#and the crappy seasonal depression

[devourmesofttly]

Had a bit of time today after lab to enjoy the weather and I couldn’t stop thinking about getting railed with the sun shinning down over our bodies

[spectrophobias]

sorry for being quiet lately gjdmsn i haven't felt too great but i love u guys ill be back soon!! and im on discord a little more frequently in the meanwhile 💞

[elibeeline]

its been almost two weeks?? im feeling no difference (vent in the tags 🙃)

trying vitamin d supplements 💪💪

[coraniaid]

I know I keep going on about this, but I really do think that the majority of the Buffy fandom downplays the importance of Buffy's relationship with her mother to, at times, an almost ludicrous extent. Obviously it's not a perfect relationship (if you think Buffy has a perfect relationship with anyone on the show you've really not been paying attention) and indeed at times it's a very strained one, but it's a central part of understanding who Buffy is and why she says and does things that a lot of writing about Buffy on this site just ... pretends isn't there.

There are more or less extreme examples of this -- I saw a "Giles should have adopted Buffy!" post a couple of years ago that didn't even acknowledge that Buffy had a mother who might have objected -- but so much analysis of the show seems not to engage seriously with the thought that Buffy might care about her mother as a person or worry about her mother's opinion of her. And really, the show is very, very clear about this. There are multiple episodes in the high school seasons where the emotional stakes only make sense if you accept that 'demons from hell might end the world' and 'Joyce might think her daughter is getting into trouble at school' are two roughly equivalent problems for Buffy to navigate.

I recently saw a post about Season 5 that listed Joyce's death as just one of several different reasons for Buffy's burgeoning depression that season -- along with Riley leaving and her having to drop out of college -- but .... that's not right, is it? Those aren't three isolated and independent issues at all. All of those factors go back to Buffy's mom. Riley leaves her in Into The Woods because he decided the fact she's too worried about her mom getting sick to spend time humoring his fragile ego means she doesn't really love him. Buffy drops out of college in Tough Love because her mother died and she has to take care of her sister ... which, when you remember that Dawn is explicitly presented as a stand-in for Buffy ("she's more than [my sister]," Buffy tells us in The Gift, "she's me"), can only be read as Buffy dropping out because she has to take care of herself. "Who's going to take care of us?" as she asked Dawn in Forever.

Buffy's depressive spiral in Season 5 happens because her mother dies. There are aggravating factors, sure, but this is surely the heart of it. It's not because her crappy boyfriend left or she suddenly remembered she was a Slayer. It's because her mom gets sick and dies, and Buffy Summers -- who is afraid of hospitals, who blames herself for every death in Sunnydale, who has been trying to protect her mother from the supernatural for years, who hates the very thought of there being problems in the world she can't solve, who loves her mother more than she can say -- doesn't know what to do about it.

"I don't know how to live in the world [...] if everything just gets stripped away. I don't see the point. I just wish my mom was here," she tells Giles in The Gift. It's Buffy who turns to the door to let the shadow of her mother back inside in Forever, and Dawn who has to break the spell that brought her back. In Season 6, Buffy is trapped by a demon in a fantasy world where she was never the Slayer and her mother is still alive, and it's that image of her mother, telling her that she's strong and urging her not to give up which allows her to break free. When Giles comes back to England that season, and offers Buffy a temporary reprieve from all her new financial worries, the highest praise Buffy has for him is that this uncharacteristic generosity on his part is "a little like having Mom back".

There are people in the world Buffy cares about as much as her mother (but not as many as some of you think), and there are perhaps a dozen characters who appear in the show more or get more speaking time than Joyce Summers, and there are certainly lots of characters the writers obviously care much more about as people in their own right. (Like many of you, the writers seem pretty dubious about the idea that middle-aged women could ever be interesting.)

But there is nobody in the world who means more to Buffy than her mother, and I think trying to analyze the show as if there were is going to give you a very strange impression of what's actually going on. Ideas like, well, maybe Giles should have adopted Buffy.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

It's home cinema manufacturing time! 🏴‍☠️ Gonna put my pirate show on my shelf! (I'm doing an Arts and Crafts Project and I'm making it everyone's problem.)

After seeing how much they cost, I abandoned the idea of getting a Blu-ray writer for now. For the time being, good old DVDs is what it's going to be! My TV is old and not very big, so DVD resolution is gonna be fine.

It's been ages since I last burned a DVD. For the full experience, I'm gonna create nice menus and pretty sleeves for the boxes. Graphic design is my passion! Um.

Well. First needed to find a program to do stuff with. I'm a Linux guy, so I'm using Devede. (Which is free, btw. In case someone else wants to do a low cost spot of putting pirate show on the shelf.)

DVDs fit a maximum of 120 minutes of video. So, four episodes, I thought. But after a quick attempt, the program refused to do more than three (maybe because of the menu also taking up space, and four episodes cutting pretty close to the 120 min mark?). Anyway, three episodes per disc it is. It's a pretty nice runtime for watching the entire disc, IMO. An hour and a half, and then you can return to reality to realise you should probably eat something, or go to bed because it's midnight.

OFMD with its current two seasons has a total of eighteen episodes, which is divisible by three. You get the following setup:

Disc 1: Pilot, A Damned Man, The Gentleman Pirate - That's pretty good, Stede's introduction to piracy all on one disc!

Disc 2: Discomfort in a Married State, The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, The Art of Fuckery - All bangers. Great to watch together, our boys meet and shenanigans happen!

Disc 3: This is Happening, We Gull Way Back, Act of Grace - Many romantic moments, lots of great scenes, shit hits the fan at the end there. Alright!

Disc 4: Wherever you go, there you are, Impossible Birds, Red Flags - ... Pain and angst! What have I done!?! The disc of horrors. Gotta make sure to have tissues at hand when I watch this. But hey, it also has messy bun Ed! Small mercies.

Disc 5: The Innkeeper, Fun and Games, The Curse of the Seafaring Life. - Another disc with all winners. I love all these episodes so much! (You can watch this disc to recover from the trauma of the previous one!) But seriously, this one slaps.

Disc 6: Calypso's Birthday, Man on Fire, Mermen - Great combination again. Season finale! Love and excitement!

... Honestly, except for the psychological damage of putting all the most painful episodes together, this is coming out pretty cool. Says a lot about how good the show is. I actually really love all the episodes (yes even the painful angsty episodes of massive depression). Thinking about this little project really reminded me how much I love this entire show.

So, we got a tracklist, now menus, then we can burn this stuff!

I did the menu backgrounds in GIMP. Realised I have a big folder full of screenshots I took myself, screenshots someone else took and posted on Tumblr, official promo pics for the show, and I have no idea anymore where most of them are from, because I named the files according to what's on them. Which is useful for when you want to find pics (Need a picture of cursed suit Stede? I have files named that, easy peasy!), but not so great if you wanted to give credit to whoever took a given pic you used. (It's probably @sherlockig or @ofmd-ann or @blakbonnet. Please feel credited, your beautiful screens and gifs brighten my day, and some of them are now probably part of my DVD menus. Shrunk down and cropped, but, yeah.)

I originally wanted to structure my menus as having the title of an episode, then some pics from it, then the next episode, then pics from that, and so forth, but I couldn't convince the program to give me the necessary padding between the menu items, so I ended up just putting the episode images below the menu. Still like it.

Anyway, DVD menus can also play sound! Behold a crappy video of my beautiful creation (provided entirely for sound):

It plays Gnossienne N°5!

More crappy pics of my other disc menus:

Gonna make them some nice sleeves next. Some day. Gotta make sure they all work properly first. So. I'll be on my sofa, watching my DVDs. With menus! (Edit: here are!)

[personal-progress-dropout]

The Rainbow Sheep III

I have complicated relationship with my gender.

Like many people who grew up in the church, I was raised with a strict concept of gender—there were men and there were women. Gender was determined in the pre-existence, and the gender you were assigned at birth was the gender you got. Trangenderism was, at best, a form of envy or self-hatred, and at worst, an act of rebellion against God. I wouldn’t hear the words nonbinary or intersex until I was a teenager.

Despite this, my parents were pretty easy-going about gender expression. My brother was allowed to dress up in my princess costumes when we were kids and I could buy clothes from the boy’s section without comment. There were some catches, of course—I was expected to wear a dress or skirt for formal occasions, and I’m not sure they’d ever be okay with my brother wearing anything ‘feminine’ once he was old enough to be a deacon. (He isn’t interested presenting himself as anything other than a cis guy, so I’ve never had the chance to see my hypothesis put to the test.) There was always a framed copy of The Family Proclamation hanging in our house. We had firm convictions about gender, so I never questioned my identity as a woman.

