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ramzawrites · 4 years

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Wherever the world takes us Part 1 - A SBI!Reader insert

Pairings: none Characters included: Philza, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Cpt Puffy, Schlatt, Captain Sparklez, (mentioned) Fundy Warnings: small mention of death Series: Yes, planned slow updates but this happens in a slight AU world of the official lore of the dsmp and follows along the plot only this time the reader gets included as the middle hybrid child of the SBI Part 2

Summary: A small introduction to the SBI family dynamic including the reader! Today is Techno’s big day at the local festival! He get’s to participate in a fighting tournament but until that happens there is still a ton of time to somehow still get into trouble, isn’t there?

Word count: 4380

Shapeshifters aren’t as rare as many people think. In fact many carry that gene but not everyone ends up showing the properties of one. If you have the active gene you may show first changes during your early childhood which then stretches out until your late teens where the changes will stop resulting in the persons usual animal like form. These changes can range from a whole body covered in fur to having goat like eyes or just horns on their head.

As far as scientists know there isn’t a real reason as to what the final form will be since Shapeshifters who are directly related to one another can have complete and drastically different forms to each other. Though an old myth has been going around for as long as people know that the form a Shapeshifter takes is a result of their subconscious, something that mirrors their true self. Sadly due to this belief many Non-Shifters hold stereotypes and prejudice towards them.

Philza was a Shapeshifter himself. As a kid two stubs slowly appeared at his back and settled in over the years as beautiful huge black wings that he could use for takeoff and a bit for flying but mostly functioned better for gliding around. He used these wings to later travel around the world, learning everything about it and training himself.

At some point he did settle down again and ended up fathering four children alone of whom two showed Shapeshifter properties as well.

There were the twins Technoblade and Wilbur. Technoblade showed from an early age on a deeper interest in fighting. Always asking to learn more than the self-defense techniques their father was teaching them, so Philza took the time to teach him everything he knew. Gifting him later on a proper iron sword which Techno then used to train almost daily with. Philza later had to put mending on that sword since it was chipped and scratched in a short time over heavy use. He is also one of the two children of Philza who ended up being a Shapeshifter. They first noticed when two of his teeth in his lower jaw tended to peek out of his mouth. Over the years these two teeth turned into full blown tusks, flappy pink ears would appear on his head, his hair slowly turned into a soft pink, as well as bristle like fur begun growing on his arms. It were the characteristics of a pig as they soon realized.

Wilbur the younger of the twins by two minutes was more interested in music and books. Philza gifted him a guitar the same time he gave Techno his first sword. From that point on it was a rare thing if you didn’t see Wilbur’s guitar around him. Either on his person or laying close by him. Over time he got really proficient with the instrument and begun writing amazing songs as well as singing them himself.

The middle child Y/N was the more mellow of the whole bunch though this didn’t mean much in the context of the whole family. While they happily took part in whatever trouble their siblings got up to they were at the end the first person that would try to help solve these troubles as well and took care of any wounds. To that end they soon learned how to grow their own herbs to make medicine. This was something Philza taught them. Both would spent a ton of time in the garden, so much so, that the garden was dubbed Y/N’s and Dad’s garden. Techno would sometimes help out as well but that was a more rare occurrence. Y/N was the second kid with the active Shapeshifter gene. Just like their father, two stubs appeared at their back that too would turn into huge black wings. Y/N still remembered how perplexed but proud Philza was when he understood what was happening. They didn’t know what they expected from their father but this reaction wasn’t it. But they weren’t mad about it.

The youngest of the family was Tommy and he was the number one reason why the kids got into trouble in the first place. He would wake up, make weird plans and rope the others into it as well. Wilbur was the first he would usually try to recruit to which Techno then would reluctantly join knowing that if the two are together they will need help later on. Getting Y/N on board was pretty easy as well. It was either a thing of them knowing they will one hundred percent get hurt so best to join in now or they were feeling particularly chaotic that day and wouldn’t even hesitate to join.

Back when they all lived together in their old cottage home their daily lives would always start in the same way.

Philza would be the first awake. He would wake the children up and continue downstairs to work on breakfast for everyone.

There was no real order to who would be the first downstairs for food but it was always Y/N who would be the last to join the group. Moving in front of their designated chair only to stretch before properly sitting down.

“Ew! Gross! Your wing touched my food!” Wilbur exclaimed angrily, pulling the plate with his food closer to himself and farther away from his sibling.

Y/N rolled their eyes “I’m not poisonous, Wilbur.”

“Still gross.” He muttered more to himself as he reluctantly took a bite from his toast.

Phil eyed the two but looked back down to his food and coffee “Your wings are getting pretty big. I’m sure it won’t take long until you can do more than just gliding about.”

“So, that means you can teach them to fly soon?” Tommy was the one to ask surprisingly. Sure, that was on Y/N’s mind as well so they didn’t mind Tommy saying what they thought but they still felt like it was a bad sign and a call for trouble though they couldn’t think how nor did they care enough to find out.

Philza raised one of his eyebrows, obviously taking note of that fact as well. It was something you learned to look out for once you spend enough time with Tommy. “I’m not sure how soon but I think so, yeah.”

“Cool.” Was all Tommy remarked. He then proceeded to stare at his food so his family would get their suspicion off of him. Acting as if he didn’t just figuratively plant a huge red flag on the table with the words “I have a plan!”.

Y/N on the other hand couldn’t help to smile. They were excited for the eventual day when Philza could finally teach them how to fly. For the longest time now they have only learned to use their wings to glide and got really good at changing directions while doing so. Taking care of their wings was already a pain so they wanted to get at least something good out of having them in the first place and being able to properly fly is a huge plus since getting into positions where you could actually glide around was a difficult and a bothersome thing.

Philza sighed choosing to ignore Tommy and instead turned to look at Wilbur and Y/N “What is your plan today? Want to join me and Techno when we go into town for the tournament?”

After a few seconds of confused expressions between the two Wilbur suddenly shouted “Oh! Techno’s tournament! Of course! I wanna see him beat up other people for a change!”

Techno snorted “Really feeling the support here right now, bro.”

“I’m guessing you both are coming too?” Philza was now addressing the other two of his kids.

Both were fast and eager to agree. Wilbur was right. Usually Techno tried sparring with his siblings though using the word sparring was maybe an overstatement. He would mercilessly beat them up and complain they didn’t last long enough. At rare times where all of them were bored enough they would play a game of >Who can last the longest against Techno<. Y/N really wasn’t too big a fan of this game since they ended up being the only one who would address the wounds later including their own since they didn’t trust the others to properly apply a band aid.

From this point on the breakfast was more alive than before. Tommy and Wilbur would constantly ask questions to Techno about who he will be fighting or how everything will work. To which he all just gave a very non-committal “I dunno”.

After they all cleaned up the breakfast table, they got ready and grabbed everything they needed.

The town wasn’t super far away but it was a long enough walk that it would be inconvenient to get back for things you might have forgotten.

Techno grabbed his sword while Wilbur made sure to take his beloved guitar with him. Y/N made sure to grab all kinds of medicine and bandages with them. They knew Techno will get treated at the tournament should he get hurt but they felt better if they brought some stuff with them as well. Tommy on the other hand made sure to grab all kinds of things including a few pages of paper, pens, string and more. Philza wanted to just write it down to Tommy probably meeting up with Tubbo in town and doing harmless crafts but the chances were slim.

As they made their way to the tournament and Philza was preaching to them to not cause any trouble since there would be a lot of people there today, Y/N soon noticed how Techno would nervously play around with the hilt of his worn out sword.

They affectionately put their arm around their older brother for a short side hug, including putting their wing around him “You’ll do fine. I know it. Don’t worry too much and just imagine you are beating one of us up.”

Technoblade had to roll his eyes at that “I’ll try to take that advice to heart.”

As they arrived in town the kids looked around in awe. Everywhere were stalls set up selling food or little decorative things or toys. People where weaving in and out between stalls, loudly talking with each other. Laughter and yells filled the air.

In the middle of the town square there was a huge box marked on the ground. This is where the fights would happen. As far as Techno explained the rules were simple. Get your opponent on their back, get them out of the box or beat them unconscious. Tommy was absolutely loving the idea of Techno beating all of his opponents unconscious and said he wouldn’t take any other result as acceptable.

“Alright kiddos. Techno and I have to talk with the organizer. You three can go and have some fun but you have to promise me a few things. Whatever you guys do stay together! Don’t talk to strangers and as soon as the fights start you come over. I will find you then, okay? I will only let you guys go if you agree to this.”

“I can still try to find Tubbo, right?” Tommy asked.

“Of course but only if you all stay together.” He was looking at Wilbur when he said the last part. This meant Wilbur was the boss for today. Well until they met up again with their dad.

Wilbur put his hands on each shoulder of his younger siblings “We will! Don’t worry dad!”

Philza gave them a last nod before walking off. Before Techno followed him he looked at the three “Don’t… cause too much trouble. At least for me so nothing happens to the tournament.” With that Technoblade turned around and followed Philza closely.

“Well, what should we start with?” Y/N asked their brothers.

Tommy threw his arms in the air “Tubbo!”

Wilbur laughed “Alright. We’ll try to find your Tubbo. I’m sure he and his siblings should be around here as well.”

Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend and honestly he hangs around their home so much they almost consider him a family member as well. He had an older sister Puffy and an older brother Schlatt though. They were a curious case. All three of them carried the active Shapeshifter gene and all three begun growing horns, their ears turned into that of goats and they all had the horizontal iris’.

Y/N liked to spend time with Puffy. Just like Y/N Puffy too acted more like a caretaker to her siblings which the two soon bonded over while Schlatt and Wilbur soon hit it off as well. It was actually quite amusing to see them interacting since Wilbur was known for loving art and freedom. Schlatt on the other hand tried to see how he can scam the most people in the most effective manner in the shortest amount of time. Trying to turn in a profit at every turn. You wouldn’t immediately think they would end up being such good friends.

The three were raised by their father as well who everyone just referred to as Captain Sparklez though his real name was Jordan. He coincidentally also helped with setting up this little festival for the town.

Tommy suddenly took a deep breath in as he cupped his hands around his mouth “Tubbo!”

Wilbur furrowed his brows “Tommy, there are a ton of people around here! There is no way he heard you.”

“Tommy! Over here!” a different voice called out, away from all the stalls and people.

Wilbur and Y/N looked surprised while Tommy almost proudly smirked at them. The bond Tommy and Tubbo had was something else.

Together the three ran through the crowd to finally meet up with Tubbo and apparently his siblings. As a greeting Tubbo softly headbutted Tommy while Puffy did the same to Y/N. Schlatt never did this with Wilbur. Said he might have goat like characteristics but he is still more human than goat hence why he didn’t do this whole headbutting thing. It has been a whole ordeal with Wilbur once where he demanded to get a headbutt from Schlatt as well for a greeting. After enough prodding and being a general nuisance Schlatt decided to straight up headbutt him as hard as possible almost knocking him out and gave him a good bruise on his forehead. Wilbur never asked for another headbutt greeting since then.

Y/N gave Puffy an additional hug, making sure to wrap their wings around her as well “I’m glad to see you Puffy!”

“So am I! I heard Techno is taking part in the tournament, isn’t he?”

Schlatt was for some reason cackling at that “Oh I bet he will win, won’t he? This would be the best time for some betting!”

Tommy, Y/N and Wilbur all nodded saying things like “Of course he will win. My brother is the best”

Soon the group begun to fall into their usual banter. Tommy and Tubbo were doing something next to them, only sometimes getting back into the conversation. Schlatt and Wilbur on the other hand were talking about how they could start bets and maybe earn some money because surely Techno will win. Y/N and Puffy listened in only to interject at times to root them back down. Both made sure they wouldn’t end up doing anything too stupid, though they too were in on it and ready to help out.

In the end the whole group was sitting on the ground and writing their plan down on the paper Tommy brought with him as suddenly a loud voice boomed over the crowd announcing that the fighting tournament will soon begin.

Tubbo looked absolutely horrified “No! I didn’t have a chance to check out the candy yet!”

Schaltt sighed and gave Tubbo a reassuring pat on his back “Don’t worry kiddo they will still be here after the tournament.”

With that the group begun walking to the marked place for the fighting. All the while Schlatt was grumbling that this was way too early and he couldn’t act on his betting plans.

“There are a lot of people.” Y/N noted as they came closer to their goal.

Indeed there were a surprising amount of people standing around the place. If it was difficult to get through the crowd before, now it seemed almost impossible. It was almost comical how the crowd seemingly turned into a wall of steel as the announcer begun his speech in order to greet all the people watching.

“Ugh, I can barely see anything.” Wilbur whined as he moved on his toes. Wilbur was the tallest of the group so when he had problems seeing anything Y/N instinctively already gave up. Maybe one day it would be the other way around seeing as they all were still growing but for now this was the reality of the situation.

Tommy was frantically jumping into the air trying to see anything that happened. He didn’t say it but he wanted to make sure to not miss out on any second of Techno’s fights. He was his older brother after all.

“Hey, Schlatt?” Tubbo almost whispered as he tugged at his older brother’s shirt.

Schlatt barely made any proper attempt to look over the crowd probably still busy thinking about his lost business opportunity. He tilted his head down to look at Tubbo “Hm?”

Suddenly Tubbo’s unsure expression turned into a serious one. While Wilbur, Tommy and Y/N were confused about this, Puffy begun to snicker.

“Aw, come on!” Schlatt drawled out but as soon as Tubbo got his pouting face out it was over for him.

He rolled his eyes and knelt down. With the help of Puffy, Tubbo was soon sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders, overlooking the crowd.

For some reason Tommy looked absolutely betrayed “This is unfair!”

“And why is that?” was all that Tubbo asked smugly. He was grabbing onto Schlatt’s horns which lead to him involuntarily yanking around his head whenever Tubbo himself moved around. Annoyed Schlatt gave his younger brother a playful slap on his arm as a sign to knock it off.

Tommy crossed his arms “Hey, Wilby! Wait no, I’m not a child anymore.”

Before Wilbur could even do his obligatory cooing whenever Tommy used his nickname or before Y/N could remind him that he was indeed still a child and younger than Tubbo he turned towards them instead.

“Y/N! You carry me and fly up that is way cooler than sitting on someone’s shoulders like some two year old.”

This took Y/N quite by surprise “What?”

“Dad said you are ready to fly and you spent like most of your free time already gliding or flying about so like basically the same thing right?”

“No! This is completely different! Besides I’m pretty sure my wings right now are barely able to carry my own weight! To that I have no idea how to take off from ground!”

Tommy’s bottom lip begun to quiver. Both Wilbur and Y/N knew it was fake but it was still a weakness for the two.

Y/N tried grabbing Wilbur’s sleeve for support but he was already looking at them with sad eyes himself “I mean Tommy just wants to see his big brother win, which is understandable right? At least worth a try?”

It was Y/N’s time to look betrayed but their expression soon got exchange by that one of defeat “One… One try. If that doesn’t work out I will give up.”

So the group walked back away from the crowd to have more space, Tubbo still happily sitting on Schlatt’s shoulders. He looked annoyed but Puffy knew that he was just as happy as she was that Tubbo had obviously a good time.

Y/N would spent a few minutes just trying to take off the ground on their own saying that they would first need to be a bit in the air before being able to grab Tommy. Wilbur was just watching with an amused smile on his face. Oh he was almost certain how this will end in disaster but he was just too curious to see how exactly.

After multiple running starts Y/N managed to get a few feet off into the air, flying directly towards Tommy so they could pick him up. They more or less bodychecked into their younger brother but still managed to pick him up and for a short moment it looked like the two were indeed a few feet above the height of the crowd.

Tommy was screaming partially out of fear but partially out of excitement. Y/N was so concentrated on flying and holding onto Tommy they didn’t even try to look out for Techno on the ground. They stayed semi stable in the air for good two seconds before both suddenly noticed they were losing altitude rapidly.

Now both were screaming as Y/N desperately tried to glide towards the hay bails that the town put up as decoration but with the added weight of Tommy they still plummeted towards the ground pretty fast.

The next thing Y/N remembers was that they were surrounded by hay and that their whole body was feeling heavy and sore. Tommy was groaning as he tried his best to get out of the hay and off their sibling while Y/N first made sure to calmly fold their wings back against their back as they slowly got out of the hay as well.

Suddenly two strong hands grabbed the still disoriented Y/N and helped them properly back to their feet only to be met by an angry looking Philza.

“What on Ender were you thinking?”

“Oh hey dad!” Y/N croaked out as they avoided any eye contact with him. Instead they were busy plucking hay out of their wings. Due to the fall there was a lot of hay trapped between feathers, there were also a few bent feathers that felt uncomfortable at best.

Tommy was sheepishly standing next to them also avoiding eye contact.

“I told you to get to the tournament and wait for me! I told you guys I would make sure to find you so why did you do whatever the hell you just did?” Philza rambled off.

“Yeah guys why did you two do that?” Wilbur was now approaching his family as well, including their other three friends who followed suit.

Y/N let go of their wing as they turned towards their older brother with an angry frown “You encouraged us! Don’t act like you are the only innocent person here! Aren’t you as our big brother supposed to stop us or something when we are stupid?”

Philza sighed “Okay, we deal with this later but at least tell me why?”

“We wanted to see Techno but we couldn’t get past the crowd!” Tommy answered.

“My fights will only start in like half an hour dude. Didn’t you guys listen to the announcements?”

To their surprise Technoblade appeared from behind Philza. He looked bored but still had a somewhat smug smile on his face. Who wouldn’t feel a tiny big smug when your younger siblings gets into trouble with dad for something that was absolutely their fault and you were luckily this time no part of it.

“You three are in trouble! We will go back so Techno won’t be too late for when it’s his turn but once we are back home it’s three weeks of chores for all of you.”

This earned him a murmur of “Okay, dad.” And “But we didn’t do anything bad!”

After that the day ended up pretty normally. They had their trouble for the day so they continued on with following Philza back to the tournament place. He made sure that all the kids had the best places in front so they could watch as Techno absolutely destroyed the other kids.

Jordan joined them as well. Philza didn’t spend any time waiting on telling him how Y/N and Tommy crashed into one of his decorations. He wasn’t angry but did chew out his own kids a little bit for not even attempting to stop them.

