#and pray to FUCK that it doesn’t trip my anxiety response. you know. the reason I was on neuvigil.

[godblooded]

sometimes i’m awake at an hour no one should be awake at but somehow it’s the only time i feel at peace.

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

i love my mom but man does it suck when she starts talking to me about god shit. because it always leads to her trying to guilt trip me into being more religious, saying things like, “it makes your dad and i very sad that you don’t believe in god” and “you’re depressed like this because you don’t talk to god.” when i tell her that choosing not to go to church anymore is one of the few choices in my life that i don’t regret, she gets upset with me. sorry, going to go on a little bit of a rant about family and religion here (specifically catholic/christian), but i’ll stick it below the cut.

usually this convo comes up when my cousin is mentioned, because my mom and my aunt will gush about how my cousin goes to church every sunday. this happened today actually. they ignore the fact that my cousin is still a horribly spoiled, selfish, honestly terrible person who yells at/doesn’t bother to help her physically disabled, sickly mom. my “wonderful church-going” cousin who left to go on a vacation to hawaii with my shit uncle, leaving my aunt alone at home even though she had covid AND had recently broken her back. which led to me having to take 2 weeks off of work at the last minute to go stay with my aunt and take care of her. during those 2 weeks, my “wonderful” 20-something-year-old cousin would repeatedly call my aunt to cry and complain that she wanted to come home because she “didn’t feel good.” and my aunt, laying in bed with her broken back and various other health issues, would baby her. oh, but my cousin goes to church, so that means she’s such a good person! i just don’t get it.

one of the reasons i refuse to go to church anymore is because of this backwards-ass hypocritical way of thinking so many people there seem to have. there’s just this feeling of insincerity to it all where people show up once a week to pat themselves on the back for being “good people”, then gather in the lobby after mass to gossip about the one trans woman who recently joined the congregation (unfortunately this isn’t an example i made up). or later go to the supermarket and yell at an underpaid employee. or go on a hawaii vacation and leave your mom home alone with a broken back.

i attended church from age 1 to age 18. as i grew older, church started to feel more and more suffocating. it got to the point where i was having anxiety attacks during mass. i tried distracting myself with drawing on the pamphlets given out at the front door. and when i was banned from that, i resorted to drawing on my skin, which didn’t last long. i ended up sneaking earbuds in and hiding the wires under my hair and clothes so i could drown out the sounds of church with music. i would just stare at the floor and try to just focusing on breathing, but it was just all too suffocating. i was told that the reason i was feeling and acting this way in church was because “the devil was talking to me.” “the devil” was trying to take me away from church and god, so i needed to stop feeling like this and just pray. that time i started crying in the pew because it all became too much and i felt incredibly overwhelmed? that’s the devil. pray about it. uh, actually, mr. jesus, it was because i have bad social and generalized fuckin anxiety. and also very likely autistic but i haven’t been officially diagnosed until this day. so yeah.

thinking back on it now, it was kind of fucked up. but i don’t blame my parents for how they acted. sometimes i feel a little angry and disappointed about how they handled things, but i don’t blame them. because as i watched kids be baptized, i would hear the priest tell the parents that it was their responsibility to raise their kid to be a good god-fearing person. that it was their responsibility to keep their kid from “straying from the light” and avoiding damnation. i know my parents were told the same thing when i was baptized. that it’ll be their fault if i “stray from the light” and end up getting sent to hell. i just see it as guilt-tripping bullshit. it was my choice to not go to church or follow the religion. i hate that this system has told my parents they should feel guilty about this and that it’s their fault that my soul won’t be saved, because they didn’t “guide me in the lord’s way” good enough. i hate that this system has made me feel like i’ve failed my parents. it’s bullshit.

i’m sure there are churches out there who contain genuinely good, accepting folk. and i’m sure there are people who find comfort in having a religion. i’m glad for them. i’ve just personally have some negative experiences with religion and I’ve learned that it’s just not for me.

i try my best to be a good and kind person. i try really, really hard. i just don’t go to church anymore. the fact that i don’t do this one thing shouldn’t devalue all my efforts.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

The Arrangement pt4

“I think we’re lost.”  “We’re not lost..” “If you give me ‘we’re misguided ‘ as a response one more time, I’m going to ‘misguide’ my foot up your arse.” You said. Aragorn pondered for a moment, debating on if he wanted to mess with you and tell you that again. “...Alright, fine, We’re lost.” He said. “Great. Give me a moment to get us back on track then.” you said, sitting down. 

Your ability to “hear and listen” to nature was stronger now. Arwen pointed that out to Aragorn the last time he found himself in Rivendell. When asked “What do you mean by stronger?” Arwen explained that when elves “listen” to nature, it is quiet and barely audible, usually requiring some form of silence to really hear. Most elves hear whispers. You, for some reason as of late, were hearing full voices. Something was making your connection to nature stronger, amplifying it. Aragorn had no idea what it was though, and that alone confused him. 

The answer was being kept from him. Two years had gone by now, since the two started traveling. One year had gone by since you came to the realization that you were in love with the man. You made a choice, one that would probably worry Aragorn if he knew. You gave up your immortality. Why this was amplifying your ability to speak to nature and listen, was odd. When elves die, they can be reborn, it’s what makes them immortal. However since you made the decision to sever such a connection, if you died, you would rejoin the earth, thus making your connection to the earth stronger. Elrond and Arwen both heavily discouraged you from your decision to do this but there was no stopping you. 

“We need to go east.” you said, getting up and walking. “Alright.” He nodded, waiting for you to take the lead. You guided him and you to the roads, finally making your way to Bree. You walked through the woods, closing your eyes and just listening. Aragorn noticed you seemed at peace, the sun shining on your beautiful skin. You were more quiet as of late. It was odd to have this sudden lack of silence during your travels. When it first started occurring, Aragorn thought he did something to make you upset. When he asked why you were so quiet, you simply told him “I have a lot on my mind. Listening to nature helps with the overthinking.” And just continued in silence. You seemed to get lost in thought more and more lately. 

It didn’t take long to make it to the Prancing Pony, a place where both of you had been so many times that the inn keeper kept a room with two beds on standby. You walked in, Barliman looking up. “Elfie!” He said excitedly. A nickname given to you by the inn keeper. At first it annoyed you, now it’s more of a endearing nickname. “Evening, Barli.” you said with a smile. Aragorn smiled at you. “The room’s already prepared.” He said to Aragorn. “Thank you.” He nodded. You handed Barliman two rabbits that you had caught and he nodded as a thank you, handing you shillings. You handed them to Aragorn seeing as you didn't find use of them, who took them with a small smile 

Aragorn and you walked into your room, you sitting by the window and fiddling with your necklace, the silver emblem having that glow. It was the only sign on you that you were royalty seeing as you never wore your circlet outside of Rivendell. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Aragorn asked, sitting across from you. You looked at him and then out the window. “Something is going on.” you said. “What do you mean?” He asked. “I keep hearing... Orcs. The trees keep talking of Orcs.” You said looking at him. “Orcs are never a good sign.” Aragorn said. “Something is happening. I don’t know what it is but there is something happening.” You said. Aragorn noticed your worried eyes. “Y/n... Do you wish to return home now? We could make it back in the morning if we leave now.” Aragorn asked. You shook your head. “No... You need your rest, I’m sure I’m just overthinking this.” you said softly. He noticed the hidden anxieties behind your eyes but nodded slowly. “Alright.” He said.

You weren’t over thinking this. It was around two in the morning when the trees kicked into full swing of trying to alert you. 

Attack. Brothers. Danger. Rivendell.

You shifted in your sleep, immediately waking Aragorn. You were so still when you slept, the room was usually silent. This was unusual for you to be moving, even slightly. He watched you, seeing your sleeping figure, still after a little bit. 

Brothers. Danger. Attack. Rivendell.

Again, those words, but a different order. What did it mean? Nature was trying to alert you, but you didn't know why. The message became clearer as you listened.

Your brothers are in danger. Attack near Rivendell. 

You bolted up with a gasp, Aragorn leaning up. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked. “The orcs are on a route to Rivendell-- my brothers are in danger.” you said, a panicked look falling over you. He got up, sliding his boots on. “We will make it.” He assured. You nodded, grabbing your pack. You ran down the stairs, Aragorn running with you as you sprinted to your horses. 

You were terrified as you rode, not saying a word outside of prayer, praying to any divine being that your family was safe. You rode through the woods, listening to the trees for context.

Sister.

Arwen was trying to communicate. “Nimeár- mime seler ni'm símen. “ You whispered, your voice traveling through the leaves as you rode. Aragorn rode next to you, watching your eyes. You would close them, clearly communing with nature as you rode. You rode quickly, trying to find one of your brothers on the outskirts of Rivendell. “ Which otorno? Where na- so?” You whispered. The direction of the breeze changed and you immediately got off your horse, sprinting in the direction. Aragorn followed, you finding no sign of your brothers. “Fucking hell-- where are they?” you said, panic rising in your voice. “HALT!” A voice yelled. “Who are-- Aragorn?” Elladan stopped. You let out a relieved sigh. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Orcs are coming, where is Elrohir?” You asked. “Here!” Elrohir said, making you turn. “We made it.” you said relieved. “We need to alert father of a potential attack.” Elrohir said. “I’m not letting you go on your own.” you said. “We can’t leave the outside unguarded, what do you suggest we do?” Elladan asked. “Aragorn stay with Elladan--" "Aragorn?" Elladan asked, recognition of the name and face suddenly hitting both of your brothers. "I’ll go with Elrohir.” You said, disregarding their amazement to the man. “Y/n--” You looked at Aragorn with a pleading look. “Stay safe.” He said. 

You ran through the woods, sprinting next to your brother. “Have a good time on your trip?” Elrohir asked as you ran. “I always do.” you muttered. You looked behind you and frowned. “They’re here!” you said. An arrow whizzed past your head. “They’re dividing and conquering.”  Elrohir noticed as small groups seemed to split up. You ran through the gates, booking it to the library. “We’re under attack.” You said. Elrond put his book down and Arwen looked up. “What?” He asked. 

He will fall.

Your head turned. “Get the soldiers. NOW!” you said before running. Elrohir rallied the soldiers as they all charged, you running as fast as you could back to Elladan and Aragorn. You fought your way through orcs to see Aragorn and Elladan fighting off the creatures. Aragorn looked over, you cutting someone down next to him. “The soldiers are doing their jobs, we should try to make it back to the city.” Elladan yelled as he cut down a orc. You nodded, trying to guide the group to safety.

An arrow whizzed through the air, hitting Aragorn in the chest, along with another hitting his leg. sound drowning out. “ARAGORN!” you screamed with a terrified look. You ran to him, blocking any attacks as he fell. You removed the arrows, looking him in the eyes. He seemed to struggle to even form words in the moment. "I-I--" he coughed. "I-I'm sorry." He muttered, his vision getting hazy. He seemed almost delirious in his words. “We need to get him home Y/n, there’s nothing we can do here!” Elladan said, you whistling loudly and Elrohir rode over. “What happened?” He asked, Elladan lifting Aragorn slightly. “It- it was-- it was an arrow, it hit him-- It’s bad Elrohir.” you said. Elrohir dismounted the horse. “Take him, we will fight here.” Elrohir said. “But--” “Go!” He said. You pulled Aragorn up, him leaning against you. 

His consciousness was fading too quickly, you riding at full speed. You rode through the  square, Aragorn muttering incoherently “Stay with me Aragorn...” you whispered as you reached the medical wing. Medics rushed and Arwen ran over. “What happened?” she asked. You seemed to be in a state of shock, shaking as the medics took him, running with him on a transportable cot. She frowned, looking at the blood on your cloak and then watching medics run all over the place. “The-the men need me-- I-I should--” “Y/n, they will be fine without you.” She said softly, putting a soothing hand on your shoulder. “His face... I can’t stop thinking of his face when he was shot.” you whispered. “Y/n...” “He looked like he had seen death.” you said softly. Arwen sat you down on a bench, kneeling in front of you. “I can’t lose him Arwen-- not when he doesn’t know..” You whimpered. “Know what dear?” she asked. “That I...” you put your face in your hands and Arwen wrapped her arms around you. "What-what I've done... What I've sacrificed..." You muttered in your hands, tears falling. "What I feel." You whimpered. Arwen pulled you to her, resting her head on yours as you sobbed.

Hours went by as the soldiers returned. There was a clear victor as your brothers both found you asleep on the bench, your cloak as a blanket with your head resting on Arwen’s lap. “How is he?” Elladan asked. “It doesn’t look good.” She whispered. “He’s been unconscious for a while, they’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.” She explained. Elrohir caressed your head, closing his eyes. “She will kill herself thinking about this...” He muttered. Arwen knew that those words could be more literal now that you gave up your immortality. She and Elrond were the only ones who knew. You were exhausted when you came with Aragorn which was already a horrible sign. Elves do not feel exhaustion. If we’re being honest, they don’t need sleep and usually use it as a tool for foresight. It was most likely that your brothers assumed you were seeking answers through sleep. Arwen knew better though. You were already hurting from a broken heart.

“How are the soldiers?” Elrond asked, walking over. “They’re fine. A few injured, none dead thanks to her warning...” Elrohir assured. “And Aragorn?” He asked Arwen. She looked at you and then Elrond. “It... Does not look good.” she said. “How long has she been like this?” Elrond asked. “Two hours.” she admitted. Elrond hated seeing you in this pain, seeing you heartbroken. “...Fenrald!” He called. An elven man ran over. “Yes sire?” He asked. “Send for Legolas.” Elrond said. The man nodded, running off. “Why Legolas?” Elladan asked. “She needs her friend.” Elrond said softly, looking at your tear stained sleeping face.