Like most things in my life, that changed when I moved out for college. I discovered a lot of things about myself—I was autistic and ADHD, I had seasonal depression, I would actually rather be a librarian than a teacher, and unlike what I had previously claimed to people, I was much more into women than I was to men, and I fall somewhere on the aroace spectrum. Above all, I discovered that my relationship with my AGAB was far more nebulous than I had assumed as a child.

I never had gender dysphoria, which I thought was an essential part of being trans or nonbinary. I was perfectly satisfied with being a woman, although the casual sexism I’d face was frustrating. And then I heard about ‘gender euphoria.’ I realized that I found joy in experimenting with gender, swinging between androgyny and femininity. I played around with pronouns, and found that being referred to as ‘they’ made me just as happy and comfortable as ‘she.’ (I’m rather indifferent to ‘he’.) When I discovered the term ‘demigirl’, I thought, “Yes, this is me.” I’ve since upgraded to ‘demiwoman’, and occasionally refer to myself as nonbinary.

I think it’s basically a rite of passage to have a gender/sexuality crisis when you’re religious and LGBTQ+. Much like the years after I figured out I was queer, I have moments where I worry that I’m actually just a cis woman who’s so empathetic to her trans and nonbinary friends that she’s fooled herself into thinking she’s demigender. Which is stupid, but nobody has ever claimed that anxiety follows rational thought.

Anyways, I wanted to share a spiritual experience I had lately: after the craziness that is Christmas and navigating through family drama, I had a chance to reflect. I was going over my imposter syndrome and how my gender identity is supposed to fit in with God’s great plan when I had a thought:

You are my daughter, my son, my child.

I wasn’t in the temple or in sacrament meeting. I was in my aunt’s spare room, lying on a crappy couch and staring up at a cat tree. And I still felt the assurance that Heavenly Father sees me. This doesn’t answer any of my questions about church policy or doctrine regarding gender identity, but it gave me hope. People may not think we have a place in the church, that we have to keep our mouths shut and fall in line in order to be in good standing with God. I reject that—there is a place for us, both in the church and in the eternal family. One day we’ll know more, and have a greater understanding, but for now, that one sentence of acknowledgement was enough.

[ci0zi0]

INANIMATE INSANITY S2 18 SPOILERS

A ramble time

Okay so.. the beginning scene of the episode where the karma song played..

Mephone4's mental state is shattered, and he's thinking back to the past. The previous seasons, the contestants he had made..

But the scene that made me think the most was where he took the auditions.

This is Mephone4's thought process and mental state, this entire scene.

Right here, Mephone4 is drowning in his guilt and mistakes. A happy little idea, just forming into something horrible and corrupt. Ruining the mentalities of so many people around him.

The guilt is overwhelming.

The way certain people's expressions shift (Paintbrush starts angry and shifts to a more saddened expression as they pass)

And the change of expressions from joy to overall despair when they pass HIM.

The fact he can visualize how the contestants would appear upset at him is.. agh..

This is all conjured by him, since not everyone had such a reaction like this. He wasn't even there to them in person. (Most of the Bright Lights didn't even learn the truth until later in the episode - Test Tube, Fan, Lightbulb; yet we see them raging at Mephone4 all the same.)

He really does know his creations, and knows how rightfully upset they should be toward him.

This scene especially made me go agghh...

Lightbulb and Tissues specifically.

Lightbulb is the most angry we have ever seen her. She's been saddened in episode 15, but not to this degree.

Mephone is literally visualizing her to being this upset. The most cheery, happy contestant in the game.

Knowing all the contestants are in a way Mephone4's ways to escapism, fun ideas to run away.. Lightbulb being the one here to look so tired and angry is so out of her nature.

Mephone4 literally cannot invision anyone happy with him, not even the most cheery goofy character.

The depiction of Lightbulb really shows how dark and depressing the loss of everyone is to Mephone4. There's no bright light here.

She's even angry in the story board. Meaning this was intentional.

As for Tissues, his face isn't even shown in this scene. It's as if he's avoiding Mephone4, looking away from him and not giving him a glance.

Mephone4 knew he messed up the most with Tissues. A silly idea!! It ruined a person.

Can't even dare look at Tissues in this scene or imagine his face.

Because you know if Tissues was given a face, it'd be the most pained.

Lastly there's the words in the back. The traits he had given his creations. HIS hand writing.

In a way... I feel like these traits can also be described to Mephone4. As creations can be an extention to yourself.

Then there's this moment where Mephone4 falls off Crappy Cliff. This scene is so symbolic honestly.

He's usually the one telling the contestants to jump off, and now he's the one falling. The contestants look down on him as he falls, shadows obscuring them.

He made them fall so deep into despair and into the fakeness of the reality show.. and now their faces are gone. They're gone.

Hes alone.

And all he can do in that moment is think about all the wrong hes done to these people he created.

Everything that led up to this. How he kept running from his problems and caused so many people to just die to his abuser. All because he wanted to escape.

And because he wasn't vocal and honest.

He could've been better than Cobs. But was he really?

The pain, disbelief and shock in Mephone4 just... speaks millions. And with the scene of all the contestants yelling at him... angry at him...

This phone deserved that hug from Mephone3gs.

God.

[inconsistentlywrittensoul]

I’m way behind on posting about my rewatch - there’s plenty I do want to say about S2, and there’s a whole essay about gender and Phases that I’m probably never going to write - but I’m into Season 3 and I really want to note how much early S3 establishes the issues that are going to drive Buffy’s long breakdown in seasons 6 and 7.

Firstly, Buffy's tendency to pull away from her friends, feeling she has to take care of everything for herself and protect them from her problems and her feelings rather than sharing them. It’s a consistent pattern, and we see it in her running away at the end of Season 2, and continually refusing to talk about what happened with Angel with both the Scoobies and Faith. When she eventually does try to talk to her assigned school counsellor about Angel, she explicitly says she can’t talk to anyone else about what’s happening (only to find him dead, which I’m sure didn’t help).

Of course, this isn’t just a flaw of Buffy’s - her friends have a pretty big role to play, especially Xander. His sanctimonious, judgemental whining about Buffy leaving, as well as anything to do with Angel, does a lot to push Buffy away. (Not to mention the first thing he does when he finds out Angel is back is try to manipulate Faith into murdering him.) It’s also hard not to suspect that Xander’s lie back in Becoming did a lot of damage - because of that, Buffy thinks even Willow hates Angel and wouldn’t understand her continued feelings for him. ‘Kick his ass’ made Buffy feel like literally no-one is on her side.

Regardless of the reason, here we see the beginning of the split that will make Buffy feel increasingly isolated and unable to trust or rely on anyone as the series continues into the depression years, especially Season 6. But we also see the start of a pattern that will become a central flaw in Season 7 - her inability to express empathy or care for anyone who she sees as a reflection of herself.

I’m actually not talking about Faith here - that’s related, but it’s also a whole can of lesbian worms I don’t want to get into right now. But aside from Faith, in the first few episodes of Season 3 there are two girls who mirror Buffy, specifically in her relationship with Angel. In Anne, we have Lily/Anne, who’s wants to spend the rest of her life with her older boyfriend, who has a criminal past and seems a little crappy but also genuinely loves her and is trying to be good to her, and who ends up being sent to hell. Then in Beauty and the Beasts, we see Abby, who started dating a guy who seemed nice at first, but who turned out to be an abusive monster. Both are very obvious parallels to Buffy in her relationship with Angel (in soul-having and soulless forms), and serve as ways for her reflect on that relationship.

But what I want to focus on is the fact that, while Buffy does try to help both girls, she’s also unusually harsh and unempathetic towards them. Her attitude is ‘This is how things are, and you need to set aside your emotions and just deal with it immediately and without emotional support’; it reflects how she treats herself, but it’s also a pattern in how she treats people whose challenges reflect hers. Which will come to a head in how she treats the Potential slayers in season 7, and the way she alienates everyone around her in part through her treatment of them (and therefore also her treatment of herself).

It’s just interesting to see these issues that will dominate the last couple of seasons come across so strongly in this early part of Season 3.

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER ONE: NOWHERESVILLE, MAINE

Also available on ao3

MDNI, Check ao3 tags for more info

Winter and its winds are always unkind to Stan’s boat. The ship wasn’t in great shape 30 years ago when he bought it with what little money his brother gave him. But now, after decades of wear and tear, Stan is getting worried that the old girl is on her last legs. Sailing will be out of the question for the rest of the season. If he wants his boat, his home, to stay intact, he’ll have to hunker down at the nearest port in a shitty little town in Maine.