For some reason this was the day Y/N always fondly thought back on. They got into their typical trouble that day but also spend a ton of time with their family and friends back in their hometown. Enjoying seeing Techno beat others up and of course winning the tournament to which then Phil and Jordan bought the kids a ton of candy from the stalls.

Yes, they loved their family so dearly and would do anything for them.

So when a letter arrived from Wilbur that informed them that a few days ago a friend betrayed him which led to him losing his first life of three as well for Tommy, Tubbo and their nephew Fundy it felt like their heart got ripped out of their chest.

Y/N was still living at their old childhood home with Philza but both were only rarely at home. The two traveled around the world independently from each other using the old cottage as a place to rest in between. Wilbur probably addressed the letter knowing that this was the most reliable way to contact his family.

Reaching Technoblade who was training out of country was almost impossible at this point in time.

Y/N got out a piece of paper and wrote a letter for their father.

“Dad, I’m going to visit Wil and Tommy. Love, Y/N”

This was all that needed to be said.

They put the letter including the letter from Wilbur visibly on the table so Philza would see it as soon as he got back home. They did this sometimes in order to talk to Philza as well as the other way around so both were always looking out for messages on the table once they got back home.

Y/N grabbed their old netherite sword they got way back from Techno as a gift and begun thinking about what to take with them for the flight towards L’Manberg. If they fly it would only take a few days to reach the place but they also couldn’t carry a lot of things with them.

“Hell of a reason to visit your family after a long time, huh.”

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fandom-writer642 · 4 years

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Street Rat Christmas

Summary: It’s (Y/n)’s first Christmas season with their new family but they don’t want to give up an old tradition. The problem? Jason and Selina are the only one’s in the family that have heard of the tradition, a Street Rat Christmas. The Batfamily, the Kent’s, and the Outlaws are going to be in for the culture shock of their lives as they find out why Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning are always so peaceful in the City of Demons, no matter the crimes that took place just before.

Note: Gender Neutral!Reader, Sweet and Friendly!Reader

Warning: Mention of Death

•••

Yet another sigh escaped from (Y/n)’s lips as they watched the snow gently fall to the ground through the window. The book that they were reading was abandoned in their lap as their (e/c) eyes watched the snowflakes shine and float down in the golden sunlight. Damian couldn’t help but frown at his sibling’s actions, he had been with his father for the past five years and he himself understood that Christmas was a time to be happy. Yet, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his normally happy sibling was depressed. Even Damian felt rather pleasant and calm during the two days the holiday was overly focused on.

“Is something the matter (L/n)? Typically you’re more chipper.”

“It’s just my first Christmas without my parents,” (Y/n) replied to him rather sadly. They were remembering how fun Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning always was for their family. Perhaps they could sneak out tonight and join the festivities? “It’s strange, we would be out preparing by now.”

Damian gave (Y/n) a rather quizzical look at that. He understood when they said that they would miss their parents, he couldn’t blame them. However, (Y/n) didn’t come from an amazing or rich family so the preparation note caught him off guard. (Y/n) could’ve been dubbed a street rat by many different people before Bruce had adopted them, and Damian was pretty sure that they had been called a street rat before. Hearing them say preparing was a strange thing, it wasn’t possible for their family since they couldn’t afford something big. Yet, it sounded like a yearly thing for his newest sibling to go through during the holiday season. (Y/n) shot him a smile before they left for their room, taking their book with them. Damian left the study shortly after (Y/n) had left and found himself at the enterance of the living room.

The room was lovely and had many decorations hung up around the room, making it look like the room had been part of a winter wonderland competition and the music in the background was a nice touch. Dick was sitting in an arm chair with Kori on his lap as the pair talked to Roy and Jason who sat on the closer end of the couch. Tim was talking to Kon and Lois on the other side of the couch while Cass talked quietly with Steph, Barbara, and Kate. Selina was sitting next to Bruce as he talked with Clark who had Jon at his side. The room was rather busy with chatter and far too loud for his tastes but he had learned to live with it at this point.

“Hey Damian!” Jon called out to his friend when he noticed him at the entryway. All conversation turn to a pivoting stop to the point that the sweet Christmas songs filled the air of the room. It was a known fact that Damian didn’t spend much time with his family on Christmas Eve until after lunch which was in two hours. “I was wondering where you were.”

Damian nodded his own greeting and understanding to his friend’s words. “I’m sure Jon. I’m however curious about something that doesn’t quite involve me but it does involve (L/n).”

That had caught the whole room’s attention. Everyone knew that (Y/n) was a helpful and sweet soul with little to absolutely no hurtful bone in their whole body.

“Is she alright?” Dick asked worriedly.

“Currently, I’m unaware. I’m well aware that it is their first Christmas without their family but they said something that peaked my interest.”

“What was it?”

“Well, they simply said that their family and themself would be out preparing for some sort of event at this point in time.”

Damian didn’t miss the look that Selina and Jason shared with the other, or the faint smiles on their lips. They had a look in their eyes that was similar if not identical to the one (Y/n) had held not that long ago.

“Preparing for what?” Tim asked curiously. His younger sibling tended to keep closer to Damian and Jason more than anyone else the family knew with the exception perhaps being Alfred.

Damian simply shook his head and kept himself from insulting the older boy, “I’m unaware. It simply peaked my interest because as we all know, (L/n) didn’t come from a very financially stable family. The way that they talked made it sound like an annual event.”

“A tradition on Christmas Eve? In Gotham?” Roy had almost laughed in disbelief. “That’s completely ridiculous. You said it yourself demon spawn, (Y/N) came from a pretty poor family, they don’t exactly have an overwhelming amount their family and them could do.

“No true,” Jason cut off before anyone could agree with his redhead friend. “I actually knew (Y/n) before she ever even met Bruce and moved in because of the festivities that take place on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Most people call it a Street Rat Christmas but the official term is a Street Rat Holiday. To put it simply, it’s the only break any street rat or poor family tends to get throughout the whole year.”

Bruce leaned forward at the newly acquired information. To him it sounded just like a charity event that takes place on Christmas Eve and Christmas in the worker side of town. The man couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had never heard of such an event even though he lived in Gotham for so long.

“How much do you know about it?” Tim asked.

“A lot,” Jason replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I still tend to go every Christmas Eve no matter what. I don’t count the years I was either dead or presumably dead but I still go, I don’t care if there is a mission, I go.”

“What happens?

“Peace,” Jason smiled slightly. “We should go tonight. You guys just can’t attack or snap at anyone, you have to enjoy yourselves.”

“Why on earth would we snap or attack?” Dick spoke in surprise.

Jason couldn’t stop the small snort or the smirk pulling on his face. “Villains attend the festivities as well. There was an arrangement made between the villains, people, and GCPD that as long as they didn’t harm or make any sort of threats to anyone for that night or the next morning that they could attend.”

“And people talk and interact with them?” Kate spoke up, looking rather stunned by the information.

Selina couldn’t help but nod in agreement, “indeed. I attended a few years back and (Y/n) was there with their family while talking to all sorts of people. They mostly talked to Riddler, Two-Face, and Penguin when it came to interacting with the villains but they did interact with every villain. That includes Joker. Their family was always active in helping set up the event.

Jon had perked up like a puppy dog before speeding out of the room and up the stairs before coming back with a rather flustered looking (Y/n) in his arms. Gently he set them down on the floor which caused them to let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Jon, they did, but it was different when he came into their room, picked them up and rushed them down to the living room at super speed. They were still getting used to the whole “living with superheroes” thing as it had only been two months since they moved in.

“What is going on?” They questioned after a moment.

“Just talking about how a Street Rat Christmas functions,” Jason replied to his younger sibling.

No one could miss the way that (Y/n)’s eyes had lit up at the mention of the event. They seemed happier almost immediately at the reminder of the event.

“Oh! Can we go?” (Y/n) turned to Bruce with large kitten eyes that Selina most definitely approved of. “Pleeeeaaaassseee?”

Bruce chuckled at his child’s beg for approval. He already knew what his choice was going to be but first, “I want to know more about this event before I agree to anything.”

“Well, where did I leave off?” Selina wondered. The newest family addition sat on the floor near Bruce and Selina while dragging Damian down and over with them.

“Villains,” Kori reminded.

Selina snapped her fingers with a smile, “right!”

–––

The group had arrived at a large park filled with people and laughter. A giant tree stood tall in the middle of the park and was decorated with all sorts of different and even strange ordiments that were clearly brought or made by the people at the party. Damian could help but let a faint smile appear on his lips as his sibling dragged him toward the main party.

None of the secret heroes could miss the villains in the crowd that greeted the pair with an honest to god real smile. They even saw Joker gift (Y/n) with a very pretty box, the fact made them tense at the sight but for some reason Jason was calm about it. He was calm about seeing his murderer gift his little sibling with a box that could very easily hold a trigger bomb. It made no sense and yet that is how it played out. The young Wayne had opened the gift with a smile and found it to be a purple and green scarf, something that was clearly made with the help of the Riddler.

The family moved around and tried the different activities such as a snow man building contest (Tim and Dick got third place), a scavenger hunt (Damian, Jason, and (Y/n) had easily won that), dance battle to Christmas music (Selina joined forces with Ivy and they got fifth), create an ordiment to hang on the giant tree, ice Christmas cookies, drink hot cocoa, ice skating, a Christmas song karaoke challenge, and many more events. Homeless kids and families were given blankets and clothes as well as other supplies at the end of the night. At three minutes to midnight everyone had gathered around the tree and many were talking excitedly, the kids especially.

“We wish you a merry Christmas”

The Waynes were surprised when everyone began to sing in perfect harmony, the villains, Jason, (Y/N), Selina, and many others were leading the uncertain children and newcomers in the song. Jason had a young girl in his arms who was singing along with him while looking at the glowing tree.

“We wish you a merry Christmas/ We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

Dick, Kori, Roy, and Steph had joined in the singing as well but to their surprise so had Damian. It was much quieter than the others but still noticeable enough.

“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin/We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

As everyone sang Bruce had decided one thing, he was going to have to participate in a Street Rat Christmas every year until he died. His family had been happier than they have in ages while Selina, Jason, and (Y/n) all got to keep a familiar tradition close to them and have the time to remember those that they love and miss; they all did.

•••

Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope you all have enjoyed this mini story and have a good holiday! I’m so sorry about lack of activity but I’ve been sooooo busy and a lot of things have been going on with my family so I’ve been stressed. Cya next time! I’m planning Batfamily x Reader x Miraculous Ladybug with Damianette in it, I’ve fallen into a hole and I can’t get out. That story will probably be a series but bare with me, I have little to know means to write as of recent do to issues.

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

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better me than him (you know, sisters) // a Black Widow fic

About: SPOILERS FOR BLACK WIDOW (2021) // Yelena says, “Even as a Widow, all the girls looked up to what you could do. I would tell them, ‘Natasha is my sister. Natasha is coming back for me. Natasha—’” Yelena spits at the ground. Her despair and her rage overtake her face, and her nose could scrape the clouds, she turns it up so high.

or, an alternate scene for Black Widow, where Natasha talks to Yelena after the kitchen table breakdown instead of Alexei. + read on ao3

Yelena shirks out of Milena’s touch. She snatches up the vodka from the table and turns for the bedroom. Natasha struggles to find the words to respond to her. Some kind of explanation for disappearing, or some way to take back what she said about the reality of their mission together. But it was a mission. It had to be.

“Yelena.”

Yelena doesn’t break her stride. “No.” The door clicks shut behind her. Tense air makes breathing harder. Natasha parts her lips for a bit of extra oxygen. Zones out and misses the moments where Alexei and Milena exchange words. When Alexei goes to move though, Natasha lifts a hand to stop him.

“I’ll go.” At least then Yelena can’t say Natasha never did anything for her. Yelena probably doesn’t remember that Natasha had held a gun to the soldiers who tried to take Yelena away. What does that matter when Natasha failed, right? Without another word, Natasha goes after Yelena into the guest bedroom.

Yelena’s already on the floor with the bottle of vodka in her hands. Her knees bent up to her chest, her elbows just barely on top of them — she looks so small. Defiant. Natasha closes the door behind her.

Yelena looks too tired to glare. “I came in here because I didn’t want to talk.”

Natasha calls, “Bullshit. All you’ve done since we met up is talk. Talk about feelings and futures and our pasts.” She can’t quite tell if her voice sounds disparaging or wistful. Lonely or yearning for whatever part of Yelena still thinks they could be a family.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” Yelena snaps back. “Or we would, if any of it were real.”

Natasha takes a sharp breath in. “Come on. I do not want to sit here, holding your hand when there are other Widows out there who need us. Drekhov is still alive and ruining their world.”

Yelena gestures to the door with her vodka bottle. “Go then. It’s what you do best.” She won’t look right at Natasha’s eyes. She glares at her forehead, or her chin. At the walls that Milena has looked at for who knows how long instead of looking for either of them. “You left me. You left the Widows. You even left the Avengers to hide out in the middle of nowhere in a camper with a barely functioning generator. You called Mom Milena a coward. But all you do is run and kill and hide from anybody who tries to care about you.”

“And you care about me?” Natasha doubts that. Why would Yelena still care? Yelena was six the last time they really saw each other. Sure, they crossed paths a few times on missions, but the Red Room took great care to make sure they wouldn’t fall back into old patterns. “Because of some assignment?”

Yelena screams, “Because you were my sister! You-you were someone to look up to! Even as a Widow, all the girls looked up to what you could do. I would tell them, ‘Natasha is my sister. Natasha is coming back for me. Natasha—’” Yelena spits at the ground. Her despair and her rage overtake her face, and her nose could scrape the clouds, she turns it up so high. “They told me again and again that Widows are not a family. But I beat your records, and I thought, ‘One day, she will call me on beating her. She will want a rematch. She will want….’”

“You.” Natasha finishes in a whisper. Yelena grinds her teeth and sends her gaze back down to the vodka bottle. “Even if I did want to know you, that’s not how things are done.”

Yelena takes a swig. “You broke your Accords like a week after signing them. Rules are nothing to you. If you want to lie to yourself to make yourself feel better, then go ahead. But do not lie to me like I am a child. I stopped being one the moment you let them take me.”

“I was a child too, Yelena. Dad—” Natasha cringes at the slip. “Alexei knocked us both out. You can’t keep holding onto this.”

“Tell me what I should hold onto then. Hmm?” Her lips curl into a sad snarl. “I have a vest and some memories of-of handstands in the dirt and chasing after your bike because I was too little to have my own.”

“You crashed your own,” Natasha corrects. “We found it before we were supposed to. I tried to teach you how to ride, and you slammed into the garage door. Woke them both up.”

“Great, another wrong memory.” Yelena shakes her head. “It could have been you.” Yelena snorts like the pigs. A sad, strangled sob follows.

Natasha gives Yelena her privacy and averts her eyes. Maybe that’s the cowardly choice here too. Shield herself from Yelena’s emotions. Pretend that… pretend that none of this hurts her too.

Natasha’s not the one who gives the big speeches. That’s Steve’s department. He stands there with his broad shoulders and his bright eyes, and he talks like he’s still that scrawny kid who couldn’t back down from a fight. But he understands what it feels like to be out of place. He made her feel less alone. He made her feel like she was actually helping people. She was an Avenger. Or, like Yelena said, ‘the trained killer little girls call their hero.’

“Do you remember when I first dyed my hair? Probably not. You were, like, four.” Natasha chuckles, and she wonders for the first time if Milena and Alexei are listening in. She walks over to sit beside Yelena. “Milena did it as a science experiment. We used kool-aid to temporarily dye my hair blue, and you got so scared that the blue on your tongue from drinking it would never go away. So I drank a bunch to turn my tongue, and so did Milena. By the time Alexei got home, my whole head was bright blue, and so were our lips and a little bit of your nose.”

The memory makes Natasha laugh, and when she chances a glance across her shoulder at Yelena, she can see the deep knit of the younger spy’s eyebrows. Yelena doesn’t remember, does she? Doesn’t know about some of the little days that made all the other ones that much more bearable.

Natasha clears her throat. “After Budapest, I had my own life again. And I wish I could say that I felt free. But I felt exactly like I did in Ohio. Like someone was waiting to rip me back out of what little peace I could find. So, I did the only thing that I could think to do. I went to the store and bought a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a shit ton of blue kool-aid. And I dyed my hair in the S.H.I.E.L.D safe house into the grossest shade of purple that I have ever seen in my life. Clint has pictures somewhere, I’m sure. They’re….” Embarrassing is a word, but they’re the first look at her trying to take her life back.

She’d thought about getting a tattoo back then. She’d gone to a parlor and had flipped through the books of available designs for an hour. Clint had waited with her, making smart ass comments about placement and goading her into making a decision. His personal favorite had been an arrow that he swore would look amazing on the side of her neck. But those permanent changes didn’t feel like her. Not like recreating the memory did.

“I have no idea what they made you do, or what they took from you. We’re going to get the others out, and then you can do whatever you want, Yelena. You never have to talk to me, or Milena, or Alexei again. You can make your own family. Make some new memories. Those days in Ohio, they don’t have to be your best ones.”

Yelena’s lip trembles. She pouts around the emotion. “What if….” She exhales slow, and even that shakes. “What if I wanted that? The… ‘Don’t slouch,’ and the embarrassing parents.”

Natasha lets her voice drop into its raspiest. “They are pretty embarrassing.”

“She raises pigs. Who does that?” Yelena laughs.

Natasha blinks her red-rimmed eyes and nudges her shoulder into Yelena’s. “You and your vest, you fit right in.”

“Don’t be jealous. I could show you where I got it. Make a day of it maybe.” Yelena’s watery eyes find Natasha’s, and they’re so damn hopeful. They ask what Yelena won’t. What if Yelena wants Natasha too? What if they could be sisters again?

Natasha reaches for the vodka bottle, and Yelena hands it to her without question. “Maybe. Once we stop Drekhov.”

“And you get the others,” Yelena adds. “The witch needs new clothes. She looks like a tourist.”

Natasha snorts. “I’ll be sure to give Wanda your fashion advice once she’s off the raft.” They might get along actually. Both younger women, lost a lot as kids, used as violent weapons, but now they’ve got a second chance. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if Yelena tagged along. She’d make a few bad jokes. Get Steve to laugh whenever he comes out of hiding. God, if they ever make up with Tony, he would have a field day at finding out Natasha has a sister. “Do a good job on this mission, and maybe I’ll let you meet them. No autographs though.”

