#and this is by no means a bad day in the scheme of things for me either
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN ââ Swimming in Sin
â â pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)
â â word count: 6.6K
â â warnings: homophobia, religious themes, mentions of conversation therapy, emotional & physical abuse (itâs not much but if youâre uncomfortable reading it, donât)
â â links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist
â â authorâs note: imma just leave this here
ITâS MONDAY now, and Dani sits in the passenger seat of Paigeâs car, the engine off but the faint hum of life around them in the parking lot loud enough to feel present. Students mill about the edges of the lot, but the two of them are hidden away in Paigeâs old car. The smell of Paigeâs half-eaten sandwich lingers between them, mingling with the faint scent of Daniâs lavender hand lotion.
Paige slouches dramatically in the driverâs seat, her legs stretched out so far her sneakered feet almost hit the pedals. Her sandwich sits abandoned in her lap, crumbs dotting the fabric of her sweatpants, and her face is twisted into a scowl.
âI mean, two and a half weeks,â Paige groans, leaning her head back against the seat. âItâs so dumb. No leaving the house, no seeing any of my friends, no hanging out with you. What am I, bro, twelve?â
Dani picks at the edges of the granola bar in her hand, peeling back the wrapper bit by bit. She keeps her voice light as she says, âWhatâd you think was gonna happen? He just lets you off the hook? You threw a party, Paigeâand never even tried to get permission. And you were completely wasted.â
Paige rolls her eyes so hard Dani thinks she might actually sprain something. âItâs not like I killed someone,â she mutters. âAnd itâs not like I wasnât gonna clean up after. Besides, you were there to take care of me. He shouldâve been thanking you, not grounding me.â
Dani shakes her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. âI donât think thatâs how he sees it.â
âWell, heâs being dramatic,â Paige insists, sitting up now, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. âTwo and a half weeks of this? How am I supposed to not hang out with you for that long? I get separation anxiety!â
Dani shrugs, fighting a smile at the last sentence, though the thought tugs at her too. Sheâs upset about it, of course she is, but sheâd seen this coming. In fact, sheâd half-expected Bob to ban her from their house altogether after Saturday. Two weeks of grounding, in the grand scheme of things, doesnât seem so bad.
âYouâll survive,â Dani says, trying to sound casual even though she knows Paige wonât let it drop that easily. âBesides, itâs only two weeks. And we can still hang out at lunch and in Lit every day. And we can FaceTime whenever you want.â
Paige groans dramatically, as if the suggestion alone is an insult. âBut itâs not the same,â she whines, slumping back against the seat again. âI canât cuddle you over FaceTime, Dani. Or kiss you.â She leans over suddenly, draping herself across the center console so that her head lands against Daniâs shoulder. Dani stiffens for a moment, glancing out the window to make sure no oneâs looking, before relaxing.
âItâs not the same,â Paige repeats, her voice muffled against Daniâs jacket.
Dani sighs, tilting her head down to rest her cheek against the top of Paigeâs head. She feels the familiar weight of her girlfriend pressing against her, grounding her, even as Paige continues to pout. âI know itâs not the same,â Dani says softly.
She shifts, her free hand moving to tilt Paigeâs face up toward hers. Paigeâs blue eyes, always so clear and striking, look impossiblyâand dramaticallyâsad now, and it tugs at something deep in Daniâs chest. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to Paigeâs lips. Itâs quick, barely more than a brush, but itâs enough to feel the way Paige melts against her.
When Dani pulls back, Paige lets out a little whine, her lips still parted as though sheâs waiting for more. Dani grins despite herself, resting her forehead against Paigeâs for a moment. âOnly two weeks,â she murmurs.
âTwo weeks too long,â Paige mutters, her eyes closing as she leans into Daniâs touch.
Dani chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Paigeâs face. âYouâll survive,â she repeats, though this time it feels more like a promise than a statement.
THE DRIVEWAY is quiet as Dani parks, the hum of the engine cutting off abruptly and leaving her in stillness. She exhales, her breath visible in the icy Minnesota night air, and slouches forward for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. The gymnastics meet had been a long oneânearly three hours of standing, crouching, and angling for the perfect shots. Her back aches, her legs are sore, and all she wants is to crawl into bed and disappear under her blankets.
But thereâs homework waiting, a mountain of it sheâs been putting off. AP Calculus, a Lit essay, and some editing work for the yearbook photos sheâd taken tonight. Dani groans quietly to herself, leaning back in her seat before finally mustering the energy to grab her photography bag from the passenger seat.
The cold hits her immediately as she steps out of the car, sharp and unforgiving, slicing through her sweatshirt and sinking into her skin. She hurries up the walkway, her sneakers crunching against the thin layer of frost on the ground. Her fingers fumble with the keys, and sheâs relieved when the door finally swings open, the familiar warmth of home enveloping her.
Dani kicks off her shoes, letting them fall in a heap by the door, and shrugs off her coat, tossing it onto the rack. Her keys find their place on the hook by the wall, and she drops her photography bag by the entryway, too tired to care about putting it away properly. Her stomach grumbles softly as she pads toward the kitchen, craving something quick and easy before she tackles the rest of her night.
But the second she steps into the kitchen, she freezes.
Her dad is sitting at the table, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes already locked on hers.
The look he gives her is unyielding, sharp enough to cut through the fog of her exhaustion. His mouth is set in a firm line, his jaw tight, and thereâs a weight to his gaze that makes Daniâs stomach twist.
She knows.
She immediately knows.
She doesnât need him to say anything. She doesnât need an explanation. She can feel it in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.
He knows about her and Paige.
Daniâs body goes cold. Itâs not just the March air still clinging to her from outside, nor the exhaustion weighing her limbs from the long day. This is something else entirelyâsomething that feels like dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, clawing its way up her throat.
She forces herself to meet her dadâs eyes, but itâs like staring into a stormâchaos barely contained behind the sharp lines of his face, his clenched jaw, his rigid posture. Heâs keeping his tone measured, his voice low, but somehow that makes it worse. Scarier, almost, than if he were yelling at her.
When he gestures to the chair across from him and says, âI think we should have a talk,â her legs nearly buckle.
Her hands are trembling as she pulls out the chair and sinks into it. She sits on the edge of the seat, stiff and awkward, her fingers finding their way to the edge of the table to anchor herself. It doesnât feel real. It canât be real. This isnât happeningânot here, not now. But the look on his face tells her otherwise.
It feels like an out-of-body experience, that the thing sheâs feared the worst over the past few months is finally coming true.
âI was talking to Beauâs father earlier today,â Daniâs father begins, his voice cool and detached. âYou knowâyour apparent boyfriend.â
The way he spits the word out makes Dani flinch, her nails digging into the underside of the table. Her heart pounds so loudly sheâs sure he can hear it. She doesnât know what to say, so she says nothing.
âI hadnât gotten the chance to talk to him since the fall,â he continues. âYou know, since he switched companies and we no longer worked together. But today, he told me some very⌠interesting things.â
His eyes are sharp as they pin her in place, his words deliberate. âDo you want to know what they are?â
Dani canât respond. Her throat is dry, her chest tight, and the room feels like itâs closing in on her. She can only stare at the table, her fingers now nervously picking at her nails beneath it.
When she doesnât answer, he presses, his voice dropping to something sharper. âExcept, I think you already know what they are, Danielle. So, do you want to tell me yourself?â
Daniâs breath catches. Every instinct tells her to run, to get up and leave before this gets worse, but her body is frozen, glued to the chair. Her father is watching her so intently, waiting for her to break, and she doesnât know how much longer she can hold it together.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to speak. Her voice is small, barely audible. âBeau and I broke up.â
The admission feels like a death sentence, but she canât take it back now.