His boat pulls into the sparsely populated port. He hoists the rusty anchor into the water, grunting heavily as he does. If he had someone to help with that task, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard on his back. “Fuck…” He rubs his aching back through his thick sweatshirt. It isn’t enough to keep him warm in the cold of Maine, but he just doesn’t care enough to even bother grabbing his only coat. The thing is falling apart at the seams, anyway. He locks up his cabin and jumps onto the splintered dock, aggravating his knees in the process. He needs a drink.

Everything in this town is so gray. He’s seen more than his fair share of bleak sites, but this place is just depressing, even for him. Obnoxiously bright street lights pollute the sidewalks, illuminating cookie cutter houses. No lights are on in anyone’s windows. It isn’t even midnight yet. This town must be so dull that people have nothing better to do at night than sleep. Luckily, there’s a bar not too far from the dock, located in the perfect spot to attract the rare sailor who’s unfortunate enough to stop here.

A bell rings when he opens the door to the bar, startling the distracted bartender. The young redhead behind the counter looks up from her phone to greet Stan. “Welcome. Don’t get too many customers at this hour,” she says. “What’re you havin’?” He sits at a stool right in the middle of the counter.

“Gimme whatever will get me drunk fastest for the least amount of money,” he requests. She cracks a small smile.

“Got a real crappy whisky that’ll do the trick.” She grabs a clean glass from under the bar and fills it with an unusually dark whisky from the lowest shelf. She slides it across the bar to Stan. He throws half the glass back and shivers from the bitterness. 

“This is disgusting,” he complains. 

“Want something else?”

“This is the cheapest thing you got?”

“Yup,” she confirms. He swallows the rest of the glass and slides it back towards the woman.

“I’ll take another.” She leans over the bar and fills the glass back up to the brim. His eyes flicker to the cleavage pouring out of her black dress shirt. She sure is showing the girls off, probably in an attempt to get better tips from sad saps like him. She’ll be sorely disappointed to find that Stan is too broke to leave more than a couple bucks for her. She leaves him to his drink, focusing on cleaning up a tap.

He sips his second round more leisurely. He’s in no rush to get back to the faulty heating of his ship’s cabin, and he sure as hell can’t afford a hotel. The familiar bug of nicotine cravings crawls through his body. He pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. The bartender whips her head around when she hears the flick of the lighter.

“Ya can’t smoke in here, buddy,” she tells him.

“C’mon, kid. Ain’t no one else around.” She shakes her head at him.

“Federal law, and I don’t want this place to reek of tobacco.” He sighs and slips the contraband back into his pocket. “Hey, mind if I pour myself a drink? I’m not supposed to drink on the job, but as you said, ain’t no one else around.” He nods at her. She grabs herself a glass and fills it with cheap vodka and cranberry juice.

“Your boss ain’t gonna fire you when he sees ya drinking on the security camera?” Stan asks.

“Bosses are my parents. They won’t do anything besides give me a quick lecture.” She leans on the counter across from Stan. Her big breasts stare him in the face. Keeping his eyes away from them is a struggle. “The hell brought you to this wasteland? Hope you’re not staying long, for your own sake.”

“My boat ain’t doin’ too well. I gotta stay in one spot until spring.”

“Damn, you chose just about the worst spot to stay in. Might be worth the risk to sail to the next port. Drowning is a way better fate than living here,” she complains. 

“If it’s so bad, why don’t you get up and leave?” He questions.

“I’ve been plotting my escape since I was a kid, but I always end up being too lazy to run. That’s the issue of this town. Breaks your spirit so much you don’t even have it in you to escape its clutches. You should get out before it takes you, too,” she warns.

“Can’t be that terrible if it produces women as beautiful as you,” Stan flirts. Her lip briefly twitches up, just long enough for Stan to catch it.

“If only the selection of guys was as good. You’re about the most attractive man to walk into this garbage joint.” Stan chuckles at the compliment.

“I find that hard to believe.” He polishes off his second glass. She pours him another. “Kid, I don’t think I can swing another drink. I’m pretty strapped for cash here.” “On the house. I just wanna talk to someone who isn’t from here for once.” He lifts his glass in a cheers to her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Marty. Yours?”

“Stan. Marty’s a pretty manly name for such a sweet young thing like you.”

“I’m more salty than sweet,” she jokes.

“Why don’t ya let me taste so I can see for myself?” He leans closer to her face. She leans closer to his in return.

“You’re a real dirty old man, you know that?” She pats him on the cheek.

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least shoot my shot. Haven’t seen a woman as gorgeous as you in forever.” He finishes his third drink. There’s enough booze in his system that he feels like his problems are a little further away. “How much do I owe ya?”

“For that swill? $10,” she tells him. He pulls a 10 and two 1s from his pocket.

“Thanks for the drink, sweetheart. I’ll get outta that pretty red hair of yours now.” Stan staggers across the bar. Being this drunk will make it a little easier to sleep in the freezing cabin of his boat tonight.

“Night, Stan. Don’t come back. You’re too good for this place.”

“So are you, kid.” She waves him off. As much as he wants to heed her warning, he doesn’t have the choice. He’s stuck here for some time. If he gets to see her again, then maybe it won’t be so bad.

The booze is not enough to keep him from shivering. Maybe he can call that rich bastard brother of his for a little financial help. He owes Stan as much after exiling him to do his dirty work. All he needs is for him to cover a few repairs and maybe get him a heavier blanket and new coat. But that would mean contacting the asshole for the first time in three decades. The man got rich and famous with his dumb science shit and never even thought to track Stan down and see if he needed help. He’ll freeze before he’ll talk to his brother again. 

He needs to get out of this cold. He can probably swing another glass of whisky at that bar if he skips a meal tomorrow. The longer he can stay in the warmth of the bar, the better. He pulls his hood over his head and power walks back to the establishment. When he gets there, the door is locked, but Marty is still inside, seated at a table and scrolling on her phone. He turns around when the door doesn’t open for him, but she unlocks it for him.

“Everything good, buddy? It’s after hours,” she calls to him. He enters the bar and she closes the door and locks it again.

“I was hoping you’d still be open. It’s damn cold on my boat. Don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight,” he explains. 

“Well, I can’t let you stay here when I leave. Can’t risk you robbing the place.” She thinks her options over. “There’s a shelter a couple of miles from here.”

“Nah, forget it. Thanks for tryin’.” He tries to leave again, but she puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“There’s a room in the back with a bed. Remember that there are cameras if you try to rob us.” She leads him past the employees only door to a small room with a single bed and a few boxes left there for storage.

“Ya ain’t gotta do this, kid,” Stan protests.

“Don’t make a mess, alright? And no helping yourself to the booze.” She ignores his pushback and starts to leave.

“Hey, Marty?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She gives him a salute and walks out, closing Stan’s door behind her. He lays down and stares at the ceiling. This simple gesture by this young girl has to be the first nice thing anyone has done for him in years.

Marty sits in her car and contemplates what she’s done. Trust has never been one of her strong suits, so she surprised herself by letting Stan stay in her bar unsupervised. There was something about him. It’s hard not to pity a man whose life is in such a state of disarray that he’s forced to spend any amount of time in her town. She feels that the effects of her one drink have worn off enough for her to drive home.

Though her family home is across the street from the bar, she doesn’t want to spend too much time with those people. The ten mile drive to her studio apartment is worth the peace it offers. She thinks about Stan through the drive. She’s almost tempted to pay for repairs to his boat in exchange for hitching a ride anywhere but here. She parks in her designated spot, next to the car of the neighbors she always hears fighting through the walls. They’re even going at it when she walks through her front door.

She rips off her work clothes and flops into bed in her bra and panties. She’s going insane here, and Stan's presence really brought those feelings to the surface. She’s sick of the human waste around her. The awful marriages and the town drug epidemic and all the teen parents throwing away their chances at college. The blinding light pollution and the abandoned structures crowding the streets because most businesses can’t survive here. She needs to get Stan out of here before the place swallows him like it does everyone else.

The yelling next door gets worse. They’ve done this nearly every day since Marty moved in almost two years ago. The thread finally snaps for her. She shoots up and starts banging on the wall she shares with the couple. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I’ve had it with you people! Get a divorce if you hate each other so much!” She screams.

“Mind your own business, bitch!” The man yells back.

“You bastards keep everyone in this damn building up every night!” She bangs harder. She hears both of them swear and barrel out of their front door. They begin banging on her door.

