#apparently i'm addicted to making these now lol

[crehador]

[paramoira]

@godofcourage gets a random starter

it's one of those bitterly chilly nights where the moon is high in the sky and a soon approaching rainfall clings in the air. nightlife seems prevalent, at least if the street she's walked down was anything to judge from. one of the bars' had one of those folding doors which allowed them to form an open patio, live music drifting out and people of various levels of intoxication braving the chill. another, the one on the corner, had a line of the typical college looking sort waiting to get in with a few scattered older adults. she ignores them, dodging a larger group of friends in the line and stepping into the street to get around them. maybe ariadne shouldn't have parked her car so far away yet she hadn't exactly wanted it seen or anyone taking down her license plate when she held no business getting involved in what she was doing in the first place. ariadne held enough issues with certain detectives even if most had seemed to form a kind of acceptance that her dedication to her work proved family members held no baring on her commitment to solving the deaths which crossed her table at the morgue.

except, all of those detectives had seemed ready to accept the current case (or lack thereof) as presently in review as 'accidents'.

it was true the evidence hadn't been as strong as other cases, however, ariadne steadfastly disagreed with the pathologist in a jurisdiction over, the two cases she believed were linked having transpired in different areas yet not over state lines. there hadn't been any outright preternatural elements though a few things had made her question; even so, finding evidence the victims had once been to a blood den did not equate to proof anything paranormal had caused their deaths. as such there had not been enough to require the bprd's involvement and certainly nothing to have warranted fbi involvement even had she attempted a favor.

perhaps this was all one enormous hunch of a bad feeling ariadne shouldn't be following. certainly, one would think that as intelligent a woman as doctor kalkan clamed to be, she would have learned her lesson by now in respect to getting too involved with her cases. if nothing else what had happened in london should have taught her that. and yet, here she was, walking down a dimly lit street and jogging up the six steps of the apartment building once she finds the address she'd been looking for. how she'd got that, perhaps, wasn't completely in-line with the fact she was supposed to be on the side of law enforcement (sometimes it helped that one's familial ties were tied up in much less legally acceptable things and held no issues in utilizing those means if she asked). it was a very blurred line at times, though ariadne was willing to justify it as a fairly minor deviation and for a greater good. when someone comes out in hurry, she grabs the door before it closes, looking back a moment as the person moves down the street and rain begins prompting her to move inside, distracted.

somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd gotten a strange sense off the hooded man, something dark and the scent of smoke... however, ariadne chalked it up to her own minor paranoia about her covert actions and her anxieties about things in the past. closing the door, ariadne wonders if this was how private detectives operated, waiting for doors to be opened or did they just pick locks? she supposes they weren't held to the same rules as the police and as long as they weren't caught. on that same thought train, she wouldn't have put it passed the one girl's only living relative, a brother, to have hired one to look into things after the police findings. regardless, she has to speak with the girl that lives here and so ariadne makes her way up the steps. there's a weight to the moment, a sudden increasing worry. she has theories, even if ariadne's not sold on them yet but she'd seen the same item on this girl's person as had been found at two previous scenes, a match box from a location she knew was a blood den. again, it didn't mean the girls were even connected to the place, for all she knew it could be the killer-- if there really was one. finally, she reaches the top where the girl's apartment was, seeking to knock only to find the door slightly ajar.

there, a few steps inside, she finds a female down-- the girl, a friend of one of the victims who she'd spoken to briefly when on scene with one of the detectives, laying on the floor among a smashed glass table. she moves to take a pulse, render aid if possible, however the girl was deceased, having begun to bleed out and another set of matches on the floor. was it a coincidence? or was someone trying to draw attention? the easy answer would be to think it was a vampire killer or more likely a ripper if one went down that route yet there was too much blood left at the scenes and no bite wounds. was it a human who knew about vampires? and it always looked like an accident-- a fall or a something of the sort. ariadne wondered if this girl also had a strange puncture mark as that had been present at the other scenes too except there wasn't an easy method to check and the glass made things precarious as it was. she needed to call this in though how she was going to explain her presence or that she'd taken it upon herself to want to ask the girl questions she held no idea how to explain. she's pulling out her phone when she senses someone else at the door.

"i'm with the m.e.'s office.. i just found her like this. i'm about to call it i--" ariadne pauses in confusion when she looks over as she stands upright. "o--" no, no. it wasn't, she's not entirely sure how she knows, perhaps it's the difference in his aura if that was what that strange sense she was only starting to become aware she had was and perhaps it's a trick of the low-light, but he looks so similar to... well, she supposed everyone had a doppelganger of sorts. "oh shit--" she realizes it too late. "--that guy with the hood downstairs! i think he's the one that did this." she's not really talking to the strange man though she should be much more concerned about his presence than she is. granted, this man wasn't dressed like the other guy that'd smelled like smoke, nor did he have the same... he didn't seem the same and she was surrounded by glass pieces if she had to defend herself. "who are you?"

