled a little and laid my hands on my glowing cheeks. Eric turned a bit towards me, and I could see what he was thinking. It was time for a kiss. My first kiss. My first kiss would be with a cute, kind guy like Eric. I let him lean in, lay his hand against my cheek, and press his warm lips against mine. It was perfect; soft and romantic until his tongue wanted entry to taste mine. I could feel electricity in my body, heated power in my limbs, and a pressure between my legs. It was everything, and it would make me be linked to Eric for the rest of my life. 

××× 

Eric stood by the hotel bed in just a pair of black boxers. I wondered if I would ever get used to his ripped body with all of the tattoos. Every time we saw each other, I needed to touch him like I had never seen a man before. 

I had put on my clothes again and stood in my heeled boots by the door, but still I walked up to Eric to kiss him again. He kissed back, deepened it, and kissed me again with his big hands holding my head like he was afraid it would fall off my body. When he kissed me, it kind of felt like it could because my body became all soft. I took a deep breath and dragged my hands over his naked chest, down over defined abs and the deep Adonis belt. 

“Fuck Eric…” I said with a sigh and looked down. Eric dragged his fingers through my hair when I laid my cheek against his chest. He let me lay there for a while but then took a step back to pick up something on the nightstand. I looked at his hand and watched as he reached out for mine to lay the object in my palm. They were my wedding rings.

My wedding rings, with another man's name engraved in them. 

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