“Come out and say that to our faces, bitch!” The woman yells.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Marty hisses. Unless she wants her neighbors to bust her door down and lose her deposit for her, she won’t be able to keep them locked out forever. She isn’t going to be able to stay here tonight. She tosses her essentials into a duffel bag and throws an ex-boyfriend’s oversized t-shirt over her underwear. Then, she snatches a small canister from her desk. She takes a deep breath, swings the door open, and blasts the neighbors in the face with pepper spray.

“Dammit! You bitch!” The neighbors clutch at their reddened faces and stumble around blindly, trying to grab Marty. She slams her door shut and dashes past them, straight to her car, and books it out of there. She’ll have to spend a night or two at her parents’ place.

[altocat]

one of my fave sephiroth things is "guy tasting food normies take for granted every day and losing his fucking mind" but i do stand firm in my truth of him having a few god awful lab foods as comfort foods. ang and gen gagging over MREs and giving up personal items on deployments for seasonings while seph is like "oh boy powder with specified nutrients" like you KNOW that beginning of cc depression had sephiroth digging into the ShinRa Electric Company Brand Protein Packs™️ instead of bothering to prepare real food (no more gen to scold him into eating nonsynthesyized foods or angeal to put leftovers in his fridge /shot)

Love it lmao

I'd like to think Sephiroth has an occasional loyalty to Shinra lab food the same way lots of us have a loyalty to crappy fast food or awful frozen meals. Like yeah it's not really food but the "taste" is familiar and the textures are pleasing so he'll latch onto that if it means getting some level of routine and control back into his life.

Headcanon: Sephiroth is used to very, very bland foods but Hojo occasionally would permit him a bit of seasoned fish as a little bit of extra protein, which was always VERY welcome. So whenever Sephiroth receives a little bit of it for his nightly Shinra-sanctioned meal, he associates it with "love" of sorts.

'nother headcanon: Sephiroth has eaten straight up unprocessed synthetic sludge without any complaints at all. Full on spooning that shit into his mouth without the faintest hint of expression or self-awareness. Autopilot mode engaged. He doesn't notice everyone is staring. He thinks it soooorta tastes like really stale cereal.

[ejzah]

A/N: Fueled by my recent rewatch of season five which reminded just how crappy Deeks is treated, largely by Hetty.

***

Enough is Enough

Deeks zipped his bag closed, the dim glow of a couple lights casting over his desk. He wasn’t in any hurry to leave; he didn’t exactly have much to go home to. He let himself wallow in that thought for a moment while he checked he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Mr. Deeks.”

He turned at Hetty’s unexpected entrance. He didn’t have the energy for the usual dramatics of pretending he was surprised or even unnerved.

“I didn’t realize you were still here,” he said, sliding the strap of his bag over her his head. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Actually, I wanted a word with you,” she informed him with her inscrutable look that could be concealing incredibly devastating news or a tidbit of hope. He braced himself; the last few months had left him wary and conflicted when it came to Hetty.

“If you’re wondering if I’m ok after falling off of a moving vehicle, then the answer is I’m a little bruised but I’ll survive.” He flashed a smile, designed to reduce any concern long enough to make his escape.

“That’s good new,” Hetty said, and if he didn’t know better, she didn’t sound all that interested in his latest work-related heroics and ensuing injuries. She pauses and pursed her lips for a few seconds. “‘I’ve been thinking about your great love of surfing, Mr. Deeks.”

“Really? Well, Sorry Hetty, but my lesson slots are all booked. You’ll have to try again next week,” he drawled.

“Now that would make a most interesting afternoon indeed. No, as much as I would enjoy benefitting from your many years of experience as a surfer, that wasn’t why I brought up the topic. Recently, I saw an article about a surfer who became concussed after her board landed against her head.”

“Yeah, accidents can happen.” Deeks narrowed his eyes, not liking where this conversation seemed to be headed.

“Indeed. Then last week I couldn’t notice you had a rather large scrape on your arm.” Hetty drew her finger along her own, blazer-covered forearm. “Mr. Hanna said you’d had a run-in with another surfer.”

“It was his first time out on a board and he got too close,” Deeks explained, pausing for emphasis. “I gave him some tips. That kind of thing doesn’t happen often.”

“But it does happen. I think you should reconsider this particular extracurricular activity, Mr. Deeks. It’s too dangerous.”

“Remember that whole part where I jumped off a truck today?” Deeks asked incredulously. And maybe a little too sharply based on Hetty’s widened eyes. He pulled himself back over the line, even though he didn’t feel like being respectful in this particular moment. “Every day, I do a hundred things that are more dangerous than surfing. Last week, I chased a suspect through a burning building, got shot at about ten times, and disarmed a guy with knife. I don’t think surfing is going to be the thing to kill me, and if it does, at least I’d be happy in my last moments.”

It was a dark statement, but not wholly untrue. At the present time, surfing was one of the few activities that truly silenced the unpleasant thoughts and depression. Especially when his calls with Kensi were few and far between.

“Mr. Deeks,” Hetty admonished him, making a horrified sound. He just shrugged. “I think you should seriously consider surfing.”

“Contrary to popular belief, Hetty, you do not get a say in what I do outside of work hours,” he said bluntly.

“I’m just looking our for you. As I do for all my agents,” Hetty said, spreading her hands in a would-be innocent gesture.

Deeks wondered if Lauren Hunter had felt the great care of Hetty Lange. He certainly hadn’t when Hetty broke into his apartment last summer, nearly sending him into a PTSD spiral. Or when she sent Kensi to Afghanistan with almost no warning.

Sure, Hetty offered her slices of generosity in the form of satellite phones and messages about sunshine and gunpowder. Sometimes that wasn’t enough to offset the manipulation and calculated moves.

“No.”

Hetty looked genuinely shocked. “No?”

“That’s right.” He grabbed his phone off the desk and tucked it into his pocket. “And I want my keys back, Hetty,” he added as he unceremoniously walked passed her.

[very-straight-blog]

This might sound funny and cringey, but I feel like I lost something I cared about and now it's just sadness and depression. Like it's a TV show, I get it, but we waited 2 years and for what? To get the two worst episodes imaginable. I'm really starting to believe that Sapochnik was responsible for everything good in s1, bcz Condal and Hess ruined this show. S1 wasn't perfect and I didn't like a lot of things in it, but it still managed to keep me invested so I hoped that in s2 everything would be improved. And yet, I'm so terribly disappointed. Alicent's characterization makes no sense anymore, like they want so badly to show her as a bad mother and a hypocrite and really - after ruining bnc with Alicole sex now it had to follow with her not being able to console her son but hoping on Criston is a must do?? What sort of degenerates write this??

Aemond is also ruined for me and I would love to erase that crappy brothel scene from my memory. What was it for? To show his mommy issues, vulnerability... Idc. The dialogue was bad and they did him dirty with the angles and the pose. And now he's apparently going to be there *again* in e3 and we'll get full frontal nudity. Idk why the actor agreed to this since they are obviously making a joke and meme material of his character. Not to mention that he straight up lied in the promos about being loyal (if the RR leaks are true and I'm almost 100% sure they are). I get that they are told what to say, but a more general answer would have been much better than a lie. In brief, one of my favourite s1 characters is also destroyed.

Then Cole. My god, I only waithig for him to look at the camera and say "do you hate me enough already hahah?" He's the writers punching bag atp.

Helaena barely exists.

Otto is Viserys' fanboy and ofc, appalled by his grandson. It's not as he just has lost a son and was forced to take the crown in the first place by him and his mother, no less.

Aegon got more screentime and I love Tom's performance, but I'm not fooled. He is still depicted as weak, politically inept and rash. And he'll still be a bully, apparently. Just to justify his brother's treason. F*ck you Condal, Hess and whoever else is responsible for this mess.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. I just don't get how anyone can seriously praise this shitshow anymore. It could have been great, but the creators are obviously not up to the task which is now painfully obvious. I wouldn't mind the greens as villains, but don't write them as a walking joke. I'm quitting the show and would like just to forget about it. This adaptation of the Dance was a huge mistake.

I feel you! By the way, I haven't participated in any fandom life, I think, for 10 years or more, but thanks to HOTD, I started this blog, I write some critical (well, kinda) reviews, and English isn't even my native language. I've been waiting for the second season for two years and now I just feel tired and empty. So far, the only thing I've liked about these two episodes is Aegon's storyline, that's all. Everything else is bad, very bad, and judging by the leaks, it'll be even worse.

Firstly, the series has a very strange pace of the narrative. We didn't get a bunch of important plot scenes, and even those that remained were shown in a hurry, but at the same time we have many scenes like "Rhaenyra stares at the dust for three minutes", unnecessary dialogues and PAUSES between lines.