*(see the novel i wrote in tags)

[psychabolition]

You talk about getting rid of the psychiatric system. But what do you propose should be done instead? /gen

I'm going to tell you a story . I once knew someone called Tim. When I met him he had already spent most of his life in drug addiction treatment centres, psych wards and prisons until he later ended up in a forensic psych ward. After he did LSD he 'never came down from his bad trip' and got diagnosed w schizophrenia. This diagnosis +the addict - diagnosis justified so many fucking human rights violations - it got him locked up, drugged up, strip searched, his privacy violated on a daily basis, isolated away from society and everyone he knew because apparently he needed to be 'saved from this illness in his brain that makes him do/think/feel' things he otherwise wouldnt and because he needed to be 'punished' into being a 'functioning', 'productive' (read: profit-generating) member of 'society' (read: hegemonic cultural norms & forms.) This is what psychiatry does - it doesnt help, it locks us up and tortures us. I dont need to be able to name alternatives to this lol . This is the worst possible way of treating anyone ever. It would help immensely to literally just STOP doing this. Even 'sane' people would go insane in places like these.

So the alternative to acting like an absolute asshole towards people who struggle severely and who dont have a place in society would be to 1)not isolate them away from society and 2)not torture them 🙏 . It would be to get rid off the psychologists' individual and the psychiatric systems' general saviour complex that only results in abusing people bc they act like the people who are labelled as mentally ill are (=their minds/brains) responsible for at fault for their own struggles. Instead we could show solidarity with each other and try to built a world where everyone has a place in and is valued as a person and where the suffering/madness of an individual is not seen as an incentive to literally abuse and socially ostracize them.

And @ everyone dont come at me w 'not everyone has these experiences w psychiatry' - any time you talk about systemic criticism you have to look at the most marginalized experiences. When talking about police defunding/prison abolition we also talk about police brutality that black disabled poor people face . And yes not everyone has bad experiences w every single cop , still ACAB . ALSO dont come at me with 'I know there ar GOOD psychologists who Actually want to help' ,1) fuck their savior complex 2)what individuals motives are for joining this system of oppression isnt necessarily the purpose of a system. The purpose of a system is what it does. The police isnt there to protect us, psychiatry isnt there to help us. We only have each other.

So, what you can do right now to get rid off the psychiatric system in your community? How can we stop relying on this authoritarian system that abuses and incarcerates so many of us ??

I think its important to educate each other on our rights. Because then we have the knowledge on what not to say in a therapy session so we dont get incarcerated or what to do when we are questioned by cops/psychs to see if we are 'at risk' or what to do when we or friends of us are already incarcerated so they can get out of there as fast as possible. Also educating your friends/family on psychiatric propaganda helps - a common myth is that if you dont 'look for signs' and call the cops to institutionalize a friend they might kill themselves. All while institutionalization/incarceration increases the risk of suicide extremely. This is important to know so no one in our communities calls the cops on us when we're doing really bad. Also educating each other on the biomedical model so everyone understands that we dont have an illness that we need to be 'saved from' (depression for example) or 'punished for' (aspd, drug addiction) and that we (=our minds/brains) arent to blame for our struggles Etc.

If you know that youre sometimes in extreme mental distress/pain you could also make a crisis plan with friends so you dont need to rely on the psych system - like for example the plan could be that a friend calls in sick for work/university and then stays at your place for 3-4days and is there for you/drinks tea w you, goes for a walk together w you, smokes a joint with you together until you feel better and arent acutely suicidal anymore. (Its also best to include several people in this plan bc it can get really overwhelming for 1 person). You can als include things in the plan like asking your friends to take away all knives in your apartment if you want to. Or if its a more permanent 'crisis' then a plan on how to move together with friends to get away from your nuclear family/abusive partner (just as an example).