More hours passed, Legolas arriving. He found you still asleep on the bench. Arwen had left you there, knowing damn well you wouldn’t move from the closest available location to Aragorn. Legolas kneeled, tapping you gently. Your eyes slowly opened and you leaned up. “Legolas?” You asked. “Your father said you needed me.” He said. You hugged his neck and something just... It broke you. Legolas held you close, rubbing your back in a soothing manner. “I-I failed him Legolas-- If he dies I--” “Y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Legolas said. “I-If I hadn’t been so persistent to-to come back, he would be fine” You whimpered. “and how many soldiers would’ve died had you not come back to warn them?” He asked. You nodded sadly, understanding he was right. “I still failed him.” you said. “No, you didn’t--” “My one job when I am with him is to keep him safe, I failed him.” You said. Legolas knew there was no fighting you on this.

“Have you eaten?” He asked. You shook your head. “Drank anything?” He asked. Again, you shook your head. “How much of a struggle are you going to put up if I move you?” Legolas asked. “A very large one.” you replied, wiping your eyes. Legolas sighed but nodded. “I’ll get us some food.” He said, walking away. You got up, noticing the open door. You walked through, seeing him. He was unconscious, his face so peaceful, his breaths barely audible. You pulled up a chair next to his bed, holding his hand. It was calloused, very rough but you didn’t mind. In fact you found comfort with it. 

“ Please Aragorn. Termáre- as me, termáre- coile. (Please Aragorn... Stay with me, stay alive)” You whispered. “ Ni pole-'t lose tye. Vamme sí.(I cannot lost you. Not now.)” You sobbed. 

Please. Stay with me.

Please.

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

I’ll Be There For You {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: This story has potential triggers which I have in the tags as “tw __” and discusses heavier subjects (miscarriage, abortion) which is why I’m forgoing my usual like/reblog note. Certain aspects were taken from true events. 

"This is not something I would have expected from you," Aizawa commented evenly. "Or Bakugo, for that matter."

Her head hung in avoidance of the sharp gaze of her teacher. He wasn't harsh, but his words veiled what was surely his true opinion of the situation. She wouldn’t be able to handle seeing disappointment in his eyes.

"I know, sir," she said quietly, her focus on keeping her voice steady. "But as unexpected as it is, I... I’ll face whatever the result may be. "

Aizawa regarded the student in front of him, wondering how she truly felt about what was happening. She was intelligent enough to know the responsible answer but he wanted to know what she was thinking, his interest falling more on her stance towards the other student involved.

"I approve of your request to leave school grounds under the condition that you are accompanied by a UA staff member."

She bowed at the waist. "Thank you, Mr. Aizawa."

"What staff member do you feel comfortable going with you?" he asked tiredly. This wasn't something he expected to deal with today. "For a potentially distressing situation, we may suggest Hound Dog for his guidance services however I don't believe that’s the best choice in this case. If you would like Midnight or Recovery Girl, I can make the arrangements."

"If Recovery Girl is able to, I would appreciate her company."

Nodding, Aizawa watched her for an additional moment before curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "May I ask why you chose to make this request alone? Surely Bakugo would want to be present for—”

"Sensei," she breathed out, interrupting him, "I want so desperately for Katsuki to be with me for this, but... I believe that there won't be anything for him to be present for. I’ve never heard it before."

He cocked his head to the side. "You've used your quirk on Bakugo?"

"I have," she admitted. "I've heard five years into his future about our relationship but, well, I’ve never heard this. I've heard of a small apartment with blue-grey sheets on a queen size bed and an argument over a rice cooker. I've... I've heard so much. But not this."

"What you must understand is that life can and will deal you unexpected blows," Aizawa told her. "There will be gains and losses. Life and death can be dealt without our permission, and the future can always change. If there’s nothing to report, so be it. But if there is, make the most of it. Sometimes that's all you can do."

His words applied to her situation, but his eyes didn't meet hers; they focused out the window to her left where the setting sun had begun to paint fluffy clouds in brilliant orange and pink.

Three days later, her off-campus trip long over, she laid on her bed in the dorms with Mr. Aizawa’s parting words from their meeting swirling through her thoughts just as they had been since they were spoken. She wondered where his mind went as he gazed at the clouds, wondered what his life’s unexpected twists and turns were for him to speak so sagely.

A chirp from her phone drew her from her thoughts and she rolled to her side to check the incoming message of, “coming back around 6. Tempura for dinner after I shower?”

“sure. not feeling super social so can we eat in my room?” she replied.

“yeah, you good?”

She bit her lip, heart fluttering at Katsuki’s concern but stomach flipping at how to answer. Deciding on the simplest version of the truth, she sent back, “been a long week and I miss you”

“few more hours and you get me for the weekend”

Warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of having him back by her side for two whole days, craving the closeness that would hopefully ease her mind once he was there. Still, nerves twisted with anxiety at the talk they needed to have and she could only pray that she could keep her composure as she said what needed to be said.

It was difficult waiting when the hours ticked by so slowly. Distracting herself with schoolwork at least allowed her to finish her assignments to ensure her weekend was completely free, but with more time to kill she resorted to reading and rereading the pamphlets she had been given earlier in the week, ones she’d been too overwhelmed to try looking through until then. Part of her mind was eased as she read and her decision was seeming less intimidating the more information she consumed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity later, she had a text saying that her boyfriend was back and starting their dinner, he’d be up within half an hour or so. Butterflies filled her as she texted back an affirmative and she took a deep breath. The conversation they were going to have wouldn’t be easy by any means but she was ready. She had to be.

Repeating in her head what she wanted to say she waited for the knock on her door, and when it came she laid her palms flat on her small kotatsu in an attempt to ground herself as it opened to her boyfriend with two dishes in hand.

“You better never question my feelings for you,” he said with a grimace. “I just had to fight off both Uraraka and Kirishima from stealing your damn food.”

“Who said chivalry is dead?”

He snorted, setting the food down on the wooden surface of the kotatsu and sliding hers in front of her as he sat down to eat. Between mouthfuls he recounted his patrol with a sidekick of Endeavor’s through downtown and how they had taken down a few low-level criminals with shitty quirks, watching as she nodded and pushed her food around with her chopsticks. She’d eaten half but slowly, absentmindedly; that wasn’t normal by any means.

“Something’s weird with you,” he stated, crimson eyes studying her intently. “You get a shitty night’s sleep?”

“I’m not sleeping that great but that’s just, you know, stress. Are you too tired to talk for a while?”

Inwardly she cringed at her lack of tact when he narrowed his eyes at the abrupt subject change. “The discussion better be about what’s wrong with you.”

“Uhm, it… it is. I went to a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday because I’ve been feeling sort of… off. I was examined and—and I found out that… that I’m pregnant, Katsuki.”

His eyes widened before dropping into a squint as his brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly. He stayed quiet, seemingly absorbing the information. The lack of an actual response might have been scarier than any other one she had conjured in her mind from the anxiety about this moment. That anxiety was back tenfold and getting more stifling by the silent second.

“I’m sorry I waited to tell you but I wanted you to have time to think about everything without having to go on patrol with this fresh in your mind. I know you need to keep your focus but I want you to know that the appointment I have scheduled this coming Wed—"

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or ask me to go with you?”

“I didn’t think this would be the outcome,” she admitted shakily, every rehearsed word she had leaving her mind completely. “I’ve never heard it any time I’ve listen to your future; where our relationship is concerned it’s always just been us for as far as I can hear. Honestly… I just… I expected a false alarm.”

“But it wasn’t,” he snapped. “It wasn’t a false alarm. You’ve got my kid… you’ve got my baby growing inside you and we’re eighteen fucking years old trying to become pro heroes! How the hell are we going to make this work? We need to figure so much shit out—”

“I’m not having this baby,” she said quietly, silencing him momentarily.

“Not hav—what the fuck are you talking about? You want to…to get rid of them? That’s our kid! Just because you never heard about them when you listened to my future however long ago doesn’t mean it hasn’t changed to fit them! Our decisions change and that means our futures can too. Why would—just—come here! Listen to my future again!” he insisted, moving closer so his chest was easily accessible to her. The desperation in his voice broke her heart, but she knew that listening to his heartbeat would bring back to her the murmur of what would be his last words if they went down the path he was suggesting.

She shook her head sadly. “Katsuki, the future can be changed, yes, but it’s because I want to change the future that I can’t have this baby.”

He blanched. “Are you saying you don’t want me in your life?”

“No!” she nearly shouted. “I want you in my life and that’s the entire reason I can’t do this!”

“You’re not making any damn sense!” he screamed, his hands flying up to tug at his hair in frustration. “Say what the hell you mean, this isn’t the time to dance around your words! We have to fuckin’ talk about this!”

She took a shuddering breath, eyes closed. “At the appointment, I learned that I’m roughly eight weeks. They let me hear the heartbeat and because I knew your future never included us with a baby, I activated my quirk when I heard it and focused on your role in their life. The apprehension about what we would do to make this work was there just like it is now, but then I heard the excitement from you as you got used to the idea and kept wondering who they would look more like. Then—then there was grief. You were screaming and saying it couldn’t be right, they had to work harder to find a heartbeat.”

He grimaced. “You’re gonna lose them.”

Nodding, she continued, “I’ve never really had much experience with my quirk listening past the… death of the person whose heartbeat I hear, but this was different. They were gone but the effect they had on you, it consumed you completely. You kept saying that you couldn’t focus on anything but what we’d lost and it threw you off horribly at the worst possible time. During your patrol, a villain—you couldn’t think and—and—"

“I… died?”

She closed her eyes tightly and it was enough of an answer.

The things her quirk allowed her to hear were based on the decisions and intent of those involved, and if her decision upon finding out she was pregnant was to keep the baby then what she had told him made sense. Still, he had to ask, had to make sure.

“And no matter what we do… there isn’t—we can’t…?” he cut himself off, frustrated. “There is no outcome where we have this kid, is there?”

She wished she could say yes, would’ve given anything to be able to. But every other option they had she’d explored and it made no difference.

“No, there isn’t. I just—I want you to be okay, and for us to be okay, and to be able to stay toge—”

“Hey,” he said, cutting off her rambling as her eyes turned glassy, “we’re gonna be okay. I’m here for you now and I’ll be there for you for the rest of our shitty lives.”

“But I’m sorry Katsuki, I know this isn’t something you expected to deal with right off of patrol and this is all so much to just be throwing at you and I’m so sorry—”

He laid a hand on her shoulder and the other tilted her chin up to look at him. “Listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for, okay? We… we did this together and we’re gonna get through it together. I love you and I ain’t going anywhere, you got that? You can listen to my future all you want and that’s guaranteed to be my answer every fuckin’ time.”

She brought a hand up to cover her mouth as a choked sob left her, shoulders shaking as he brought her to his chest and hugged her close. He cradled her head in one hand and hoped she didn’t feel the tremble as he tried to calm his own breathing while she cried against him. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind and he tried desperately to grasp even just one.

And the one he settled on was the fact that right at that moment he was holding his entire future. She had within her the power to create a future he had only dreamed of in secret. He could only pray to whoever was listening that if they couldn’t have it now, they could someday.

“This Wednesday is when I go back to the clinic,” she said quietly. “Aizawa arranged for Recovery Girl to go with me again but I—I wish you were coming too.”

“Of course I’m coming with you.”

She looked up at him over tearstained cheeks. “Your work study—”

“Fuck ‘em, you’re more important. I’ll figure out—"

“Hey, don’t just skip out on patrol, okay?” she reasoned. “Talk to Aizawa, he might be able to do something. Talk to him first.”

He stared at her for a long moment before his eyes narrowed in determination. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly, pulling back to press a second lingering kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Impatient knocks echoed through the small teacher’s apartment of the 3-A dormitory, Aizawa’s already tired spirit deflating even more when he realized he would need to speak to another person.

Crossing the small living area, he opened the door to find Bakugo standing before him with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

“Something the matter, Bakugo?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The blonde shuffled his feet—hesitantly?—before meeting his eye. “Can we talk about this privately?”

Aizawa stepped aside to allow him into the apartment.

He watched him take in the minimalist setup, even going so far as to say that he saw a ghost of a smile cross his features. The sight was enough for his curiosity to be piqued—first asking for a private conversation and now a smile?

“Did the old lady tell you what’s going to happen?”

The older man pushed away his thoughts at the question, cocking his head. “I would assume you’re referring to Recovery Girl and the situation with your fellow student.”

Bakugo scoffed. “Drop the ‘fellow student’ bullshit, you know that we’ve been dating since first year. She’s my damn girlfriend, you can say it.”

“So this is about her.”

“Of course it’s about her!” Bakugo snapped, hands free of his pockets and crackling. “Of course it’s about the girl who’s pregnant with my kid! Everything I fuckin’ do is about her! I’m in love with her!”

Aizawa stared at him.

“It’s about the girl I’m hopelessly in love with who’s way too goddamn good to be with me but sticks around anyway! It’s about the girl who believes I can become a hero because of what’s in my heart and not just because of the explosions I can make with my hands! It’s—it’s—it’s…” He choked out a shuddering breath, crackling palms now just smoking, before continuing softly, “it’s about the girl who wants a future and a family with me and is fighting like hell to keep us both on track to be heroes and still get that family someday.”

Passionate was a good word to describe Katsuki Bakugo. He’d thought so during the entrance exam and from the first moment he had officially met the boy. Rough around just about every single edge, but passionate nonetheless. He had always been passionate to become a hero of course, but now Aizawa saw that the passion extended so much farther past his career choice.

“She does so fuckin’ much for me,” Bakugo said, his voice thick from beneath spiked bangs obscuring his face. “For once, I want to be able to do something for her. That’s why I’m here.”

The blonde lifted his head and leveled his teacher with a determined gaze, Aizawa choosing to ignore the glint of tears he saw gathered on his lash line.

“I came to get permission to go with her and the old lady, work study be damned. Regardless of what’s going to happen I’m still their dad and I need to be there for their mom.”

He had never been more moved by the student in front of him than he was in that moment, though he declined to show it outwardly. Pride was swelling in his chest and he hoped that Bakugo would one day truly understand how much maturity he had gained in his years at UA.