Yelena shoves Natasha’s leg. “I don’t want autographs from your friends.” She pauses to reconsider. “Hm, maybe Captain America. Alexei would shit himself.”

“Did you hear him in the bathroom earlier? He probably already did.”

Yelena groans, and the only thing sweeter than the laughter to follow is the small smile she gives to Natasha. Like maybe there’s still something in Natasha worth looking up to.

“Hey,” Natasha’s voice comes out more serious than she intends it to. Yelena lifts an eyebrow as she waits. “You were always the best of us, you know that?”

The words make Yelena’s lip tremble again. Her nose pitches up, and she sniffles before putting on her best Widow smirk. “That’s why I beat all your records.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Сука.”

Yelena pushes herself up from the floor. “I’m not a bitch.” She reaches her hand out to pull Natasha up. Natasha accepts the assist.

“You’re a brat; that’s what you are.” Natasha leads the way back out of the bedroom.

“What are little sisters for?”

Hope. Not that Natasha would admit that part. Way too sentimental, way too honest. She sticks her tongue out instead. Yelena understands though. It’s what they do. Or at least, what they could do, if they keep showing up instead of running away.

"Tell me when you figure it out, okay?"

notes: Natasha is her (foster, mission) mother's daughter, in more ways than one, and Yelena should say it.

I also want to thank you all for the very warm reception to my other Black Widow fic. I have at least one more in the chamber. You are welcome to send in requests, and if any speak to me, I will do my best to write them. Mostly, I just care about this family a lot. Go figure. Let's talk about them. Or anything else in replies/reblogs/asks.

#black widow #black widow spoilers #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow fic #mine #mcu #mcu fic #mcu: mine #black widow (2021)#yelena black widow

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catherdrashepard · 3 years

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Red Rising/Persona

I’m a huge fan of the Persona series and pretty much anything Atlus has done. I am ALSO a huge fan of Red Rising (blame that on @hyena-frog) So, the natural conclusion is that I should determine which Persona the main RR POV characters would have. As well as a couple extras. Pictures will be included with credit to the artist when applicable. Please let me know if I forget to credit someone. (https://megamitensei.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_Persona_5_Royal_Personas) Here is the website I’m using. Spoilers for the first three books and probably a little of Iron Gold. Also a spoiler for the Faith Confidante in Persona 5: Royal. Avoid the Lysander paragraph if you want none of that. Disclaimer: I have not finished Dark Age yet so some of my thoughts might be lacking complete information.

Darrow: The main characters of the Persona series always start with a Persona from the Fool arcana. It doesn’t necessarily stay that way depending on the players personal preference. That being said, Darrow does fit the Fool arcana very well. It’s considered to be the beginning arcana or one without a number. It represents innocence, divine inspiration, madness, freedom, spontaneity, inexperience, chaos and creativity. These traits I think describe Darrow pretty accurately, especially in the first two books. Considering the story revolves around his journey, it makes sense to label him as a character of beginnings. Persona-wise, I think the one that fits Red Rising and Golden Son Darrow would be Satanael. This Persona is basically the equivalent to Lucifer, the angel who led a rebellion against God. But also that isn’t all that Darrow is. I also think the Death arcana is fitting for him, from Morning Star and beyond. Death is an arcana roughly in the middle of the tarot deck and it’s one that represents metamorphosis and change. Literal interpretation aside, Darrow experiences a change in himself after his capture at the end of Golden Son and his rescue in Morning Star. Not to mention, his entire purpose for becoming a Gold in the first place was to provoke a change in the current system of government. For his Death Persona, I would give him Thanatos. Because he’s my favourite, but also he’s considered the harbinger of death. Perfect for the Reaper. I don’t think Darrow completely loses Satanael in favour of Thanatos; I could definitely see him using both depending on the circumstance.

Virginia/Mustang: By Persona standards, because Mustang is Darrow’s main love interest, she would be the Lovers arcana. However, and this was incredibly difficult because she could really fit more acana, I think she could be both the Judgement and the Empress arcana. The Judgement arcana, I feel, fits her Sovereign persona (ha). It’s associated with a deep understanding of life, a balance of light and darkness, and characters who are well-aware, and intelligent. Not that this doesn’t fit her in her private life as well, but it seems more prevalent in her dealings as the Sovereign. The second arcana is the Empress. This one is more associated with mothers and women of authority. As we saw in the first trilogy, she went to great lengths to protect her family, i.e., working for Octavia, being with Cassius, the whole incident in Lykos. Choosing her Persona is tricky, mostly because Personas can shift arcana depending which game they are pulled from. I think the one to go with is Astarte. This is more of a feeling rather than definitive “proof”. She is identified as the goddess of war, hunting, love, sex, horses and possibly the morning star; her symbols are thought to be the lion, panther, and an eight pointed star. This is also the ultimate Persona of Haru in Persona 5, who awakens her initial Persona in defiance of her father and his corruption, which also feels apt. That being said, Astarte is from the Empress arcana and I could not find a Judgement arcana Persona that I felt fit her well enough.

Credit for the picture of Astarte to: Machia McMadlass on Amino

Sevro: Sevro was very easy to choose a Persona for. One in particular stood out to me. I think Sevro could fit both the Fool arcana and the Devil arcana. I think the aspects of the Fool that Sevro embodies are the madness, freedom, spontaneity, and creativity. The Devil arcana represents the urge to do selfish, impulsive, violent things. However, it also can represent a healthy bond and commitment. Sevro is a wild card from the beginning, killing Priam in the first book being a prime example. Both he and Darrow were very unexpected successes in the Institute. This is something that also describes the protagonists in the Persona games as well. They all just kind of show up out of nowhere and completely shift the paradigm, especially in Personas 3&5. As for the Devil arcana, Sevro reminds me of the Devil confidante in Persona 5. Their goals are not the same, but both characters are very focused on what they want and make every effort to push through despite any obstacles in the way. As for the Persona, the one I chose was sort of picked for superficial reasons; Bugbear. Its name comes from the Celtic word bugs which means evil spirit or goblin. It’s also considered to be something of a boogeyman, a creature that lurked in the woods to scare children. Also, it’s essentially a stuffed bear filled with skulls, which seems to fit Sevro’s weird tastes.

Victra: With Victra, one arcana stuck out in my mind immediately, the Chariot. This arcana represents victory, conquest, self-assertion, self-confidence, control, war, and command. When first introduced to Victra, she does seem very sure of herself and what she wants. She strikes me as a shoot first and ask questions later type, which is something she has in common with the video game characters who share this arcana. Like Sevro, she could also fit the Devil arcana, especially during certain events in Dark Age that she pursues very single-mindedly. Although, I would say Victra is more Devil leaning than Sevro. As for the Persona, I think Pazuzu would fit her style pretty well. What really struck me as fitting Victra was the description of Pazuzu as an evil spirit that drives away other evil spirits, and protects humans from plagues and misfortunes. Also, despite trying to stick with the arcana placements of Persona 5 Royal, I think it’s worth noting that Pazuzu was summoned by a character in Devil Survivor who seeks revenge for death of a loved one.

Cassius: While perusing the arcana descriptions, the one for the Lovers immediately reminded me of Cassius. The Lovers is usually reserved for the “canon” love interest in the games, barring player preferences. However, Dassius jokes aside, what really made me think Cassius is that this arcana symbolises two paths a life could lead to and, standing at a crossroad and needing to make a decision. I think this describes Cassius’ personal journey throughout the books to a T, especially in the climax of Morning Star where he makes the decision to join Darrow in taking out Aja and Octavia. The other arcana that Cassius would be is the Star. This arcana is said to represent hope, self-confidence, faith, altruism, luck, generosity, peace and joy. I feel like self-confidence, faith, and altruism fit pre-end of Morning Star Cassius very well. He was considered the pinnacle of Golds and I think, at least until he learned what was actually going on, that’s all he wanted to be. The game characters with this arcana are teachers or mentors to the protagonist. Characters that are very good at what they do and offer some form of training. A sort of outlier to this is Teddie, from Persona 4. While he does have more experience than the main character dealing with the enemy (both Cassius and Teddie are part of the group the protagonist fights against), Teddie doesn’t take a combative role until later in the game. This is only possible because Rise, who replaces him as support, makes him question his identity or the “real” him. This is very similar to what happens to Cassius in the first three books. Darrow becomes what Cassius thought himself to be and it causes Cassius to question who he really is. Although, unlike Teddie, I think Cassius chose to heavily lean into being the perfect Gold specimen until the end of Morning Star, where he makes a choice to be the “real” Cassius. As for the Persona, I could easily see him with Sraosha, who represents the highest virtue of humanity, obedience to and submission to Divine Law. I think his motivations for using this Persona would change, however. I imagine at first, he would use it to keep the Society functioning how it always does. But, after Morning Star, I bet it would shift to be more about protecting his own ideals and the submission aspect would relate to Cassius’ personal morals and sense of justice.

Lysander: I really wanted to avoid using the arcana that are not present in a standard deck, and added for a specific game. However, one of the arcana that stood out to me for Lysander is the Faith arcana. This arcana symbolises, in the positive, belief in others and in oneself. Negatively, it represents blind faith misplaced in something that does not deserve trust. From what I understand of Lysander’s story, his personal journey seems to mirror that of the game character who shares his arcana. It is revealed later that she is a fake, and her memories were overwritten by another character. I have not finished Dark Age as of writing this but, I am under the strong impression that Lysander has been brainwashed and that some of his memories have been replaced or erased entirely. And while he does have some misgivings about the Society, I believe he is blind to how fucked up it really is. But it also holds potential for Lysander to overcome this indoctrination. I had a bit of trouble with what the second arcana would be but, I think the Moon fits Lysander pretty well. You could say he’s a….Moonie. But in all seriousness, the description that struck me as Lysander-esque was "They often tend to have trouble accepting themselves for who they are and, because of that fear, try to correspond to an ideal person. And like the arcana, there is a hidden depth as to why they act in their behaviours." Lysander was definitely sheltered and isolated, by both Octavia and Cassius (he tried his best). And perhaps by Atalantia to some degree. He is a fed a narrative and doesn’t really get a chance to analyse his own perceptions and why they may be incorrect. The characters of the Moon arcana in the game often struggle internally with themselves which, to be honest, is a trait most of the POV characters have. But what I think Lysander lacks in that case, is self-awareness. As for the Persona, I ended up going with Cendrillon. This Persona is based on Cinderella, which is a little different from some of the other ones. As much as I like to make fun of Lysander for his poor choices, it’s hard not to see him as a victim. I don’t necessarily think he’s a hero or that he’s entitled to the kind of happy ending Cinderella gets. However, I do feel that, like the fairy tale princess, some of his circumstances were as a result of situations that were out of his control. Also, a line really stuck with me from the initial awakening for the Persona that really made me think Lysander; “Well, if those really are the shoes you've chosen... Then we'll dance to the end.”

Ephraim: Ephraim suffers a lot throughout the books, and I feel like that reflects heavily on what arcana he is. I think the first one that fits him well is the Tower arcana, which is associated with a fall from grace. His story reminds me a lot of the Tower social link character in Persona 3. Both Ephraim and the game character lose their family and turn to substance abuse to numb the pain. People of the Tower arcana seems to suffer a lot of internal pain which they fail to cope with healthily and thus turn to less savoury means until and outside force steps in to help steer them in a better direction. The other arcana I believe fits him well is the Hanged Man. What makes me think Ehpraim is that the appearance of the Hanged Man can be seen as advice to take the time to reflect over one's upcoming actions, which is something I think he needs to learn how to do. They can also be self-sacrificial and are often notable for being stuck between two different stages of life. Also, much like the Tower arcana characters, their journey seems to revolve around some kind of loss that they are failing to cope with. As for the Persona….this was a bit tricky. I have a few I like but one comes with a bit reluctance because of how it plays into the plot of Persona 4 and how it would reflect on Ephraim’s character. But, my gut is telling me that Magatsu-Izanagi is the way to go. What is making me think of Ephraim when I see it is the symbolism behind this Persona. It represents emptiness, impulsiveness, poor judgement, obsession and frivolity. There are also some similarities between Ephraim and the character who wields this Persona in Persona 4. They both exhibit little tact and seem to be playing some sort of game with the other characters. However, Adachi (Persona 4 character) seems to do this because he’s a psychopath whereas I think Ephraim is this way as a terrible coping mechanism. In Persona 4, the arcana where this Persona fits in is meant to be the reversed Fool. And while I’m trying to stick with the Persona 5 Royal placements (which for Magatsu-Izanagi is the Tower arcana), I think the implication here is that Ephraim has a lot of potential to be something so great if he can just reverse the path he is going down.

Lyria: I love Lyria. I think she’s a wonderful and interesting character. I love that she highlights the ramifications of undoing a toxic form of government. She gets so much development that it was easy to see what arcana she fit into. The first one I thought of was the Hermit. It represents wisdom, introspection, solitude, retreat and philosophical searches. In the beginning, she has very strong opinions about Darrow and the rest of the Rising. Which is entirely understandable considering her entire way of life was stripped from her without a way to cope with the changes. But, unlike Lysander, she’s willing to re-examine herself and her perceptions as she is presented with new information. She also tends to try and keep under the radar if she can, which is another trait of the Hermit. What’s interesting to me is that other characters of the Hermit arcana are victims of circumstances out of their control, but they see their own victimization as a result of a flaw in their character. The other arcana is very tricky for me, as there are parts of Lyria’s character that I don’t know yet. After much discussion and deliberation with my resident expert, the second arcana for Lyria is the Priestess. This arcana is a symbol of hidden knowledge or other untapped power, wisdom, female mystery and patience. The characters of this arcana also take more time to open up to the protagonist than others. Which also fits Lyria as she needed time and introspection to really understand Darrow and Mustang. As for the Persona, I’m actually going to cheat a little with my choice. I try to keep the arcana placements from Persona 5 Royal but for Lyria, I’m choosing Hariti whose arcana is Priestess in Persona 4 and Persona Q. Hariti is a protector of children and childbirth after going through a significant change in perspective which, from what I understand and have been told, is also something that Lyria does.

#persona #red rising #my thoughts

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tarysande · 4 years

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Hey, I see you reblogging adhd stuff every now and when. I hope you're ok with me asking, how long have you known you have adhd? I am currently wondering if I have it and am sups unsure what to do about it.

I’m always okay with people asking about things I post!

Of course, because of the ADHD, I’m not always great at answering ;)

I’m especially willing to talk about ADHD because I know my journey to getting a diagnosis doesn’t follow the stereotypical path, and I’d be thrilled if my experience ends up helping other people out there.

My family doctor was the first person to ever mention ADHD to me. I was 36 at the time. Maybe 37. I’m 40 (wtf) now, turning 41 in a month (haha, wtf). I’ve had depression most of my life. At the time, I was deeply frustrated because my depression was well-managed, but I still couldn’t focus to save my life. When my doctor asked if I might have ADHD, I laughed and said, “With my grades*? Yeah, no.” *I was a straight-A student from elementary school through to the end of my BFA. HOWEVER, at uni I had a handful of ‘lower’ grades: a B-, a B, a B+ in classes I found A G O N I Z I N G L Y boring. I was also never a disruption in class—mostly because I entertained myself by writing novels and reading under my desk and listening to music by keeping my earphones under my long hair. The key was to answer a question in class right away, thereby diverting the teacher’s attention and leaving me to my own devices for the rest of the time.

The focus issues continued unabated. Months later, a good friend of mine who was also diagnosed with ADHD as an adult brought it up again, and this time I did a lot more research. And ... yeah, puzzle pieces started clicking together. A lot of them.

I brought it up with my doctor, and she sent me to the one (1) psychiatrist in Vancouver who was a) covered by provincial healthcare and b) would deal with a potential ADHD diagnosis in a patient of my (advanced) age *stares into the camera like it’s the office*. He was a Real Jerk, but I did his bevy of tests and he reluctantly agreed that I matched all the criteria except that I had never done poorly in school or been a nuisance in class**. **these criteria are ridiculously outdated, often don’t apply to girls (or those who have inattentive-type or mixed-type ADHD), and should BY NO MEANS exclude anyone from an ADHD diagnosis. If, like me, you’re what they call “twice exceptional” (where being intellectually gifted can often mask the struggles associated with ADHD, autism, physical/learning disabilities), it’s EVEN EASIER to slip through the cracks.

The psychiatrist upped my anti-depressants, which helped, but still did nothing for my focus. By the way? ADHD, especially in adults, is FREQUENTLY comorbid with other conditions like depression or anxiety. It’s almost like ... when your brain doesn’t do what you know it should do, WANT it to do, TRY TO MAKE IT DO, and you feel like a failure who’s not living up to her potential ... it makes you REALLY DEPRESSED!! Who knew?? After almost a year, I finally brought up the focus with my family doctor again, who was like, “Okay, let’s try some things, then.” Finding the right dose of ADHD meds is ... trial and error. And it’s exhausting. And sometimes you think you’ve figured it out, but you haven’t. I still haven’t landed on the BEST POSSIBLE solution for me, but I will tell you this: the difference in unmedicated-ADHD-Tara and medicated-ADHD-Tara is like night and day, even when my meds aren’t optimal.

To give a very specific example, I’m a freelance writer and editor. My income from my first (medicated) year of running my own business full(ish) time was almost three times that of the unmedicated year before. This year, even with COVID throwing a lot of wrenches in a lot of gears, I’ve remained booked three to four months in advance, my focus is better, my self-worth is better (i.e., I charge what I know I’m worth), I’ve stood up for myself, I’ve *gasp* started planning(???). I’m not rolling around in piles of money, but I’m above the Canadian median.

I also speak to my therapist every two weeks (she’s wonderful—and she’s online, which is both cheaper and more accessible for me). I’m slowly understanding the value of meditation (if you have the Calm app I HIGHLY recommend Jeff Warren’s How to Meditate 30-day program. I’m on day 13. There’s no BS or vagueness; I love him.) I made an effort to change my diet and spend more time moving around outdoors. (Exercise is even more important for ADHD brains, it turns out.)