Her dadâs laugh is cold, devoid of any humor, and it makes her stomach churn. âYeah, you did,â he says, his tone dripping with disdain. âIn November, apparently. Over four fucking months ago, Danielle!â
He slams his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Dani jumps, her pulse skyrocketing, and the first sting of tears pricks at her eyes.
âI justâŚâ she begins, her voice breaking, âI didnât want to disappoint you.â
âDisappoint me?â he repeats, his laughter sharper this time, almost unhinged. âOh, we havenât even scratched the surface on that.â
Dani canât bring herself to look at him anymore. She stares at her lap, blinking back tears, wishing she could disappear.
âYou want to know the most interesting thing Mr. Hudson told me today?â he says, his voice cutting through the silence.
Dani doesnât answer, but he doesnât seem to care.
âHe told me that Beau said you broke up with him for a girl.â
The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. He lets them settle, lets them twist like a knife in her chest before he repeats himself, his voice dripping with disgust.
âA girl.â
Paige.
Daniâs lungs constrict as her dadâs words pile onto her like stones, each one heavier than the last. Her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can barely hear him, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.
âI didnât want to believe him. Not even a little bit,â he says, his voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of something raw. He shakes his head, as if trying to erase the very idea from his mind. âI couldnât help but think to myself that no, my little girl wouldnât do thisânot again. I thought youâd learned your lesson, gotten past these types of things.â
Her stomach twists violently at the phrase these types of things, a wave of shame and dread crashing over her. She canât meet his eyes anymore. She focuses on a crack in the table, blinking furiously to keep her vision clear. But it doesnât work. A tear slips down her cheek, then another. She wipes at them quickly, desperate to hide any sign of weakness.
âI thought that maybe the Hudson boy made this up,â he continues, his tone brittle, almost pleading. âTo save face, you know? To make himself feel better about the breakup. I refused to believe it because Iâve been so proud of you, Danielle. So proud of all the progress youâve made.â
His voice breaks on the last word, and itâs like a knife twisting in her gut. She feels the weight of his disappointment like an iron shackle around her neck, dragging her down.
And then he drops the pretense of restraint entirely. âBut I came home,â he says, his voice growing sharper, harder. âI needed to figure it out for myself. So I went up to your bedroom and looked around. And sure enough, Beau Hudson was telling the truth. You did leave him for a girl. The same girl you nearly ruined your life for last summer!â
Daniâs breath hitches, panic clawing at her chest as he pulls items off the chair beside him, tossing them onto the table like damning evidence in a courtroom.
A Hopkins basketball sweatshirt. Paigeâs sweatshirt. He mustâve found it in her closet.
The printed photo from last weekâs state championship, where Paigeâs mom had insisted on taking a picture of the two of them. In it, Dani and Paige are standing close, too close, their smiles wide and happy, the kind that only come from people who are comfortable in each otherâs orbit. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Paigeâs hand is wrapped around Daniâs waist.
A folded note with the initials PB scribbled on the front, the one Paige had slipped into her photography bag last week after practice.
More things follow: a pressed flower Paige had given her after a walk in the park, a ticket stub from the movie theyâd gone to see together last month, a journal entry about Paige that Dani had foolishly writtenâher father mustâve ripped the page from the notebook. Itâs all so mundane, these little artifacts of their relationship, but to her dad, theyâre something else entirely.
All the air seems to leave Daniâs body as she stares at the pile. Thereâs no way out of this. None. Heâs found everything.
Her dad begins pacing, his hand dragging down his face as his breathing grows heavier. His movements are frantic now, like heâs trying to physically outrun his own fury. He seems to be losing himself, his voice starting to rise, too.
âI thought we were past all of this!â he shouts, octaves echoing off the walls. âI thought youâd learned! I thought youâd grown! But here we are, right back at square one, and youâre still the same little sinner, getting caught up in all this gay bullshit again. Itâs disgusting, Danielle.â
The words hit her like a slap to the face. She feels her cheeks burn, but itâs not from anger. Itâs from humiliation, from the sheer weight of hearing him say the words out loud, like her existence is something filthy, something shameful.
Her breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as he barrels on.
âI sent you to camp!â he yells, gesturing wildly as if the memory of it alone should be enough to set her straight. Truthfully, it might. âThey told me they fixed you. They told me you got better, that you understood the weight of your actions, the power of God.â He pauses, running both hands through his hair, his eyes wide and wild. âI mean, Jesus Christ, Dani, Iâm really gonna have to send you back there. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is for you? That youâre gonna have to be sent back for a round two because you couldnât get it through your thick fucking skull the first time?â
âNo,â Dani whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears.
Her dad doesnât hear herâor doesnât care.
âI sacrificed so much to send you there!â he continues, his voice rising again. âAnd for what? For you to come back and make a mockery of this family all over again?â
âPlease, no,â Dani says again, louder this time, but her voice wavers and cracks.
She can feel herself spiraling. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white. She canât go back to camp. She canât.
The memory of it flashes in her mindâcold, sterile rooms; endless hours of lectures about sin and shame; the suffocating, unrelenting pressure to repent for something she doesnât even think is wrong. The thought of being trapped there again, of losing herself completely this time, is unbearable.
Dani feels herself sinking, her fatherâs tirade muffling into a dull roar as the panic grips her fully. Her breaths are shallow, too quick, and the edges of her vision start to darken. She clutches at the back of the chair, trying to steady herself, but the weight of his words is unbearable.
Not again. I canât go back.
But his voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts like a blade. âDo you hear me, Danielle?â he shouts, slamming a hand onto the counter. âYouâre going back. I donât care what it takes. You need to fucking learn the severity of the sins youâve been swimming in! Iâll send you on the next flight if I have to!â
The words snap something in her, a thread pulled too tight finally breaking. Her mind drags her back, unwillingly, to that first day at camp.
JUNE 2019
The air inside Mrs. Keatingâs office is thick and stifling, a mix of lavender and cleaning solution that seems calculated to force calm. Dani sits in the chair across from her assigned counselor, her shoulders curled inward and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She doesnât meet Mrs. Keatingâs eyes, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the wall behind her.
Mrs. Keating looks calm, unnervingly so. Sheâs an older woman, her hair pinned back into a severe bun, her glasses perched neatly on her nose. Thereâs nothing about her that invites warmth or softness.
Sheâs quiet for a moment, studying Dani like sheâs some kind of puzzle to be solved. âDo you know why youâre here, Danielle?â she asks finally, her voice calm and deliberate.
Dani shrugs, her movements small and tense. âNot sure,â she says, her tone clipped.
Mrs. Keating tilts her head slightly, like sheâs trying to peer inside Daniâs mind. âYouâre here because your actions have led you down a path of sin. A path that separates you from your family, from your faith, and from God.â
The words sit heavily in the room, and Dani shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Her pulse is steady but loud in her ears, and she can feel the way her body tightens at the mention of God. Itâs always God with them. Like Heâs some weapon to wield against her, not some presence sheâs ever known to feel safe or loved by.
âI havenât done anything wrong,â Dani says after a long pause. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but thereâs a firmness beneath it.
Mrs. Keating nods slowly, as though she expected the answer. âYou believe that because the enemyâthe Devilâhas planted lies in your heart, Danielle. Lies that make what youâve done feel natural, even good. But deep down, you know that itâs not. Thatâs why you feel guilt, isnât it?â
Dani swallows hard. She doesnât feel guiltânot about Paige, anyway. Thereâs guilt about other things, sure. About being sent here. About what itâs doing to her dad, about how sheâs made everything so messy and complicated. But not about Paige.
Still, the way Mrs. Keating speaks gets under her skin. Itâs calm, calculated. Like sheâs dissecting Dani piece by piece and cataloging her flaws for some case study. Dani hates it. It makes her feel small. Exposed.