"I approve of your request to leave school grounds under the supervision of Recovery Girl. I expect you to behave appropriately. Both of you will be excused from classes Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Your work study will be notified and grant you a leave of absence for the entirety of the next week.”

Bakugo blinked. “What are you telling them to give me a leave?”

“It would be illogical to tell the full truth due to the oftentimes conservative mindset of many in the world of heroes, which could unjustly damage both of your reputations. So, they will be informed that as your teacher and work study sponsor I have requested you be granted leave for an important familial issue. It’s not a lie.”

“And the class?”

“I can tell them the same thing,” he offered. “As I said, it’s not a lie. If you want to elaborate further that’s your choice as well as hers, but I would be mindful for the same reasons.”

“You gonna keep class rep off our asses too? Because I’m not leaving her alone in her dorm after everything’s said and done. She’s gonna need me.”

“The fact that you need her too means that yes, I will keep Iida under control.”

Bakugo’s jaw set as his lips twisted into a grimace. “I have to be strong for her, not the other way around.”

“You need to be strong for each other,” Aizawa corrected. “Grief is an ugly thing to face alone and if you don’t have to, you shouldn’t. You’re each losing something, someone, important to the both of you and to shoulder grief or guilt or anything of the sort on your own may be a natural reaction to heroes like us, but it’s a self-destructive one. I would know.”

It felt like ages had passed since they’d woken up and joined Recovery Girl as she escorted them off campus and to the small clinic in town. She’d been very pleasantly surprised to see the blonde by her side, saying as much when the two laced their fingers together. The older woman then took the travel time to explain exactly what would happen and how long it would take, more for Katsuki’s benefit than hers since it had been explained at her prior appointment.

“He’ll be coming back with me,” she’d said softly. “I want him there.”

“That won’t be a problem, dear,” Recovery Girl told her, and when they arrived it hadn’t been.

It was quick, quicker than either of them really expected. She’d gone back first and then Katsuki was allowed to come sit by her side after a short wait, and when the anesthesia had her sedated enough it began. Roughly ten minutes of holding her hand later, they were sitting in a recovery room for another two hours before going back to the dorms.

Recovery Girl made sure she was comfortably set up in Katsuki’s room with everything she would need for the next few days before beckoning him out to the hallway with her. When the door was closed behind them, she spoke in a quiet voice.

“You’ve been very good for her through this but it doesn’t end once the drowsiness wears off. I don’t mean just getting pain relief or food or keeping her comfortable. Support her just as much as you have leading up to the procedure now that it’s over.”

“What makes you think I’d—”

His angry words had been cut off by a hit to his shin with her cane. “I’m not saying you won’t, you stubborn child, I just want you to understand that she still needs you. You need to let yourself need her too so you can both work through this together. Now, if either of you need me you know where to find me.”

Once the old woman was gone he’d turned back and entered his room, his girlfriend looking at him sleepily. She looked small, soft, from where she was tucked in his bed.

“C’mere,” she’d whispered, hand reaching out to him. He went to her, sliding under the blanket and gently pulling her close.

They laid together throughout the day, sometimes sleeping and sometimes just talking lowly between themselves. He would bring her pain pills every few hours and help her up when she needed even as she fussed that it wasn’t necessary. He let her rest her head on his chest, knowing she had activated her quirk when a relieved sigh passed her lips with a barely whispered “you’re alive.”

He had a lot of time to think throughout the day, his thoughts wandering but always trailing back to what they had been forced by fate to give up. It was while she laid asleep beside him sometime in the early afternoon that the heaviness in his chest became almost unbearable. It hurt. It pierced his skin and cracked through his ribs to squeeze his heart tightly, the pressure unrelenting as the sun shone through the balcony curtains.

He hated it. He hated that he had lost someone he never knew but loved nonetheless. It was hard to accept and he knew it would take time—even if he wasn’t a patient guy he never backed down from something difficult. But it hurt.

So maybe that’s why when his eyes started to burn and his vision blurred he curled himself around her sleeping form, tucking her head under his chin as he closed his eyes tightly. She was the only other person who knew exactly how it felt, and he now understood what Aizawa and Recovery Girl had advised about his grief. It wasn’t easy to share the weight of his emotions with someone else but if it was her, he could do it. He would do it.

But not today—today was for her recovery. When the drowsiness was fully gone and they’d had a full night’s sleep beside one another he would open up. If the sting of tears returned then, he would let them fall.

With the late afternoon sun painting his dorm room a warm orange, they laid together on his bed in silence. They could hear their classmates in their own rooms and the occasional ding of the elevator as it stopped on the floor. Some of them came to his door to see if he was there, his friends curious as to what could possibly make him skip class if he was off of work study duty. Not once did they give any indication that they were in the room though, unwilling to invite anyone into their space for the time being.

After hours of stillness and peace, Katsuki turned to meet her eye when she continually shifted beside him.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured, fingers absently running over her shoulder.

She sighed. “During that first appointment, they offered to do a blood test to determine risk factors for certain genetic conditions. Recovery Girl encouraged me to get it even though I had already decided what was going to happen. When they gave me my discharge papers they told me the results were there too.”

“You’re worried that’ll say something about why they wouldn’t have…?”

“No,” she said, voice wavering as her bottom lip began to tremble. “That blood test could also determine gender.”

He felt his chest constrict even more at her words and he watched as a tear rolled down her cheek to land on his pillowcase.

“It hurts enough to know that we don’t get to meet them,” she whispered. “I don’t know if it will hurt us more to know if we lost a son or a daughter.”

It made sense in a way. Gender never particularly mattered to him so all this time he had been picturing her with a baby bump and on one or two rare occasions, just a sleeping baby swaddled in a blanket with no real defining features had entered his thoughts. Learning something about the child they would never meet, though, would paint pictures of a future impossible to live.

First a little boy who would probably end up looking like he did as a toddler, big red eyes and spiky hair, though probably colored like hers or maybe even just a different blonde than his own. Little skull shirts like the ones he had worn at that age were probably still easy enough to come by and if not, his parents rarely ever got rid of clothes due to the cyclical nature of fashion. As far as a quirk, it could have gone either way—explosions or hearing the future were both great quirks to have but he couldn’t help but picture a little boy discovering he could blow up his toys.

As for a little girl, he could only picture ash blonde hair and darker red eyes gazing up at him with a pouty look. Her hair wouldn’t be as spiky, it would lie more like her mother’s, bouncing as she ran about. Dresses could probably have skull prints he decided, and even if they didn’t he was sure his parents could make a few. If his little girl didn’t like dresses the skull shirts could be put on her too. And her quirk he had to picture as a combination—he thought that pressing her palms onto someone’s bare skin would allow her some kind of foresight into their future.

Both images left him hurt, and he could only think that his girlfriend had probably made her own determinations about the child now too. Maybe part of what hurt was the unknown, he thought. He didn’t know if it would truly make any difference to know but he had made up his mind.

“Maybe it’ll hurt,” he agreed, “but maybe it’s something we need to do. I think we should look.”

She hesitated, worrying her lip between her teeth, before nodding and starting to sit up. He quickly laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“I’ve got it.”

He easily rolled off the bed and crossed to his desk where the paperwork sat. Rifling through the headers he found the blood test and grabbed both sheets before making his way back to her.

He tilted them towards her. “Do you want to look?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I want you to look and tell me.”

With a deep breath he glanced down at the paperwork and began scanning through the results and test descriptions. He only vaguely registered what he was reading until his eyes landed on one word that drew a thousand new pictures in his mind.

Male.

A/N: I debated posting this for a while before deciding that its important to explore these subjects and emotions. I truly hope I’ve done them justice. 

[spookybreadstick]

I'm sorry, Breadstick. I will be praying for your grandmother, for sure the doctors will be taking good care of her. Family fights are inevitable but everything will get better, at that moment they are the closest people physically to you so enjoy, stay close and take care of each other. Family is one that is united even in the most difficult moments.

about your important decisions, I know you made the best possible choice, sometimes there are decisions that destroy the heart but fix our lives, so always try to look on the positive side of things

I'm going to take my afternoon off to study some school subjects that need my attention too. I went through the height of humiliation last week, I cried while studying because I couldn't understand the subject that the teacher taught in class. When I finished I just put my things away and went to take a nap

I had a lot to do at the restaurant that I work at last weekend. I take the orders for delivery (I don't think I've ever taken so many orders). And when the shift ended I went to help organize the invetory

my face was bruised after the shift, I have to wear two masks together (a simpler hospital one under and a thick fabric one over it) and a face shield

my classmates made fun of me at school this morning because i have a huge red mark on my forehead and my hair is still not big enough to cover it (at least the mask covers the bruise on my nose)

I have plans for tomorrow, I'll take my little sister to see the sunset in a clearing nearby, I'll take the opportunity and draw a little bit

I think I talk too much, sorry.

I'm sending you kisses and hugs! 💖💕💓💜🧡💚💖❤️💜💛🖤❤️

good luck with your schoolwork! I'm sure you'll be able to catch up. Don't demand too much of yourself

ily 💖💕💞💝💖💞

-dancing parrot 🐦🎶

Aw, thank you so much dancing parrot!! This means a lot to me <3

1)  It is extremely kind of you to pray for my grandmother, so thank you. I will give an update under the cut on her health, so anyone who doesn’t want to hear about it can skip that. 

2) Yes, my family and I have all made up by now! It’s just hard when you’re living in the same tiny house and there’s nowhere to go. 

3) The more I think about it, the more sure I get that I did make the right choice. Whatever happens next is out of my control, but I did my best to make the best decision possible and I know that I’ve done what I can on my end. 

4) Oh God, raise your hand if you’ve ever cried in school✋✋✋✋✋

I cried once in fourth grade because I didn’t understand and once in seventh grade. I also cried once in third grade, like full on sobbed, because my mom was sick and the doctors didn’t know why (it was like a really bad flu, except it wasn’t the flu and it lasted a while, and to this day the doctors aren’t sure what the hell that was but it certainly scared little-me). I’ve also very nearly cried in class, like I had to leave the room, for math-related issues a couple of times in the past. And I’ve cried not in class, but in the school building, for anxiety reasons, many times. I try my best not to do in front of people, but sometimes people know that I’m tearing up and need to leave because I’m about to have a panic attack. Shit happens. I know it’s really embarrassing, but crying is a natural human reaction and you know, like I said, shit happens. Crying it out isn’t the worst thing in the world when you think about it. And sometimes you just gotta stop and take a nap after. Rest and refresh. 

5) I have a friend who used to work at a pizza place as the person who handled the delivery and to-go stuff, and she quit after a week, so props to you! She told me that she’s never been so stressed and also her manager really sucked and didn’t teach her how to do the job properly so she had to figure things out mostly on her own. The final straw for her was when the manager wanted her to train the new hire after she hadn’t even been here for a week yet. She was way too stressed so that just sent her over the edge and she quit. I feel for those who work in the fast-food or restaurant industries. I could never do that. When I had my pre-pandemic job at the grocery store, I got stressed out when it got busy, but grocery store busy is nothing compared to fast-food or restaurant busy. 

6) If people were honestly making fun of you, then fuck them honestly. You’re working hard and they probably don’t even know the definition of hard work. A bruised face from the masks just means you were being responsible and caring for the safety of others while you did your job. Nothing wrong with that at all. 

7) I hope you and your little sister had fun!! Sounds like a great little trip for the two of you!! 

8) Sending you kisses and hugs back!! And don’t worry, you don’t talk too much :) 