Secondly, again, an insane amount of important plot details are left behind the scenes and this is absolutely wrong. Aemond's return home, the family's reaction to what he did. Aegon's reaction when he learned of his son's death. Aemond's reaction when he finds out what his actions have led to. And so on and so forth. Many of the characters' actions are shown without context. Alicent fucks with Criston - cool, but can I have some additional information? How long has this been going on, what feelings do they have for each other, how have they developed, like, anything? The same can be said about the scene in the brothel - no context.

Thirdly, it's unclear what's going on with the characters, as if the screenwriters decided to make the greens the most unpleasant people in the world. So far, I only like Aegon and Helaena. I can't even say anything about Aemond, because his only dialogue scene is built around Daemon and Luke, damn them. I just can't.

Everything annoys me except Aegon lol. So yes, I understand you.

[ineffable-suffering]

Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post

i'm not sure if occult beings are technically capable of suffering from mental illnesses but, watching S2 for the nth time now, i'm pretty sure that ever since Armageddon didn't happen, crowley has simply been a little, well ... depressed.

(just in case, a mild TW: depression, trauma, mental illness)

like, one of the firsts things we hear him say (to shax, out of all people) is: "do you ever think: what's the point of it all? heaven, hell, angels, demons, it's all ... pointless." which– whoof, that's heavy. i mean, fair enough, he's got a point, but it's still one hell (pun intended) of a statement to chuck out as one of the first things he says this season.

i think the way that crowley and aziraphale processed Armageddon is .. very different. we see aziraphale at the beginning of S2:

happy as always in his surroundings

chatting to the people in his whickber street community

buying music

humming along to it in his bookshop

and just frolicking, as he always does

crowley, however, is:

sitting alone on The park bench

questioning the meaning of existence

while also technically being homeless

and living in his car

for ... no apparent reason other than not being bothered to miracle himself up a new flat

of course, crowley's always been a bit of a grumpy goth boyfriend. but it doesn't take a licensed therapist to figure out that he's clearly Going Through something. and it makes sense, if you think about it. surely, Armageddon was traumatic for both of them. but i think aziraphale does have a bit more of a safety net to fall back on. he's got his shop, his books, his music and some of his neighbours he seems to like and know. and, of course, he has crowley. who's always just a phone call away and who he, as we are told, calls when pretty much anything does or doesn't happen.

crowley's main hobby and somewhat safe space used to be his plants and his flat, but those are kinda gone too now/crammed into the bentley and he clearly hasn't been able to move on yet since he a) hasn't bothered to get a new flat and (what i think is an even bigger indicator of him not being okay) b) hasn't told aziraphale yet. ("we talk all the time!" yup, but clearly not about the things that matter, hm?)

it's been four years. four years in which, seemingly, aziraphale had few issues with falling back into his old flow, picking up his hobbies again and even making more friends around Soho. and four years in which crowley lost his flat, most of his plants and apparently his will to change anything about it or share it with aziraphale.

having been through major depressive episodes myself, this does *david tennant voice* bingle-bongle-dingle-dangle all my alarm bells.

because people cope with trauma in different ways. some better than others. and crowley, having Major Unresolved Trauma from his Fall, always having been rather unhappy with the work he'd been doing for hell (aka only getting credit for things he didn't do and sort of messing up things he did do) and also having to face the fact that the angel he was head over heels in love with kept turning him down over and over again for reasons he didn't understand ... well, it didn't set him up for a great post-not-so-much-the-end-of-the-world start.

and sometimes, being forced to keep running under kinda shitty conditions (such as a crappy job or trying to chase after the love of your life) still keeps you running. but once that all stopped, once aziraphale and crowley were (at least for the time being) free of heaven and hell and could finally just live their lives, crowley seems to just have retreated further back into himself. questioning the whole meaning of existence and not really talking about it to the one person he'd always wanted to be with. which makes sense because more than anything, crowley wants to protect aziraphale. and he‘s definitely the type of demon person to think that sharing your struggles means burdening someone else with them. oh crowley, you and me would have so much to talk about, babe.

so yeah. the world almost ended. and then it just went back to normal. and i think crowley is still stuck somewhere between thinking he'd lost his best friend and love of his life in a fire, almost being anihilated by his satanic boss and then everything simply snapping back into the way it always was – within the span of a day. no wonder he's finding it a little hard to move on.

---

(addendum: there's a great piece of fanfiction called "Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach" that deals exactly with that trauma, in which crowley goes to see a therapist. incredible character study and brilliant writing.)

[scottstiles]

i have to say even tho every single other thing about the last few seasons of svu still annoys the hell out of me (all the new actors, the lighting, coloring, set design, drab and depressing stories, even the crappy new lets-run-everywhere-with-the-camera style), at least mariska continues to outperform every single other person on television.

[pileofpawns]

*the worst overall

This applies to all kinds of disabilities, physical, neurodevelopmental, mental illness, and sensory; diagnosed or undiagnosed.

My mental and physical symptoms get worse in the winter and fall (seasonal depression, more headaches/migraines, crappy circulation is more bothersome) when it’s cold and dry where I live, but I know a lot of folks who have worse symptoms in the summer, so I’m curious where the majority lies!

[ijustwanttobegolden]

🅸🅵 🆈🅾🆄 🆆🅰🅽🆃 🆃🅾

🅳🅴🆂🆃🆁🅾🆈 🅼🆈

🆂🆆🅴🅰🆃🅴🆁

𝑨 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒛𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

(who turns out to be real and your soulmate all along)

»»-----------►

🍁🧡🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍁🧡🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍂🍁

Warnings: mentions of depression/mental health. References to a break up. curse words. Indication of sex. A cute little plot twist. Evan peters overload.

🍁🧡🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍁🧡🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍁🍂🧡🍂🍁

»»-----------►

You were waiting. Waiting for him to come back.

You were heartbroken. The guy you thought you knew... The guy you thought you loved.. a twin flame or soulmate, was one big lie. He tricked you. Making you believe it was love, that he truly loved you which begs the question.. well if he did.. then surely he wouldn't have left you so easily. Left you alone feeling confused and worthless. Tragic timing. The weather was changing. It was growing colder and darker with each passing day and when the first golden crisp leaf fell from the tree, you fell to the ground with it. Tears also falling. Your seasonal depression came back around just as autumn did and just in crappy time for your heartbreak. Perfect timing was the only term to describe it, either that or typical. Which brings us back to waiting. waiting for him to come back though not him.. Not your ex but Him. Evan. Your imaginary best friend.

Evan was always there. High or low that boy was there. You had known him for such a long time, since you were young and together you grew up with him never leaving your side. You had a bond so strong that it was unbreakable and where it came from was magic, he was magic. Where he had come from you had no recollection so he was what you could gather as your imaginary best friend. Through all the tears, laughter, pinky promises, drunken parties, accidental sleepovers and milestones in life, Your Evan was always there. Like your bond, as if by magic he would pop up when you needed him most, as all imaginary best friends do. A time like this is where you needed him now more than ever and so you impatiently waited. knee bouncing, nail biting, tears running. Waiting.

Days had passed and nothing but during those days you had time to slightly heal. Overtime feelings for your ex grew cold. Love turned to hate and in the end you could see as clear as day that he wasn't right for you and that you weren't really feeling it in the first place. You completely ignored your gut feelings and anxious attachment was definitely to blame. Stupid anxious attachment girlie.

Anxious attachment was something you were working on. It faded as the days passed awaiting Evan to pop up, impressively, because usually you'd be tearing yourself apart by now! Yet another autumn walk through the woods cleared your racing mind and with a breath of fresh air you let it go. Surprising what a lot of self care reading can do (recommendations include 'Good vibes good life' and 'Healing is the new high' by vex king). Now depression on the other hand. hard work. but you were one tough cookie.

Or so you thought...

By the evening you clutched your naked body, rocking back and forth under the hot running shower. Every droplet of water burned but not as much as your eyes from the running mascara that leaked into your eyes and down over your puffy red cheeks. You needed to get away. You didn't want to be here anymore and you wanted your best friend. You wanted Evan.

»»-----------►

Rolling out of bed in the morning made your mental breakdown in the shower last night feel like a fever dream, the autumn sun spilling through the window instantly made you feel better. You felt positive and recharged, ready to start the day. Today you felt more alive. You now felt silly for the intrusive thoughts.. for the crying and begging to the universe pleading for Evan to show up so desperately when you know the universe has what it has for you and if that means no love or no imaginary best friend then except that it's for a good reason and better things are coming.