âI donât feel guilty,â Dani says, but the words come out quieter than she intended. Sheâs not sure she even believes them.
âOf course you do,â Mrs. Keating counters smoothly, leaning forward slightly. âIf you didnât, you wouldnât be here. Your father wouldnât have sent you.â
That makes Dani flinch. Her father. The sharp sting of his disappointment still weighs heavily on her chest, pressing down in a way she canât escape. His face when heâd told her she was going to camp had been full of anger, yes, but there had been something worse beneath itâsomething that looked like shame.
He hadnât even looked at her when he dropped her off.
âI donât want to talk about this,â Dani mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.
âWeâre going to talk about it, Danielle,â Mrs. Keating says, her tone firm but still devoid of emotion. âBecause this is the first step. You have to face the reality of your actions if youâre ever going to heal.â
Daniâs hands tighten in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. âThereâs nothing to heal from,â she says, more forcefully this time before repeating, âI didnât do anything wrong.â
Mrs. Keating doesnât respond immediately. Instead, she sits back in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on Dani like sheâs waiting for something. Dani shifts under the weight of her gaze, but she doesnât break the silence.
Finally, Mrs. Keating speaks. âTell me about the girl.â
Daniâs chest tightens. She doesnât look up.
âThe one your father mentioned,â Mrs. Keating presses. âThe one who led you astray.â
âShe didnât lead me astray,â Dani protests quickly, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.
Mrs. Keating doesnât react to the outburst. âSo you do feel something for her, then.â
Dani freezes, her stomach twisting into knots. She doesnât know how to navigate this, doesnât know what answer wonât be used against her later.
After a moment, she settles for, âThereâs nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Paige isnât wrong. What we had isnât wrong.â Her tone is slightly more argumentative, more confrontational than usual. But sheâs been sent to this unfamiliar, scary fucking place so she supposes she has a right to.
âWhat you had,â Mrs. Keating repeats, leaning forward slightly. âYou speak as though itâs in the past. Is that because you already know it cannot last? That it is not sustainable?â
Daniâs jaw tightens, her teeth grinding together. She doesnât say anything, doesnât trust herself to speak without snapping. She can feel her nails biting into her skin, but the sharp pain is grounding. It keeps her from falling apart completely.
Mrs. Keating takes the silence as an opening. âThis is a safe space, Danielle. You can be honest here. Talk to me.â
Dani doesnât talk to her. She doesnât talk at all. She looks away, her gaze zeroing in on a jagged pattern on the wood flooring, eyes wide and unblinking. Her eyes burn, but she wonât let Keating see her cry. She wonât give her that satisfaction. She refuses.
Eventually, Mrs. Keating stands, the movement slow and deliberate. She walks around the desk and stops in front of Dani, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Dani stiffens at the contact, trying to shrug the hand off, but Mrs. Keatingâs grip is firm. It doesnât hurt, not quite, but it feels invasive.
âYou have a lot to learn here, Danielle Callan,â Mrs. Keating says quietly, her voice unshakable. âBut thatâs why youâre here. To learn. And you will.â
THE MEMORY lingers in Daniâs mind like a weight she canât shake, thick and suffocating. Mrs. Keatingâs calm voice echoes in her head, the grip on her shoulder a phantom pressure she swears she can still feel. She shakes her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thought, but it refuses to leave.
She canât do it.
She canât do it again.
Her dadâs voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp and furious. Heâs been yelling for what feels like forever, pacing the length of the living room with heavy, deliberate steps. Every word he spits out feels like a lash against her skin, each syllable steeped in anger, in disbelief, in the kind of disappointment that makes Dani feel impossibly small.
âHow could you do this to us again?â he barks, throwing his arms up. âAfter everything we went through, after everything you went throughâthis is how you repay us? By⌠by flaunting it like this? You didnât even try to hide it this time, Danielle!â
Dani winces at his words, each one sinking into her chest like a stone. She stays seated on the hard chair, her hands balling into fists on her thighs. Her fingernails bite into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her, keeping her from unraveling completely.
He stops pacing suddenly, turning to face her with his hands on his hips. His eyes burn with conviction, his expression a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. âWhat do you have to say for yourself?â he demands.
Daniâs breath catches in her throat. She canât hold his gaze for long, canât stand the way heâs looking at her, like sheâs some broken thing he canât figure out how to fix. Her eyes drop to her lap, and she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.
Her throat feels tight, her eyes burning with the threat of tears she refuses to let fall. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. âI donâtâIâŚâ she starts, trying to force the words out. âI canât be fixed, Dad. This isnât something thatâs fixable.â
The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. She risks a glance at him, but his face is unreadable now, his mouth a firm line, his eyes locked on her.
So she keeps going, her voice trembling but steady enough to push through. âI didnât choose to like other girlsâlike Paigeâlike that. It just⌠happened. I was born like this. Iâve had these thoughts since I was little. I canât be fixed, canât be changed. Theâthe âgayâ stuff youâre talking about canât just be prayed away.â
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Dani thinks maybe, just maybe, heâs heard her. But then he straightens, his expression hardening, and he shakes his head. âYou didnât try hard enough,â he says firmly, his voice like steel. âYou werenât at camp long enough.â
The words ignite something in Dani, something sharp and bitter and raw. Her head snaps up, and for the first time, she meets his gaze head-on, her eyes flashing. Her voice is louder now, trembling with emotion she canât contain.
âI did try!â she says, standing up as the chair scrapes against the wooden floor. âI tried so hard! I didnât talk to Paige for months; I completely pushed her away. I dated Beau like you wanted me to. I did everything that was supposed to be right! And I was miserable for every second of it!â
Her voice cracks, and she feels the tears spill over now, hot and relentless. She swipes at them angrily but keeps going, because she has to. Because if she doesnât, she might never say it again.
âI wasnât happy that way!â she cries, her voice breaking with the weight of it all. âCanât you just let me be happy, Dad?â
The tears come harder now, blurring her vision as she stares at him, her chest heaving with every breath. Sheâs willing him to understand, willing him to hear her, because all she wantsâall she wantsâis to be happy.
But the silence stretches on, suffocating, and Daniâs heart feels like itâs breaking all over again.
Daniâs dad stares at her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if heâs physically restraining himself from exploding again. His gaze feels like itâs drilling into her, searching for something, as if the right words might pull her back into the version of herself heâs convinced sheâs lost.
Dani meets his eyes, even though everything in her screams to look away. Theyâre both standing now, face to face, close enough that she can see the tight lines of his jaw, the furrow between his brows that only deepens the longer he looks at her.
For a moment, she thinks maybe heâs going to soften, maybe heâll finally hear her. But then his face hardens all over again, and his voice comes out sharp, slicing through the fragile silence.
âThis is a sin,â he snaps, the words like venom on his tongue. âYou think you know better than God? You think this is how He made you?â He throws up his hands, his voice rising with every word. âNo, Danielle, you were not born this way. You were fine until⌠until her.â
Daniâs stomach drops. She doesnât have to ask who he means.
He doesnât stop. âItâs that Bueckers girl! She did this to youâsheâs the one who ruined you!â
âNo, she wasnât!â Dani yells, her voice breaking halfway through. Her hands shake at her sides as she takes a step closer, her eyes wide and pleading. âDad, no! Everything she did, I did too! There was no⌠no influence, no manipulation! Iâm telling you, this isnât something you or anyone else can fix!â
But heâs already shaking his head furiously, his expression twisting into something cruel. âIt can be fixed!â he shouts back, his voice booming in the small space. âI refuse to watch you go to hell over this! I refuse, do you hear me? Youâre gonna go back to that camp, and theyâre gonna help you, and youâre gonna stay long enough this time to be saved, I swear it!â
Dani feels like the floor is falling out from under her. âIâm not going back there!â she protests, her voice cracking with desperation. She thinks her nails might be digging so harsh into her that itâll draw blood. She doesnât care.