- breadstick 🥖

~~~~ Update On My Grandmother’s Health Under the Cut ~~~~

 Unfortunately, the doctors gave a diagnosis: Stage 3 Lung Cancer.

 It doesn’t come as a huge shock, she’s been a HEAVY smoker for decades, but it’s still somehow surprising too :( Like even though we all kind of knew at the back of our minds, it’s still unexpected in a way. She will be undergoing treatment, and that will give us hopefully a few more years. But it could potentially be a few months, depending on how her body reacts to it, which is a scary thought. The doctors are learning towards a positive outlook with a couple more years though, so that’s good. It’s just sad to know that like, this is what will kill her. There is no cure, and the doctors are certain that one day the cancer will kill her, whether it’s in a few months or a few years. It’s weird, because the last time I saw her she was fine. She’s been so careful about pandemic, and really never leaves the house, so we got to see her every couple of weeks since we’re both not going anywhere and being safe. And our last little visit, she was totally fine. It feels sudden and not real, but I know the reality will set in soon. I think it’s like that for my dad, too. We’ve never been super close to my grandmother, not like some people have deep bonds with their grandparents, but we’ve been close enough and she’s our family, you know? So it’s just sad. Trying to be hopeful about it, but there’s also just the facts that we need to face, too 💔

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #257

I hope y’all are behaving and staying inside. This’ll blow over, folks.

Have you ever met a guy for coffee? No. How often do you get called on your home phone? We don't have a landline. Do you feed your leftovers to your dogs? We don't have a dog anymore. When we had them, we very rarely did. Mom did so more than me, and I wouldn't give them anything if they were begging. Except chicken nuggets with Teddy. There was no denying him chicken nuggets. Do you like salt on your popcorn? Yes. What tricks does your pet do? Well one is a snake and my cat doesn't know any because since when do cats obey you lmao. Do you believe in psychics? No. When you hear the name “Ginger” what do you think of? Jason's old fatass dog. What is the worst damage that your car has seen? N/A Who is your least favourite character on your favourite television show? In Meerkat Manor, fuck that, I loved them all, lmao. Well, I remember I was bitter towards Rita/Amira for killing Rocket Dog's pups, but even then I knew that was meerkat nature to ensure the survival of their own offspring. That '70s Show, definitely no one. I adore all the characters. For Fullmetal Alchemist, honestly, there are SO many that I don't remember probably even half of them. BUT, from what I do remember, Nina's dad whose name evades me. You watch it and you know why alkdsjf;kaldjw. Have you gotten sick this year? No. When was the last time you got a new ringtone? Eons ago. Where do you put your keys when you get home? They're always in my purse. What’s your phone background picture? Lock screen is a cute as fuck picture of Mark, home screen is two meerkats. If you could move to any country, what would it be? Realistically, Canada. Have you ever seen a snake in the wild? Plenty of times. Do you have any posters, paintings or other artwork on your walls? A LOT. My walls are cramped; it makes it feel homey to me. Would you ever take a trip to space if given the chance? Nah, too long of a journey. How do you cope with anxiety? Watch YouTube more attentively, listen to music, nap, take one of my anxiety meds. Are you expecting any phone calls or emails? No. Who makes you laugh the most? In my "real life," my dad. Out of anyone that includes those I don't actually know, probably Shane Dawson. He's a Mood, constantly. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? Oh, plenty. I have like the most common white girl middle name out there. What did you have done the last time you saw a dentist? I had a cavity filled. What does a successful relationship look like to you? Both ends are happy, communication is ideal and easy for the pair, both feel loved and accepted fully, and each has healthy freedom. What do you like to put on your baked potato? The ordinary butter, cheese, and bacon bits. What field of science interests you the most? Genetics. What’s the closest shop or restaurant to your house? A Zaxby's and McDonald's are tied, being right across the street from each other. What was the most memorable birthday you’ve had? My 16th is the one I remember best, but not in a good way. What is the best house you’ve ever lived in? Our last house, aesthetically. Right in the woods and relatively pretty, yet simple. Do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? Yeah. Have you ever seen someone quit their job in a dramatic way? No. Do you know why your parents named you what they did? No. I think Mom just liked the name, though. What do you like to dip your fries in? Ketchup, mostly. Is your house clean or messy right now? It's actually really clean right now. We've had a lot of help around the house recently thanks to family and friends with Mom's cancer, and then I've been much neater and attentive to cleanliness than usual because 1.) it's my responsibility to ensure it is for Mom's health and 2.) I dropped out of school so literally have zero excuses to not be doing at least one productive thing. What was the last email you received? That wasn't trash, it was from my old major's dean in school. She was trying to comfort me and give me options on what to do versus leave, but yeah. I'll 100% give it to the school that they deeply and sincerely care for their students, I just needed to go. Do you know someone who speaks without a filter? lmao me. Well, depends, I guess, actually. I know when to keep my mouth shut in some situations. What’s your favourite kind of museum? Science museums. Especially those with d i n o z. Do you believe in alternate universes? I'm open to it, especially with the mandela effect theories, but I don't think so. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. What games do you play on your smart phone? Pokemon GO (if I'm in an area w/ Stops to get balls) and Dragons of Atlantis. What kinds of decorations do you put up at Halloween? We don't really decorate anymore for Halloween, or holidays in general. How many tabs do you have open right now? Two. What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? Try more sites to hopefully get a poem I wrote published, but that crippling fear of rejection tho. :^) What’s the first thing you check on your phone at the start of the day? The time. Have you ever flown a kite? Yeah, I loved that as a kid. I’m guessing you’ve probably been asked this before, but which do you prefer - Coca Cola, or Pepsi? Coke. Pepsi is gross. Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? No. Did you go to your school dances? Did you dance with anyone? Just two proms. We didn't dance tho because the music was shit. What’s your relationship with the last person you talked to on the phone? What was your conversation about? Like, talk-talked, no texting? Uhhh who was that. OH YEAH, my sister. My mom didn't answer her phone so she just called me to make sure she was okay. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?
 No, I never do. It just adds oil to your hair, and mine is naturally oily enough. Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. I have a lot, none positive. If the last girl you texted told you that she was pregnant, how would you respond? Ask her who the fuck I need to kill. How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well considering 1.) she's past menopause and 2.) she has serious ovarian and Fallopian cancer, I'd say that's pretty impossible. Who do you have the most text messages from? Sara. The last time you skipped school, what was the reason?
 Uhhh if you mean "skip" as in I had seriously no realistic reason not to go, I think I was just really tired. I tried not to skip unless I was having serious mental health issues. When did you last see or speak to someone you dislike? Why do you dislike this person? I actually don't know who that would be. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I rarely sing. I just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yes. Does more than one person like you? *shrugs* Has your partner ever accused you of cheating, when you actually didn’t? No. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Jason. Of course I do sometimes. Other times I know it's probably for the better we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Do you like your middle name?
 I mean it's pretty, but boy do I wish it was more original. If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? I doubt it will ever be long again. Would you consider your parents to be strict? Dad never was at all; Mom sorta was when I was little. Do you have a mirror in your room? On the back of my door. Have you ever worked in food service? No, thank God. Do you often stay in your pajamas all day? I almost always do, unless I have to go out somewhere. I pretty much never leave my house ever, forget just quarantine, so like... why make more laundry. What are three YouTube videos you would like to film soon? N/A Do you ever listen to country music? No. What is your most severe allergy? Pollen. What’s the largest library fine you’ve ever had? Oh wow, no clue. I haven't been the library in millennia. Have you ever lost a library card? *shrugs* Name three literary characters you feel resemble you the most. UH yikes. This requires too much thought for me rn. Name three cartoon characters that resemble you, and say why. Ummmm I still don't know. Do you have a good doctor? I haven't seen her enough times yet to honestly say. Mom knows and likes her well, though. She's fine so far. Do you wear a watch every day? If so, what color is your watch? No, I never do. Does your phone alarm ever scare you? No, it's very peaceful. Which department store do you shop at the most? Wal-Mart. How old were you when you got your driver’s license? I'm 24 and am yet to have it. Do you have regrets? A good handful or two. Do you ever curl your hair? It's too short to do so. Do you know anyone who has coronavirus? No, and I pray I never do for my mom's sake. Out of all the big cities you’ve visited, which has/have been your favorite? Chicago is the only big city I've ever been it. Was pretty damn dope, though. Do you like dreamcatchers? I mean, they're cool. I don't believe in them being magical, though. Have you ever made a dreamcatcher, and if not, would you like to learn? No and no. Who was your high school’s biggest bully? I don't remember. What color was your graduation cap and gown? Red. Did you keep your graduation cap? I think I did. Did you decorate your graduation cap? Nope. What is your favorite part of nature? The animals within it. Do you use Photoshop? Yes. Favorite photo editing app on your phone? I don't have an editing app. Did you love or hate college? Well, considering I dropped out three times, guess. Favorite class in high school? Art. Favorite class in college? Idk. Probably Writing. Class you hated the most in high school? Math. Class you hated the most in college? Painting brought me the most stress. Do you know how to write in calligraphy? Not technically. Have you ever had a pen pal? No. Do you prefer brownies or cookies? Brownies. Man I could go for one. Favorite Girl Scout cookie? Those Reeses-ish ones. Did you ever go camping as a kid? No. Do you have hormone issues? No. Have you ever gotten a misdiagnosis because your parent(s) lied about you? Er, no? A shitty doctor has misdiagnosed me, though. Which Barbie doll was your favorite? I didn't even know there were "types"... Do you wake up to an alarm? No. When did you go to bed yesterday? Like, 8-something... I rarely make it past 9:30 nowadays. Do you live in a city, town, or in the country? The country. What color is your toothbrush? White. When was the last time you had a nightmare? Yesterday while I was napping. Woke up shrieking and scared Mom out of her skin. Tainted my mood almost the rest of the day. If you had a terminal illness, would you want to know? No shit I would. What was the last thing someone called you other than your real name? I don't know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I have no clue. Is there a candle in the room you are in? No. Are you currently taking any prescribed medication? More than I like. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medications for it? Yes and yes. Who was the last person you felt you were wasting your time on? I don't know. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? A suicide attempt. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? Ugh. If a random person were to look through the photos on your phone, is there anything you’d be embarrassed about? No. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No no no no. I need a reason to leave the house. I'm way more productive away from home anyway. What were you like in middle school? "The weird kid" describes it pretty well. If you could give one charity a million dollars, what charity would you donate money to? YIKES!!!! Now that's a question. Probably something for suicide prevention/awareness. What is something you’re surprised hasn’t been invented yet? The cure for cancer. It's incredible, just how many "possible" cures have been identified in nature, yet you like... hear NOTHING about it afterwards??? My conspiratory and "the medical industry just cares more about money" ass wonders about that a lot. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity or The Rite. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? No. And probably not. What one thing has always bothered you, but seems to bother no one else? Hm. I'm sure there's something. Do you still own a VCR and VHS tapes? No, pretty sure they've all been sold. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Yep. What kind of dog is your favorite? Pretty sure I'm biased towards beagles. Are the majority of your friends male or female? Female, I think? Have you ever considered dropping acid? Noooo sir. Would you consider yourself to be mature? Mostly. Describe your music style: I like unique alternative stuff. Catchy, heavy riffs do me in easily, too. I like well thought out, dark, and impactful lyrics. Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? Not very. Have you ever had a seizure? No. When was the last time you were in a hospital? For myself, 2017. I think. Do you go on vacations a lot? I never do. Are you self-conscious around other people? Very. At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? N/A Have you ever witnessed a physical fight in real life? Huh, good question actually. What was your GPA in high school? 4.2/3 or something. Do you use a lot of hair products? I don't use any. I mean, besides shampoo. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent at one time? My own money, I think $300 on a tattoo. What is the best pizza place out there? Domino's. I'm such a basic bitch. Do you know how to play any odd instruments most people can’t play? Nope. When was the last time you used a disposable camera? I think the zoo visit in 5th grade. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Can't say I really have one. It definitely used to be Warriors by Erin Hunter, but I haven't read any in maaaaaany years. Do you have any celebrity autographs? Nah. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Just black. Admit it – you want a Snuggie. What design/color? I got a black one one Christmas, lol. They're honestly not all that great. Do you prefer movies at home or movies at the theater? THE THEATER. I actually enjoy watching movies in the theater. It's just the vibe, I guess, and the size of the screen so you take in everything. How many songs does your iTunes have? Just over 1k. Its memory is maxed out, oof, so if I want a new song, I have to thin the library out. Do you take a shower in the morning or the night before? I've been taking showers more often in the morning, lately. It's a nice, refreshing start to the day. I'm just too tired and unmotivated to at night. Who’s your youngest teacher? N/A When’s the last time you had a rock, paper, scissors match? Wow, no clue. What’s your favorite anime? Fullmetal Alchemist. Did you cry when Ash let his Butterfree go with the other Butterfrees? Oh I probably did, but THEN AGAIN, the female was FUCKIN PINK so I'm sure I was also happy for Butterfree lmao. Even as a kiddo, I knew pink was The Shit. Skinny, flared, ripped, or faded jeans? Skinny, ripped ones. What are you excited for? Just honestly, nothing in the even remotely near future. Nothing in my life is exciting rn. Are you part of the Farmville cult? Never played. Have you ever stood on a frozen solid body of water? YIKES besides like, small puddles, definitely not. I'd be scared to. Which person from way back when would you love to hang out with? Jenna, an old best friend, came to mind first here. It'd be great to catch up with her. She called me in the hospital after my suicide attempt despite not talking in absolutely forever, and I'm never going to forget that. Does your family use a real pine tree or a plastic one for Christmas? Plastic. Literally the only positive of the real ones is the smell. Otherwise, it's a mess that dies too quickly. Do you have any foreign exchange students at your school? N/A What’s your second language? I'm not fluent in it, definitely not anymore, but the language I took for four semesters was German. Is it uncomfortable for you to take showers in glass stalls w/out curtains? OH MY GOD I would positively hate that. Even IF I had a decent body. Did you understand Shakespeare? I was alright. What was the last shot you got? It was a numbing agent into my gums. They had to do it like... seven times. Apparently, I'm just like. Really hard to numb. Ever gotten cavities? Yeah. Do you use hair ties as bracelets? I don't even wear hair ties. What was the last school project you did that you couldn’t wait to turn in? Uhhh... I don't remember. Have you ever graded papers? I actually have; I was helping a teacher on work day. I used to go back to my elementary school a lot to visit my favorite teachers. What was your favorite year of school up to this point? Maybe like, junior year of high school? Or senior. I don't remember which one of those I enjoyed more. I just remember I loved my art class, I had great grades, my relationship was strong, yada yada. What’s the latest you’ve ever woken up? Like 5-6 PM. Had a busy night and that evening was a complete panic attack because my system was so thrown off. One thing I DON'T miss from high school: how bad my anxiety was. Can you recite the alphabet backwards? NOOOO I cannot. Like, at all. Are you a sucker for foreign accents? Some, yes. Do you do yoga? Not anymore.