Autumn walks had become a habit now. You knew that staying inside was no good for your seasonal depression which resulted in learning to love the changing colour of the leaves, the cold crisp air against your skin and the autumn smells of rain, coffee and pumpkins. You invested in some cute outfits and so the whole aesthetic of it all was giving Pinterest vibes and you almost couldn't wait to get out, play your 'sweater weather' playlist on Spotify and pretend you were in some music video of some sort. And the best part? Your Boots. There wasn't one day of the year that you didn't rely on your trusted old docs.. you had a whole collection and your extra chunky ones for fall made a comeback. Currently you slid them on eagerly, balancing in the dusty dim entrance hall of the house before swinging a scarf around your clavicle. It was untill you reached out to firmly grasp the handle of the front door to make your exit when you felt something was different today. Something was off. You felt a presence. 

You quietly lingered for a moment, the only sound was muffled music spilling from your headphones. A presence so thick that you almost felt scared. Was it a ghost? it was nearing Halloween after all, all sorts of spooky shit happens this time of year. It couldn't be, the presence felt too strong, too familiar, a connection you knew all too well. You could feel it. It was on the otherside of the door. Then a shadow. A movement of a shadow through the stained glass window of the door. You attempt to squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you could before making the brave move of opening the door, scared of what or who would be on the otherside. 

A sudden gust of cool autumn breeze hits you while your checkered scarf flaps with it. Eyes still closed the presence lunges forwards and engulfes you in the tightest grip. You were bound by thick cords of soft fuzzy wool, the large warm arms that tightned around you pulled you in so close you felt wrapped up in a weighted blanket and you took in the familiar scent from the warmth of their chest. You recognized it instantly without even having to check. It was your imaginary best friend. It was Evan. 

You relaxed into his embrace, it felt like home and while you squeezed him back tighter he took in the scent of you with one big heave of his chest. It was comforting. His grip couldn't get any more tighter while his brown puppy dog eyes began glistening with tears which thankfully to him you couldn't see. 

"Y/n" he gasped with relief.

You tried not to breakdown, you needed this a long time ago but at least he's here now, therefore your eyes remained closed taking it all in while continuing to fight the urge not to cry. 

"I've been so worried about you, I haven't heard from you in weeks and one of your friends told me about the split, only now I'm finding out about it. shit y/n.. I'm sorry" he rushed, his deep heavy voice vibrating beneath his warm snuggly jumper to which you paid no attention. He was your safe space and you switched off for a moment only focusing on his presence but not his words.

"I'm here now it's okay, I'm going to make it all go away"

Now that you paid attention to. No wonder he was imaginary, He was perfect.

»»-----------►

A couple of hours passed since being reunited with your imaginary best friend and already you had a day at the pumpkin patch planned. Matching tattoo ideas saved. A whole new shared playlist created on Spotify to enjoy together and a stay at a log cabin all booked up for this weekend which is what you really wanted most. You wanted nothing more but to get away so Evan made every effort to make that happen and so now here you were on a cold rainy evening. Candles lit around your warm cozy bedroom, packing thick jumpers and leggings and all things essential into a travel bag ready for your little get away. A log cabin in the woods, how fitting for this time of year. You pictured the roaring fire, the golden trees surrounding you, the heated tub out on the porch, steam and bubbles. Hot chocolates and fluffy warm socks. Pumpkin carving and horror films. It was going to be perfect.

»»-----------►

It was like walking on clouds, maybe because the mud beneath your black converse (Weird to not be wearing your chunky boots for a change) was soft and disgustingly squidgy. Though the feeling of walking on clouds could be because of the fact that your small hand in comparison to Evans large, warm hand was laced together, hand in hand as you staggered around the pumpkin patch. Matching converse (Evan insisted) and cute matching scarfs and the biggest goofiest smiles on your faces. Evans face lit up at every pumpkin, joking around and making up a name for each one... "So this one is Jerry..." He lent over to pick up 'jerry' while pulling a twisted face at how small and crooked the poor pumpkin looked. "He really struggled... 'growing' up" he joked suggestively. Your hands reach for your face to cover up your giggles, he had you in stitches. Evan chuckled deeply, impressed by the reaction he had out of you. Infact he was very satisfied with himself, your laughter meant everything to him.

"I think he's quite... cute" you giggled with amusement, eyeing the pumpkin. Evan held it up high by its oddly thin twisty stalk.

Evan smiled proudly at it then back to you with the cutest, dorkiest smile.

"you think princess? Shall we adopt Jerry?"

You nodded excitedly with glimmer in your eyes, holding your hands out in a 'gimmie gimmie!' manner. If it was one thing your imaginary best friend could do, it was bring out your happy and playful side. He really healed your inner child.

Both you and Evan continued to stagger around the pumpkin patch hand in hand for another half an hour or so before picking out your two main pumpkins in preparation for pumpkin carving night at the log cabin. Deeply it was secretly an excuse for you both to enjoy the moment a bit longer, never wanting to let each other go. Your hands laced together a tad bit tighter, swinging with each step as you both yearned for each other.. talking, laughing and flirting endlessly. Even though you got lost in Evan, always feeling like you two were the only people to grace planet earth when you two were together, you couldn't help but notice now and then some of the looks you were gaining from almost everyone around. The whispered gossip between the strangers (mainly girls) made you feel slightly uncomfortable and they were taking... Photos? Even videos possibly. Although that didn't really shock you too much.. you were with your imaginary best friend after all.. you must have looked insane walking around talking to yourself, pretending to hold hands while laughing. You could just see it now, posted all over Tik Tok in no time 'crazy girl at pumpkin patch'.

"what's on your mind pumpkin princess?"

A squeeze of your hand and it shook you out of thought.

You giggled lightly at the nickname, a smile appearing back on your pretty face. Evan admired your beauty, eyes glistening in the autumn sun.

"nothing... Um... Photos?" You questioned as you clock on some more girls in the distance. They were clearly taking more photos. How rude. Brownie points for attempting to do it discreetly though, you guess.

"you read my mind! Let's try and get someone to take a photo of us" He smiled.

'no need to try' you thought...

»»-----------►

Pumpkins picked, photos taken, you were soon in the privacy of the car, the warmth of the heaters blasting air on your cold pale faces and the sound of Weezer blearing through the speakers from the playlist you both made. Destination, log cabin. In the middle of the woods, In the middle of nowhere.

Perfect.

"IF YOU WANT TO DESTROY MY SWEATER!!!"

You both yelled, singing to the top of your lungs.

The trees were a blur as the car sped down the wet secluded road while you, the passenger princess sang with your pretend microphone while Evans hair bounces as he lightly headbangs, fists gripping the steering wheel. It was kinda cute and kinda hot at the same time so you put the pretend microphone down and watched him eagerly. Evan jamming to alternative rock... Such a turn on.

Once you pulled up to the log cabin surrounded by beautiful warm hues of golden oranges and yellows from the trees. Evan wasted no time in carrying the bags and even you into the cabin. Being slung over his shoulder wasn't what you expected but it was fun, the way he carried you and the bags with little to no effort at all was another big turn on and you had to kick yourself for a minute for feeling that way.

"okay princess, I'm going to start lighting the fire and getting this place warmed up... You get yourself settled and maybe set the pumpkins up ready" Evan spoke out excitedly, his voice firm and deep.

You loved how Dominate he could be. Always the one making solid plans, always the one to lead. That's a man right there, leaving you nothing but to fall into your soft feminine side, feeling safe and comfortable and able to just relax. Completely opposite to your ex who always used to put you in flight or fight mode, feeling like you always had to make all of the bold decisions and plans and lead and what not. Very stressful. very non-princess treatment like.

Now here you were.. sweeped off your feet and placed onto the... worktop?

Your legs instinctively parted as Evan rested between them, his deep eyes hovering over every detail of your face to which you scrunched up your features completely confused.

"Evan?"

Was all that slipped from your mouth until he took them with his own.

He breathed you in, your mouths moulding together in sync as you melted into him. All confusion gone now as your arms naturally drape around his neck, slightly pulling him closer if that was even possible.

"Did you.. just... Bring me.. here.. so you could....."

You gasped in-between kisses. The thought. How it made you feel so weak and so wet down there...

"so I could murder you?' he falsely questioned with a smug smirk against your swollen lips.

You giggled and pushed him away lightly. He stepped back to take in the beauty of your playfulness and the lust that filled your eyes so suddenly. Your cheeks, how they were all pink and flustered, just like the first time you kissed by the lake that one summers night, star gazing upon a tatted old picnic blanket and a sneaky hand up your skirt (How cliche).

"that's not what I was going to say" you bantered, leaning back, glaring at him with your cheeky knowing smile.