âOh, yes, you will!â he yells back, his eyes flashing with a fire sheâs never seen before.
âYou canât make me!â she throws back, her voice raw.
For all his negative words directed at her, all the screaming and yelling, all the accusationsâthereâs always been something thatâs held him back from ever going past using his words. Heâs never dared lay a hand on his daughter. But whatever that something was that stopped him has clearly been thrown out the window.
Itâs so fast she almost doesnât process it. His hand comes down, hard, across her face. The sound of the slap reverberates in the room, sharp and deafening, cutting through the air like a whip.
Her head jerks to the side from the force of it, her cheek immediately stinging, a fiery burn spreading across her skin. For a second, she canât breathe, canât think, canât do anything but stand there, frozen.
Her hand comes up slowly, almost instinctively, to press against the spot where he struck her. Her palm is shaking as it touches her face, as if to confirm the reality of what just happened.
She stares at him, wide-eyed, her vision blurring with tears she refuses to let fall. Thereâs something unfamiliar in his eyes now, a look sheâs never seen before, and it chills her to her core.
Disbelief crashes over her like a wave, drowning out everything else. She doesnât move, doesnât speak, just stands there, her heart pounding in her ears, the sting on her cheek the only thing grounding her in the moment.
For a moment, Dani stands frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Her breath is shallow and ragged, her chest heaving like sheâs run a marathon. Some people freeze in fear, others run. Fight or flightâitâs instinctual. And Dani has always been the kind to freeze up.
But the fear in her now is different, deeper, and it sinks into her chest like a weight she canât dislodge. Itâs not the kind of fear that paralyzesâitâs the kind that propels. She canât stay here. Not with him like this. Not when she doesnât know what heâll do next.
Her gaze darts to the table, where her phone lies just within reach, and she finally forces her limbs into action. Her hand trembles as she lunges for it, but before her fingers can graze the sleek surface, her dadâs hand intercepts her.
âDadâwaitââ
Her words barely leave her mouth before he wrenches the phone away. She watches, helpless, as he hurls it across the kitchen with a furious motion. The phone hits the tile floor with a sickening crack, the sound cutting through her like a blade. Bits of glass scatter, catching the light, and the air feels heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves are closing in.
Dani lets out a strangled sob, the sound escaping her throat without permission. She takes a step back, and then another, her hands coming up instinctively to shield herself. Her back bumps against the edge of the counter, and she feels trapped, like an animal cornered by its predator.
Her fatherâs voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. âDo you hear me, Danielle?â
His tone isnât loud anymore, but itâs worse that way. The quiet intensity of it crawls under her skin and wraps around her chest like a vice. She canât look at him. Sheâs too scared of what she might see. Instead, her eyes dart toward the shattered remnants of her phone, then back to the floor, her body trembling.
âDad, please,â she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her throat feels raw, her words choked by the tears sheâs holding back. âYouâre scaring me. Please, justâjust stop.â
But he doesnât stop. He moves closer, his footsteps deliberate, until heâs towering over her. Dani flinches as his hands reach out, but he doesnât hit her again. Instead, his fingers clamp down on her shoulders, firm and unyielding.
âYouâre going back tomorrow,â he says, his face mere inches from hers. His voice is calm now, too calm, but every syllable lands like a blow. âYouâre going back. And youâre staying there until they fix you.â
Dani tries to shake her head, tries to move away from his grip, but he holds her in place. Her tears spill freely now, hot trails streaking down her cheeks.
âI canât,â she chokes out, her voice cracking. âI canât go back there. You donât understand. I canât do it again.â
âYou donât have a choice,â he snaps, his grip tightening. âGo upstairs. Pack your things.â
His words slam into her like a physical force, and she feels herself crumbling beneath the weight of them. Sheâs trembling, her knees weak, but she doesnât move.
âDad, Iââ
âNo.â His voice is steel. âDo you hear me, Danielle? Do what I said. Now.â
The intensity in his eyes pierces through her, and for a moment, all she can do is stare back at him, tears blurring her vision. She feels so small, so powerless, her body shrinking under the weight of his anger. The room is suffocating, the air thick and unrelenting.
When she finally finds her voice again, it comes out soft and broken. âI donât want to go back.â
Her father doesnât answer. He just stares at her, his expression set, his hands still gripping her shoulders as if holding her in place. The silence stretches between them, heavy and unyielding, and Dani feels herself breaking under it.
Dani doesnât think; she just moves. Her fatherâs grip isnât as strong as his words, and she twists out of it with a force she didnât know she had. Her pulse pounds in her ears as she spots the keys hanging on the small hook by the door. Theyâre so closeâjust a couple of feet away.
She can make it. She has to make it.
Her body acts before her mind can catch up, surging forward. Her dadâs hands grab at her, but she slips free, adrenaline pushing her faster than his reaction time. Her fingers curl around the cool metal of her car keys, and she yanks the front door open in one motion. The air outside is cold and sharp, but she barely notices as she sprints out onto the porch and down the driveway, her socks sliding slightly on the concrete.
âDani!â her fatherâs voice bellows behind her, furious and disbelieving.
She doesnât stop. She canât. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and the ache in her chest is overwhelming, but her body doesnât let her pause. The car is right there.
She reaches it just as he does, her hands fumbling to open the door. Her fatherâs voice is louder now, closer, almost on top of her. âDanielle! Stop this right now!â
But she doesnât stop. She slides into the driverâs seat, slams the door shut, and locks it in one fluid motion. Her hands are shaking so violently she can barely grip the steering wheel, but she manages to press the ignition button.
Her dad is at the window now, his face red and furious, his voice muffled but still terrifyingly clear through the glass. âThis is my car!â he yells, banging on the window. âI pay for it! Get out right now!â
Dani canât look at him. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, her vision blurred with tears. Her whole body is trembling, her hands slipping on the wheel as she shifts into reverse.
âDanielle!â His fist slams against the glass again, making her jump, but she doesnât let it stop her.
The car jerks as she pulls out of the driveway too fast, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. She doesnât care. Her dadâs voice fades into the background as she speeds down the street, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white.
She doesnât look back. Not at him, not at the house, not at the neighborhood sheâs known her entire life.
Her chest feels like itâs caving in, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Sheâs crying so hard she can barely see, her tears mixing with the streaks of rain on the windshield. Everything feels blurry, distorted, like sheâs underwater and the world is pressing in on all sides.
Her mind races as fast as the car. The words he said replay over and over, looping endlessly until they feel burned into her brain. Youâre going back. You need to be fixed. I refuse to watch you go to hell.
Her dadâs voice has always been loud, always sharp, but this⌠this was different. Because for the first time in her life, Dani was scared of him. Truly, bone-deep scared. Not just of what he might have said to her, but what he might have done to her.
The thought of going back to camp makes her stomach churn violently. She can still hear the echo of Mrs. Keatingâs voice in her head, those sickly sweet tones that masked something far darker. She can feel the weight of the prayers, the way they crushed her under their expectations, as if forcing her into a mold she could never fit.
I canât go back there, she thinks, the words looping through her head like a desperate mantra. I canât. I canât. I canât.
Her fingers tighten on the wheel, and she forces herself to focus on the road in front of her, though she has no idea where sheâs going. The streets blur together, familiar landmarks passing by unnoticed. In the back of her mind, she knows she should have a plan, but right now, all she can do is drive.