Now, none of this has been a magical cure-all. I’m in the middle of struggling with med dosage at the moment, which is freshly irritating. Even medicated, there are good days and bad days—which is totally normal. I just finished an editing project that nearly destroyed me because it was SO boring and I couldn’t get out of it (because I’d ADHD-procrastinated too long). Learning how to function in the neurotypical world with an atypical ADHD brain is WORK. There’s also a lot of emotion—grief, anger, frustration, joy—as you process the new information and mourn the time you spent lost, underachieving, “failing.”

One really great, really accessible resource is the YouTube channel How to ADHD. For people who want to dig into the science, I recommend Russell Barkley (HE IS SO SMART) and Ned Hallowell. There’s also a ton of information on ADDitude. Anyway, this is a lot of information, I know. There are some good self-tests on the ADDitude site. If you think you have it AND IT’S IMPACTING YOUR LIFE***, bring it up with your doctor. Know that you might run into some resistance because most ADHD meds can be (and are widely) abused, and people with actual ADHD get caught in that crossfire. Even though it’s hard because of ADHD’s effect on emotions (TOO MANY!! TOO STRONG!!), be prepared to face some scrutiny. *** they’re always going to ask about how it’s negatively affecting your life.

#asks and answers #adhd #adhd resources #tara talks adhd #adult adhd #hope this helps!!#Anonymous

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robertreich · 4 years

Video

youtube

The System: Who Rigged It, How We Fix It

The coronavirus has starkly revealed what most of us already knew: The concentration of wealth in America has created a a health care system in which the wealthy can buy care others can't.

It’s also created an education system in which the super-rich can buy admission to college for their children, a political system in which they can buy Congress and the presidency, and a justice system in which they can buy their way out of jail.

Almost everyone else has been hurled into a dystopia of bureaucratic arbitrariness, corporate indifference, and the legal and financial sinkholes that have become hallmarks of modern American life. The system is rigged. But we can fix it. Today, the great divide in American politics isn’t between right and left. The underlying contest is between a small minority who have gained power over the system, and the vast majority who have little or none.

Forget politics as you’ve come to see it -- as contests between Democrats and Republicans. The real divide is between democracy and oligarchy.

The market has been organized to serve the wealthy. Since 1980, the percentage of the nation’s wealth owned by the richest four hundred Americans has quadrupled (from less than 1 percent to 3.5 percent) while the share owned by the entire bottom half of America has dropped to 1.3 percent.

The three wealthiest Americans own as much as the entire bottom half of the population. Big corporations, CEOs, and a handful of extremely rich people have vastly more influence on public policy than the average American. Wealth and power have become one and the same. As the oligarchs tighten their hold over our system, they have lambasted efforts to rein in their greed as “socialism”, which, to them, means getting something for doing nothing.

But “getting something for doing nothing” seems to better describe the handouts being given to large corporations and their CEOs.

General Motors, for example, has received $600 million in federal contracts and $500 million in tax breaks since Donald Trump took office. Much of this “corporate welfare” has gone to executives, including CEO Mary Barra, who raked in almost $22 million in compensation in 2018 alone. GM employees, on the other hand, have faced over 14,000 layoffs and the closing of three assembly plants and two component factories.

And now, in the midst of a pandemic, big corporations are getting $500 billion from taxpayers.

Our system, it turns out, does practice one form of socialism -- socialism for the rich. Everyone else is subject to harsh capitalism.

Socialism for the rich means people at the top are not held accountable. Harsh capitalism for the many, means most Americans are at risk for events over which they have no control, and have no safety nets to catch them if they fall.

Among those who are particularly complicit in rigging the system are the CEOs of America’s corporate behemoths.

Take Jamie Dimon, the CEO of JPMorgan Chase, whose net worth is $1.4 billion. He comes as close as anyone to embodying the American system as it functions today.

Dimon describes himself as “a patriot before I’m the CEO of JPMorgan.” He brags about the corporate philanthropy of his bank, but it’s a drop in the bucket compared to his company’s net income, which in 2018 was $30.7 billion -- roughly one hundred times the size of his company's investment program for America’s poor cities.

Much of JP Morgan’s income gain in 2018 came from savings from the giant Republican tax cut enacted at the end of 2017 -- a tax cut that Dimon intensively lobbied Congress for.

Dimon doesn’t acknowledge the inconsistencies between his self-image as “patriot first” and his role as CEO of America’s largest bank. He doesn’t understand how he has hijacked the system.

Perhaps he should read my new book.

To understand how the system has been hijacked, we must understand how it went from being accountable to all stakeholders -- not just stockholders but also workers, consumers, and citizens in the communities where companies are headquartered and do business -- to intensely shareholder-focused capitalism.

In the post-WWII era, American capitalism assumed that large corporations had responsibilities to all their stakeholders. CEOs of that era saw themselves as “corporate statesmen” responsible for the common good.

But by the 1980s, shareholder capitalism (which focuses on maximizing profits) replaced stakeholder capitalism. That was largely due to the corporate raiders -- ultra-rich investors who hollowed-out once-thriving companies and left workers to fend for themselves.

Billionaire investor Carl Icahn, for example, targeted major companies like Texaco and Nabisco by acquiring enough shares of their stock to force major changes that increased their stock value -- such as suppressing wages, fighting unions, laying off workers, abandoning communities for cheaper labor elsewhere, and taking on debt -- and then selling his shares for a fat profit. In 1985, after winning control of Trans World Airlines, he loaded the airline with more than $500 million in debt, stripped it of its assets, and pocketed nearly $500 million in profits.

As a result of the hostile takeovers mounted by Icahn and other raiders, a wholly different understanding about the purpose of the corporation emerged.

Even the threat of hostile takeovers forced CEOs to fall in line by maximizing shareholder profits over all else. The corporate statesmen of previous decades became the corporate butchers of the 1980s and 1990s, whose nearly exclusive focus was to “cut out the fat” and make their companies “lean and mean.”

As power increased for the wealthy and large corporations at the top, it shifted in exactly the opposite direction for workers. In the mid-1950s, 35 percent of all private-sector workers in the United States were unionized. Today, 6.4 percent of them are.

The wave of hostile takeovers pushed employers to raise profits and share prices by cutting payroll costs and crushing unions, which led to a redistribution of income and wealth from workers to the richest 1 percent. Corporations have fired workers who try to organize and have mounted campaigns against union votes. All the while, corporations have been relocating to states with few labor protections and so-called “right-to-work” laws that weaken workers’ ability to join unions.

Power is a zero-sum game. People gain it only when others lose it. The connection between the economy and power is critical. As power has concentrated in the hands of a few, those few have grabbed nearly all the economic gains for themselves.

The oligarchy has triumphed because no one has paid attention to the system as a whole – to the shifts from stakeholder to shareholder capitalism, from strong unions to giant corporations with few labor protections, and from regulated to unchecked finance.

As power has shifted to large corporations, workers have been left to fend for themselves. Most Americans developed 3 key coping mechanisms to keep afloat.

The first mechanism was women entering the paid workforce. Starting in the late 1970s, women went into paid work in record numbers, in large part to prop up family incomes, as the wages of male workers stagnated or declined.

Then, by the late 1990s, even two incomes wasn’t enough to keep many families above water, causing them to turn to the next coping mechanism: working longer hours. By the mid-2000s a growing number of people took on two or three jobs, often demanding 50 hours or more per week.

Once the second coping mechanism was exhausted, workers turned to their last option: drawing down savings and borrowing to the hilt. The only way Americans could keep consuming was to go deeper into debt. By 2007, household debt had exploded, with the typical American household owing 138 percent of its after-tax income. Home mortgage debt soared as housing values continued to rise. Consumers refinanced their homes with even larger mortgages and used their homes as collateral for additional loans.

This last coping mechanism came to an abrupt end in 2008 when the debt bubbles burst, causing the financial crisis. Only then did Americans begin to realize what had happened to them, and to the system as a whole. That’s when our politics began to turn ugly.

So what do we do about it? The answer is found in politics and rooted in power.

The way to overcome oligarchy is for the rest of us to join together and form a multiracial, multiethnic coalition of working-class, poor and middle-class Americans fighting for democracy.

This agenda is neither “right” nor “left.” It is the bedrock for everything America must do.

The oligarchy understands that a “divide-and-conquer” strategy gives them more room to get what they want without opposition. Lucky for them, Trump is a pro at pitting native-born Americans against immigrants, the working class against the poor, white people against people of color. His goal is cynicism, disruption, and division. Trump and the oligarchy behind him have been able to rig the system and then whip around to complain loudly that the system is rigged.

But history shows that oligarchies cannot hold on to power forever. They are inherently unstable. When a vast majority of people come to view an oligarchy as illegitimate and an obstacle to their wellbeing, oligarchies become vulnerable.

As bad as it looks right now, the great strength of this country is our resilience. We bounce back. We have before. We will again.

In order for real change to occur -- in order to reverse the vicious cycle in which we now find ourselves -- the locus of power in the system will have to change.

The challenge we face is large and complex, but we are well suited for the fight ahead. Together, we will dismantle the oligarchy. Together, we will fix the system.

#video #videos #oligarchy #American oligarchy

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mbti-notes · 4 years

Text

Anon wrote: Hi, I hope you're doing great, so this is going to be long because I’m really in need for help. I’m an INFJ, raised by an abusive passive aggressive father and an INFJ mother who was mistreated and abused a lot, my Fe was very underdeveloped and I used to be a funny guy without having self-care for my image, now after having a crush and seeing my blind spots I see that my reputation isn’t the best and people take advantage of me, I have good friends but none I chose deliberately, I also used to be bullied at middle school and this is where my Se Grip I guess, my Fe is being developed and I’m reading about emotional intelligence but I’m still naïve and ignore subtle signs that other people are using me, and I always fall for the same trap although I have set goals, but I don’t know how to respect myself, I dwell in my mistakes, I can’t respect time and can’t take life seriously.

I guess it is somewhat of trauma response like Chandler from friends, I try to be funny even when people disrespect me, my crush had a boyfriend who treated me passive aggressively and bullied me, at that time I wanted to give a response but I couldn’t, in each situation I felt trapped, I felt unable to react, I felt under threat, my heart is weak and I get these small anxiety attacks, I’m anxious about getting out in the world, each time I’m overwhelmed with tasks I feel guilty and not being able to finish them, to give more context, I became responsible of my family two years ago, and this feels like a burden, and suddenly Fe started developing, I have religious background and was part of a religious group but now I’m no longer that person and I don’t feel belonging anywhere, I tried to fit In different groups but none felt real, my friends don’t have the time for me and I became very cynical of death and my experiences to the point that I share everything about myself, I’m too clingy, and I overshare everything as a defense mechanism which started after developing feeling towards my crush and telling a friend about it. I need a friend to walk properly on the streets, my self confidence is no longer part of myself because I’m having an identity crisis, I feel guilty and see all my mistakes and each time something triggers one of those mistakes I feel even more anxious, I’m trying to get out more but with no use.

I’m trying to rebuild myself by focusing on my goals, but its not enough, I guess I need hibernating time in my home to build better work skills and focus on my job more. My friends do not see what I see, except for an INTP, but he is unreliable for social situations but sometimes gives advice that I disagree with and I follow because I respect him a lot, he is like a brother, but his social tips led me to disastrous things, I’m not complaining, but I’m seeking to understand my own behavior. I have shared some of my experiences on social media, and then deleted them, some people used that to mock me and cyber bully me, I don’t know how to get over feeling exposed, I want to live, but not that interested, yet I’m not suicidal, in fact I’m rational and have some basic understanding of myself, but I want to move on from that, and I keep making social mistakes

___________________________

To summarize: You are lost because you have not been able to respect yourself and balance your own needs with your obligations to the world - a sign of Fe overindulgence. Lack of proper self-care has produced unhappiness, but you have not chosen the right paths to remedying the unhappiness, which only makes it worse. Then you got trapped in Ti loop rumination, trying to "make sense" of your feelings from a distance, exacerbating emotional dysfunction. All you have now is a head full of negative and anxious intrusive thoughts that worsen as your emotions are left to escalate unresolved. When you lose connection to Ni, you lose the ability for nuanced thinking, so your thoughts become more and more extreme, as Se grip sets in. Is that about right?

You shouldn't blame yourself for other people's bad behavior. Trust is required for healthy relationships. It is not your fault for trusting people, rather, it is their fault for betraying your trust. No one should take advantage of your kindness and vulnerability. It is not a crime to love and you should not feel ashamed about having emotional needs. If you are ashamed of needing love, then you may have a self-worth problem. Do you believe that you are deserving of love?

Ni development is meant to help you fulfill your personal potential, such that you have something to feel proud of and something to contribute. The dominant function is the ideal route to self-respect. When you don't have yourself and your life in order via healthy Ni development, you won't be able to have healthy relationships for developing Fe. When you approach relationships from a place of desperation, you not only end up using people as a means to fill your deficits, you also make it too easy for people to take advantage of you.

It’s not your fault when people mistreat you, but it is your responsibility to put in place some reasonable protections from exploitation and abuse, which goes back to the vital point of practicing proper self-care. This requires learning how to set healthy boundaries when you're navigating relationships or putting yourself out there in society. Not everyone has your best interests at heart. You have to know how to spot callous people and avoid them. And you have to learn to be a better judge of the right time and place to express yourself honestly.

A relationship is a two-way street. It should be mutually satisfying and mutual beneficial. This means that self-disclosure should occur at a gradual and mutually respectful pace. Only by opening up bit by bit can a relationship grow in an organic and healthy manner. A great way to protect yourself from harm is to allow enough time for people to show you who they really are. The way that you behave, often in extremes, is not conducive to gradual relationship growth. And you are often in (Se grip) extremes because your emotional life is out of control.

You didn't grow up in an environment that taught you how to have healthy relationships. That’s not your fault. But it is your responsibility to make up those lessons, as an adult who wants to live a better life than you had as a child. People aren’t born with knowledge, just like you're not born knowing how to do math. You have to learn through proper attention and study. You’ve spent how many years learning math that you may not even use? And how long have you spent learning to take care of your mental state? Few people can teach themselves math from scratch and psychology is no different. There’s a lot of knowledge and expertise required to address the psychological problems that you are describing. A big reason that psychological problems get worse over time is that people are not equipped to deal with them alone with no objective input or expert guidance to rely on.

I am but a stranger on the internet. The most I can ever do is help clarify/identify the problem and point you toward a possible solution. I can’t carry out the solution for you or with you. In order to get yourself and your life in order, you have to be more honest with yourself about how you feel, and address your feelings and emotional needs in a more compassionate and timely manner. It’s hard to care well for others when you’re not even able to care well for yourself. If you don't have anyone to lean on, then lean on professional help as a start. A cognitive-behavioral therapist can teach you how to stabilize your intrusive thoughts and messy emotional life, and from there, you will have a better time dealing with other aspects of life. A therapist can also teach you better social skills for dealing with relationship and boundary issues. If you can’t see a therapist for whatever reason, I have provided books about these topics on the resources page.

#infj #auxiliary fe #ti loop #se grip #self care #self disclosure #boundaries #ask

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horrordirtbag · 3 years

Note

Why do you consider Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1974 the best horror movie ever made?

youve opened pandoras box. I’ll try to keep this as short as possible lol

First, let me say TCM isn’t my favorite movie, in fact it’s in my top 10 but still a bit down the line. My favorites are Jason Lives, Evil Dead 2 and Hellraiser. But judging purely on what functions as the most effective horror movie, I have to give that title to TCM. Like comedy, horror is subjective, and I think TCM provides a really nice middle ground for people. Maybe you’re more scared of ghosts than chainsaws, but some people might find ghosts hokey. But, there’s always going to be something inherently scary about a guy trying to kill you in painful ways. Still, everyone feels different, but I feel like that casts a much wider net than some other genres of horror.

Going further, it’s hard to say if something will still be as scary as it was before, 50 years in the future. But, for TCM, it has been 50 years, and I can confidently say that film has not aged a day. Unless you’re willing to let yourself get caught up over bell bottom jeans.

I think a good comparison is The Exorcist. Horrifying when released, sure, but when re-released 20 years ago as “the scariest movie ever made,” young generations laughed at it. Personally, I find that movie pretty scary, but a little girl saying “let Jesus fuck you” isn’t nearly as shocking as it was in the 70s, and now can be seen as pretty comical.

Flipping to TCM, putting my biases aside, I find it very hard to take anything as comical, even if something may scare you more. There’s nothing cheesy about how Marilyn Burns screams at the dinner table. Sure, it may not be as shocking as it was 50 years ago, but shock factor isn’t all a horror movie should have anyways, and there’s a lot more at play here than just that.

The movie is a complete pessimistic nightmare. Hooper allows hardly any relief from start to finish for the audience, and once Jerry dies, there is none at all. I find it ironic people complain about how annoying Franklin is, but that’s the point. Everything is miserable. Even when Sally manages to escape, it hardly feels like a happy ending. The killer goes unpunished, and Sally is forever broken. TCM paints a world with no justice in it, we’re all just slabs of meat that aren’t entitled to any form of justice. That’s the real horror

Looking a little deeper into the film, it’s beautifully shot and perfectly acted. It’s also ripe with social commentary, intentional and unintentional, be it about the Vietnam War or veganism. It perfectly captures America’s standing in the 1970s. The Hippie optimism is gone. The family itself is a wonderful mockery of the nuclear family. I’ve done longer posts about this I think, so I wont go too deep into it, but it just goes to show that there’s more to this movie than just surface level. The family’s “grizzly works of art” are metaphors for the film itself. It’s painting with the macabre.

So, tldr, it’s not so much that TCM is my favorite movie, or that it’s even the scariest movie I’ve seen, but I feel like it’s a horror movie that most people can get behind, on top of being impeccably made on a technical level and brilliant in ways beyond the surface.

i guess i really cant keep this short lol. I could go for hours and hours on all of this, so I fear some of what I’ve said may seem half baked, but I’m trying not to write an entire book lol

#texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

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iwillsithereandtrytocontribute · 4 years

Text

No Happy Ending

Masterlist Ao3

Pairings: Implied Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum

Warnings: Major character death, Mechanisms-typical threatened violence, Coughing blood, Thoughts of suicide,

Don’t worry, I don’t describe the death in a ton of detail, but be warned.