"Oh well, whatever it was, you are wrong" Evan teased, effortless brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You wanted him close again, stood back in-between your legs, his veiny large hands gripping at your thighs while your fingers ran through his curly locks of hair. The juiciness of his lips against yours, they filled you with warmth and now the sudden absence of them made you feel somewhat empty.

It was like that boy could read your mind.. well he probably could with him being your imaginary best friend and all that.. isn't that a thing they can do? Either way, his lips were reconnected with yours once again and this time your legs wrapped around him eagerly as well as your arms. His hands grabbed at your hips desperately, pulling you into him, no balance with you half being on the counter but Evan gripping you into him, your legs around him for support, there's no way you would fall. Only into him. Your safe place.

You breathed one another in, it was a pure but passionate moment. Your pumpkins sat side by side with one another next to you on the counter, patiently waiting to be carved. You were the first to break the kiss when your phone suddenly vibrated on the counter loudly, pinging with notification after notification. Wow... what an earth?

*ping*

"ping"

Evans eyebrows raised at the never ending pinging of notifications, one after the other, after another.

The famous 'someones popular' slipped from his lips with a playful smirk. He looked undeniably cute with his swollen red lips and rosy cheeks, messy curls and his chest heaving from the rush of the kiss. Nothing could draw your attention away from him and so you let your phone buzz all it wanted, this was your weekend getaway, no phones, no distractions, no overthinking. Just you and him and the beautiful trees that surrounded your cabin. Oh.. and your pumpkins.

»»-----------►

The light from flickering candles casted shadows around the cabin, there were tea lights scattered here and there which added to the warmth and the coziness of the roaring fire. You sat at a wooden table decorated with more tea lights and glasses of wine that you and Evan slowly sipped at while carving your pumpkins. Upon the table was also a small bag for the 'pumpkin guts' of course along with small carving tools at hand. You took a slow sip of the rose wine as you carefully watched Evan in amusement as he scrolled endlessly through Pinterest on his phone for 'pumpkin face' Ideas. He looked so cute with his eyebrows knitted together, deep consideration to what he was going to choose.

"fuck it, I'm just gonna go with the vomiting pumpkin" he sighs, grabbing his wine to swig down his decision.

A giggle gasped from your mouth, almost snorting out the wine.

"fair enough, I may go with the standard jack the skeleton" you say proudly followed by another sip.

"how about a cliche jack and sally?' he questioned.

"perfect! Maybe we can cut a heart into Jerry and put him in between them" you smile, excitedly wiggling in your chair.

"That's a freaking awesome idea!" Evan cheered on and you laughed at his over enthusiastic reaction.

You both began carving away and of course Evan was better at carving then you. Every now and then you would tilt your head slightly over to his side to compare how he was getting on and every now and then you would pout at how well he was doing and how much you struggled. Ripping the 'pumpkin guts' out is fun.. drawing the pumpkins face is also quite fun but trying to carve it without cutting yourself or messing up.. not so fun.

"how are you getting on princess?"

Evan looked over at you with his warm chocolate brown eyes to study your face that looked between being scared and defeated all at once as you carefully tried hacking at your pumpkin.

"come here"

Evan snapped you up out of concentration, as you lifted your head and put your utensil down you noticed him patting his lap and sliding out his chair for you to sit with him.. or shall we say on him. Without hesitation you jumped to your feet, the biggest smile plastering your face which looked a little less stressed now. He reached over to pull your pumpkin over to him on the table nearly knocking the wine while doing so but you both chuckled in amusement and continued on. It felt like home sat in Evans lap, your back leaning into the warmth of him, his breath tickling at your neck while he cowered over you, arms wrapped around you as he got to work carving out your pumpkin. It was such a small but intimate moment, the whole vibe in itself was cute and wholesome, the lights, the wine, the roaring fire, the arms that draped around you, just you and Evan cozied up in a secluded little log cabin in the middle of nowhere in the middle of autumn.

»»-----------►

"you did it princess" he whispered into your ear.

Your eyes lit up as Evan finished up the last bit of carving, it was insanely accurate and carved out well.

'you mean you did it" you cheered, clapping your hands together.

'we did it" he warmly smiled, his face tilted towards yours.

Tears almost pricked your eyes as you suddenly became overwhelmed, this whole evening was just perfect, Evan was just perfect, why couldn't he really be real.

You twisted to face him still comfortably sat in his lap until your eyes met with his.

"Evan..."

You wanted nothing more but to beg him, cry at him, question him why was here but why doesn't he actually exist. Completely random but you loved Casper the friendly ghost as a child.. was this a deep rooted thing? A trauma response sort of situation.. you knew you loved Casper the friendly ghost because you wanted a friend or something like that in your life while growing up but this was taking the piss.

This, all this was unfair but all so comforting at the same time and you wouldn't have it any other way, You didn't care if you were crazy, you needed him. Evan was your casper the friendly ghost, someone that would always be there no matter what, someone who knows you and loves you deeper than anyone else, a partner in crime if you will.

"what's on your mind baby?"

A nickname you hadn't heard him call you before other than princess and God you were falling hard, this was not good.

»»-----------►

You had been almost quiet with Evan since pumpkin carving, refusing to tell him what was really on your mind though the quietness wore off quickly when the two of you began to whip up some hot chocolates and see who could catch popcorn in their mouth first.

"I did it! I caught it first!"

Muffled shouts from Evan. He stood proud, pacing around the kitchen, popcorn crackling in his mouth, crunching and munching.

A piece of popcorn flew at him to which you'd thrown with a roll of your eyes. "Big whoop, I still get to choose the horror film later" you teased.

Evan chuckled, a cheeky smirk creeping up on his face.

"well make sure you pick the scariest one so you can throw yourself onto me because don't you worry baby, I'll be there to protect you"

Baby... He had no idea what he was doing to you right now.

»»-----------►

It was nearing late hours of the evening.. some of the tea lights were slowly one by one fading out but the crackling fire continued going strong, filling the room with a warm glow. Both you and Evan huddled in front of it, side by side on the floor, cushions scattered around for comfort and support while you chatted on talking about anything and everything. At some point of the night you were going to get Evan to tell you a story in which he always does, he improvises so well, does the voices and everything! all the while playing with your hair while in the comfort of his chest. All in good time though, you were enjoying yet another intimate moment in front of the fire, some sort of tension in the air but still comfortable none the least.

The flickering of flames from the roaring fire lit up your features. Something about the warmth and the glow of the flames that casted hues of warm tanned tones over your glowing skin began to draw Evans attention and it was magnetic. Both of you now over heating with some sort of tension. It wasn't the warmth from the fire before you, but the fire within. The burning desire for your Best friend and he radiated the same energy. You both felt it. A deep connection with eachother that you had with no one else, not even your ex.

His chocolate eyes bore Into your own, the darkness of them an unfamiliar lighter shade then usual from the fire that warmed them. You studied them with great intensity, although a warm chocolatey shade they were still somehow dark and intense, something deep was running through the back of them, his thoughts wild. Wild for you. And you knew it. Again a connection like no other. A connection only you both shared and it was time to explore it further. As if you could mind read, there was no permission or awkwardness or waryness between you both. Your eyes locked and you naturally move in closer.

Evans intense gaze loses sight of your own as together you fall into one another, eyes closed and lips locking with passion. This wasn't the first time you kissed tonight but it felt different this time and as if in sync you move ever so quickly but oh so ever gently to peel the soft clothing from one another.

It wasnt until you were fully naked, legs slightly folded over one another in a vunrable protective stance, leaning back for Evan to drink you in with a lustful yet loving yet thirsty sex starved gaze. Your innocent questioning eyes focus soley on his once more as he continues to take you in. Your breasts fully exposed perfectly as you lean back a little more and now it only hits you that you are little bit nervous but you remind yourself to keep focusing on him, his beautiful skin looking smooth and inviting in the glowing warmth. The flickering movements from the flames dancing over his toned chest and slight defined abs. How you wanted so bad to start littering soft sloppy kisses over his skin.

He moves in closer now, slightly crawling up to you like a lion after it's prey and the first touch is like the fire itself. It's hot, it burns and it melts right into your skin sending tantalizing tingles all over your body. He leans over you in front of the fire, his one arm holding himself up above you while the other scoops around your waste to slide underneath your back his firm palm now pressed against your back, holding your body weight as you relax into his touch and as you fall weak, relying on his firm grasp to hold you, he pushes you up into him. His hot touch moulded firmly into the hot flesh of your back. He used this to take you in with his mouth again, exploring deep and more passionatly this time to the point a soft moan tried to escape your throat.