In an ideal world, sheâd go to Paigeâs. Paige would know what to do. Paige always knows what to do. But Dani canât. Paigeâs house is too close, just one door down. Her dad wouldâve followed her there in a heartbeat, and Paige is already in trouble enough as it is.
She lets out a shaky sob, her shoulders heaving as she turns onto a random street. The car feels too big and too small all at once, the silence inside it deafening. Sheâs not even sure how far sheâs gone, but it doesnât matter. The tears donât stop.
Her hands are shaking so badly that she has to pull over, the car screeching to a halt on the side of a dimly lit road. She sits there, gripping the wheel as though itâs the only thing tethering her to reality, her body trembling with the force of her sobs.
Dani feels lostânowhere to go, nothing in front of her.
#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#hopkins p fic#take me to church#paige bueckers fic#uconn huskies#wbb#wcbb#uconn#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers fluff#paige bueckers smut#wlw#lgbtq#wcbb x reader
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Why, thatâs my main man Louis XVI! We all know him. You know, married Marie Antoinette, helped with the American Revolution War, lost his head during the French Revolution⌠Louisville in Kentucky is named after him! I like this portrait. It has him wearing his coronation robes. Very snazzy. It wasnât painted at the time of his coronation though. He was 19 when he ascended to the throne after his grandfather, Louis XV, died from smallpox. He got a different portrait of him painted then. This is a later piece, from the 1780s, if Iâm not mistaken. I think heâs in his mid-thirties here.
Anyway, his non-king name was Louis Auguste, he was born in August 23, 1754 and he has never caught a single break in his life. I mean, donât get me wrong, in the greater scheme of things the French Revolution was a net positive for the world. Like, my country could still be a colony to this day if Napoleon hadnât ascended to the throne and scared the king of Portugal into going hiding in Brazil. But you canât help but feel a little sorry for the guy. Nothing ever went his way!
To start off, he was never meant to be king at all and, in his heart, heâd probably would rather have been anything else. His father was the next in the line of succession, and after him, it would be his older brother, who his family like, HEAVILY favored over him and didnât even try to hide it. This meant he didnât get nearly as good of an education as his brother did, getting stuck with an elderly, very conservative tutor who mostly only taught him religion and morals. But his brother would die at only nine years old (Louis was six then) from a bone infection after a bad fall from being pushed a little too hard while roughhousing with his friends. Then his father would die as well, of tuberculosis, when he was eleven, and his mother would follow a bit over a year later, having fallen into a deep depression after her husbandâs death. So most of his immediate family drops dead and Louis becomes heir to the throne. Turns out he couldnât have done so in worst circumstances: he inherited a lot of debt from his predecessors, had to deal with the repercussions of an unusually harsh winter that destroyed crops all over France and he just didnât have a single authoritarian bone in his body.
Itâs not like he was unintelligent. Much to the contrary, actually: he taught himself how to speak Italian, Spanish and English (the latter, reportedly, because he loved ships and navigation and he wanted to read Captain James Cookâs memoirs and Robinson Crusoe in the language they were originally written), had his own personal library, mastered advanced calculus and was and passionate about cartography, clockmaking and locksmithing. He was far from a tyrant or out of touch with his people either. He liked to secretly visits poor families in person and give them money that had been reserved for his own personal expenses, often took decisions that were the opposite of what was advised to him because, in his own words, âit might not be whatâs best for the country but itâs what the people want and I want people to like meâ, and held progressive values for a man of his time, passing or at least attempting to pass laws prohibiting the persecution of religious minorities, abolishing torture, serfdom and the death penalty.
So, why did Louis XVI die in the way he did? There were a lot of factors, of course. One of them is just because he was a symbol of the monarchy that had been plunging the country into more and more debt for the past 100 years, but a key one was that he was just awfully indecisive. It was it hard for him to make important decisions as quickly as he should and easy for him to be persuaded by other people of what he should do, which made for some pretty inconsistent, often poor results. He also hated attracting attention to himself so he refused getting statues and paintings made to celebrate his accomplishments, which made the public largely unaware of the good things he did while VERY aware of his shortcomings, real and imagined, because political cartoon artists had a field day with him and his wife. His contemporaries also thought of him as kind of uncouth and not very bright due to the fact he was shy and awkward. He was a bad public speaker, prone to going into uncomfortable silences mid-conversation and had a hard time looking people in the eye, which gave him an uncharismatic reputation. But, most importantly, Louis just⌠didnât fight back. He was chronically insecure. Eager for approval. He couldâve easily thwarted the initial revolts with his personal army but he felt like raising weapons against his own people was as unforgivable as doing so against his own children. So he made a point to forbid his men from attacking the revolutionaries and to try and talk it out with them and give in to their demands, eventually even letting himself and his family to be taken into house arrest to Paris.
More things happen after that, but the gist of it is, even though Louis was technically in decent terms with the revolutionaries and on board with being stripped of all his power and becoming a constitutional monarch, even writing to his brothers to demand that they do not try anything counterrevolutionary and that he didnât need their help, he felt like a prisoner and that his children were being mistreated. So he and Marie Antoinette decided to take a leap of faith and flee Paris to cross the Austrian border. The thing is, Louis genuinely thought that the revolutionary efforts were concentrated in Paris and that people elsewhere still liked him and would support his decision to escape. He was VERY wrong about that. They were eventually recognized and apprehended because, well. Louisâ face was literally on the money and someone eventually went âWait a minute⌠donât I know this guy from somewhere?â. The people were shocked by his betrayal and secret plotting with foreigners to escape given that he had previously seemed so cooperative. So he and his family are put in an actual prison this time, and heâs eventually tried for high treason and crimes against the state. By then he knows heâs cooked and that heâs going to be killed but he seems oddly resigned to it. I guess he just gave up.
Later on when his lawyer and former minister goes to tell him, in tears, that he has indeed, been convicted to death he just thanks him for his hard work and tells him that âWeâll meet again in a happier life!â One of the last things he said at all, on the way to the scaffold, was asking if there have been any news of the La PĂŠrouse expedition lately. which was this version of the Captain Cook expeditions of his he had organized a few years before it all went to shit. Funny little man, he was. He was scared of cats because he got a nasty scratch on the butt from his grandfatherâs cat as a child, but he dutifully took care of this very cat until the day it died after his grandfatherâs passing. He liked to stealthily make his way out of windows and climb on the roofs of the palace of Versailles at night to hunt for nocturnal animals. His favorite horses were named Escargot and DesirĂŠ.
I can do this trick with some other VERY random subjects too. Someone look up âFrench kingâ, get the first picture you see out of Google Images and show it to me on this post. Donât give me a name. Just the picture or a link to the picture. Iâm going to either awe you or creep you out. No middle ground.
#Well âlittle manâ is a little misleading. He was over 6â0 which was VERY tall for the time period.#I think the saddest thing about him isnât that he was executed though. It was that he only got to see the sea once before he died.#He liked it so much!
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Done with our favorite Spider-Boy! Spiderling? Spider... What was his name again?
Avengers paper cutout 6/?
#avengers paper cutout project#art#sorry it's been FOREVER since I did a thing for this series lol#lowkey I've had this done for like... a month... maybe 2 months...?#and just didn't post it because I wasn't 100% happy with it#but well. when someone has a bad day and you want to cheer them up a little you can't be chasing perfection I guess#I also want to do more bird art soon!#just haven't been feeling creative lately due to Certain Life Events:tm:#but today was the first decent day I've had in a while where I didn't go home and then immediately fall into a doom scroll spiral on the co#the couch#stupid tag word limit#anyway yeah hopefully you'll be hearing a little more from me soonish#and by soonish i mean like another 2 weeks probably...#look even when I'm feeling decent I am SLOOOOOOW at this lmao#uhh anyway there's only natasha left out of the OG6 so she's up next#actually probably similar color scheme for peter assuming it'll be a black gun on the hourglass bg#but I kinda hate the black lol it makes the edges look so bad!#we'll see maybe I'll find a picture of her with a different looking gun and use that as an excuse#enough tag rambling I need to post this and then get ready for bed lol#hope y'all enjoy my silly little art#which i guess is kinda seasonally appropriate now??#IGNORE MY RAMBLING UP THERE THIS WAS MY SECRET PLAN ALL ALONG MHM MHM I PLANNED THIS SO WELL
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genuinely, how do you learn to cope with the idea you'll have mental health issues for the rest of your life? how to you learn to find peace with the fact that rock bottom is always going to be just around the corner and theres nothing you can really do to stop it?