Access to medication, knowledge on how to get off of them if you dont want to take them anymore and freedom and proper education in your decision on taking, weaning off or on staying on medication is not given in the psych system. So how do we change that? A common reason for 'crisis' is trying to wean off of psychiatric drugs (a lot of people get suicidal or psychotic bc of the withdrawal for example - depends on the meds, dosis and since how long youve been taking them though). You could plan when to do this together w friends. Theres anti psych guidelines on how to do this safely - a lot of psychiatrists tell you that you need to stay on meds no matter if you want to or not and they often dont know how to wean off of them or think youre 'at risk' and incarcerate you if you mention that you want to stop taking your meds -this highly depends on how stigmatizing your diagnosis is (=schizophrenia/bipolar are good examples for highly stigmatized ones) or if youre sb who get racialized for example (bc then psychs immediatly perceive you as more of 'a risk'). You could make a plan for example where you ask your friends to stay w you through this by living at your apartment w you for a few days, cooking meals for you and keeping your apartment clean. And then another friend of you could come by each day after work (for example) and also be there since its probably a lot for one person. Also LYING to psychiatrists is always a good idea. For example when youre trans and want to access gender affirming care its important not to mention any diagnoses in general but especially diagnoses like autism, schizophrenia, psychosis or PDs and then literally lie about yourself if necessary. You always know who you are and what you need best. Also dont blindly trust your psych on what medications go well together - look it up yourself !!! Theres a 'drug interaction checker' online where you can see if it might be dangerous to take certain meds at the same time. Also READ on what side effects are possible - make a diary for when you start your medication on how youre feeling/doing . Some changes are awful but still hard to notice bc youre thinking that it could also be a 'normal' worsening of your mental state that you think you might also have without meds. Also depending on what physical conditions you have/had you cant take some medications without it being dangerous - READ the whole instruction paper thing that always comes with your meds and/or google it !!

Also literally just sharing/collecting tips on how to cope w different struggles + harm reduction guides (suicidality, drug addiction, ...) is very helpful. There is a lot of community sourced material already out there.

I understand that the reason most people are severely struggling is because they dont have a community (=like when you only have 1 partner or 1 friend ,because youre (still) legal property of your parents, because youre stuck in a nuclear family,...) and not only because psychiatry divides our communities by blaming us for our struggles and isolating and stigmatizing us. Building community and relying on each other is the only way to get rid off the psychiatric system in the end. If we already had a real community that we could rely on, all the psych wards would be empty and therapists wouldnt exist. This is not the first step, its the solution.

Als there are already alternative institutions (that are already in practice) that are a replacement for psychiatry.

This is probably the answer that youre looking for 😂. I dont really care about these kind of anti psych concepts and practices since they seem out of my reach atm. Ik that theres an anti psych house in berlin whos guiding principles are 1)community care /peer support 2)full autonomy for everyone there and its specifically for people who are running away from psychiatric violence.

Other alternatives that I havent really looked into yet are : bethel house , peer respites, new models of therapy

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hii, i was wondering if you could write a Thomas catching the reader smoking (sister or whatever you prefer) and getting scolded because of the damage that Thomas has experienced firsthand thanks to his addiction because come on, that man shouldn't even be able to climb a ladder without being exhausted lol. Btw love ur writing 💖💌

I thought the idea of this was so cute! I made this into a short little drabble, hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: smoking,

Pairing tommy x sister!reader, siblings bickering

Tommy stood up from his chair outside, tossing the money onto the center of the glass and flailing his arms up in defeat while Arthur hollored in victory, pulling the one thousand pounds his way.

Tossing his feet up on the table, Arthur lit himself a cigarette while the other Shelby brothers and Johnny doggs called it a night, having lost enough money.

Arthur tried to convince Tommy to stay and hang out maybe do a line or two but Tommy waved him off, heading back toward the house.

When he was about to round the corner, he noticed you were leaning against the wooden ladder that was stood up right against the house with one of your preppy friends Tommy never cared for. He was nearly in disbelief seeing the tube of cancer between your lips, laughing and giggling overhearing some talk about a celebrity that was your new found love interest.

"Fuckin' hell." He mumbled to himself, thinking about how he thought you'd been smart enough to take a hint that smoking wasn't good for you, nor anyone for that matter but apparently his sister was more ill informed than he imagined.

"Eh!" Hearing Tommy's voice roar through the quiet midnight air, you tossed the cigarette onto the ground, your friend Isabelle stomping on it aggressively before trying to kick it away.

Hurriedly she reached into her pocket, pinching a piece of gum out and handing it to you. Tommy nodded your friend off, mentioning how she had a house of her own just down the street, leaving you alone with Tommy.

"What the fuck are you doing? You don't smoke?" No, no, Tommy surely wasn't going to guilt trip with you with how he smokes nearly two packs a day if not more.

"What's the big deal! You smoke all the time, that's a little hypocritical don't you think?" Isabelle yelled back after you goodbye and good luck, forcing to Tommy to draw your attention back to him before before Isabelle was running back over here in her annoying stature.

"So what eh? If you friends said you should jump off a bridge because they did would you?"

"Well I might if it will get me away from your constant nagging. Besides my friends aren't stupid like yours." Tommy scoffed, grabbing at your bag, tussling with you in a tug of war until he ripped the accessory from your clutch, dumping the items out on the lawn to reveal not only one but two packs of cigarettes. Actually the longer he stared at it, the more he noticed some of these were the ones he rolled himself, sticking out like a sore them in the porch light.

"You little thief! I can barely walk up me own fuckin' stairs, y/n." His blue eyes shined with utter disappointment and disapproval, making you cower, eye scanning anywhere but him as if that would get you out of the situation.