[kimabutch]

JLCR: kimabutch edition

To celebrate somehow reaching 1000 songs on Jam Like Critical Role, the giant fan-created playlist that I’ve been curating since February, I’ve decided to put together a mini-playlist of own, featuring two of my favourite songs for each member of Vox Machina and The Mighty Nein! Each song has a YouTube link, but you can find the whole mini-playlist on Spotify here.

By mini-playlist I meant that there are “only” 36 songs, and also that I’ve pulled out my favourite lines and explained why I associate the song with them, so that this whole thing is approximately 5400 words long. I tried to restrain myself, but, well, Jam Like Critical Role is a testament to my lack of self-restraint. If it helps, I’ve tried to incorporate a diversity of artists, eras, and genres, from folk-punk to techno, country, dream-pop, classical, and beyond. I hope you find something you enjoy.

Grog

We’re Going To Be Friends, Jack Johnson (cover of White Stripes), for Grog and Pike’s incredibly wholesome childhood friendship. While many of the lyrics describe friends at school, which is not totally accurate for them, I can just imagine the two weirdos playing among the bugs:

“Walk with me, Suzy Lee/ Through the park and by the tree/ We can rest upon the ground/ And look at all the bugs we’ve found”

Not to mention Pike teaching Grog his ABCs:

“Tonight I’ll dream while in my bed/ While silly thoughts run through my head/ Of the bugs and alphabet”

I just love these two silly monstahs.

Giant, Juno Reactor: to balance out that last song, have some techno that makes me want to yell “Vox Machina, Fuck. Shit. UP!” and split Kevdak in half with a nat 20 from the sky. Appropriately named for our goliath friend, this song always temporarily convinces me that I, too, am a seven foot tall barbarian (which is not recommended while you are trying to do anything that requires brainpower.)

Keyleth

I Lost Myself, Lauren Mann and The Fairly Odd Folk, for Keyleth’s self-doubt about whether she can do her Aramente (or whether she even wants to) and fear that she’s hurting everyone:

“I’ve got voices in my head Making me think that this is where I end Hey, what do you see, if anything What do you see in me”

This specifically reminds me of her Aramente, and how it taught her so much more than she was expecting:

“You and me we made a plan To travel from here to there and back again Somewhere on that weathered road I found the dreams that I’d been looking for”

And “Hey, we’ve got the world to see/ So let’s forget our anxieties and get on our way” makes me think of Keyleth and Percy’s friendship, and how both of their stories are about trying to figure out what to do once you’ve achieved your goals. I want to think that after the story ended, they were still occasionally able to leave behind their responsibilities and travel the world together.

Take Us Back, Alela Diane, for a post-canon Keyleth, reminiscing on the old days and eventually outliving the rest of Vox Machina. I get a strong image of Kiki coming down from Zephra to see her friends:

“Atop the crags and cliffs the air is thin/ So we’ll find a mountain path on down the hill/ Meet me where the snowmelt flows/ It is there, my dear, where we’ll begin again”

And of her listening to Scanlan’s music, centuries later; they’d be the last two alive: “I’ve a friend who lives out by the river’s mouth/ He knows the fiddle’s cry is an old sound”

And then Keyleth, alone, listening to a river’s gurgle or the wind’s howling, and almost thinking she hears her friends: “Muted voices, just beyond/ The silent surface of what has gone.”

Percival

The Devil Spoke Here, Chicken Little, which I think is actually about the aftermath of a protest, but which I feel works eerily well for Percy’s development following the Briarwood arc. The beginning reminds me of his guilt, feelings of brokenness, and anger issues after he’s cast out Orthax — right down to his guilt about guns:

“There’s bullets in the streets/ and broken dishes on the floor/   enough anger in my heart/   to take the blame for it all/   I could take every bullet back/   if I could never feel like that”

It also covers Percy’s realization, after his conversation with the Raven Queen, that he’s free from the judgment of the gods, and acceptance that he’s the one who has bad thoughts for the greater good:

“I have no god for guidance/ still I’m praying all the same/ may everything I do/ be done for everybody’s gain”

And then this, for a reason that I can’t quite explain, feels so much like Percy’s forgiveness of Ripley at Glintshore, and his death at her hand:

“May we always fail/ with the best of intentions/   with our hearts always pure/   and our souls only human”

Wandering Star, Portishead: the weird trip hop vibe to this song somehow feels appropriate to Percy, and in particular to his darkest thoughts. The song addresses the possible punishments for these thoughts: “Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved/ The blackness, the darkness, forever.” It helps that this is an allusion to a Bible passage about atheists.

The second verse makes me think both of Percy’s relationship to the concept of eternity (because of the “needle��s eye” — a parable about the entrance of heaven for the rich) and his raven mask:

“Those who have seen the needle’s eye, now tread Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled And the masks that the monsters wear To feed, upon their prey”

Additionally, “Doubled up inside/ Take a while to shed my grief” is reminiscent of Percy’s revelation, in the last episode, that he just really fucking misses his family. This whole time, something inside of him has been curled up into a little ball like the teenager he was five years ago, grieving his family.

Pike

Holy, Jamily Woods: a song about self-love and self-assurance, underscored by Christian imagery:

“Though I walk through the darkest valley I will fear no love/ Oh my smile my mind reassure me I don’t need no one […] Woke up this morning with my mind set on loving me”

Many of the lyrics can be interpreted either as the singer being self-sufficient because her god is there — or being sufficient even beyond her god: “I’m not lonely, I’m alone/ And I’m holy by my own.”

I think both interpretations work for Pike: that she has found (or is attempting to find) peace when she’s not with her friends, or that although she worships Sarenrae, the Everlight doesn’t necessarily interfere in her day-to-day life and she makes her own happiness. Either way, the song makes me feel at peace in the same way that Pike does.

The Otherside, Ohbijou, for Pike’s feelings about Scanlan during the year gap. Particularly, I’m reminded of Pike’s attempts to talk to Scanlan on the earring: “With things left unsaid so unsatisfied/ And a burning to hear your voice just one more time.”

And in these lyrics:

“And it’s so silly for me to worry/ About situations that don’t exist/ We create these problems and try to solve them/ Why waste each passing moment?”

I hear Pike trying to figure out her feelings for Scanlan, but shooting herself down because he’s gone, why even try?

Scanlan

The Pilgrim - Chapter 33, Willie Nelson (cover of Kris Kristofferson), which really encapsulates, for me, Scanlan’s complex relationship with religion: the fact that a guy who regularly produces lightning from his dick, messes with people’s memories, and actively attempts to cultivate a drug habit finds himself praying to the Everlight at night and eventually becomes Ioun’s chosen:

“He’s a poet, he’s a picker/ He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher/ He’s a pilgrim and a preacher/ And a problem when he’s stoned”

The lines “He’s a walking contradiction/ Partly truth and partly fiction” reminds me of all the identities he’s taken on, both for fun and to shield his emotions from his friends, whereas “Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home” makes me think of Scanlan’s long road back to Vox Machina after leaving them.

Handle With Care, Traveling Wilburys: almost every single song on this album works for Scanlan, so choosing just one was a real challenge. But this song is so good for all the shit that Scanlan’s been through (and all the shit that he’s been), and his relationship with Pike through all of that:

“Been beat up and battered around/ Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down/ You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found/ Handle me with care […]”

“Everybody’s got somebody to lean on” reminds me of Scanlan’s feeling, in episode 85, that he’s the odd one out in Vox Machina.

The last verse encapsulates Scanlan acknowledging his own fuck ups, working to make them right, and eventually, having a healthy relationship with Pike:

“I’ve been uptight and made a mess/ But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess/ Oh, the sweet smell of success”

Taryon

Father and Son, Cat Stevens, for Tary’s relationship with his father and his decision to leave home; the song is a duet of sorts. I think the father’s part of the song is a little generous for Howaardt Darrington, but retains the message of (somewhat condescendingly) trying to keep his son at home and have him reconsider his far-reaching plans: “I know that it’s not easy to be calm/ When you’ve found something going on.”

The son’s part, though, captures Tary’s frustration with his father’s strictness and inability to actually understand his passions:

“How can I try to explain?/ ‘Cause when I do he turns away again/ It’s always been the same, same old story/ From the moment I could talk/ I was ordered to listen/ Now there’s a way and I know/ That I have to go away”

And the last verse is some real closeted gay feelings that always make me tear up:

“All the times that I cried/ Keeping all the things I knew inside/ It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it”

What’s It Gonna Be, Shura, not so much for the song’s lyrics, but for its music video, which is all about falling for a different gender than you expected, and which is incredibly sweet and beautiful.

That being said, you could definitely take the lyrics to be about his crush on Percy and his obliviousness about who in Vox Machina is sleeping with whom:

“Do I tell you I love you or not?/ 'Cause I can’t really guess what you want/ If you let me down, let me down slow”

Vax’ildan

Glorious, Muse, for Vax’s early relationship with faith. He can’t help but feel drawn towards Sarenrae’s light, even as he has doubts and perhaps even anger towards the gods:

Faith: It drives me away/ But it turns me on/ Like a stranger’s love It rockets through the universe It fuels the lies and feeds the curse And we, too, could be glorious”

He wants that glory that he sees in Pike, but he doesn’t know how to approach it or reconcile it with his life experiences. And then he finds his whole world shattered as he’s chosen by the Raven Queen, and he once again has to find faith, though in a way that he never expected:

“I need to believe But I still want more With the cuts and the bruises”

Fields of Gold, Sting: a song from Vax to Keyleth. I can imagine them so perfectly in this scene, perhaps during their year of downtime, with the winds of Zephra blowing through the fields and their hope beyond hope that they’ll be able to stay together:

“Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?/ Upon the fields of barley/ We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky/ As we lie in fields of gold”

“See the west wind move like a lover so/ Upon the fields of barley/ Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth/ Among the fields of gold”

Years later, Vax knows that Keyleth will see those fields again and think of him: “You’ll remember me when the west wind moves/ Upon the fields of barley.”

Vex’ahlia

Half Jack, The Dresden Dolls: a truly haunting song about the pain and unavoidability of being her father’s daughter — she’s always half Jill (her mother) and half Jack (her father.) The whole song is incredibly painful for Vex, and the lines:

“It might destroy me But I’d sacrifice my body If it meant I’d get the Jack part out”

always makes me think of “If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would.” Also,

“But if you listen/ You’ll learn to hear the difference/ Between the halfs and the half nots”

reminds me of her asking Percy if she looks like she comes from money — or a younger Vex, in Syngorn, gradually realizing why everyone looked down on her and Vax. Lastly, isn’t “I see my mother in my face/ But only when I travel” absolutely heartbreaking for her?

Fall Down or Fly, Lindi Ortega, only partly because Lindi Ortega strongly resembles my headcanon for Vex. The other part is because of my abiding love for how Vex learned to fly, and how that worked with her character arc: from the first time, in the Briarwoods arc, that she discovered her love for flying, to her flaunting convention and stealing the broom, to Percy modifying it for her, to her friends cheering her on with chicken target practice, and finally to her soaring through the skies with confidence. And the song captures that so well for me, as well as her decision to keep going even when her father, Saundor’s words, and her own self-doubt bring her down:

“This is your life/ You can fall down or fly/ You can burn out a shot if you want/ This is your life/ You can live it or die/ You can quit now or try if you want/ But don’t you give up, don’t you give up”

This also reminds me of how much all of Vox Machina adores and supports Vex (and I will join them in crying about how awesome she is):

“You said what is there to lose?/ Do it if you choose/ I got faith in you/ Everything you do/ I know you are gonna make it to the top”

(I also maintain that a modern Vex would be really into country music, particularly the genre of country song in which women tell people to fuck off.)

Vox Machina

Call Them Brothers, Regina Spektor feat. Only Son, for Scanlan’s departure from Vox Machina and the whole team’s attempts to deal with it. I first heard this song in an absolutely heartbreaking TAZ animatic, and my pain increased exponentially when I realized how much it also worked for Critical Role. It’s perfect, in my opinion, for the sense that their family, which has seen them through so much, is irreparably broken — “That’s it, it’s split, it won’t recover/ Just frame the halves and call them brothers.”

But then you also get “Over and over, they call us their friends/ Can’t we find something else to pretend?” for Scanlan’s insistence that Vox Machina doesn’t really care about him, and “Find your fathers and your mothers/ If you remember who they are” for “what’s my mother’s name?”

Maybe this should go on Scanlan’s playlist, but I think “The hunt is on, everyone’s chasing a shot” also works for the way that the rest of Vox Machina independently searched for Scanlan during their year of downtime… and the feelings of defeat in the song just feel appropriate to the whole group.

(I actually have a playlist full of songs for episode 85, because I enjoy making myself sad; it took a lot of effort not to put them all here.)

Freaks, The Hawk in Paris: I can never decide whether this is a Mighty Nein or Vox Machina song, but I’m putting it here mostly because “If you come along with us, the doors are never ending” is absolutely hilarious in for Vox Machina’s single greatest enemy.