#i guess this is rhetorical but also if you have genuine tips i probably do want to hear them#im trying to adopt a 'be happy now because youll be sad later' attitude but some days its so hard to deal with the idea ill never be fully#in control. ill never be fullt stable. something will always set me off. ill always downswing#im at peace with the idea that whatevers wrong in my head is for life i just need to figure out how to be content knowing itll always be#bad again.#id like it to be easier#nyxtalks#idk stupid shit sent me panicking and the lingering effects have me catastophising and near crying about things that literally dont exist#its just in my head. i am seeing something that isnt there and i must remind myself that#and this is by no means a bad day in the scheme of things for me either#i just had a few awful thoughts#but it reminds me of how bad i get#idk its not that serious its fine#im gonna. maybe try and find something positive in the world now and stop thinking things that arent even true
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my boss earlier also sent a slack to everyone to be like âiâm thinking of opening on sundays in the fall if anyone is interested in working those days! :)â and i was like UGH!! and the two new kids of course were like âi would be interested!â since they only both work one-three days a week. and then i spent a good portion of my day fantasizing about how long i could live off my savings if i just quit. maybe SHE can come in and work on sundays
#sheâs probably not gonna make me do it she usually seems to not want to make me work extra days#i do think sheâs a little afraid of me. but wouldnât it be nice if that translated into getting paid more#but if she makes me work sundaysâŚ.#chatpost#work tag#the thing about my job is iâm getting a better deal than i have at any other job. which makes it hard for me to make myself quit#but just because i have some marginal improvements doesnt mean theres not better out there. iâm just afraid of getting worse again. lol#in the grand scheme of things itâs really not so bad. but it would be nice to be um. paid
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im gonna preface this with i KNOW that itâs stupid. i KNOW that itâs dumb and pointless and ultimately in the grand scheme of the world itâs not gonna amount to anything. i know in ten years- hell, probably ten weeks- iâm gonna look back on this and cringe at how much i cared about something so insignificant and silly. that doesnât mean that NOW i donât feel like shit. cause right now it feels like the end of the world and no amount of logic and reason is going to change how i feel. KNOWING that this is due to autism, clinical anxiety, and my period being set to start soon doesnât make my brain calm down. it just makes me mad at myself for wanting to cry over something stupid. all that to say. iâm so, so scared that the third sonic movie is going to be bad. i feel like iâve been the positive person about it for MONTHS, maybe years at this point, and i feel like iâm hyping myself up as well as everyone else. so it makes me feel like itâll be my fault if people donât like the movie. i KNOW that i had no part in making it and putting so many of my emotions on a fucking kidsâ movie is ridiculous when there are, not to be cliche, SO many more important things to worry about on this planet. maybe itâs because i had a breakdown on election day and so now iâm doom-spiraling. but like. i guess my fuckign hyperfixation on comfort media is the only thing keeping me afloat until i can get out of this shithole, IF i even can. which i know is stupid and bad but it doesnât stop me from wanting to sob at work. and i know that it doesnât matter so donât fucking tell me that. i get it. iâll probably delete this post in an hour and pretend it didnt happen because itâs embarrassing and childish but i just need to get my feelings out before i explode on someone.
my fuckign happiness shouldnt be riding on a kidsâ movie that we all KNOW is gonna make massive changes from the source material. it really shouldnât. and iâll have something else to care about in a week. but god.
im about to have a mental breakdown
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ok u know what maybe if the world isn't ready for sunrazer post that means that the world IS ready for Amoveous siblings post. This is Milo and Enho and theyre my DARLINGS and i love them SO MUCH. i have. SOOOOOOOO many thoughts abt them but after the previous post massacre i do not really feel like typing all of that xoxo love <3
#THESE DRAWINGS HAVE BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS LOL#meart#original character#robot oc#ily enho ily milo my darlings my angels my loves my funny robot guys.#ive posted abt Andromeda on here b4 if u remember her Enho is her best friend !!!!!#Enhos a battle robot who doesnt want 2 fight people..#hes the oldest sibling and theres a lot resting on their shoulders!#shes supposed to be this big metal protector but U.U she just wants to hide in his room.. and make music for the internet..#him and andy have this whole arc abt like. autonomy and identity and junk#being as andy is a government experiment who was raised to be a superhero who. has not yet realized that she HATES being a superhero lol#Enho inspires her!#milo um. does his own thing. he was the second amoveous bot and he is lucky to have been built without the responsibility of a battle bot#which means hes a LOT weaker. doesnt have a million weapons and lasers and such like enho does. no one expects much of him. he HATES IT!!!!#he wants to be POWERFUL! he wants to HURT PEOPLE!! he wants to be USEFUL!!! hes ANGRY ALL THE TIME#its EXSAUSTING.#yk that tinkerbell thing thats like. cuz shes so small she can only feel one emotion at once. and its so big it consumes her entirely?#hes that. he lives entirely in extremes. everything is 100% for him#he jumps to conclusions so quick and so violently.. hes incredibly impulsive and it gets him into a lot of trouble.#hes also a total NERD!!! GOOB!!! says mlady unironically. likes bad computer games. wears a stupid tie everyday. cartoonishly schemes 24/7#enho for the record is also a pretty angry person. they just dont rlly express it. they dont express much of anything lol.#shes semiverbal on a talkative day. he can be REALLY REALLY PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE THO. THAT MF CAN BE SO PETTY. GOOFY ASS#but shes TERRIFIED she'll lose control of her emotions and her body and that shell hurt someone someday. absolutely terrified.#enho is as afraid of his strength as milo is of his weakness. theyre both two ends of the same extremes in a lot of ways.#polar opposites and yet exactly the same. they resent each other a lot. they need to learn to meet each other in the middle.#anyway ''i dont feel like typing all that'' and then i ramble in the tags for ten million years lol ToT I LOVE THESE GUYS#theyre my oldest ocs in this universe and i have so many thoughts if you have any questions feel free to ask me lol
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the day i get paid always breaks my brain a lil bc i just have to send all my money awayyyy and be normal about it
#i dont even 'pay bills' really i send the money to the accounts the bills come from so there's always enough in said accounts on bill days#but its similar. goodbye money have fun sitting still until the reaper comes for you. tell last pay period's money i said hi.#this time wasnt so bad. i worked an emergency sunday which means i got overtime at double hourly wage for 4 hours#but still agh. to do extra work and then see your reward and it be relatively small in the grand scheme of things....#at least i have savings again. for the first time since summer began#t
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i keep thinking i have filtered every possible thing to avoid picard spoilers and commentary, but my friends, y'all seem to be working very hard to post without spelling out even a single character's name
#is this how the vaccine scientists feel trying to keep up with omicron variants#how many acronyms for one show can there be!!!!#pretty sure star trek: pi was a typo but i'm now imagining magnum pi in space#i mean in the grand scheme of things it would not be bad for me to just avoid this website for a few days each week#if i really am committed to watching it fresh and can't do so right away
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when i was a kid i was really REALLY into fantasy books and comics but interestingly ive noticed as an adult im like. too picky about it? i still read and love a lot of fantasy fiction but while when i was a kid i loved it because of the fantasy worldbuilding but as an adult, 99% i like it Despite it all LOL like ive noticed i prefer most fantasy stories to not dwell too much on magic systems or whatever because i just dont care EXCEPT
except. recently i have discovered that actually i do really like fantasy, low or high, soft or hard, but you need one thing. you need your main character to really REALLY care about some hyperspecific aspect of your fantasy worldbuilding and make it the foundation of the story's scenarios:
either make them autistic and really into monsters or magic or whatever (a certain tasty dungeoning manga that i have been reading recently has taught me this) OR
make them a fucking business major and do real life financial stock market bullshit but like. in fantasy medieval times with wolf goddesses (spice and wolf <3)
#i read the first spice and wolf novel early this year it was so good. so so good. they tried to do a currency shorting scheme#the wolf woman was helping. she was helping our main character play the markets. she was in on it#actually in general i need more fantasy fiction to do dubious things with money and politics. i love white collar crime in my fantasy#and of course i like the dungeony manga because that blonde bitch wants to eat everything so bad. and hes a dog. in his heart#now THATS a fantasy protagonist i can get behind. either be a dog or be a business major. im being mean to lawrence sorry#but he is a business major. this is true. he stares at notebooks that say 'supply = demand' all day#i am so picky tho with fantasy worldbuilding is the thing. sometimes i like 99% of a world but then they throw in something i think is dumb#and im like. come on man. but its not their fault. because what i think is cool is not always cool. i want fantasy to either be about eatin#or unethical financial practices. so. um. OH and i would love to see some legal dramas in fantasy#im sure theyre out there. i should look for em. i wanna see fantasy copyright law so bad#none of my pickiness applies to games tho im a lot more forgiving. theres still a bunch of stuff i dont care about in a lot of games#worldbuilding. but because im playing it i can ignore it easier i guess LOL i dont know why im like this!!!#i swear i genuinely used to eat up any and all fantasy!!! i dont know why im so picky now!!!!!!!!!!!!