Gasps fill the room, high pitched breathy moans escape your mouth as Evan loses himself in you. You take him so desperately, every inch of him feeling insanely good. You greedily buck your hips and he grips your glutes to help support while also lifting and pushing so he can get deeper. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you then suddenly slows his rhythm. As hungry as you both were he wanted to devour you in every way possible and that meant also slowing things down to make slow, sensual, pure love to you. The heat of the fire made you all the more hot and you began sweating but wow it was worth it. you both melted into one another, the moans, the gasping, it was all so passionate. You had never been this turned on before. Evan was a beast. The fact that he wanted you and as much as you wanted him, now that was an intimacy you never thought you'd experience, you felt on fire, you felt loved, you felt powerful and sexy and owned and free all at the same time. And then you came undone.

»»-----------►

You came down from your highs together, your tangled bodies falling limp in front of the fire, Evan cradling you while weakly planting soft weak kisses over your collarbones and neck before burying his head into your shoulder, his curls brushing your flushed face. Your legs are still wrapped around him and you squeeze them around his waist not wanting to ever let go, as clique as it sounded you wish you could stay in his arms like this forever.

As if the night couldn't get any more perfect, the sound of rain lightly began to pitter patter upon the cabin which was Evans que to scoop you up and get you both tucked up into bed. Your body clung to him as he lifted you, his arms strong, his veiny hands supporting you and a long lingering kiss to your cheek as he beelined slowly to the large bed that presented itself in front of large glass windows that were decorated with fairy lights. The thick white duvet felt cool and fresh, a clean cotton floral smell and was oh so ever soft. If you were to sleep on a giant fluffy marshmallow, This is what it would feel like. You wriggled in position as Evan lent over you after putting you down, leaning in to place a sweet innocent kiss young your forehead but just as he went to move away, freakishly your eyes shot open and you gripped his arm tightly to pull him back.

"where are you going!?"

You practically jolted up, panic in your voice.

Your once sleepy eyes now wide awake, anxiety filling your chest as Evan immediately looked at you with worry.

"no where baby girl, I'm just moving to get under the covers next to you" he reassured and as he did so he began smoothing your hair away from your face gently, brown eyes deep with concern. He noticed the glistening tears filling up in your eyes and with no hesitation he cupped your face and began kissing you hard over and over.

"i'm not going anywhere, I'm right here" he gasped pulling away.

The absence of his mouth on yours deepened your anxiety so you gripped his face to pull him back close. Faces inches apart his dark worried eyes continued searching your own. "Hey whats all this about princess"

Your soft fingertips bury themselves into the stuble of his pale cheeks before tracing them softly over his perfectly handsome face, taking in every detail so you can keep them detailed in your memory forever.

Your mind races with a thousand thoughts all at once, heart pounding in your chest, both fighting each other if you should express to Evan with all honesty of what was really troubling you. Torn between your heart and your mind you stayed silent but Evan was not going to live it down until he knew what was going on and if you were okay, his eyes still deeply focused on you. Unexpectedly for him though you suddenly slid from under him, the sheets being dragged down with you as you leap towards the bathroom in panic mode, grabbing your phone from the side quickly and slamming the door clean shut behind you. your visions blurred from hot wet tears, trembling as you slid down with your back against the wooden door, shivering as you plonked down on the cold creaky floor.

"hey Y/N" Evans muffled voice vibrating behind the door. He only ever used your name if it involved a serious or more formal conversation.

"y/n please.. let's talk, I'm here"

You gasped out, tears finally spilling and now you were sobbing uncontrollably, shaking your head at the last part.

"no.. no you're not here!" You cried loudly. You were definitely having a mental break. Your heart raced, it was getting hot and you couldn't breathe, gasping for air you panted quickly.

Evan now began to panic hearing the pain in your voice, he could sense your anxiety and it worried him so much. It was the the last thing that Evan wanted was you to make yourself extremely stressed and unwell and he would break down the door with his bare hands if it came to it.

"I am, I'm here! And I'm not going anywhere so please, please just open up y/n!"

Your heart was breaking, his voice sounded so desperate but you stood your ground too scared to come out and face reality, the reality that there really was no Evan and this was one big joke on your mental health part.

"go away! you aren't real!"

To this Evan stepped away from the door in shock. A deer stuck in headlights, he was lost for a minute. His heart gained speed, anxiety now creeping up on him also, his voice cracking as he went to speak.

"...what do you mean I'm not real? Of course I'm real and I'm here for you, I'm always going to be here for you"

The shaking of your head continues, refusing to take in what he was saying.

"go away, just go away!" You cried.

"never, I'm always going to be here" Evan said sternly, he pressed his head against the door. "Now please just let me in, let me hold you"

Your warm tears cooled against your face as you trembled and hiccupped your way back to calmer more deeper breaths. You tried your very hardest to finally calm down and self soothe and once your mind finally cleared itself for a minute you took another deep breath and clicked onto your phone to check notifications or text one of your best friends, anything to bring you back down to earth again and make you feel sane.

To what you suddenly witnessed didn't do much to 'bring you back down' eyes widening at the bright screen spammed with endless tags, notifications and 'have you seen this!' texts. One in particular caught your eye, a message from your best friend.

'hey girlie! Hope you are okay! You might wanna check Tik Tok... You and Evan peters! Since when?! Why have you not told me about this!!! I am your BEST FRIEND! Anyways have the best weekend! I'm sure you will! 😈😜

Love you! (More than Evan 😋)

Omg and tell him I said hi! And how dare he steals you from me! 🥲 x

You pull a face in confusion, lost but still amused by your best friends text none the less. What does she mean by checking Tik Tok? but then your heart's in your mouth... Oh no. The crazy girl at the pumpkin patch suddenly springs to mind and you feel so uneasy racing your fingers tappety tap onto Tik Tok quickly.

Floods and floods of shared videos from your friends and you click on one quickly in a panic only to find...

'evan peters with girl At pumpkin patch'

Then another one.

'Evan peters girlfriend?'

'cute video of Evan with new girlfriend at pumpkin patch'

And they go on and on and on.

Your hand lands on your mouth and hopefully this is the last time that your eyes fill with tears tonight. You couldn't believe your eyes... this is why your phone was blowing up so much earlier this evening. Videos of you were all over Tik tok and not the ones you imagined walking around all crazy, laughing and talking to yourself. It was videos of you being all cute with... Evan. You couldn't believe it. There in the videos stood Evan. Warm wet tears stained your cheeks, this was all the evidence you needed because there right by your side was Evan. He was right there.. Right next to you.. he was real and wow you looked so happy together! So so happy and so so.. in love. Your heart skipped heavily. Evan was actually real, there he was there in the flesh, caught on screen. It was like catching 'big foot' expect you caught your imaginary best friend... Except he wasn't imaginary! Evan was not imaginary.

"oh my goodness!" You gasped out. Your phone bounced onto the creaky floor, you didn't care too much about the damage when it slipped from your shaky hand. You jumped up, static tickling at your eyesight from light headedness from all the crying. The sudden movement to open the door quickly and jump into Evans arms also played a part in making you feel dizzy but it didn't phase you the slightest, especially since it just made everything seem a blur when you were now back in bed, wrapped up tight in Evans arms, a hundred kisses planting your face.

Your naked bodies were tangled up once more, you were warm again. safe again and overwhelmed with joy and love yet relieved all at once. The rush of Evans breath sending you into heaven as he kept repeating to you that was real while sucking soft wet kisses all over your neck and turning you on once more. He couldn't have held you anymore tighter as he continued to litter you with kisses, promising to never let go.

"you're really real" you breathed out for him to confirm once more, lost in his touch, being devoured by his mouth.

»»-----------►

Evans chest glistened with cold sweat as you rested upon him with warm flushed cheeks, both coming down from your highs and breathing heavily. You could resist to ask once more.. more casually and innocently this time.. you know.. just to double check...

"you are really real? You aren't imaginary?"

Evans chest rumbled with laughter, squeezing you tighter into him.

"Yes I'm really real and I'm upgrading myself from imaginary Best friend to boyfriend if that's okay with you"

"imaginary boyfriend?" You questioned him teasingly.

"no I'm the real thing baby, plus all of my fans agree we make a cute couple so we don't have much of a choice now" he continued to laugh.

Eventually talking and laughing through the rest of the night led to more rounds of sex but who was complaining? And you felt closer to each other now more than ever, the passion was just so intense.

You slept peacefully that night...

Cozing up in a cabin in the arms of your now boyfriend Evan was the most amazing feeling. A getaway well needed was a getaway you both deserved and as the autumn leaves continued to fall quietly all around you.. so did you and Evan.. more and more in love. 🤍