This is my first fic for the Mechanisms fandom. I was listening to The Bifrost Incident again and thought "Hey I've seen a bunch of content where Lyf survives and meets/joins the Mechanisms. What if they didn't survive?" And because I had to deal with that thought (it's a Mechanisms album let's be real) now you get an hour's worth of straight stream of consciousness. Enjoy! :)

“Log of Lyfrassir Edda Inspector- oh that doesn’t matter anymore I suppose. Just Lyf then if anyone actually listens to these when I’m gone.” Lyf coughed wetly into their hand and stared somewhat disinterestedly at the blood that splattered across it. They took a moment to catch their breath. “This will be my final entry I imagine. None of the ship’s functions have worked correctly in weeks.

“First it was the-” they were cut off by a sudden blur in their vision. It took a moment for Lyf to realize they were still holding the recorder. “The navigation systems went down first, then one by one various systems shut down or broke. I am nearly out of food and water and the oxygen pumps stopped almost an hour ago.”

Lyf stared at their hands, shaking and covered in their own blood. “I know I was touched by the outer gods. Even I wasn’t fast enough to escape their grasp completely. But I know they will not save me. I wouldn’t want them to if they could. Perhaps in a moment of weakness I would fall to them as Odin did, but here in the cold of space I don’t even have the option. It’s for the best.”

They gazed at the sputtering lights around them, the broken gauges and stuck knobs. They had been tempted just to end it many times, but something always stopped them. If Lyf had been more foolish or perhaps just slightly less stern they might have called it hope. Hope that they could flee and survive. That they could take advantage of the gift Loki and Sigyn had given the Yggdrasil System with their lives. But they were austere as ever and chalked up their perseverance to nothing but fear of dying.

And Lyf was afraid to die. Even here, even now, as they felt the end approaching as they had for weeks now. They were afraid. They realized the log was still running. They might as well spend their last hours leaving something to be remembered by.

“The recordings of my findings and the events of the Bifrost incident are all here. You may even have listened to them if you’re listening to this. I sincerely doubt there will be anything left of my home system, not after what Odin released there. They might even leave there one day, consume the rest of everything. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be long dead.” Lyf laughed. A short bitter laugh that turned into another wracking cough.

“I didn’t have much on Asgard to be perfectly honest. No family to speak of, few friends. The one constant I had were those blasted Mechanisms. I suppose they’re the reason I lasted long enough to make it all the way out here instead of being trapped in that psychedelic hellscape. They’re the reason I asked for a transfer from the prison to transport police. The amount of violins I confiscated from Marius,” Lyf said as an afterthought.

“They always disappeared not long after I left them. I guess Von Raum and the others could always have escaped. They must have wanted another story .” Lyf put more malice in their voice than they felt. It was hard to feel real anger towards the Mechanisms, other than maybe Jonny. He was a piece of work, Lyf thought with a grimace. Jonny had taken the longest to capture and the most work to contain and recapture. Everyone knew- had known someone who’d been killed or injured by Jonny d’Ville. Lyf couldn’t say they had any love for the man.

Ivy, they could respect. She was incredibly logical in a way they found endearing. Raphaella la Cognizi scared them. True, Lyf had a ton of respect for her, but she was the closest thing they had ever known to a mad scientist before Odin. Brian was nice, as was Marius when he wasn’t being an idiot. Lyf had only called him Von Raum to annoy him, so Marius had responded in kind. A smile tugged at the edges of Lyf’s lips even as they struggled with each breath they took. Ashes and Tim scared him the normal way. The “We will destroy everyone and everything you love with a smile if you wrong us” way. Stay on their good side, and they’re nice enough. And the Toy Soldier… Lyf didn’t like thinking about the Toy Soldier. It unsettled them.

Lyf wasn’t sure how much of that they’d said aloud, if they had said any of it. Oxygen deprivation was really getting to them. They gave a tired smirk at the monitor above them as if any of the cameras still worked. “If the Mechanisms ever get ahold of these my message to you is; fuck you ,” they said with feeling, before doubling over in another coughing fit.

“I don’t have much-any time left,” Lyf rasped. “I-I Lyfrassir Edda signing off for what is likely the last time.”

They clicked off the recorder and set it down on the table by the chair they were sitting in, next to a small pile of similar recorders. Lyf took the deepest breath their air-deprived lungs would allow and closed their eyes.

In the greatest mercy the universe would ever bestow upon Lyfrassir Edda, it allowed them to die in their sleep. One might even have been able to call it peaceful.

Drumbot Brian stood on the bridge trying to puzzle out where that beeping was coming from. Nastya had added a lot of systems to Aurora before she left and well… Brian hadn’t had nearly long enough to learn them all. Finally he managed to find it. Ah a radar… thingy. He wasn’t really a pilot. Why was he the pilot? He would be much better as the doctor seeing as resurrection was his thing. Brian made a note to bring it up with Jonny or maybe Ashes seeing as they were the quartermaster (not that they ever did any quartermaster-like duties). The increase in beeping brought Brian out of his thoughts. That looked like a ship. Floating in the middle of nowhere?

Brian shrugged and left to go find Jonny. He always threw a fuss if he wasn’t the first one notified of anything and Jonny throwing a fuss generally led to him quite literally shooting the messenger. Brian didn’t much feel like dying today.

He found Jonny in the library, which was strange. He typically avoided books like a plague and Ivy hated having Jonny in there. Jonny gestured Brian over as soon as he saw him.

“Come on. Come on ,” Jonny whispered furiously as Brian took his time walking to him.

“Who are you hiding from this time?” Brian asked loudly. Jonny glared daggers at him. Ah well, he was starting to think antagonizing Jonny today would be worth getting shot.

“Ashes. I might have stolen their favorite hat.”

“So you’re hiding in the library.”

Jonny gave Brian a knowing look. A look that made Brian wish he had the eyebrows to express his disdain, because that look said that Jonny thought he was doing something really clever. 8 times out of 10 he was wrong and the other 2 times ended up with someone dying. “Exactly. Ashes is banned from the library, too much flammable materials or something or other.”

“That’s why you’re banned from the library too.”

“Exactly why it’s the best hiding spot.” Jonny peeked around the corner at the sound of footsteps outside, hand over the gun at his side. He caught a glimpse of Raphaella’s wings as she passed the open doorway.

In the split second Jonny was turned away, and therefore less distracting, Brain remembered he had for once actually been looking for Jonny. And that it might be somewhat urgent. Oops.

“Uh Jonny?”

“Uh-huh. What?” Jonny wasn’t paying attention to him.

“There’s a transport ship outside.”

That got Jonny’s attention. “Any idea who?” he asked with a grin that meant he was in the mood to shoot someone. Brian shrugged inwardly, as long as that person wasn’t him.

“No clue. Looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Lovely.” Fight with Ashes forgotten, Jonny strode out of the library whistling Tales to Be Told and Brian walking just behind him.

They arrived at the bridge to find the ship had drifted even closer, or maybe the Aurora had gotten closer, it was hard to tell. Jonny studied it for a long time before snapping his fingers a couple times as he tried to remember where he remembered it from.

“That’s from As-as something.”

“Asgard?” Brian asked. Jonny nodded.

“That’s the one.” He put his foot up on Brian’s chair and rested his elbow on his knee. “Wonder what it’s doing he- Hey Brian, when are we in relation to the whole Yggdrasil system collapse thing. The Bifrost Incident? We were going to make a new album out of that story right?”

Brian checked one of the monitors, halfway surprised that Johnny remembered the Yggdrasil System. Although, to be fair, they’d been there for almost a century and even he couldn’t be drunk the entire time (events 300 or so years in the future ago were outliers and so could not be counted).

“We’re a couple months after. Why? You think someone escaped the train?”

Jonny shrugged. “No idea, but we might as well get the rest of the crew up here.” He turned and pressed a couple buttons until he found the comms. “Crew of the Aurora,” he exclaimed with his usual gusto, “this is your Captain speaking.”

“FIRST MATE!” They heard Tim scream at the top of his lungs from the armory. The armory wasn’t too far from the bridge and damn could Tim scream.

“ Captain. We’ve found something rather interesting, a transport vessel from the Yggdrasil System. If anyone would like to come with us to take a look get up to the bridge. You have five minutes.” Jonny poked a couple more buttons until it seemed like the comms had shut off.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by Tim, Marius, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier.

“We didn’t invite you,” Jonny sneered at the Toy Soldier.

“I’m just happy to be included!” the Toy Soldier said happily, oblivious as ever. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Right. Can we dock it or something?” Ashes asked, leaning on the door-frame with their hands in the pockets.

“Aurora?” Brian asked tentatively. The Aurora was unreliable at the best of times and now that the only person she would always listen to was gone, she was testier than she’d ever been. Still, they heard the satisfying clunk and hiss of the airlocks attaching and sealing. The doors slid open to reveal a small ship.

Close as they were, it was clearly Asgardian design, all sleek edges and intricate grooves. For a transport vessel, it was decent quality although obviously not built for the kind of travel it had been doing. Jonny stepped in first. Well… his gun went in first while the rest of him followed. The Toy Soldier trotted in behind him and the rest followed in a sort of amorphous blob.

There was just enough space for the 6 of them to fit in the largest of the two rooms. Everywhere they looked was broken equipment, a frankly impressive array of destruction for this thing to have gotten as far as it had when it wasn’t built for out-of-system travel.

“There’s no way anyone from that system could have survived this much system failure,” Brian whispered as if the likely dead person in the other room could hear them.

“They could have been, what was it? ‘Touched by the outer gods?’” Jonny asked.

“Who came up with that line?” Ashes snorted.

“Me,” Marius said distractedly as he moved towards the table by the door. There was a small mound of recorders on it. He pressed play on one of them. The sudden sound made everyone jump. Then they heard it.

“Log of Inspector Second Class Lyfrassir Edda New Midgard Transport Police. I was able to barter for a transport ship. I’ve spent most of my savings on this, food, water, and fuel. I have some left over that will hopefully last me until I can find work in another system. Already things have begun going wrong. I brought my recordings of the Bifrost incident with me, I don’t think anyone will believe if I didn’t, and attached to the last one are some messages we’ve been receiving on various frequencies from everywhere in the system.

I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I just left a copy of the recordings and got out of there as quickly as possible. I think I escaped the worst of it, though the nightmares I’ve been having are certainly nothing of this world.

If I don’t stop, I might survive this. I might survive this.

Log ends.”

The Mechs stared at each other for a moment before Marius shoved his way forward and thrust open the door. In the pilot’s seat sat Lyf, their eyes closed, blood spattered about the small room. Their uniform was long past wrinkled and blood-stained. Their dark skin was the palest Marius had ever seen from them.

Marius had seen war. He had been through horrors, and committed such atrocities in kind. He had thought that his many centuries of mechanization would have made him desensitized to death by now, and it had. But it was so much easier to come to terms with Lyf’s death when they weren’t laying in front of him, covered in their own blood. This touched him deeply, in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before.

He didn’t remember walking to the medical bay, but he must have because here he was. Lyf lay on the table that they usually put their dead crewmates on to wait for the resurrection process, but there would be no resurrection process.

Raphaella had come in sometime during the time Marius had been in there and given her verdict. Lyf could not be mechanized. They had been dead too long and even if they hadn’t been, the touch of the outer gods would not have allowed for mechanization.

And Marius was alone again.

Alone with a corpse that would never walk again. That would never tell him, and Marius smiled slightly at the memory, to shut the fuck up and put the goddamn violin away, again. Lyfrassir Edda was gone. For good.

They listened to the tapes. All of them. All of the Mechanisms had known Lyf and most of them had even liked them. Besides, they weren’t entirely cruel and oblivious. They knew this was something Marius needed. Not to mention it helped with the whole album-writing part of their gig.

Marius listened to those tapes. He listened to them over and over again until he had them memorized. Well, except for the final recording. It hurt too much to listen to it more than once.

Marius always had the one of them that approached immortality with the most skepticism of the Mechanisms. How disappointing that he had been right.

Let me know what you think! If you like to be tagged in other works in this fandom (or others) or have any questions my inbox is open. Stay safe! :)

#the mechs #the mechanisms #lyfrassir edda #drumbot brian #marius von raum #ivy alexandria #raphaella la cognizi #gunpowder tim #ashes o'reilly #the toy soldier #the bifrost incident #jasper writes #jonny d'ville

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thelastpilot · 4 years

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Piiiiiiloooooooooot!!!! You're making me sad! I've been waiting to hear you talk about your story since you got on your plane and said you'd write something big up later XD

haha yes! Okay I’m sorry i totally forgot about that when the world exploded, and then i sat on this ask for a while longer to consider the question. I’d like to say that i have so much all fleshed out but I really don’t, so I think I’ll just highlight some story ideas that I have in general as I grapple my inability to write stuff, or rather the hesitation revolving around STARTING (ironic since that was one of the things I gave the most advice about, and looking back on it, I have followed none of it which is my problem)

So if you don’t mind a really long post, I’m just going to post summaries and stuff about my original ideas.

The Boy with the Bite

The story follows a boy named Caleb Fisher from the town of Tremont, where terrible things never happen, yet sometimes still do. In the shadows of the wood Caleb is the victim of a mauling with stretching consequences, and finds an unexpected ally in a talking black cat named Jack Bennett. This cat warns the boy as best he can about the dangers of the full moon but understands grimly that there are no real explanations to make it any better, not really. Now, Caleb is left with nothing as he is forced to leave his family behind and go in search of answers to new questions with strange new companions,and redefine for himself what a ‘monster’ really is.

---

((that was from an old post lol. this is the book idea I am the most serious about, the secondary contender being the same main character Caleb, but instead of involving any other characters, his companions consist entirely of dogs.

So a young, recently bitten werewolf fleeing home with no answers realizes that he’s an animal. He gains an understanding of the speech of dogs, limited though it is sometimes, and in his disorientation is arrested for trespassing. Consumed with fear over realizing these well meaning officers intend to send him home where he could potentially bring harm to his family, Caleb desperately appeals the the old police dog guarding the office. The old dog listens as the odd boy begs and cries, and stops to ask the boy if his suspicions had been correct. Were the police officers really intending on retiring him. When Caleb confirms this to be the truth, the old dog shakes himself and decides he has had no true heroics in his career, and helps the young werewolf escape. With McKinley (Captain McKinley as the old Shepard insists) at his side Caleb escapes into the world, gaining his own pack of earnest, misplaced dogs as he goes. But as supernatural threats begin to draw near, lured by the presence of another predator like themselves, Caleb must embrace the parts of himself he fears the most in order to preserve the family he has created.

(really fond of this one but feel like it has been done maybe. that doesnt mean i SHOULDNT write it, i just consider it)

---

the third one, which i believe is the one you originally asked about is a nameless universe in which i am primarily generating OC’s along a certain set of rules.

Essentially it is a magic universe where non magic folk and magic users live together in various realms with varying levels of magic concentration. The really highly magical concentrated realm is where a lot of magic schools and buisnesses were founded and primarily where they operate, but magic users can be born to any of the realms and magic to known to everyone, even if its less prominent where they live. the main stay in the universe is the production and selling of magic items/enchatments to both magic users and non magic folk alike, forming an entire type of economic flow. thats mostly unimportant but just showcases how they co-exist

creatures and spirits that are magical in nature exist in all the realms as do animals, but it skews from mostly animals with some magical creatures, to mostly magical creatures with a few animals on a gradient of sorts. most people live right in that middle sweet spot with a little bit of everything.

the story with my OC’s is in a magical school which mostly functions like a trade school, its considered a type of higher education you can enter right after highschool or test into halfway through highschool to finish your general ed while also taking trade classes alongside it. There you can learn the practical trades of enchantments, familiar summoning, creation and refinement of magical objects, preparing of magical components, practical spells, charms, potions, etc. Upon graduation you receive a certificate of your chosen field of study and hopefully an internship in your field. Functions like a boarding school/dorm situation/ trade school dealio

In it we got this gang

Flint Mason- a wizard with an interest in crystals and their various magical uses, has a familiar that is a crystal lined iguana that can split apart into three little newts

Laguna Poole- a water witch who grew up in the most intensely magic area possible. Has a little trouble with average human objects as a result but loves fashion, and primarily studies water familiars and potion making. Has a frog that can also turn into an otter, i call it a frotter, its name is pud

Lucio (insert last name here cause i forgot)- a bit of a quiet lad who studies pretty intricate enchantment lines and anything ancient. Has a Church Grim who exudes creepy warnings and is totally invisible except his eyes in the dark

Ayah (insert last name here cause I forgot)- a witch who is a fantastic summoner, so much so that she accidently summoned like so many djinn, and now has five djinn who follow her in the form of pure black cats that live in her shadow and act as her familiars.

there is one other good boy who is not done being developed yet, but i do have his familiar

The Kettle Crab

#Anonymous #original concept #original fiction #pilot's book idea #my work #my concepts #my ocs

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route22ny · 4 years

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New York Unmasked

by Harry Siegel

Imagining our city, for worse and for better, after the coronavirus pandemic

The city that never sleeps is taking a nap now, and it’s going to be a very different place when it finally wakes up.

Not long after the World Trade Center was destroyed on Sept. 11, 2001, and again after Lehman Brothers collapsed on Sept. 15, 2008, there was a lot of talk about how New York wouldn’t be the same. Both times, reports of our collective demise proved to be greatly exaggerated as the city quickly recovered, economically speaking, and resumed the upward path — ever more prosperous, populated and pricey — it’s remained on for at least the last quarter-century.

This time is different.

Any remaining vision of the city somehow picking up more or less where things had been left off went away with the decision to start shutting down the trains for four hours each night. That’s a huge though supposedly temporary shift for a system that’s run 24 hours a day for over a century with only the briefest of interruptions — until now the only one in the country that doesn’t turn off, as I’ve been shocked to re-learn every time I make the mistake of visiting another city. As with many of the decisions New York and the nation have made in this plague year, it will be much more difficult to turn things back on than it was to turn them off.

Already, the devastation is staggering. In less than eight weeks, the 13,168 (as of Friday night) confirmed coronavirus deaths here have exceeded the total number of murder victims, 12,509, over the past two decades — and that’s counting the 2,977 victims of 9/11.

New York managed to keep the death count down to 13,168 at the cost of putting the city and its economy in the equivalent of a medically induced coma, and with no assurances at all that a second wave of infections won’t be coming despite that.