That, and there are a lot of lines that work for individual members of the group: “We have a flair for the shade and the inbetween” (Vax); “We like to run with the wolves from the darker scene” (Keyleth); “When we turn the safety off, the shots are automatic” (Percy); “All our friends tell their friends we’re so dramatic” (Scanlan); and “We’ll make you swoon, make it hurt just a little” (Vex).

Additionally, “We have a plan, we’ve got the means for your liberation/ You’ll only have to blur the lines on a few occasions” makes me think of the Briarwood arc, and I makes me think of Percy dramatically revealing his identity to the priest — and cut to Grog pulling out a guy’s tongue.

Anyways, if I learn to make AMVs by the time that the animated series is released, this will be the first that I’ll make.

Beauregard

Saint Simon, The Shins, for Beau’s escape from the Cobalt Soul. The song expresses frustration at weighty intellectualism and how much it doesn’t teach you — which i think is something Beau felt strongly with her monk teachers:

“After all these implements and texts designed by intellects/ So vexed to find, evidently there’s still so much that hides […] Since I don’t have time nor mind to figure out the nursery rhymes/ That helped us out in making sense of our lives”

So she tries not to care about anything because it’s safer that way (“The cruel, uneventful state of apathy releases me”), and she runs away:

“I’ll try hard not to give in, batten down to fare the wind/ Rid my head of this pretence, allow myself no mock defence/ Step into the night”

I think the last part of the song could also work for her meeting the Mighty Nein and starts understanding friendship and love: “Mercy’s eyes are blue when she places them in front of you/ Nothing really holds a candle to the solemn warmth you feel inside you.”

Jonas and Ezekiel, Indigo Girls, because what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t put at least one gay-written song on Beau’s playlist? This one is about road trips, wandering, and looking for a purpose:

“I left my anger in a river running Highway 5 New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by College farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks Voices in the woods and the mountaintops”

But also contains one verse that I think fits her strict family, her new family in the Mighty Nein, and the “devils” — or tieflings — of which her family would certainly not approve:

“Now when I was young my people taught me well/ Give back what you take or you’ll go to hell/ It’s not the devil’s land, you know it’s not that kind/ Every devil I meet becomes a friend of mine/ Every devil I meet is an angel in disguise”

And something about this reminds me of her journey into Xhorhas and attempts to uncover conspiracies and work out the truth: “In the war over land where the world began/ Prophecies say it’s where the world will end.”

Caduceus

Born at the Right Time, Paul Simon, for Caduceus’s belief in destiny and his place therein. The chorus describes his occasional naïveté, and the happiness of his life in the Blooming Grove, with his family:

“Never been lonely Never been lied to Never had to scuffle in fear Nothing denied to”

And then gets into his conviction that his goddess and the world itself put him where he is:

“Born at the instant/ The church bells chime/ And the whole world whispering/ Born at the right time”

The very chill vibe of the song is also very Clay, to me.

Happy All the Time, Danny Schmidt: the singer himself has said that he doesn’t know whether or not this song is ironic and/or melancholic, so I’m going to go with a sincere and cheerful interpretation for Caduceus, with maybe a hint of nostalgia for more peaceful days among his family. It’s got some incredibly lush and occasionally strange nature imagery that I think is perfect for him:

“I took the time to breathe cause I was happy all the time/ Among the rootbuds and the weeds cause I was happy all the time/ But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet/ Until my toes took root and I was happy, I was happy all the time”

I think Caduceus is still happy, but he was definitely at peace as a hermit.

Caleb

I Miss That Feeling, Tennis: a song about panic attacks and how the physical effects, when described, almost seem like falling in love. It works not only for Caleb’s panic attacks, but also, relatedly, his relationship with fire, which scares him, even as he likes the way it feels — “Something like pleasure, you’d never believe it.”

The fiery way that the singer describes panic attacks is also very Caleb:

“I miss that feeling/ Flicker hot and hovering/ Like my own discovering/ Eagerly, tenderly/ I miss that feeling/ Flicker spread into an itch/ Into a burn, into a twitch/ Slow and even”

It brings me back to the first time we saw it, in the gnoll mines. Also, “Every little thing starts trembling/ Recorded by the needle of an EKG” feels very reminiscent of his hospitalization, though from a modern perspective.

Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers, for Caleb’s very tentative trust in the Mighty Nein, and in particular his friendship with Beau. I think this song really encapsulates Caleb’s pain and skittishness, especially near the beginning of their campaign, as well as his desperation (unknown even to himself) to love again:

“Well, prove to me I’m not gonna die alone/ Unstitch that shit I’ve sewn/ To close up the hole that tore through my skin/ Well my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg/ Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in”

And this feels like something that Beau would say to Caleb — upfront and caring all at the same time, reminding him that his actions affect everyone else and asking him not to run:

“You said, ‘I can’t prove to you you’re not gonna die alone/ But trust me to take you home/ To clean up that blood all over your paws/ You can’t keep running out […] Kicking yourself in the head/ Because you’re kicking me too.’”

By the end of the song, Caleb is starting to believe her, and even asking her to trust him: “Put your trust in me/ I’m not gonna die alone… I don’t think so…”

Fjord

Release the Kraken, The Daysleepers: I added this to Fjord’s playlist back when everyone was speculating that his patron was something kraken-like, and even now that this is clearly not the case, I think it still works for Uk’otoa (Uk’otoa) and his attempts at freedom: “It pulled the ships down/ It’s rising from the deep below.”

But also for Fjord’s relationship with Avantika — for his attempts to get close to her in order to save himself and his friends:  

“Turn the lights down Careful as a serpent’s tongue Move without a sound Gentle as the cold wind moans”

I think “When you sold love/ Your heart becomes a monster” is some of what Fjord felt after those encounters: like he gave part of himself away.

21st Century Child, Daggy Man, for Fjord’s self-hatred and the masks he puts on. Many of the lyrics could fit several characters (particularly Beau, Caleb, and Scanlan), but

“I hate the sound of myself/ When I’m being honest/ Sounds like somebody else/ And I don’t wanna listen/ To the whinings of a 21st century child”

just perfectly captures his feelings about his voice and his past self — weak and whiny, and not who he wants to be. And then we get these lines, which feel like a good summary of his issues with identity and deception:

“And I’ve struggled with how/ Others perceive me/ And I can’t tell if I’m better/ Or just better at deceiving And I’ll keep going until I’m called out”

Jester

The Sweetest Sounds, Ella Fitzgerald (cover of Richard Rodgers), for pre-stream Jester barely waiting for her exciting life to begin. I first heard this song in Rodger & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and while there is something fairy-tale-like about Jester, I think this upbeat, jazzy cover fits her well:

“The most entrancing sight of all Is yet for me to see And the dearest love in all the world Is waiting somewhere for me”

I can just imagine a 10-year-old Jester listening to the band at the Lavish Chateau play this song, dressing up in Marion’s clothes, and pretending she’s in a storybook romance.

One Hand in my Pocket, Alanis Morissette, which really captures her beautiful complexity:

“I’m free, but I’m focused/ I’m green, but I’m wise/ I’m hard, but I’m friendly/ I’m sad, but I’m laughing”

because Jester is so many things all at once, and none of them negate each other. It’s so hopeful (“What it all comes down to/ Is that everything’s gonna be quite alright”) and comforting (“What it all boils down to/ Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet”) in a way that really reminds me of my favourite blue cleric.

The whole song has such a fun, free, summer vibe that always makes me smile — just like Jester.

Mollymauk

Carnival Overture, Antonín Dvořák (Leonard Bernstein & New York Philharmonic Orchestra): one of my favourite pieces of classical music ever — when I hear it, an entire music video about a carnival plays in my head. The exuberant theme that bowls you over from the start reminds me of Molly’s effervescent, ostentatious personality.

The slower and quieter part in the middle with the violin and woodwind solos gives me a picture of Molly and Yasha sitting alone in the evenings just outside the carnival encampment, cuddled together — Yasha talking about her wife, Molly telling jokes, and the both of them making up names for constellations and flowers. Then the quick-paced minor section makes me think of the bloodhunter tiefling in combat, deadly with his swords and vicious mockery — before the return to the joyful, triumphant original theme.

Wonderful Everyday, Chance the Rapper & The Social Experiment**: this is sort of a cover of the Arthur theme song, but in the absolute best way possible. The meandering, loose, and extraordinarily happy vocals always remind me of Molly’s way of living.

Although some of the lyrics are more optimistic than Molly (I think he’d laugh at “Everybody that you meet/ Has an original point of view” and say that their points of view are usually bullshit), the message of appreciating every single day is just wonderful for him.

And the last bit hits me like a ton of bricks:

“And when I go down/ I'ma go down swinging/ My eyes still smiling/ And my heart still singing”

“Eyes never shut,” indeed.

**not on Spotify, sorry!

Nott

The Sore Feet Song, Ally Kerr: at first it appears to be a simple song about traveling long distances to find your love, which certainly describes Nott’s search for Yeza: “I walked ten thousand miles, ten thousand miles to see you/ And every gasp of breath I grabbed at just to find you.”

But the second verse is where it really gets into Nott’s thieving, rat-eating, badass ways:

“I stole ten thousand pounds, ten thousand pounds to see you I robbed convenient stores cause I thought they’d make it easier I lived off rats and toads, and I starved for you I fought off giants bears and I killed them too”

I love this strange little goblin.

Fox in the Snow, Belle & Sebastian: this song has always been a bit of a mystery to me, but the lyrics remind me of Nott’s intense vulnerability after she was transformed into a goblin — and in particular her self-image as something animalistic:

“Fox in the snow, where do you go/ To find something you could eat?/ Because the word out on the street is you are starving/ Don’t let yourself grow hungry now/ Don’t let yourself grow cold”

The second verse, which switches to describing a human girl, reminds me of pre-transformation Veth, more acceptable in body but no less socially ostracized than Nott:

“Girl in the snow, where do you go/ To find someone that will do?/ To tell someone all the truth before it kills you/ Listen to your crazy laugh/ Before you hang a right/ And disappear from sight/ What do they know anyway?”

I can just see that exact scene play out with a young Veth, right down to the “crazy laugh.” I’m glad she found Yeza, but she must still have been pretty lonely without any other friends.

Yasha

Into the Barrens, Grizfolk, for Yasha’s years of blank wandering after Zuala’s death. This song fits Yasha so well that for months, I somehow tricked myself into believing that Ashley had put it on her playlist. But I feel like this encapsulates her hopeless feelings, away from all society, not living for anything or anyone:

“Cast me away, my shadow’s cold/ Into the barrens where I will grow old/ Well, I’m not looking for answers/ And I’m not looking for gold”

And I can see this verse for the beginning of her relationship with the Stormlord, following voices she can’t understand as she wanders, barely alive:

“The voices in my head/ They echo in the wind and I begin to sway/ I follow what they say/ I can’t see their eyes, but I hear howling through the haze”

Dreams, Fleetwood Mac: technically a break-up song, but I can’t help but think of Yasha’s ever-present guilt and her memories of Zuala when I hear:

“Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness/ Like a heartbeat drives you mad/ In the stillness of remembering what you had/ And what you lost”

The storm imagery also works for Yasha — “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know” makes me think of her fight with the Stormlord on the boat, which allowed her to open up to her friends. And it touches on Yasha’s opaque dreams (“Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions/ I keep my visions to myself”).

(Ally and Stevie also have a lesbian mash-up of Dreams and Rhiannon, two of the gayest Fleetwood Mac songs, that I associate strongly with Beauyasha.)

Mighty Nein

Old Black Train, The Blasting Company (from Over the Garden Wall): trains don’t exist in Exandria (yet! — Percy or Taryon should get on that) but this is more of a metaphor for life. It reminds me of the Mighty Nein setting out from Alfield, not knowing the twists and turns they were going to face, the places they’d go, nor the family they’d become:

“This journey is a long one/ It will take you all around/ Life rushing by your window/ Before it lays you down”

Then there’s this verse:

“Oh come on now young stranger/ Weren’t you someone’s son? How’d you find this depot 'Cause it ain’t where you belong”

which feels very appropriate for many members of the Mighty Nein, separated as they are from their families and wandering in lands that aren’t welcoming to them. There’s also a verse that’s reminiscent of the graveyard they passed on the way to Zadash, which more and more feels like a portent of things to come:

“You will pass a graveyard/ Stones worn by the years/ The train’ll stop a minute but don’t let it leave you here”

Sailing, Leisure Cruise: another song about transportation, although this one is a little less metaphorical. As you can probably guess, I associate it with their adventures on the Mystake and the Ball Eater, which begun by total accident but which, in my opinion, was a turning point for the group, and ultimately helped them grow closer together:

“And to our surprise we’re sailing The high seas in the middle of the ocean […] We’re sailing the wildest mystery And to our surprise we’re happy and free”

Okay, so maybe “happy and free” is a bit of an exaggeration for that arc (particularly for poor Nott) but I think there were a lot of moments in which the Mighty Nein learned unexpected lessons about themselves.

And I think this is a good summary of the Mighty Nein’s modus operandi: seize every passing opportunity, because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring:

“Maybe it’s today Maybe it’s tomorrow But we have to make a play Or the chance will fade away”

And that’s a wrap! Thanks for listening and reading. Love you all <3

[laurens-lil-fics]

Hallucinate - Matt Murdock x Powered! Reader Part 2

Series Summary: When members of a criminal organization start flooding precincts all over New York, turning themselves in, Daredevil must investigate to see what new player has them running for the hills.

Chapter Summary: Matt recounts last night’s events at the dock to Foggy and Karen, only for a familiar presence to interrupt him.

Word Count: 1969

Warnings: none!

Author’s note: Drunk Matt is a fucking trip, I love him

“Did... did she try to jedi mind trick you?”

That earned a swift jab at the ribs, causing Foggy to whine in pain and send a playful glare Karen’s way. 

“Fog this is serious...” Karen sighed, looking back at Matt who was nursing a glass of cheap whiskey. “You don't think she... got into your head, do you?”

Matt shrugged, his fingers nervously tapping against his glass at the thought. If she had, she would know Daredevil’s true identity. If was was trouble, which it certainly seemed like it so far, she could use it against him.

“I don't know... She drained me, I know that much. But I don't know if she actually got in my head... I mean... I didn’t feel anything.” Matt said, keeping his voice low so the other bar patrons wouldn’t catch wind of what he was saying.

Karen slowly nodded, glancing down at her own drink as she tried to think of a proper response.

“Well, if she did then our best hope is that she’s just trying to take down a couple baddies here in Hell’s Kitchen. From what you said was happening at the docks she’s trying to stop those guys from doing harm.” Foggy said, trying to ease his friend’s worries.

“Yeah but... is she doing it without killing anyone? Or is she going the Castle route?... No offense, Karen.” 