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people are really so weird and so fatphobic huh
(and oops most of my commentary is in the tags XD)
#people really out here acting like some chocolate is gonna kill you#idk maybe you should check how stats and data actually work and not just blindly trust things that get it wrong and such#because hate to break it to ya but increased risk does not equal absolute risk#it just increases the risk which is normally only by a small margin and doesnt mean anything in reality because it doesn't mean that it's#absolutely 100% going to happen that's not what risk or increased risk means#anyway this reminds of when a friend of mine took part in a study#and they were like oh yeah you have a 6% chance of a heart attack in the next 10 years#they asked if they lost weight would that decrease by a lot and the person was like uhh by like 1% it's really not the big deal everyone#makes it out to be people are just fatphobic because that's the society we've built that at all times you must be skinny#or you aren't worth anything or worse when people act like you're such a strain on the system#and that you dont deserve to have healthcare like i will scream#everyone needs to stop being so damn weird about it!!!!!!!!!!#it's literally fine it's so literally fine#you know actually thinking about increased risk with alcohol and smoking - to which is totally your choice and up to you btw#i knew someone who smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish and lived to his 70s and died of something completely unrelated#increased risk is just that increased by a certain percentage which is like not a lot in the grand scheme of things to really put it into#perspective when you have like 1 in 100 chance and the increased risk is 100% that just raises it to 2 in 100 which yes is just 1% to 2%#i will scream when people act like food is going to kill you - especially when it gets so bad people act like fruit is bad for you because#of sugar like i will cry i will start sobbing because all of this is why im pretty sure most people have disordered eating#if not full on eating disorders and that's the real concern how our attitudes make people change their behaviours and develop mental health#conditions because society is just so insistent on this one issue that you can't escape it's bad it's so bad and i hope one day#we get past all this and people can just live how they want without others getting on their backs#fatphobic people are the reason why so many people i know think they're worthless and ugly and i just that's so upsetting to me and yes yes#there's the major issues like doctors ignoring symptoms in favour of just lose weight! and then just send people into the world with 0 help#in that oh and oops now they've got an eating disorder when the problem in the first place was not weight <.<#and even if it was (which it rarely ever is) it's like okay where's the help then because there is no help and then study after study is#like oh btw dieting doesnt work lol and then what do you do what do you do im gonna start screaming hdfghsdfg#anyway sorry these tags are long im just so tired and so frustrated at the world and i hope one day people get over themselves
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#kinda fucked up that 2020 feels like it was just yesterday#and i was like 'damn i guess i havent really felt like a person since then'#but i know that's not true because i didn't feel like a person before that either#I've been in a slow downward spiral since getting covid last year and remembering that the whole time i was in school#i was just doing it because thats what i was told i should do#i dont feel like I've made a single impactful decision ever in my own fucking life#i talked about it with my therapist last year but i cant responsibly afford to go back to her anyways#and its not like ive made any real progress on anything#i probably haven't seen a doctor since i was in high school#i dont know what i want to be called#i dont know what i want to even DO with myself#because I've just been doing whatever my mom says to for so fucking long#i shouldn't have gone to college until i had something i actually wanted to do#and now i have stupid ass loans and for what?#not a fucking degree!#i dropped out four years ago and havent done a goddamn useful thing since!#i feel stupid and useless and directionless#i miss my friends#i wish there was something i was at all good at but i cant even get rid of things i dont want because i dont even know what that means#because if we're looking at it objectively i dont want *any* of the things i have right now#i hate my clothes i hate my room i dont use any of my art tools anymore and even my physical body is rejecting me#i can't even SLEEP right#fucking hell#delete later#my birthday is in a week and im lowkey wondering if it would have been better if my mom never had me lmfao#I've done nothing I've said i was going to do so whats even the point#I've got a cat I've gotta look after for a few days in november so obviously we're gonna keep cruisin but GOD i dont wanna be here#my issues arent even that bad in the grand scheme of things but because theyre happening to me it feels so much more intense because well#my life is the lens in which i experience the world lmfao#ive pretended like everythings fine for all my life but these cracks just keep getting bigger and im really not enjoying that at all!
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me: let me book this train ticket home for the weekend after work next week. i'll end up getting there super late but i don't really have a choice
my boss: btw you have that day off
me: okay sweet let me switch my train to an earlier time because nobody will be happy if i get to the station at home so late when i can feasibly not do that
train company: sure but only if you give us ÂŁ10
me: b-but i already gave you ÂŁ15 for the ticket in the first place? the train i'm trying to switch it to is supposed to only cost ÂŁ9
train company: you can buy that ticket separately if you want, but switching the time of your original ticket will cost you ÂŁ10 and we won't be refunding you the difference between the ticket prices
me: fine. i'll buy the ticket separately. can i get a refund for the first ticket?
train company: no
me: so i'm going to end up paying a total of ÂŁ24 for what's supposed to be a ÂŁ9 ticket?
train company: yes
me: >:(
#at least that day off is paid leave like that is the ONE reassuring thing about this#i currently do not have enough money in my bank account for rent this month which is sooooo fun#so this is just what i needed đ#i stopped booking with trainline because going direct with the actual train company means no booking fees#but trainline wouldn't have charged me for switching my train time#they wouldn't have refunded me the difference but they wouldn't have been dicks about it either#and these prices are still Not That Bad in the grand scheme of things but also i remember when ÂŁ9 was the expensive price for this trip#that was only a few years ago#now i'm having to play dodge the ÂŁ61 tickets every time i want to see my family#public transport should be wayyy cheaper or even fucking free y'all like this is ridiculous#el talks
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H-h-hey.. senpai⌠I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because heâs such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)
Feel free to ignore if you donât want to do this..!