While putting New York under helped keep the first wave from completely overwhelming the medical system here, as happened in Italy, “the point where we can really start at reopening…obviously is a few months away at minimum,” Mayor de Blasio said Friday.

Even at that point, whenever we finally get there, it’s hard to see everyone just getting back on the train for a crushed morning commute to the office, or servers returning to packed restaurants and bars and theaters and nightspots. Forget about tourists flying in to burn dollars; it’s an open question how many of the generally better-off New Yorkers who’ve left in the course of this will return here, or how many families will borrow or pay now so students can have the city as their campus — or if there will be a campus at all this fall.

This is all surreal. While some people talk about how the virus ravaging New York compares to 9/11, Donald Trump — who claims he lost hundreds of friends on 9/11, though he’s never named a single one of them — dispatches fighter planes to fly low over the city as a tribute to first responders.

While we still don’t know why New York was hit so hard by the virus, it’s clear that density — in places from the Meatpacking District here to the meatpacking plants in the Midwest — plays a big role in spreading it. And this is a place built on density, by far the densest big city in America as well as the biggest.

So this witchy hour we’re in is looking less like a PAUSE than a painful and fundamental shift in how the city functions and what it means to be a New Yorker.

To get through it, many people need to keep looking ahead and, I hope, looking at what New Yorkers can do in their own lives and demand from their politicians to see the city finally emerge as a fairer and more resilient one . I was born in New York City just ahead of the blackout babies, in November of 1977 — the month that Ed Koch was elected mayor and started to set the city on the path it’s mostly remained on until the virus — and I’ve remained here pretty much since. My dad grew up here, and his dad , and me and my brother are both raising our daughters here now, walking distance from each other and Rosie and Zadie.

I’m committed to the city for a lot of reasons, in addition to my family here: I own a house (or at least the bank lets me live in it), and one that’s bizarrely worth much more than I bought it for, at least if I was to sell it. My kids have a couple hundred square feet of their own outside as we shelter in place. And I know a bit and write a lot about New York, which really isn’t a skill set that travels.

But the truth is that the city of the past two decades has felt less and less like home, and more and more like the parts of Manhattan I try to avoid. I’ve spent too much of my adult life railing against the hipsters, gentrifiers, trustafarians and yuppies who didn’t have the good taste to spend their money here and then leave but instead “discovered” neighborhoods and remade them in their images, often to be priced out in time by new “discoverers.” I saved a bit of spleen for the people who rail against those people, rather than do something more productive with their time.

New York has become a city of increasingly sterile retail, one where internet listings have made real estate a more transparent and internationally accessible marketplace for foreign capital to reshape neighborhoods that preserve less and less of their old characters — for better and for worse.

It’s a corporate town, full of semi-interesting hustlers and characters along with its steady share of the depraved, the doomed, the damned and the dull. I’ve seen enough and read enough to know that none of that is new. But it’s metastasized over decades of financialized and increasingly monopolized and VC-fueled growth to swallow other values and ways of life. It’s hard to swim against a tide of money, and it takes a certain mania to even try.

Some of this is selfish, for sure. I preferred the waterfront of my youth, when the piers were barren and all but off-limits but for the bold and the desperate. No one with means would walk there, let alone live there, since it still had the taint of not so long ago shipping and industry and the rougher trades that lived by the waterfront, when the High Line was just a long-abandoned elevated track west of the projects that you could break into and walk on.

That all became part of the steel-and-glass luxury city that Mike Bloomberg described, one here for companies that can afford the best and priciest, and the people who draw incomes from those companies, directly or by providing services for their FIRE (that’s finance, insurance and real estate) workers who live in The City while firefighters commute in from Westchester and Long Island, or by constructing the buildings these people live in, or from the bloated government that services the “other” people who need help to stay here at all. A city that’s priced hospital beds out of big swathes of Manhattan and Brooklyn to clear space for luxury housing.

For years, I’ve been anticipating a reset as office space declines in importance with the rise of remote work, and that in turn brings down commercial and residential prices; hoping for a different, sturdier and livelier New York that exists for and better reflects the people who live here rather than serving as a clearinghouse for the world’s money. Over my adult life I’ve read endless warnings — including in this paper — about the return of the “bad old days” that are long gone for most New Yorkers, if they were here for those days at all. Now, we’re about to get a real taste of what a sharp downturn, along with a hostile federal government, feels like: “Drop Dead.” Now they’re looming as trading floors are vacant along with everything else that isn’t actually essential, and much of what’s abruptly left won’t soon return or the money that they brought in and splashed around.

This will be painful, but New York has always found ways to make new uses of what’s here. The same way that small and sturdy Brooklyn rowhouses built for the burgeoning middle class woke up one day as $2 million “townhouses,” and Single Residence Occupancies that single men depended on to maintain lives here, such as those were, become mansions with enough money and time, office spaces can become creative spaces like warehouses became artist’s lofts. Finally, housing prices, and everything else, should relate to the incomes of the bulk of the people working here. Right now, they relate to the vagaries of the global markets.

I’ll repeat that: The size of our economy, and real estate prices, should relate to the value of the goods and services people here actually produce. That will hurt a lot of New Yorkers who’ve invested in the city, including me, as property values and rents flatten or even go down, but some of that pain is needed. A city that’s too expensive for gas stations or grocery stores — looking at you, Manhattan — is too expensive for most people.

I hope we’re becoming a city that gives a proper Bronx cheer to Airbnb and Seamless and Uber and WeWork and all the venture capital-funded wannabe monopoly “tech” companies looking to “disrupt” fundamental aspects of our life by losing money for long enough to drive their competitors out of business altogether. That resists the convenience of Amazon and its ilk to support our local grocery and book and hardware stores, so that those are still there when we really need them.

A city that knows better than to cut off its nose to spite its face, now that we know better than to touch our faces. If New York has to sleep now to survive, it’s the perfect time to dream.

[email protected]

***

This essay appeared in the New York Daily News, May 3, 2020.

Photo via ShutterStock

#NYC #Covid19 #pandemic recovery #a city's identity #Harry Siegel

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

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Hey! There's this hc that's been on my mind for a while now but it's a bit dark so I've kinda been scared to ask people about it because IDK how it'd go down.... Okay, it's AFTG, and: What if after Aaron's trial with the whole Thanksgiving thingy they propose Aaron should be on mood altering drugs? What would happen? What would people do?? Also I know there are some fanpeople that don't like how Andrew's medication was represented in the books so I completely understand if you'd rather not reply

I’m sorry this took so long and I’m sorry for my recent inactivity. I’m still not ready to come back from my surprise hiatus but here’s this. It’s largely unedited so please forgive my bullshit. Thanks so much for the ask, love <3

“Aaron Minyard was oft-referred to as "the normal one" of the two, though that was usually followed by a debate over whether or not he could be sane when he shared genes with Andrew.”

Anyone with half a brain knows that Aaron doesn’t need the drugs. Hell, anyone with half a brain would have known better than to put a minor on something so strong but Andrew was on them for like 4 yrs + Exy is a thing so obviously no one in this universe has a single functioning brain cell. Another thing to be considered is that Aaron is a rehabilitated drug addict. He’s been sober (or as close to sober as he’s going to get) since he was 16. In the real world, I seriously doubt they’d put him on anti-psychotics, especially considering his past. But this is The Foxhole Court and I’m invoking suspension of disbelief.

Screams reverberated through Aaron’s head. There weren’t many words Aaron could discern amid the broken sobs and dry heaving. The overwhelming stench of vomit hit his nostrils. Pain shot through his left arm. It was likely dislocated from ramming it into the door at an odd angle. Staggering to his feet, Aaron saw himself in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes. A cruel smile slowly curled the lips of his reflection. Andrew. Swinging a punch at him with his good hand, the mirror shattered. Shards of glass embedded themselves into his fist. Blood ran in rivers down his arms.

His surroundings distorted, exchanging the soft glow of yellow bulbs for the harsh glow of fluorescents. The blood was gone along with the mirror shards. In their place was a motley of scars. None of them seemed too severe. The acrid smell of smoke clung to the air and mixed with the alcohol and vomit, making Aaron’s stomach roil. The sound of someone retching caught Aaron’s attention. Whirling around, Aaron felt his heart stutter. Matt lay twitching on the floor in a pool of his own spew.

“That’s what you looked like,” Andrew said from beside Aaron. “Pathetic.” The word echoed through Aaron’s head.

“Aaron?” Nicky said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Aaron jerked away from him as though he’d been burned. Nicky’s face crumpled. Aaron’s gaze darted around the room.Taking stock of his surroundings helped ground him. Overstuffed chairs lined one of the walls. Three sofas boxed off the corner they were sat in. Orange fox prints decorated the white walls, a name, number, and photograph at the center of each. Aaron was back at the Foxhole Court.

“I told you not to touch him.” Andrew’s voice froze the blood in Aaron’s veins. Stalking forward from the corner he’d been standing in, he moved to stand in front of Aaron. Cold brown eyes identical to Aaron’s own now held his gaze. Aaron wanted to look away but, as always, there was something about his brother’s eyes that never failed to command his attention.

“How’s he going to play if he’s medicated?” Kevin asked. Aaron felt his heart sink. After spending two years with him, Aaron should have known better than to expect Kevin to care about anything other than Exy but he couldn’t help it. Just as he’d begun to think that the last few months had meant something, Kevin squashed the tiny bud of hope that had blossomed in Aaron’s heart.

“How are you going to play if I break your other arm?” Andrew snarled. Aaron watched the color drain from Kevin’s face. A part of him wanted to smirk in Kevin’s face. It served the asshole right. All Kevin ever thought about was Exy. Exy and himself. Half of the things the foxes had been through could have been avoided had it not been for Kevin. They wouldn’t have suffered the graffiti attacks nor would they have been constantly dogged by the media. They sure as shit wouldn’t have had Neil and the mafia to contend with had Kevin not been such a selfish asshole, insisting on dragging that good-for-nothing junkie out of the middle of bumfuck Arizona.

A larger part of Aaron wanted to cradle Kevin in his arms and protect him from Andrew’s wrath. Had Kevin not run, Aaron would never have had the chance to feel the press of Kevin’s vodka drenched lips on his. He definitely wouldn’t have had the chance to hear the soft keening moans that fell from Kevin’s lips when Aaron fucked into him. Worst of all, there would be no soft smiles or lazy kisses before Kevin drifted off to sleep.

“Andrew,” Neil’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Well, not really. Neil’s voice was always gentle when he spoke to Andrew. Gentle and tender and full of love. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the way his brother’s brow softened and his shoulders drooped. Fuck you, Neil Josten.

The door down the hall slammed shut. The sound of Coach Wymack’s footsteps echoed in the silence. Taking a moment to glance around the assemblage, Wymack read the room and decided it was best not to say anything. Instead, he held out a plastic bag. Aaron’s hand shook as he accepted it. A paper bag resided within the first. Extracting it, Aaron read the label. He’d seen the label a thousand times before but, up until today, it had always borne his brother’s name.

Pills rattled ominously inside. Sweat slicked Aaron’s palms. Upending the second bag, the sight of the orange bottle jarred Aaron to his core. Andrew took the bottle from Aaron’s lap and squatted in front of him.

“Two pills in the morning after breakfast,” he said.

“And two again at 4,” Aaron finished. Andrew pried Aaron’s hand open before unscrewing the cap. Tipping two pills into Aaron’s palm, Andrew lay a hand on the back of his neck. Aaron knew his brother struggled to express his emotions but this was one gesture Aaron had learnt to recognize. It was a gesture of comfort meant to offer support. Staring into his brother’s eyes, Aaron forced himself to bring the pills to his lips. He swallowed them dry, painfully aware of every inch of their passage down his throat.

Anyone watching knew that Aaron’s descent into madness was swift. Aaron himself didn’t know that, though. To him, time seemed to slow. Staring down at his hands, Aaron flexed his fingers. Were those his fingers? Maybe. Maybe not. Aaron opened his mouth and felt the skin around it stretch. Laughter bubbled out of him at the odd sensation.

“Aaron?” Nicky asked. Aaron turned his gaze to his cousin and a smile split his face. Once again, the odd sensation of his skin drawing taut left him in a fit of giggles.

“It hurts,” Aaron said.

“What hurts?” Kevin demanded.

“Looking at your face,” Aaron replied. Had the words passed anyone else’s lips, Kevin’s anger might have flared to life. Instead, any remaining signs of life seemed to drain from him. Now it really did hurt.

Nicky had always told Aaron that if you looked at something over and over again, you would eventually get it. Perhaps it was because seeing the reward would motivate a person to work towards their goal, but no matter how much Aaron looked at Kevin nor how hard he worked, Aaron knew Kevin would never truly be his. Why he kept tormenting himself by staring at him, Aaron didn’t know. Maybe he was just as self-destructive as Andrew.

Sadness welled up in Aaron’s chest. A bone deep yearning had settled into him long ago but he suddenly felt the full intensity of-

“Stickball!” Aaron cried as Neil wheeled the racquet cart out. Rocketing out of his seat, Aaron caught his brother’s arm and yanked it hard. “Andy, come play stickball with me!”

“Play what?” Kevin squawked.

“Who?” Andrew choked at the same time.

“Stickball, Andy,” Neil said. A smile curled the edges of his lips. Kevin opened his mouth to say something but Aaron didn’t stick around to hear. Instead, he followed after Neil chanting ‘Stick! Ball! Stick! Ball!’, dragging Andrew along behind him.

So that gives you a general idea of Aaron’s madness.

Unlike Andrew, Aaron doesn’t really fight his meds. Where Andrew was terrified of not being able to properly watch out for his family, Aaron finds himself freed from all his anxieties. As such, he’s quite content with drifting through his life. I’ve always hc’d the twins as ADHD but are undiagnosed so it’s just a more intense version of how he normally is.

In the last two years, Aaron’s managed to make quite a few friends so they do their best to support him. Since he can’t focus very well and is no longer burdened by his anxieties, I feel like he also kinda relaxes around them??? Like he’s not as awkward. Very easy, breezy, joking around all the time. They really enjoy how much he’s opened up but they care a lot about him and are scared because they don’t know how to help him with class. What ends up happening is Katelyn is an absolute sweetheart. She convinces all of their friends to sit at the front of the room to record the lectures and upload them to a drive along with any extra notes that’ll help Aaron.

All the Foxes have to go to tutoring but Aaron’s tutor gave up the second he started his meds. After getting special permission from Wymack, they cut that time out and changed up the practice schedules a bit so Aaron could get out early and head back to Fox Tower. Once he’s made it through withdrawal, Katelyn will sit him down and help him work through his assignments. She’s a godsend.

Aaron is usually off his meds on weekends. He usually goes out to Columbia with the Monsters. He still dances with Nicky and has his fair share of fun. They go to the mall pretty often bc there’s a carousel with spinning tea cups. The twins have spent an entire afternoon riding the spinning tea cups, competing to see who hurls first. Aaron almost always wins. Andrew will take him out late Saturday nights and speed down closed sections of highways or do donuts in parking lots because they're both dumbasses with death wishes.

One weekend a month, Aaron remains at Fox Tower with Katelyn for spa day where they wax poetic about their respective crushes. Kate’s got a bit of a thing for a boy on the lacrosse team. Aaron screams bc he hates the guy. One time, at a party, the dude was talking to Kevin, shit talking both Kayleigh and Exy, completely unaware of exactly who he was talking to. Kevin ended up with a blackeye but the lacrosse kid couldn’t play for nearly two months.

Speaking of Kevin, he’s only thing that ever seems to hold any of Aaron’s attention. He’s just so… pretty. If Exy is Neil’s shiny object, then Kevin is Aaron’s. Since Aaron makes even less of an effort to pay attention than Andrew did, there's times when he straight up can’t play. It infuriates Kevin to the point where Aaron gets pulled off the court. At first he doesn’t mind because it means that he can sit back and watch Kevin without any fear of getting caught. However, ever since he got put on his meds, Kevin hasn’t touched him. Not even in a non-sexual way. Before, there were casual touches: a hand on the small of Aaron’s back, shoulders pressed together as they squished into a booth, ankles hooked beneath the table. Now? There’s nothing. Kevin leaves a conspicuous space between himself and Aaron and it’s the only thing Aaron can feel anymore.

So he starts paying attention on the court. Whenever they have a scrimmage, Aaron makes sure that he’s marking Kevin. Everytime Kevin crashes into him, Aaron’s consciousness slams back into his body. The heat of Kevin’s skin on his, their limbs tangled together, their ragged breaths intermingling, their helmets the only thing keeping their mouths from colliding together. Those little encounters are the only times when Aaron finally feels like himself. Those little encounters only last a few seconds and leave Aaron craving more, more, more.

Aaron noticed that medicated Andrew was always brushing up against Neil but he’d never really thought much of it. Now he understood. Andrew had craved Neil just as Aaron craved Kevin.

Speaking of Neil, he and Aaron get along well? I feel like Aaron is just as much of a smart mouth as Neil so the two of them just go around roasting the shit out of everyone. The drugs don’t change Aaron’s opinion of Neil but he begins to understand why Andrew broke their deal. Realizing that Neil didn’t steal his brother from him, Aaron starts to see the appeal in him. He’s stupid and funny and actually kind of pretty. Not as pretty as Kevin but pretty nonetheless. On weekends in Columbia, Aaron begins to notice all the things Neil does for his brother. Neil wakes up early in the morning to make breakfast and spends hours in the kitchen baking. He always picks up an extra pint of ice cream at the store and takes photos of stray cats to send Andrew. One time, Aaron couldn’t sleep and went to the kitchen for some water. His heart almost stopped when he heard Andrew’s rumbling laughter. Sneaking a peek around the corner, his heart really did stutter. Neil was standing on Andrew’s feet as he waltzed around the kitchen to the soft strains of music flowing from the radio. After aaron’s heart restarted, he hurried away because OH MY GOD ANDREW WAS LAUGHING AND DANCING AND HOLDING NEIL SO TENDERLY AND OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

Okay so maybe Neil did sic the mafia on them but he also makes Andrew happy so that evens it out right? It’s v slow but Aaron is very slowly learning to accept Neil.