Matt could tell the comment would have set Karen off had she been on her fifth drink. Luckily she was only at drink number two, still enough to earn a scoff from her. 

“Let’s try to think about something else... it’s Friday night, let's enjoy it.” Foggy interjected, feeling the tension beginning to rise.

For the next hour the three kept the alcohol flowing, the conversation drifting off to something lighter and not anxiety inducing. 

Matt, feeling the first buzz he had in months, stopped mid drink when he heard the clunk of a familiar pair of boots. Slightly disoriented from the alcohol, he struggled to focus his hearing past the music and the laughter around him.

Once he heard the door to Josie’s open, he was finally able to focus on that heartbeat. The one he had heard at the docks. He choked on his drink, earning worried looks from his friends and a couple other patrons. 

He felt the woman glance his eye, her eyes looking him up and down before she turned her attention back to the bar.

“It’s her... jedi...” Matt coughed, hearing Foggy and Karen both whip their heads in her direction. “Not all at once, what the hell is wrong with you guys...”

“When you point out a jedi I have to look, Matty...” Foggy grumbled, struggling to keep himself from looking back at the bar.

“Matt...” Karen slurred, struggling to sober up, “if she did....jedi you... she woulda left, or headed our way...”

Matt continued to focus on her, trying to confirm it was really her and not the alcohol in his system. He could still smell the docks on her.

He slowly stood up, ignoring his friends as they began asking him to sit back down and leave it be. He staggered over to the bar, pretending to trip over his own feet as he gripped onto the empty spot of the bar beside her.

“Woahhhh, sir, you okay?” she asked. Her voice was different. Softer.

Matt slowly nodded, chuckling softly as he stood up straighter and brushed his hair back, a classic Matt move. “Yeah... Yeah sorry, guess I overestimated how well I knew this bar.”

He heard her chuckle and shift in her seat to turn towards him. “Well you need an escort back to your seat?”

Matt gave her a lopsided smile, slowly sitting in the stool beside her. “Actually uhh... this is a little awkward, my friend over there told me I should talk to the pretty woman who just walked into the bar... you are her, right? I have no way of really knowing.”

He felt the heat rise to her cheeks, his smile growing as she giggled and looked in Foggy’s direction. “Well, if he did mean me I’m flattered.”

“Well in that case, lemme get you a drink.” He offered. He heard her nod, heat flooded to her cheeks again before she gave him verbal confirmation. 

Once Josie brought the woman her drink, Matt took the opportunity to introduce himself. “Oh damn, I almost forgot. Name’s Matt Murdock.”

“Love the alliteration.” she smiled, sipping at her drink.

“Thanks, picked it myself.” he snickered, earning a laugh from her.

“Well, I’m (Y/n) (L/n). Not as nice as Matt Murdock but I get by.”

Matt shook his head slightly, leaning in closer to her. “Still got a nice ring to it... hey how bout you join me and my friends. Not to toot our own horns but we’re pretty good company.”

Lucky for Matt, (Y/n) accepted the invitation and lead him to the table, sitting between him and Foggy.

Matt introduced the three to each other, knowing Karen and Foggy were too nervous to do it themselves. He silently prayed that they would play along and help her loosen up a bit.

A couple drinks later and she was cracking up at one of Foggy’s over the top stories involving Matt and their college years.

“This city was ours! Two lone wolves, out on the prowl, howling at the moon looming over Hell’s Kitchen. This city was, and is, still lucky to have us.” Foggy boasted, snickering as Karen nudged him and rolled her eyes.

“Karen doesn’t get it, she’s not from here.” Matt said, giving Karen a look that told her to play along.

“Really?” (Y/n) asked, smiling at Karen as she swirled her drink in her glass.

“Yeah... I just needed a change of scenery, and boy did I get what I bargained for. What about you, (Y/n)? What brought you to Hell’s Kitchen?” Karen asked.

Matt felt (Y/n) tense slightly beside him. Not enough alcohol to get that out of her.

“What’s a place like you doing in a girl like this, Ms. (L/n)?” he teased, internally cheering as she smiled and relaxed.

“Well, I was a photo journalist. I’m doing more freelance work... figured New York was the place to come to since some new dude in a mask shows up, what? Like every three days?” she explained. 

Her heartbeat was irregular, but that didn’t keep Matt from knowing she was lying. But of course, he couldn’t tell her that outright.

“Sooo, you’re here for Daredevil?” Foggy asked, smirking slightly as he glanced between Matt and (Y/n).

“I mean... it would be pretty cool to get his picture. But I’d settle for anything that could make me a quick buck.” (Y/n) said, punctuating her statement by shooting the last of her drink.

“Well, Karen here has had her fair share of run ins with him, maybe you will too.” Foggy responded, becoming a bit too lost in the illusion.

(Y/n) smiled slightly, glancing between the three of them. “Like I said, anything interesting... Yall are lawyers, right?”

Foggy and Matt nodded. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Is there anything... weird going on? That I could get photos of. I’m trying to build up a resume here in New York, get a full time job and all that. If there’s any tips you can legally give me, I’d really appreciate it.”

Hook. Line. And Sinker. 

“How about we exchange phone numbers and this be a little ‘help me to help you’ situation. You see something, you tell me, I see something, I tell you. Deal?” Matt smiled, holding his hand out for her. He could feel her heart beat quicken for a moment before she took his hand and shook it like she meant it.

“Deal.”

The two exchanged numbers, and the next hour or two passed by smoothly. Karen and Foggy eventually left the two alone. Once Matt felt it was time to leave, he asked (Y/n) to walk with him.

“Are you usually this forward with pretty girls at bars, Mr. Murdock?” she asked, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket as the two made their way through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Not usually,” he shrugged, “I mean, Foggy will always say otherwise, but don’t believe him. He’s always over exaggerated those kinds of things.”

She chuckled, biting her lip as she looked him over. “I dunno, you sound like a real ladies man to me.”

Matt shrugged, smiling slightly as he gave her arm a light squeeze, “Now who’s being forward?”

The two exchanged their goodbyes once they reached Matt’s apartment. He pretended to fumble with his keys as she walked off, instead focusing on the direction she was walking in.

Once he got into his apartment he quickly changed into his Daredevil suit, the alcohol that was still in his system caused him to trip over himself a couple times. Once he was suited up, he headed back to the docks, hoping she would be back there patrolling the area. 

He tried to convince himself he had done enough recon work for one night, that he earned a good night’s sleep. But a part of him knew he couldn’t sleep well until Daredevil could speak to (Y/n) without any goons interrupting them. 

It felt like an eternity passed before she showed up. There was that heart beat again. He turned towards her, remaining crouched at the edge of the roof as she levitated beside him.

“I thought I asked you to stay out of my way.” she stated simply, her voice as coarse as the first time they met. 

“You said you were a fan, figured you’d want some one on one time.” he replied, making his voice deeper as well.

The two remained silent, studying each other, before (Y/n) decided to speak up. “The only reason I haven’t reached into that head of yours and forced you to stay away is because I know how much good you do for this city... I got no right to go prying around in your head, seeing your private things.”

Matt gave her a slight nod, “I appreciate that...” he paused. “But I can’t let you run around my city and kill people you should be brought to justice, real justice.”

“Who said I was killing people?” she scoffed, turning away from him to face the docks. “I just want one man... one asshole out of all the rest, dead and in the ground...but you already knew that, huh?”

He stayed silent, so she continued. “But you have no idea who he is... why I want him... that’s why you’re here, right?”

“You’re half right... I got a source, one who might know where ‘Blum’ is hiding...” He pulled a flip phone out from one of the various pockets on his suit, holding it out for her. “I can help you find this guy, bring him and his lackeys to justice...”

(Y/n) looked back at him, trying to swipe the phone out of his hand only for him to whip it out of her reach at the last second.

“But...” 

She huffed.

“We do this the right way, or we don’t do it at all... I give you the information you need, help you take these guys down, and you don’t kill anyone. Help me to help you.” Matt explained, slowly holding the phone before her once more.

(Y/n) took it from him, snorting when she saw his phone number, under ‘DD’ was already in it. “Damn, and it’s only our second date. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t lose it... I’ll call you the second I get something.” With that, Matt turned and casually made his way to the opposite end of the roof, feeling her eyes burning into him the whole way. 

[drowningcomicart]

time to wrestle with the pigs i guess, because this has got to end right the fuck now

content warnings for this post include pedophilia mentions, abuse mentions, suicide/suicide baiting, and csa mentions, and to everyone not involved hi, this has been my life for almost a year, it’s a lot of bullshit so tread with caution i guess. (and no i’m not putting it under a read more because this is important.)

with that out of the way, i want to make it very explicitly clear that i’m not writing this post as an apology, nor am i going to ‘justify’ myself because there’s nothing to fucking justify. but i’m addressing it because we’ve officially hit november, and that means that for nine fucking months, i have heard every disingenuous opinion on this mess there is to hear, whether i wanted it or not. and i am tired, and i am done, but y’all wanna keep beating this horse, so here i am.

for those who are unaware, in february of this year someone in the fantroll circle--or at least the one i’m part of--was being unjustly harassed by some dumbass teenagers with a chip on their shoulders and nothing better to do. and because no one else was saying or doing anything, i made a post calling out the stupidity of bothering someone over an art style and if they were blown, they should just block and move on. i never mentioned the harasser’s usernames, not even in the tags. but i guess the ringleader’s guilty conscience took over, because they came crytyping at me in a dm to take the post down and how it wasn’t faaaaiiirrr. and when i gave no sympathy, saying i had not mentioned them by name and if they felt guilty, maybe they shouldn’t be a vicious asshole to people, magically they weren’t sad and anxious about how people would treat them (ha) anymore; they got mad. mad enough that they started a smear campaign against me under the guise of Protecting The Community and horribly twisting one of my characters into something he’s not so they could call me a pedophile.

he is a csa survivor. he has bad coping mechanisms for that trauma, and yes, it is dark. it is uhealthy and sad and tragic and awful. but it is still part of his story, and i am not going to shy away from telling it. and since that entire blog always had nsfw tagged, and unless tumblr was fucking around should not have been accessible to anyone under 18 in the first place, the abusive little shits who made it their personal goal to drive me out of the community, off of tumblr, and apparently hopefully into killing myself, should not have been able to see that content at all. unless they chose to, and again as mentioned above, it was definitely a choice. a choice born of spite and violence, because it was ONLY to have “dirt” on me when i called them on their shit behavior. because, i cannot stress this enough, it was never ever about pedophilia. it was about a power struggle. a made up stupid power struggle they felt the need to ‘win’ at any and all costs, including making a wildly serious accusation with no substance, altering screenshots to serve their purpose, and taking everything out of context to suit their narrative. and this is how it is for literally every single anti-based argument out there.

now we all know how i feel about the purity crusade happening on this dumpsterfire of a website, but in case you don’t THERE IS NO CASE WHATSOEVER IN WHICH DARKFIC IS THE SAME THING AS REAL LIFE CRIMES. if you disagree with that, please block me. please. literally right now. block me. block me and go away and i only pray you learn to separate fiction from reality and don’t turn into what these demons are. because i don’t care how much you disagree with someone, i don’t care how much you don’t like them, i do not care about any of it. your presence in those spaces is your choice. because despite what antis will have you believe, people writing and drawing this stuff always--and i will say always knowing you’re smart enough to not give me The One Exception as your airtight strawman to render every other argument invalid--tag it, keep it in adult-only spaces, and are responsible enough to know what ‘i understand and wish to continue’ buttons mean.

and so, knowing that fiction does not equal reality, and that the spaces these fictions are written in are inherently designed to make it so only people who say yes i wanna see it can access it, or hell even knowing basic fucking human decency, there is NO reason to suicide bait someone. ever. period. do not tell people to die you actual fucking monsters. people HAVE killed themselves. and if you’re okay with that, if you are really seriously willing to say someone deserved to die over fiction, block me. i don’t want to see anything from you until you find your humanity again. and yet here i am, again 9 months after the fact, and people are STILL messaging me about it. even my would be supporters, the ones who claim they’re only concerned for my reputation or whatever, are being disingenuous and victim blaming. all i have heard is “you should prove your innocence cos you’re making people uncomfortable otherwise”. it belies their stance on these things; that they secretly agree it’s ok to harass content creators so long as they can pretend to themselves it’s justified in some small way. that if someone doesn’t want to give their abusers--and internet harassment IS abuse do not @ me on this one--a platform, it’s the same as admitting they’re correct, no matter how absurd the lie. Yet they do nothing to show support for people being harassed because they’re too concerned with living in their comfortable bubble to make even the smallest effort to oust abusive jackasses from their own community, and then go on to bellyache that the fandom “isn’t what it used to be” and wonder “where everyone went”.

with any luck, they’re like me and they “went” to doctors and got medicated for the depression and anxiety this sort of shit exacerbates, and blocked all involved for their own sanity and because they don’t owe anyone shit. but more likely, from what i’ve seen? they’re dead. and if that makes you sick, if that makes you uncomfortable, it fucking should. people are fucking dead because of fictional characters, from a source that in and of itself deals with very upsetting and adult themes using child protagonists. regardless if they’re survivors of abuse themselves, or just like to explore anxieties and fears in the very VERY safe environment of fiction, where there are no real life consequences, it doesn’t matter. there’s no such thing as people who are “allowed” to write these subjects and people who are not. no one needs to put their life and vulnerabilities on the table for complete strangers to judge and deem worthy or unworthy of basic decency. to say otherwise is despicably transparent in their motives to exploit already vulnerable people for their personal entertainment or self gratification, and yet people fall for it every goddamned time.

i’m not going to make an argument that i’m not a pedophile because i shouldn’t have to. y’all should be able to use your fucking brains well enough to know that someone drawing fictional scenarios is not the same as a real adult abusing real children with very real world consequences. if it is personally upsetting to you, or makes you feel uncomfortable, or even triggers ptsd please for the love of god leave the blog.  why would you put yourself through that? why would you, if you are so against it, actively seek it out and harass people who make it? i would never call people outright liars about what does and does not trigger them. but it seems to me the only people who would behave in this way are either not as bothered as they have convinced themselves and everyone else they are, or they have some seriously bad coping mechanisms for their own trauma that are in no way the fault of the authors and artists at the receiving end of their vitriol. but as someone who was horribly abused, emotionally and psychologically, for the majority of my life, i know an abusive power trip when i see one.