(Can I be đŚ anon?)
the jealous type!
His face scrunches. âNot you⌠smell bad. Someone else.â
â§â áľáľ đ â
Ë⎠omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be đŚ anon!!!!
warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04
Itâs late when you return home. If it was any other day, youâd be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now.Â
You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate⌠boyfriend? thing. Itâs almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet.Â
Sure, heâs the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didnât have any friends here, but does that mean you canât? Itâs not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. Heâs just⌠a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.
When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell heâs a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug.Â
âYou return!â he says, every time without fail.Â
âI return,â you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesnât let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.
Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. âNot you⌠smell bad. Someone else.â
Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?
âYou can smell my friend?â you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, âUhm⌠someone else⌠uhhhh⌠my friend.â
âOther friend?â Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.
You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. âOther friend,â you confirm.
âFriend⌠same me?â
You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. Itâs hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. âI donât understandâŚâ you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. âTheyâre human.â
Mr. Crawlingâs frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. âFriend like this?âÂ
Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. âNot like this, Crawling.â
âYou one. You me two. Not like three.â His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like heâs afraid youâll slip away. âMe like you. Worry⌠not like me. Gone long time�� Smell someone else.â
You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. Heâs not just possessive, heâs scared. You stretch your arms out. âLike you. Big like. See? This much!â You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. âFriend ok. Little like. Understand?â
You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. âYou get it now, Crawling?â you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. âUhm⌠when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?â He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. âWork friend! Not important. You important. You, uh⌠you understand me?â
âMe understand,â he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. âSmell bad⌠Me only like you. You smell good."
"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."
He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if heâs truly getting itâor if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and thatâs when you decide you donât really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.
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Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kidâs plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same olâ. Alright, so âdisturbedâ may be a tad too light of a word, but whatâs an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured heâd just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.
Too bad he didnât account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemeteryâs website when heâs feeling particularly lonely.
Plot Removed.
Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Toddâs plot number. Removed? What do they mean âremovedâ? They canât just remove a plot? Thatâs a person down there! Thatâs Robin down there! You canât Remove Robin!
Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.
Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely itâs a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.
Just a phone call.
In 5 hours.
âŚ
Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.
Well it wonât be the first time heâs snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It canât even really be considered sneaking out if thereâs no one home to catch you.
Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.
Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.
Itâs 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading âHere Lies Jason Toddâ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.
This- This doesnât make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-
Assess the situation.
A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.
Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.
Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.
No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.
Dragging claw marks.
Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.
A trail of dirt.
Something⌠Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.
Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. Heâs going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isnât the worldâs first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.
Heâs been walking for 23 minutes and thereâs good news and undecided news. Good news: heâs closing in on the target and the trail isnât taking him out of the way so his trip home wonât be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.
As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Timâs collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.
In Batman and Robin news? Timâs unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldnât have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-
No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.
Hope only brings heartbreak.
What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.
Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.
Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.
Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.
âJ-Jason?â It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.
Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.
âJason. Jason, stop I want to help you.â Still nothing.
âPlease, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!â
Why isnât this working?! Why canât he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-
âRobin!â
Robin jerks to a stop.
Tim reached out his hand.
âRobin. Robin please, Iâm sorry youâre going through this, itâs really scary, Iâm really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.â
Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course itâs not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?
Hope only brings heartbreak.
His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.
His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.
âDonât⌠scared⌠Bat⌠help⌠Dad⌠help.â
A relieved sob tears out from Timâs chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jasonâs cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.
âOkay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.â
Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.
#Hello Mr. Batwayne forgive me for waking you but I brought your Jaybin home#Tim: Iâm not jumping to conclusions!#also Tim: Holy fuck itâs the zombie apocalypse weâre all going to die#I know it seems like Tim might have some bat detective training but really he just watches a lot of cop shows and asks âwwbd?â all the time.#writing this is the first thing I did as soon as I turned 27.#this was my birthday present to myself ig#not a ship pls n thx#batfam fanfic#batman#dc robin#dcu#batman and robin#jason todd#tim drake#red hood#ficlet#batfam#jason todd and tim drake#robin#red robin#shut up grandpa#fanfiction#ââJASON! JASON STOP! LOOK AT ME! look at me. please. this isnât youââ ass dialogue đ
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âDid this place pick up a ghost when I was dead or something?â
Tim whipped his head towards Jason, who looked mildly perturbed.
âYou too?!â Tim demanded.
âWhat?â
âThe ghost! I kept thinking it was a hallucination, you know? But even when I laid off of the caffeine, thereâd be a fucking shadow at the edge of my vision! At night! You saw it too, right?â Tim rambled, increasingly agitated. âIt even moves the fucking coffee mugs! I know where I left my favorite mug, and it sure as hell wasnât in the sink!â
Jason blinked at him, face morphing into concern.
âReplacement, when was the last time you got some sleep?â
Tim inhaled. âJason, I swear to god I will replace all of the shampoo in your twenty six safe houses with glitter glue if you donât tell me whether you saw it or not.â
Jason nodded immediately. In his defense, Tim grew up to be a scary motherfucker. Diabolical little shit would have been a fucking terrifying villain.
âI knew it.â
ââ
Danny hummed. Tim was going to freak when he found his cowl three inches to the left.
He merrily avoided all of the set up cameras by simply going invisible and intangible, save for his arms that he uses to sweep the cowl to the side.
He could hear the static on the cameras. Danny grinned. Operation Gaslight, Ghostkeep, Girlboss is on.
ââ
âTim-â Dick started, only to be cut short by Tim whirling around and jabbing a painful finger into his chest.
âYou owe me this, for that Arkham comment when B went missing.â
Dick raised his hands in surrender, guilt flaring.
âDrake, what kind of pointless scheme are you getting us in, now?â
âNot now, demon brat.â Jason elbows the kid. âJust go along with it.â
âLook.â
âWell. I guess we were right, yeah, Tim?â Duke muttered, eyeing the moved cowl. âMy ghost-sight isnât seeing anything. Not even wind movement.â
âWhatâs going on, boys?â
âB, thereâs a ghost in the manor.â
âHeâs freaking out because it moved his coffee mug like three times.â Steph chimed in.
ââ
âDanny?â
âYeah?â
âHave you seen anything weird, lately?â
Danny tilted his head. âNoâŚ?â
âNot even in the house?â Jason asked.
âShadows? Anything?â Dick asked, eye bags prominent on the normally exuberant man. Danny snickered inwardly. Theyâve been up for three days trying to âcatchâ the ghost.
âUh. I mean the floorboards creak sometimes? But in terms of shadows⌠I think I saw them outside? Kind of looked like Batman, actually. But my eyesight gets bad at night. Why?â
Danny could see in the dark just fine.
âNothing! Let me know if you see anything, okay?â
âUh. Sure? Maybe you guys should⌠get some sleep?â
âUh-huh.â
The bats file out of his room.
ââ
Danny locked glowing green eyes with Tim and Dick. He did some quick thinking and contorted his ectoplasm into something more grotesque.
âKkkhggggghkkkkeeee!!!â He screeched.
âAHHHHHHHHHH!â The two of them screamed, both bolting and throwing things at him. It was impressive how fast they backpedaled.
âThat was close,â Danny muttered. He quickly scribbled on Damianâs whiteboard with conspiracy theories and dipped before the rest of the bats came thundering.
He fell into a light sleep just as Stephanie checked up on him, work done.
#danny phantom#batman#dc x dp#jason todd#bruce wayne#tim drake#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#danny is a little shit#gaslight gatekeep girlboss#danny haunting the manor#taking âhauntâ to a literal degree#damian wayne#Robin#stephanie brown#spoiler#cass is back in Hong Kong so sheâs not here to witness this stupidity
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