Slipping back to his room, Aaron placed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing a mile a minute. Off his meds, Aaron found it hard to stem the surge of jealousy threatening to overwhelm him. He was glad Andrew had found someone who loved him the way he deserved to be but didn’t Aaron deserve love too?

A soft knock sounded behind him. Aaron nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound. Oh, fuck. What it was Andrew? What if he’d seen him? With shaking hands, Aaron opened the door. For the second time that night, Aaron’s heart stopped.

Vodka stained lips crashed against his. Aaron’s mouth opened on impact and he felt the warm slide of Kevin’s tongue on his. A moan tore from Kevin, reverberating down Aaron’s thought. It was a shot right to his core. Suddenly, Aaron’s clothes felt too tight, his body too warm. Grabbing the collar of Kevin’s shirt, Aaron hauled him into the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Aaron panted as he tore himself away from Kevin.

“Missed you,” Kevin slurred as he leaned back in. Aaron shoved him away, sending Kevin crashing into the wall. The look of anguish that washed over Kevin’s features threatened to tear Aaron’s heart out of his chest.

“You haven’t come near me in months,” Aaron hissed. “Why now?” Kevin opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried two more times before dropping his gaze.

“Because I got scared.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Kevin retreated into his shoulders. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before. All day, all night, you’re all I ever think about.”

“You don’t think about me on the court,” Aaron sneered.

“And you don’t watch me from the sidelines.” Aaron felt the blood rush to his face. It had been years since Aaron had prayed but now he begged God to bend the shadows of his room to hide the burning of his ears. “Exy was all I’ve ever had. Back then, I played to stay alive but now… now I play because I know you can’t take your eyes off me when I do.” Kevin reached out slowly, giving Aaron time to move away. Relief flooded his face when Aaron didn’t flinch. As Kevin’s hand cupped his face, Aaron leaned into the touch. Pulling their bodies flush against one another, Kevin bent down enough to rest his forehead against Aaron’s. “I don’t want Exy to be the only thing I love anymore.”

“Then pick something,” Aaron whispered. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage as though it was trying to escape. He knew what was coming but nothing prepared him for actually hearing it.

“ I pick you,” Kevin replied. Their lips collided once more and Aaron let Kevin steer them to the bed. Collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs, Aaron felt like himself for the first time in months.

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

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Three Days ~ 58

~*~Sebastian~*~

The video call with Emma's family had been good until the last sentence. I wasn't sure if Andrea was legitimately saying she hoped we'd be together or questioning if we would. From the look on Emma's face, she was going with option two. Now I was slightly suspicious Eli's dislike for them wasn't unfounded.

It wasn't late when Emma called. I put my script on the table and stretched out on the couch before connecting the call. I stopped before a word left my mouth.

Emma said, "Hey."

"This is not the same happy face I saw less than two hours ago." She looked exhausted. While her puffy red eyes could be from the pool, I doubted it was chlorine. She'd been crying. A knot formed in my stomach. I spoke quietly, "What's going on, baby?"

What followed was a strange story of her parents ignoring her to talk to Amy then telling Emma she should pretend her life sucks so her sister won't do drugs. Oversimplified, but accurate.

Dammit, Eli was right.

Emma went back and forth between angry and sad. I honestly don’t know which was worse, but I didn't like either of them. A wave of protectiveness washed over me and I wanted to jump on a plane to go get her. She didn't need saving now any more than she did in the bar after the volleyball tournament. The difference was either I was there just in case she needed me at the bar or possibly my feelings for her were stronger now. Or both.

At the end of the story, she said, "It's not always this bad. Most of the time it's fine, besides the walking on eggshells. I didn't say anything because I try to be optimistic. If I come down here thinking the worst, I’m reading into everything and paranoid about everything I say. It only makes things worse. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad."

I double blinked, "Mad? I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed as hell at them. Your best friend kind of hates them. Your sister's a heroin addict and your parents signed over custody of you to a rock star who lived on the other side of the country. I never thought this was a vacation. You said I didn't need to worry, but I did anyway. I am going to need Eli's phone number so I can apologize for thinking he was an ass about your parents."

I felt better when she smiled, "He'll enjoy that and never let you forget."

"Never letting you forget stupid shit is the basis of most male friendships." I switched back to serious for a second, "Do you wanna leave? Say the word and I'll book the flight and talk to you until the Uber gets there. Meet you at the airport here and we'll lock ourselves in my apartment until we have to leave Sunday. Hell, you can just stay here and hideout. Maybe rearrange some more of my drawers."

"As wonderful as it sounds, no. Not tonight anyway. Amy and I will have a good time tomorrow. I'd feel bad running off. Sunday there will be family buffers. Monday, I don't know. Mom will be doing exams Tuesday while I'm with the girls." She shook her head, "I already severely limit my time here."

"Em, it's ok to not want to be around people who make you feel bad. Even if they're family. It's shitty, but it's your choice."

"Visit when my guilt about not visiting outweighs the potential bad time when I visit."

"I don't recommend guilt." I looked at her thinking what a shit situation this was.

"I don't want to fight to just be myself. Shouldn't be this difficult. I can understand them wanting to protect Amy, but I feel like they don't want to hear about me."

I couldn't fix this as much as I wanted to. "Last night when you knew I'd been upset did you feel incredibly helpless? Even though talking to me while I could see you was enough."

"Yep." She yawned. "I was out by the lake. I came back where it was light and we could see each other. We have good phone calls."

I agreed. Phone calls, even video calls, can feel distant or impersonal. Not for us. I'm used to keeping friendships going over the phone. If I couldn't have real conversations on the phone, I wouldn't be sane. "You’re tired."

"I don't want to hang up."

"Not going to. What was your favorite bedtime story when you were little?"

She looked at me like I was a little crazy. Not inaccurate. "Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree."

"I want you to go upstairs and get into bed. While you’re doing that, I’m going to find Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree. Then I'm going to read to you until you fall asleep."

“You’re going to read me a bedtime story?”

I most definitely was. I nodded with a smile.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

“Trying.” I could tell she was getting up. “I’m going to be quiet so you can sneak in.”

“My parents are awake in the family room. I have to walk through.”

“Just pretend you're sneaking me to your bedroom after a date. Put me in your pocket.”

She laughed and then the screen went dark. I could hear muffled voices. “I’m going to bed.”

“Amy said to be ready to leave at ten.”

“Sounds good. Night.”

“Sleep well. We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Hmmm. Her voice didn’t hold the warmth those words should have. Not the way I’d want to hear them.

Less than a minute later I was out of her pocket. “I need the bathroom. I’m going to let you hang out in bed.” She was quiet, but I could see she was concentrating on something. “Enjoy.”

Emma dropped the phone on the bed and I was staring at the ceiling when my text notification went off. Oh . . . the naked on a pool float picture. Peachless. Also, bikini bottomless. I was still smiling when the real girl came back on camera. “Nice ass.”

She crawled under the covers and propped her phone against the pillow next to her. “Remarkably self-conscious.”

“Then why’d you send it?” From the drinking game, I knew she’d sent nudes to someone before.

“Wasn’t self-conscious until after I sent. At the time it was fun and flirty. I knew you’d like it. After I hit send I thought I should make sure.”

“No, you were right I like it. A lot. Want a picture of my ass?”

“Your naked is ass is online and on film.”

“Bonus for you! Everything will be soon enough.” I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Really? Full frontal?”

“Not sure how full, but frontal. The movie I shot in Greece. Talk about self-conscious.”

“I tell you what. When your full-frontal comes out, I’ll send you full-frontal. We’ll be even.”

“Now I’m looking forward to the release.” A dirty smile formed on my face, “Do I get to take it?”

“I don’t know who else would.”

I scrunched up my face because that hurt in all the good ways. I’m supposed to be reading a bedtime story not getting a hard-on. Guess where gonna see if I can do both at the same time. “Time for sleep.”

She smiled and tucked her hands under her pillow. I like seeing her relaxed like this even better than the naked pool picture. “You look so pretty curled up.”

“Did you remember to turn on the screenshot function?”

“I did.” I took one right now. “I’ll go sleep to that.”

Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think. First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.”

Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.”

And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree.

I kept reading until I was sure she was asleep. Instead of hanging up, I hit mute and put my phone on the arm of the chair where I could see her while I worked. I kept watch until she changed positions and knocked the phone onto the screen.

First thing in the morning, before heading to the gym, I sent her one of the pictures I took of her sleeping.

Sebastian ~ Hope your day is as peaceful as you look here.

Emma ~ Thank you. For everything. Listening, talking, bedtime story.

Sebastian ~ Confession. Didn't know Pooh before last night.

Emma ~ We can watch next time we're together.

Sebastian ~ Cuddled up watching Winnie the Pooh sounds good. Have fun today.

Emma ~ Have fun with the guys tonight.

The next time I checked my phone, after working out, I had half a dozen text messages. All from Evans.

Chris ~ Yo!

Chris ~ Wake up

Chris ~ Lazy fucker

Chris ~ Are you home?

Chris ~ I’m in NYC

Chris ~ Let me know

Sebastian ~ Ass. I was at the gym. Chace is in town too. Meeting for drinks about five. Dinner. More drinks. You should come. I'd love to see you.

Chris ~ Sounds great. Tell me where.

I sent him the address and was more excited about my night. Will, Chace, and now Chris were doing before dinner drinks then we'd meet up with the others. I'd made a ton of progress with the new role. After my shower I made some more notes, alternating with checking Instagram when I got a notification Emma had posted. A group walking down a dock pulling a couple of coolers was labeled, "Load in." A shot all of them on the boat. Emma was wearing the same bikini from yesterday with a pair of cutoffs. A couple of hours later she posted multiple pictures of them tubing, people sitting around laughing, others in the water, and a couple of them laying out on the deck. None of those had my girl. The next batch did. Same sort of pictures, but with her in.

This was much better than last night. She looked like she was having fun. The last one before I headed to meet the guys was her, Amy, and who I assume was Amy's boyfriend. He was in the middle. Emma's caption read, "Someone is missing."

I commented, "Miss you too."

I ran into Chace right outside the bar. We hugged and gave each other shit about our matching beards. We kept up the teasing and laughing all the way to the table. Will and Chris were already seated and had ordered beers. Chris downed half his beer in one drink, "Seb, man, you stood me up. I mean, I get helping your parents move."

Will laughed. Chace cocked his head to the side and smiled. Chris looked at them before turning his attention back to me, "What have you done?"

I put my beer down slowly. "Yeah, about that. I may have left out a bit. I was helping my parents move, but that's not why I stayed."

Chris put his hand on my shoulder, "You met a girl."

"I met a girl. We'd had a great first date and I wasn't ready to leave. I wanted to get to know her better."

Chris looked up like he was thinking, "I'm good with that." His eyes came back, "Still seeing her?"

I couldn't have stopped my smile if I'd tried. "Yeah. Emma."

Chris smiled, "Nice."

Chace looked at Will, "You knew this and didn't bust him in our group chat?"

Will shrugged, "Trust me, it's more fun this way." He shifted his eyes to me for a second before looking back to Chace with a smirked, "You've met her."

Chace pointed to himself, "I’ve met her?"

Will continued, "At Kirk's wedding she was with the singer from Boone's band and his wife."

I watched him search his memory, "Didn't I hit on her?"

"Why did you say that out loud?

Chace snickered, "To see him make that face."

Not sure what face I was making, but I changed it.

"I thought they were in a throuple."

I rolled my eyes, "Not a throuple."

"How is that even a word?" Chris screwed up his face.

Will handed Chace his phone, "This is her Instagram Emma_plays_90"

Unless Emma had updated the first was another throuple.

"Sister?"

"Twin."

Both smirked, "Nice."

Chace asked, "Which is yours?"

"Polka dot bikini."

They scrolled back in her timeline, turning the phone toward me when they got to the peach one.

Chris raised one eyebrow, "Please, tell me you have the uncensored version."

I nodded. Smiling again.

Chace handed Will his phone back, "You have better on your phone. Hand it over."

I knew this would happen and had left the naked one in my texts. I had to stand up to dig my phone out of my pocket. I had it unlocked and the folder full of her open when I got a text.

Emma ~ Tell Chris hi and nice to meet him.

I looked up. Chris was on his phone. "What did you do?"

Chris did a shit job of pretending to look innocent. "Does Instagram notify someone if you follow them?"

"If their account is set to private and they have to approve you, yes, it does." Another text.

Emma ~ And Chace...

I glared at him. He shrugged, "0oops."

"Now she knows we're talking about her." No idea why I said that. Of course, she knows we're talking about her.

Will looked exasperated, "She already knew."

Chace chuckled, "She DM’d me. Hope your pick-up lines have improved." He sat there saying each word as he replied, "I'd like to say they have, but probably not."

Will smacked the back of Chace's head, "Stop it. You know how he gets."

One of the side effects of insecurity is jealousy. I get jealous. And in an all-time dick move I don't like it when girlfriends get jealous. I think that falls under the topic of commitment issues. I shook my head at Will, "Not jealous. It's this combination of annoyed that I could have met her a year ago and relief I didn't because things would have gone very differently. I was not ready for Emma a year ago."

"How'd you get ready?"

One of the things Chris and I have in common is relationship and commitment issues. I had no trouble answering, "Years of therapy finally came together. I managed to step outside my walls and she ... she has this way of working around my anxiety. Makes it ok."

I handed over my phone, scrolled back to the beginning with the fish.

Chace winked at Chris, "Told ya the good ones were on his phone."

They scrolled through, stopping to look at each other before turning the phone around to me. It was on the deck at her place. She was sitting at the table, her leg pulled up with her foot on the seat, smiling at me. She'd looked beautiful in the fading light. The smile, the look on her face, still made my heart skip a beat. Any man would love to have a woman look at him the way she was looking at me. That was day four. It’s even better now.

Chris turned the phone back toward them, "You should have led with you'd blown me off because you met a beautiful woman who looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."

I shook my head, "I met a very kind and amazing woman who just happens to be beautiful."

Chace asked, "How'd you meet?"

"She thought I was a drug addict getting snacks before checking into the rehab place up the road. She

helped me find chocolate chips for mom to make fudge."

Chris looked surprised then smiled, "That's a good story."

"Nice, but makes questionable choices." Chris grabbed Chace’s hand to turn the phone back around.

Chace kept scrolling, "This hers? She have a kid?"

Not sure why the pictures are out of order. "No, one of her students. She teaches first grade."

Chris started laughing, his hand went to his chest, "This is perfect. I couldn't do this better."

I was lost, "What are you talking about?"

Chris waved his hand around, "Issues aside and knowing you're not always the good guy in the relationship. The Seb I know," He pointed to Chace and Will, “we know, is kind, sensitive, and has a big ole soft heart. Every time you date someone, I get scared. Legit terrified. I’m afraid every girl is going to break you, change you, and you won’t be sweet Seb anymore. When I think of a teacher, especially a first-grade teacher, I think patient, kind, empathetic, flexible but firm. If I was setting you up on a blind date, I'd look for those qualities. This could be perfect."

"Emma is all those things. And accepting. I had a panic attack the other night. She didn't bitch about me not waking her, or ask a million questions, she just asked what I needed to be ok. I needed a run. I came back and she was upside down on my couch and had switched my sock and underwear drawers. She took none of it on, just took care of me."

"Refreshing," Chris said and the others agreed.

"I took care of her after she got to her parents."

Will winced, "Eli right to hate them?"

My eyes went wide, "They ignored her to talk about Amy's boyfriend, and told her to pretend her life sucks so Amy won't do drugs and relapse."

Will grimaced, "Yeah, Eli is right."

I filled in the holes for Chace and Chris.

Chace frowned, "You’re supposed to go to rehab for cocaine?"

Chris put his hand over his mouth and pretended to look surprised, "Oops."

Chace again, "I picture a first-grade teacher as sweet and innocent. No cursing, drinking, and kinda shy with sex."

I lifted an eyebrow. The same side of my mouth curving up. "I get that, but no." I pulled my eyebrows down, pursed my lips, and shook my head. "I do like Monday mornings when she comes down looking like a first-grade teacher."

Chace leaned forward, "Are you in love with her?" He started to smile.

I hesitated and Will spoke up, "If you say anything besides yes you're a worse liar than you are an actor."

"That's harsh." I rubbed my hand over my beard. "Falling in love, yes. Haven't quite been pushed

over the edge."

"How long have you known her?" From Chace.

"Three weeks."

Chris was shaking his head," You don't need months to know what's right for you. Don't overthink it. If she's ticking all your boxes, your heart flutters when you see here, and her smile takes your breath away, it's long enough. Don't waste a second. Falling in love is the best feeling in the world, just fucking enjoy.”

Chace held his hand out, palm up, waving from Chris to me. "For the record, I wasn't going to give you shit. I was just curious."

The conversation changed to what had been going on with them. Chace was doing some anti-superhero Amazon series. Chris was signed on for an Amazon series too. Apparently, the future is Amazon. The beers kept coming and we were lit when Chris asked our servers to take a picture. He texted it to the three of us and we posted it to Instagram at the same time. Complete with a countdown. Because drunk boys.

We wove our way the block to the restaurant. Our group more than doubled in size. Dinner sobered us up. It was a good time. We were loud for no other reason than talking across a long table. Ok, we were a little loud anyway. Next was another bar. We got even louder there. The value of a night out with the guys should never be underrated. Being idiots and taking the piss out of each other was good for the soul, and bad for the liver. We closed the bar down, loading into cabs in groups heading in the same direction.

I barely remember getting home. The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache. First order of the day was Advil and a bottle of water. Second was checking in on Emma. After the bar, the first one, I hadn't checked my phone again. She knew how to reach me if she needed me. I'd figured she was having fun like I was. From the pictures and videos on Instagram plus the ones she'd texted me, I was right. They’d gone back to her parents after the boat and had a pool party.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Undead and Well Read || Morgan & Leah

Timing: Current

Parties: @mor-beck-more-problems & @phoenixleah

Summary: Having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card!

Warnings: none!