if y’all have been supporting these people without thinking about it, i don’t want your apologies and shame, and likely no one else you’ve let get trampled with no help does either. but you have to do better. WE have to do better. even something as small as blocking people you know to be abusive jerks in the community can make a world of difference because they can’t have power if you don’t let them have a platform.

and as for the people in the community who started this mess, cos i know you still look up my posts in the tags--i’m not afraid of you. i’m not fucking going anywhere. i am here to enjoy my characters, enjoy my writing, enjoy making art and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. you are not going to silence me because you got mad that i called you out for being an abusive asshole. and anyone who listens to your bullshit deserves better than to be manipulated and frightened of you. fucking grow up and get some help, because lying about wanting to protect people by causing active harm to others is more morally bankrupt than any darkfic could ever be.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[filmfanatic82]

Anything... (Chapt 5)

Link to AO3 (HERE)

“Hey. Everything okay?” Kimberly asks in a semi-awake state. “What are you do here?” 

Trini climbs in through Kimberly’s bedroom window and takes a moment to gain her bearings. She’s well beyond disheveled looking, sporting  epic bedhead and nothing more than an oversized concert t-shirt and  some mesh basketball shorts.  

Trini knows how this must look. Hell, she doesn’t even have shoes on. At least, though, she managed to remember to throw on a sports bra before taking off and sprinting the four miles to Kimberly’s house.

Thank god for small miracles.

Trini wants nothing more than to flat out tell Kimberly the real reason she’s standing in her bedroom, unannounced, at roughly 2:45am. That, ever since a few days ago, when Zordon revealed that Rita -- or what’s left of her essence -- was back and ready wreak havoc, that she couldn’t sleep. That every time Trini closes her eyes, she sees that horrific face staring right back at her and feels those boney, dagger-like fingers wrap around her neck.

Trini wants to tell Kimberly but something deep inside of her is holding it all back.  

“Dunno. I just woke up and felt like something was off. Figured I’d come see if you were okay.” Trini gives a slight shrug of her shoulders, trying desperately to give off the appearance that this type of middle of night visit is no big deal.

“And you didn’t think of texting?” Kimberly raises an eyebrow. She isn’t buying it. Not for one, single, solitary second.

Trini can feel her skin start to crawl as Kimberly’s eyes hone in on her.

Fuck.

Once again the idiot award goes to…

Trini shouldn’t have come. She should’ve just dealt with it the same way that she has been prior to Kimberly being something more to her than just “Kimberly”. Trini should’ve just gone to the quarry and camped out in her special spot for a few hours until the fear and anxiety had subsided.

“I… Uh… I should go.” Trini turns to head back out of the window, but is stopped short by Kimberly’s hand gently wrapping around her bicep.

“Please don’t,” Kimberly exhales in almost a whisper.

“Okay.”

Without another word, Kimberly guides Trini towards her bed, pulls back the covers, and motions for her to get in.  

Trini crawls under the covers and before she can even fully situate herself, she feels Kimberly's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her inwards until every aspect inch of their bodies are touching. It’s a foreign sensation to say the least -- to be practically engulfed by another -- but one that she could easily get used to.

Trini lays there completely still for a moment as her brain finally catches up to her current state.

Holy shit.

Trini is in bed… under the covers… with Kimberly Hart… and if feels freaking amazing.

Upon this thought, Trini’s heart rate instantly skyrockets and her palms grow sweaty. She swallows thickly, in an attempt to keep the next wave of thoughts at bay.

“Relax. I’ve got you.” Kimberly mumbles into the top of Trini’s head, wrapping her arms a bit tighter in the process. 

“I am.”

“Uh-huh,” Kimberly sleepily hums in response with a slight sarcastic tone. “Totally. 100% relaxed.”

Trini lets out a frustrated sigh and then wills her body to go limp in Kimberly’s arms. “Better?”

“Much.”

Trini swears she can almost feel Kimberly’s smile radiating from behind her and can’t help match it.

A comforting silence settles between the two of them as they just lay with each other, simply existing within the same space. Their breathing quickly falls into a synchronized rhythm… in and out… in and out… in and out…

“Trini?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Zordon’s right? About Rita?”

Trini’s teeth sink deeply into her bottom lip as she lets that question sit for a moment or two.

Trini knows the answer. No. Scratch that. She’s, without a doubt, 150% sure of what the answer is.

Rita -- or Rita incarnate -- is back.

There’s no question about it. Now, it’s just a matter of when the next attack will occur.  

“Dunno.”

Kimberly lets out a heavy sigh into Trini’s head and manages to snuggle up even closer. She wraps her hands into the fabric of Trini’s shirt, as if to anchor herself within it’s security. “We’ll be okay.”

Will they?

Trini prays that it’s the case this go around. That they’ll pull through, in the 11th hour and save the world -- and each other -- as they did last time.

But she’s just not sure. 

“Always, Princess. Always.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

“Trini, your phone,” Kimberly mumbles into Trini’s head, eyes still closed and desperately trying to cling to the last moments of sleep.

Trini grumbles a non-coherent response and then rolls over, burying her face into what she thinks is a pillow.

“Trini…”

“Five more minutes,” Trini replies, nuzzling in deeper. It’s warm and cozy and god help the person that attempts to make her move.

“Trini…”

“What?” Trini’s eyes pop open and she’s hit with the sudden realization that she isn’t buried within a pillow…

Fuck.

Trini is face fuckin’ deep in Kimberly’s cleavage. And oh god, it’s wonderful and horrifying and--

“See something you like?” Kimberly looks down at Trini with a suggestive smirk.

Trini scrambles backwards, extracting her face as fast as humanly possible. “I… I…”

Kimberly can’t hide her amused expression as she watches Trini squirm. “Your phone?”

“Right. Shit.” Trini snatches up her phone from Kimberly’s nightstand and quickly answers it.

“Hi Mamí… Yes… I know… I know… I’m okay… I just…” Trini shifts the phone between her ears, taking a brief respite from the steady stream of yelling coming from the other end. “No… It’s not that. No. I…”

Trini takes a momentary pause as her eyes connect with Kimberly’s.

Trini needs this to go away and fast. Before her mother can jump to any more conclusions. Before Trini finds herself grounded for the rest of the foreseeable future.

The magic words.

She doesn’t want to have to do it -- especially not in front of Kimberly -- but knows it’s a sure fire way to instantly bring her mother down off of the ledge.

Trini closes her eyes, swallows, and pulls the trigger. “I'm at Kimberly’s.”

And presto. Just like magic, the tone on the other end of the line suddenly make a drastic shift.

Kimberly picks up on this and mouths to Trini “Me?” in complete and utter confusion.

But Trini doesn't give a response. She can’t. At least not yet anyways.

“Yes… Sure, Mamí… I’ll tell her… You too. Bye.” Trini clicks the phone off, chucks in back onto the nightstand, and falls backwards on the bed, letting out a long, cumbersome sigh in process.

“So…” Kimberly lingers on the end of the word in an attempt to nudge Trini to fill in the blanks.

“So.”

“Your mom?”

“Yup.”

“Trini…” Kimberly rolls her eyes in Trini’s direction and gives a light shake of her head. “You told your mom, you were with me?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“It’s not what you think,” Trini mumbles back in response as she stares up at the ceiling.

“And what do I think?”

“My mom thinks that you and Jason are dating.”

“What?” Kimberly blurts out with a burst of laughter. “Me and Jase?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would your mom--”

“Because she overheard it from one of her friends at church and I didn’t correct her.” Trini pushes herself up onto her elbows and runs her hands through her hair. She lets the silence creep back in between the two of them as she searches for the right words.

Are there even words to explain it?

God, how Trini wishes this wasn’t so painfully hard. That she could just freely talk about how her mother idolizes Kimberly. How that Kimberly is her vision of what a daughter show be like. Feminine. Popular. Straight… Or at least the outward illusion of being straight. 

Everything that Trini is not.

“My mother’s cool with us hanging out cause she thinks you’ll rub off on me. That’s you’ll help me…” Trini trails off, not able to finish the rest of her thought. But she doesn’t need to…

The sympathetic look on Kimberly’s face says it all. She more than gets it.

“C’mon. Get up.” Kimberly grabs hold of Trini’s hand and playfully yanks her up off of the bed.

“Huh?”

“We’re going out.”

“Where?” Trini stumbles onto her feet, coming only mere inches away from Kimberly’s face.

Kimberly plants a quick but tender kiss on Trini’s lips and flashes an “all-knowing” smirk. “You’ll see.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“The mall? How original,” Trini muttered under her breath, unable to hide her underlying level of disdain for where they were.

It’s not that Trini doesn’t want to be spending her time with Kimberly. Hell, she’d move heaven and earth just to have one more second with that girl… her girl.

God, that sounds good. Her girl.

But is Kimberly really her girl? Is that what this is?  

Kimberly hums in response as she leads the way, zig-zagging through the pockets of Saturday shoppers. She’s nothing short of a woman on a mission.  

Trini trails a few steps behind, trying her best to mirror Kimberly’s moves, but can’t seem to help but bump into every single person in her path.

“Keep up, Grumpy,” Kimberly jokingly calls out over her shoulder.

Trini grumbles a few nondescript words in Spanish back and picks up her pace. 

Trini’s torn. She doesn’t want to be disgruntled… especially when she knows that Kimberly has something up her sleeve, but it’s just that she can’t stand the mall.

No. That’s not a strong enough word. Trini fucking loathes the mall.  

Why? Because the mall equals shopping. And shopping equals…

It equals the missing level of hell that’s solely reserved for Trini to suffer through.

There’s a part of Trini that can’t help but wonder if her deep seeded hatred of shopping comes from her mother. After years of painful trips to stores that only ever resulted in fights and impromptu lectures about how she should dress, she has learned that when it comes to shopping it’s best just to get in and get out as quickly as humanly possible. And, of course, grab the most generic, comfortable yet non-problem inducing items available.

Trini suddenly comes to a crashing halt, right smack dab into the back of Kimberly. She stumbles backwards, desperately attempting to regain her footing and hold onto the last few remaining shreds of coolness that she has.

“We’re here.” A coy smile slowly crawls across Kimberly’s face as she motions towards the store they are standing in front of.

Trini takes one look and is immediately hit with a wave of unexpected excitement.

How does Kimberly know?

Or is it just a random fluke? Some sort of weird, serendipitous, coincidence that happens every now and then in life.

Trini knows this store. This is the store that she secretly wants to venture into every time her mother drags her out to the mall. The one with killer, gender neutral button downs and vintage t-shirts galore. The one that she would shop in, if she didn’t have to perpetually worry about what everyone would think.  

Trini tries to find her words, but can’t. All she can manage to do is stare back at Kimberly with a slight look of confusion mixed with happiness.

“If your mom wants me to rub off on you, than that’s exactly what I’m gonna to do.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“You alive in there?” Kimberly calls out from the other side of the dressing room door.

Trini lets out a light sigh and takes another look at herself in the mirror.

After a good thirty minutes or so of exploring every inch of the store and questioning Trini on what she really likes style wise, Kimberly had loaded her up with a wide array of button down shirts and skinny jeans to try on and sent her on a one way trip to the dressing room.

And now, Trini finds herself, alone in a tiny closet of a room, surrounded by a pile of strewn clothes, staring at someone that she vaguely recognizes yet wants nothing more to desperately be. She’s getting the first glimpse of her true self…

CLICK.

Trini whips around in a slight panic as dressing room door slowly creeps opens and Kimberly slips inside.

“You weren’t responding, so I…” Kimberly trails off, losing her ability to form words. Her eyes rake over every inch of Trini, fully taking her in.

“Sorry. I was just--”

But Trini doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

Kimberly lunges forward with a sudden primal urge and attacks Trini’s lips with a fiery passionate kiss. She buries her hands, deep within Trini’s ombre locks, attempting to get a better angle.

After what seems to be a lifetime, Trini pulls back out of the kiss and takes a deep, sobering breath of air. Her trademark smirk emerges as she straighten herself up. “So, you like it?”

“Seriously?”

“Dunno. Think I need a second--”

Once again, Trini finds herself silenced by Kimberly’s lips.

Those lips. So freakin’ soft and supply. And somehow tastes like an addictive mixture of cherries and ice cream.

Trini wonders how on earth she has managed to survive so long without these lips upon her own.

Kimberly is the first to pull back from their kiss this time. She snakes her hands around Trini’s neck and with the greatest of ease, swoops Trini’s hair up into a messy ponytail. “One word. Hot.”

Trini can’t help but let a hint of laugh slip through at this confession. “Two words. I try.”

Kimberly takes a step back from Trini and gives her another once over as her teeth subconsciously sink into her bottom lip. There’s no doubt that there’s only one thought running through her mind at the moment… and it isn’t PG rated.

Trini could feel her heart start to swell, instantly doubling in size from the amount of pure love -- and lust -- radiating off of Kimberly.

Trini may not know what exactly they are, but there’s one thing that’s for certain… Kimberly Hart wants her.

“Let me take you on a date,” Trini blurts out, breaking the silence between the two of them.

“A date?”

“Yeah. Like a real one.”

“Okay. But one condition.”

“Condition?” Trini swallows thickly. She tries to remain calm, but her mind instantly swirls with thoughts fueled by self-doubt.

Kimberly inches close, takes hold of Trini’s button down shirt, and pulls Trini in for yet another searing kiss. “I get to pick your outfit. Deal?”

“Deal.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////   

Trini camps out on a nearby mall bench, surrounded by a few shopping bags, mindlessly scrolling through her twitter feed while waiting for Kimberly to finish up shopping.

Once emerging from the dressing room, Trini and Kimberly had spent another twenty minutes or so, semi-arguing over who was going to pay for Trini’s new wardrobe. Kimberly was absolutely insistence that it was her treat, regardless of how much money it was.

And of course, Kimberly won out in the end because, like always, Trini can’t say no when it comes to her.

Trini glances up from her phone for a moment and spots--

Tommy Oliver.

Tommy casually hovers near the store entrance, trying to blend in with the crowd of shoppers. Although his back is towards Trini, it’s obvious that his sight is locked in on one thing and one thing only… Kimberly.

Trini slowly puts her phone down and straightens up a little bit as a very pronounced chill runs down her spine.

What the hell is Tommy Oliver doing here? And why is he stalking Kimberly?

Two questions that race through Trini’s mind at lightning speed.

Should she go over and say something?

Maybe he isn’t staring at Kimberly? Maybe, she just imagining--

Tommy turns around, momentarily locking his gaze onto Trini. Suddenly--

His eyes FLASH GREEN.

Trini jolts backwards in shock as Tommy up and disappears back into the steady stream human traffic. She sits there, in a stunned silence as her mind attempts to comprehend what she has just witnessed.

What the fuck?