It had been a terrible few weeks for Morgan. She couldn’t remember when, exactly, it had started, but the woman’s voice in her head was definitely making matters much worse. There was irony, of course, in finally being tired, even sleepy. Three months of death had passed with almost complete, awful consciousness. It would be nice, after everything, to have one six hour zonk-out in Deirdre’s arms to fill her head with nothing but black. Not forever, not for a day, just...six hours in bed to scrub out all the weird shit she was seeing. She dragged herself into the library, almost shambling with the weight of death she couldn’t erase from her mind, and the absence of the life that, apparently, she was never going to have in White Crest no matter what she did. But three months dead and Morgan still didn’t know hot to accept all of this. What acceptance and moving on and being actually okay and not just zombing through functionality was really supposed to look like. All the more reason, she guessed, for finally following up on her plans with Leah.

I deserve to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.

Morgan grimaced and shouldered her way into the library. Intrusive thoughts were hard enough when they were her own. For the first time in her existence, dead or not, Morgan didn’t stop to smell the stacks and run her fingers over the protective wrap over the covers. She went straight to the front desk and slumped onto the counter as soon as it was her turn. “Hey, yeah, I um...called ahead. Leah’s supposed to help me out with uh...a research project I’m doing. Are you maybe please possibly Leah?”

Summer was in its prime. And with the yearly (spooky) carnival now long gone, residents of White Crest were once again looking for somewhere to entertain themselves and cool off. Leah couldn’t understand why, then, the library wasn’t crowded beyond belief at this point. It was cool, it was quiet, it was entertaining… what more could people need? Normally, she wouldn’t mind the library being slow- less people coming in and out meant more time to add to the archives, and boy did she have a lot to add lately. Between the cursed game with Skylar and her new fae friend’s height problem, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been so backed up since she became a Scribe. But still, the library staying afloat was the only thing keeping her family’s archives together and intact, thanks to the secret basement. She couldn’t imagine years of research wasted just because White Cresters would rather go to some lake than read.

She smiled at the man in front of her, thanking him for the payment of his late fee (his 4th one this year, maybe she should tell this guy to invest in a phone reminder), and watched him as he went on his way to check out more books. Now that was a person she could relate to. A woman she didn’t recognize came up next, and the poor thing looked positively exhausted. She smiled at her, pulling her reading glasses to rest on the top of her head to get a better look. I called ahead. Leah wracked her brain to try and think of the call, and it all came at once. The call… their conversation online. “Morgan!” She popped out of the stool she was sitting in, turning around to rummage through the shelf behind her. This was the girl from the internet… the new zombie who loved reading. “You’re Morgan, right?” she asked, still rummaging. When she was finally done, she’d pulled about six large books from the shelf, turning around and plopping them in front of Morgan. In her excitement, she’d forgotten to confirm she was actually the woman Morgan was looking for. She pressed her hands together, smiling. “Yes, sorry. I’m Leah. You were looking for some...special books, right?”

Morgan’s head perked up at the enthusiasm from the girl. “Yes! Me Morgan! I mean, I’m Morgan! Beck. From the university, and online.” Wow, her mind meld was really getting under her skin. She could usually count on herself to act at least relatively normal in public, even in the middle or White Crest’s nonsense of the month. Despite her gracelessness, she couldn’t help but smile with relief and recognition. So this was Leah. Morgan must have seen her in passing half a dozen times or more without realizing. Even her work outfit and her reading glasses struck her as familiar. “Leah,” sighed, a smile melting over her face. “I cannot begin to express how glad I am to see you. Yes. Please, please take me to the special books. Things have only gotten weirder since we last talked and I would love for something to be easy. Or make sense. Or both.”

“I’m so glad to finally meet you”, Leah said, holding her hand out for Morgan to shake. Normally she shied away from handshakes. Her body temperature always made people give her a second glance, and she didn’t have time to be answering questions from people that she barely knew. But something about Morgan’s recent confession and her coming so willingly to Leah for help made her trustworthy in Leah’s eyes. She probably wouldn’t even question it. “Well”, she started, indicating to the books she’d placed in front of Morgan. “These are some of them”. She was glad she was here to help Morgan through all of this… it must be hard for someone not in the know to try and sift through what was real and what was essentially fanfiction. “I have more set aside if you need them. And a few that were checked out before I got to them. Shall we go sit over there and take a look?” she asked, her head nodding over to a table in a secluded area by a window. “Weirder?”she asked curiously, picking up half of the stack. “Weirder how?”

Morgan took Leah’s hand gratefully, amazed that she didn’t mind inviting the chill of corpse-flesh, knowing what she was. She tried to return the kindness by taking her hand with the best care she knew how. “It feels a long time coming, huh?” She said. Am I losing my mind? Have I already lost it? Please don’t lock me up… Morgan went stiff and caughted, as if someone might hear the voice and think them rude. She picked up some of the titles and flipped through some of the chapter headings, her chest starting to tighten in spite of herself. “Are any of these..um...you know...first hand? Or, well, why don’t we take these to that table, like you said. And uh, as for weird…” She cleared her throat, trying to drown out more ruminations on love and sanity. Apparently the woman hadn’t has sex in seven years over this guy and it was all way more than she knew how to process alongside the normal chatter in her dead brain. “I know you know about how things really are around here, but this is something else. Maybe we’ll find something in these books but...uh...magic mind shares shouldn’t be a thing for the undead, right? Because I can’t carry a witchy charge anymore...because I’m, you know, d-e-a-d?”

Leah nodded with a warm smile. It really had felt like she’d been talking to Morgan for years, when really it hadn’t been more than a few weeks. Even before she learned about Morgan’s… undeadness, she found talking to the woman was a breeze. “Some of them are! Others are collections of records from Scribes”- not her own, Leah noted inwardly, though if Morgan wasn’t finding the information she was looking for, Leah would find a way to slip hers in as well. -”which is just about as close to first hand as you can get. Scribes are known for being incredibly unbiased.” After confirming that there was someone else there to man the desk, Leah made her way to the table briskly. She sat down as she listened to Morgan explain. It was confusing, really, because she had never heard of anyone experiencing mind shares. “It’s not something I’ve ever heard of… but that doesn’t mean it’s not possible. I mean, personality-wise… it’s not uncommon for you to take on a bit of someone’s personality after… their brain is ingested.” Morgan had mentioned she was feeding ethically, but Leah didn’t want to judge if that wasn’t still the case. “You’re just like… hearing this other person’s thoughts all the time? Is it someone you’re close to?”

Morgan smirked ruefully at the mention of the brain. “Oh yeah, found that out the hard way by accident. He was already dead! Just, so you know. Long dead. No one was using it by the time I uh...happened upon it. And after the whole ‘holy shit this is almost as good as burgers used to be’ thing, came this weird sense of like...wanting to listen to a hockey game? And listen to A Prairie Home Companion? And play like, old people boardgames? It was weird. I called my friend sport. Harmless, but still unsettling. Not actually that big of a fan of doing that blindly again. I don’t want to get essence of asshole, you know? But this feeling is...weirder than that.” She opened the nearest book, flipping through the table of contents and the index for the good parts. There was a section on a zombie hoard that had taken over a town. Bites had spread rapidfire from one starving spawn to the next. Morgan’s stomach lurched at the idea and she picked up a different book. “This new thing is...different. I don’t even know the person I’m hearing. She--” MARRY ME PLEASE. “--Is definitely in a place. And I think I may have seen her in...dream is the only word I can think of. Except I haven’t dreamed or slept since I died. It’s not all the time, more of an eb and flow, but when it flow it’s kind of a lot.”

Leah threw up her arms, a playfully defensive stance to show Morgan that she wasn’t being judgy. “Hey, you do what you got to do. If I ever happen to be undead with you, then I’m allowed to judge how you eat. Until then, I’m just a passive observer.” She grinned at Morgan’s destination. All of the archives her family had kept on zombies in the past were written so robotically-- professional and unbiased was basically in the job description of a scribe. To hear Morgan talk about it so candidly and openly was refreshing. And amusing, if she were being honest with herself. She chuckled as she answered. “It sounds unsettling! Thank god you didn’t find someone who liked to listen to polka music, instead. Now that sounds unsettling.” It was interesting to watch a newcomer flip through pages that held information all about her new life. Non-life? She pressed her lips together, genuinely confused. “Is it possible someone’s trying to contact you? I don’t know much about dream visits, but if it’s the same person who’s visiting your day dreams… maybe it’s intentional?”

Morgan’s expression softened at Leah. She hadn’t met a human who she didn’t have to pacify in some capacity in...well she couldn’t quite remember when. She was honest with so few humans these days, and even some of her supernatural friends held reservations against such things as violence and people eating. Maybe she might have even shared their alarm at another time, but she wasn’t even sure of that. But Leah understood somehow. Or at least she understood that there was something beyond her. It was a wisdom that Morgan admired, even envied. Lately she felt like she barreled in with the best of intentions and came up empty. She just wanted everything to be okay and make sense now. Which, now that she thought about it, was a little on the absurd side. She had a few centuries, hopefully, to figure her shit out. What was she rushing for? Morgan smiled at Leah. “You’re pretty great, you know that? And if you do ever wind up undead with me, I’ll make sure you get the five star treatment. A regular gourmet menu of options.” She laughed along with her joke, relieved that it hadn’t made Leah uncomfortable and started flipping through the pages of another book. “Intentional magic sounds about right. I’m not sure how you would casually connect two minds together, but I don’t think the woman in my head is the one doing it. Which is even weirder because, like, who actually knows us? What gives? Are you that bored that you need to power flex on some townies? Oooh...yikes.” Morgan grimaced at another section, a rather dry account of a recorded drunk zombie. The guy had managed to do it when he attacked someone he had a grudge against coming out of a bar. Freshly drunk brains meant freshly drunk zombie. Which apparently meant...a lot more dead drunk people and a very dangerous bar scene for the month or so it took the local slayers to figure it out. She showed it to Leah. “Well I guess I really am never getting drunk for the rest of eternity,” she sighed.

Leah sat up a little straighter, scoffing off the compliment with a wave of her hand. She always felt a bit uncomfortable accepting praise, especially from someone she didn’t know very well. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being told she was good at something, moreso that she didn’t know how to respond when someone did. “I’ll hold you to that!” she laughed, knowing what Morgan was saying was true. There was something about the other woman that just seemed trustworthy to Leah, and she could tell she was the type to stick to her word. She leaned on the table, absentmindedly flipping through another one of the books that they’d brought over for Morgan as she listened to her speak. “Hmm. It’s all so strange. I mean, you’re right… if this is a spellcaster or someone like it, why put two random people who don’t know each other through this. Maybe it’s a common enemy that you and this other woman both have?” she suggested. It felt weird to suggest that someone as sweet as Morgan might have an enemy. “Or someone trying to get to your girlfriend through you, even. You mention she’s got some…” she looked around, sure that no one was close enough to them to hear. “...special tendencies as well?” She laughed, patting Morgan on the back comfortingly. “Maybe you’ll find a way. I mean...you’ve got a long life ahead of you. And you’re in a town literally filled with other people in your state. I find it hard to believe that no one’s gonna find a way to get zombie drunk in the next century.”

Morgan puzzled this over. “She is. Um...different. I’m promise-bound not to go into details. But I did that to myself, I should say, in case of wardens or other...problems. I haven’t actually thought of that before. I don’t think...that something like that would be possible.” The people Deirdre upset tended to be dead. And Deirdre never failed. She had been raised too well. “I don’t think so, I don’t think they’re connected either, or that the woman in my head would hurt her. Although if she does…” Morgan shivered. She would kill her for taking that kind of trouble. Or at least incapacitate her. Something had landed her in one of Regan’s freezers before. Morgan could do it again. She grimaced and turned back to the books. Deirdre didn’t want her looking for answers in death too much. She would also forgive her for killing again, probably, especially, if it involved saving the life they had together. But it was smarter not to add more weight to her back where that stupid human woman she’d killed in the ring haunted her from time to time. Or at least, not to spend too much time thinking of adding more weight. Morgan sighed, skimming contents and indexes for the zombie parts, or the parts where the zombies talked about being how they were. “Are there any zombies who actually...wrote any books? Even fiction stories, or anecdotal testimony? I mean, I didn’t even know these existed, and I really appreciate the whole not just taking inventory of ways to kill or maim or torture me. I’m just...curious, I guess.”

“Oh please, you’re under no obligation to share”, Leah assured. As curious as she was, it wouldn’t be fair of her to expect Morgan to share the details of her girlfriends special talents when Leah herself wasn’t being very open about who and what she really was. Besides, after talking to Morgan enough, Leah could probably figure it out on her own, anyway. She nodded, the girlfriend revenge situation seemed to be out, then. “It’s just so strange. I wonder…” she blinked, a new thought crossing her mind in an instant. “There is the possibility that this mind sharing isn’t related to your undead-ness at all, though, Morgan. It could just be... one of those unfortunate White Crest things.” She blinked, adjusting in her seat as she thought it over. “Maybe you should find this girl… try to talk to her face to face to figure out what’s up.” She smiled softly at the question, rummaging through the pile on the table. “If there are books by hunters, they’d be burned before I’d allow them in this library”, she assured as she searched. She found three specific books she had flagged earlier with colored post-it notes, presenting them to Morgan. “So. These three are all written by known zombies. This one”, she said, holding up the smaller of the three. “Is way old, kind of dull but has a lot of good information. These other two have a lot of tips on how to deal with everything, ethical feeding… anything that I’d assume might come up. They’re labeled as fiction, for obvious reasons, but I can assure you that these three are all legitimately written by your fellow undead.”

“Oh, Stars. No…” Morgan groaned and let her head fall on her book with exaggerated despair as soon as Leah suggested this was more White Crest nonsense. “I mean this shouldn’t be surprising, and honestly, we’re probably due for something like this. And at least it’s not something that might make me embarrass myself in public like those eyeballs popping up everywhere. But why…” Morgan gave a pitiful puff, floating a fluffy lock of hair until she ran out of air. When that was done, she pulled herself upright and put on a smile. No time to dwell, especially not when Leah was being such a big help to her. Although maybe it was just the comment about the hunters that gave her an extra reason to pick up her energy. “Probably doesn’t matter too much,” she said wryly. “Let’s take a look at these, since apparently they’re free of hunter bias. Gotta say, I’m relieved, but maybe a little surprised. Being misunderstood or not seen the way I feel I really am is what I’m used to for the most part. It uh...seems like it might be personal, so you don’t have to say, but I am curious about why you feel so strongly about them.” She turned back to the books examined the title and perused the first few pages, then flipped to the middle where there seemed to be a death scene. “Leah, these are beautiful. I mean, sad, too, I guess. But...it’s real. It’s how we really are. I’d like to take these home for a little while, if that’s okay.To get to read them properly. I could come back too, but it would just...be nice, you know?”

Leah chuckled sympathetically, squeezing Morgan’s shoulder for comfort. As a crester, she was almost used to the wild ongoings of the town by now, but she couldn’t imagine the stress it must have brought to a newcomer like Morgan. “God, I don’t want to think about the eyeballs again. Thank god that’s over. Maybe this will be...slightly more harmless? It sounds more annoying than anything? Regardless, you’re definitely getting a nice White Crest initiation, aren’t you?” She let out a laugh at Morgan’s sudden uprightness. Someone else might have thought it immoral to not allow books by hunters, by Leah wasn’t willing to take any chances. If their only goal in life was to harm others, she couldn’t support that. At Morgan’s question, she pressed her lips together, suddenly nervous. “I, uh…” she swallowed, adjusting her position to look at Morgan. “I’m just very passionate about justice, and…” She knew it sounded disingenuous, but after a lifetime of being told that no one could know, sharing that she was a Phoenix felt like walking on thin ice over freezing cold water. Still, Morgan was putting so much trust in her… why couldn’t she give her that same courtesy? “I can relate”, she said after a long beat. “To feeling...hunted or sought after. We’re not so different.” She ended with a resolute nod, signifying that’s all she’d say on the matter. She desperately hoped Morgan would understand, and maybe one day Leah would let her know more. With that, she turned her attention to Morgan’s book, smiling softly at the question. “Well, that depends. Do you have a library card?”, she teased.

Morgan put her hand gently over Leah’s. There was a tension in her that Morgan was growing familiar with the more she saw of the supernatural world. It was a tension that went beyond common sense caution, that hinted at something as awful as it was personal. “I understand,” she said gently. “People can be very cruel sometimes. I’m sorry if you’ve had to suffer because of them. You don’t have to say, ever, if you don’t want to. But you can sometime. I’ll make sure it stays safe with me. I’ll fae promise-bind myself to it if it comes to it.” She gave Leah’s fingers a squeeze and turned back to the two zombie books, cradling them to chest. “Do I have a library card?” She smirked. “Do I have a library card? Please, Leah. If that’s all it takes, then, would you do the honors of helping me check out?”

As her eyes fell to Morgan’s hand over hers, Leah felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She was incredibly thankful that Morgan didn’t press any further, but even more so, her words filled Leah with a giant sense of relief. If she hadn’t been before, she was sure now that they would remain friends, even after Morgan found the answers she was looking for. “I’ve been lucky, honestly. But I think that’s partly because of the secrecy. I appreciate you being so understanding, though.” A laugh bubbled out of her, and she shook her head. “No, no… no fae promise binding. That can be too tricky.” She grinned, standing up with Morgan and grabbing the rest of the books. “The pleasure would be all mine”, she said in somewhat of a silly voice, walking back over to the desk. Once she took Morgan’s card and started entering all her information, she smiled again. “I’m really glad you’ve been able to find what you were looking for… I hope it’s as helpful as you need it to be”, she said. Leah slid the card back over to Morgan before continuing. “Keep them as long as you need, though. I’ve already waived the return date, so you won’t expect a call from us if they’re not back next month.”

Morgan beamed at Leah as she laughed. Always a good sign when she could share a sense of humor with someone. Morgan gave her a silly curtsey and followed her back to the lobby. She drummed her hands anxiously on the counter, eaget to get hold of them again, until Leah spoke and she found herself faltering, letting one of the books slip from her fingers. “You--you what? Leah that’s--” Morgan couldn’t fight the smile coming over her face. “That’s incredibly kind of you.” She reached over the counter to give her arm a good squeeze, pulling back sheepishly when she realized she might have been too hard. She mouthed an earnest ‘sorry’, took the books, and edged her way out of the library. “I hope this isn’t the only time we hang out in person, Leah,” she said. “I think I really could use a friend like you.”

#undead and well read #wr leah #wr chatzy #wr leah chatzy #wr #wickedswriting

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