His eyes bore into your skull hard enough that if he had lasers they would shoot right through you irresponsible, per-petulant head.

"That doesn't stop you now does it?" You crossed your arms, finally quipping back earning a roll of the eyes from Tommy. Couldn't you understand that wasn't the point. Through Tommy's hard shell he was always soft for his baby sister and just wanted you to live a long prosperous life, not make irrational, selfish decisions as he often did himself.

Picking up the cigarettes, he stuffed them inside his jacket pocket, before you sighed and both leaned down to pick up the rest of your belongings.

"I'm just looking out for you y'know. One of us Shelby's has to outlive 50. What do you say we go inside eh? Don't need you getting a cold." Looking up at the sky, storm clouds were roaming in but you knew better this was just an excuse to get off the topic of conversation. If anything you'd just have to be more secretive with where your smoking at from now on.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm IWTV-wank-avoidance-asking Anon and it kinda missed me that it would be a wanky topic lol I was trying to see if the show is worth watching. A lot of my mutuals are posting IWTV gifs so I assume it's good, but I was curious if anyone who read the novel would think "Better read the novel". I don't realize an asking-for-rec ask would be wanky, but now that I think about who the writer is, it kinda makes sense. My bad lol

--

Ahahahaha.

Around here, I don't think anyone is precious enough about Anne Rice to start the genuine version of this wank, but Rice fandom can be... uh... very intense even on top of Rice herself having been the queen of drama.

You know about Red Beans Anne Rice, right?

Many years ago, Anne got all butthurt about a tacky-ass restaurant taking over an abandoned building that she'd had Lestat being emo in in one of the books. Instead of gothic atmosphere, it was now very PINK and LOUD. So she wasted money taking out ads in the local paper as Lestat trying to shame the restaurant owner... at which point a bunch of other restaurant owners also wasted money to respond in newspaper ads saying that they welcomed fellow businesspeople. It all ended in the restaurant's grand opening and people with plates of "Red beans Anne Rice" (i.e. red beans and rice).

--

Anyway, I read the first book back in the 90s when I was like 15. It's decent from what I remember. The thing that made it iconic when it came out in 1976 was that it was pretty heavily pushing the vampire=drug addict metaphor. This is everywhere in sexy goth sadboi vampire media now, but it wasn't as much of a thing at the time.

It was also very, very gay but in that way where (at least in the first book), nobody really says the word. That meant something in the 70s. Even by the 90s, it wasn't such a big deal, and it's a big nothingburger in the 2020s.

Book 1 is Rice dealing with the death of her child. It's all about suicidal feelings and Catholic weirdness. The main character is Louis, a.k.a. Rice's self-insert (which she confirmed herself).

Books 2 onward are about Lestat's dick.

He becomes a rockstar, vampire-bones the ur vampire, which causes him to mega level up, thus enabling him to thwart her plot to kill all men on earth aside form a few for breeding purposes, bodyswaps so he has a working penis again, fucks a nun, swaps back, gets Louis back by trying to commit suicide and accidentally getting a tan, etc... Much, much later books are about the other bonkers vampires, most of them more in the horny rockstar mold than the sad mommy of dead baby one.

In book 1, Louis is a depressed plantation owner who eats a bunch of his slaves among other fucked up shit. Claudia, their vampire daughter, is a small child who is upset about being stuck as a kid forever. One of the more disturbing parts is when Louis finds out she's fucking adult men. Lestat turns out to be a French nobleman with mommy issues despite Louis thinking he was only pretending to be upper class.

-- The TV series moved the entire plot much later in history, made Louis black, and gave him a spine. Some racists cried about this and some of tumblr cried about how it was offensive to take the plantation owner and make him black instead of doing that with the other one.

The show also made it more overt that Lestat is an abusive jackass boyfriend. This apparently came as a surprise to people with poor reading comprehension. Others have wanked about fans still liking Louis/Lestat instead of Louis/less terrible boyfriends. But... like... It's IWTV. What did they expect?

(So yes, some book fans will be immensely wanky about the show. Ignore them.)

Also, I hear they fuck on the show? Rice's vampires don't have working junk, which we know because Lestat stands in front of an entire wall of mirrors in the most bougie bathroom ever in Akasha's evil lair and discusses how his penis—I mean "The Organ"—no longer does anything.

Also, Armand in the books is the 14-year-old kept boy of a Renaissance painter with a harem of boys or something like that. (It's been a very long time since I read these.) Shit like this never makes it into the adaptations.

--

If you're curious about the history of vampire media or about a certain kind of Southern gothic shit, sure, read the books, particularly the first one with its radically different tone and much greater historical importance.

The old movie is a decent adaptation of book 1, though it makes it less gay (or at least removes Louis' weird boner for his dead brother) and messes with the ending in a way that would have made sequels veer off from the books. I haven't seen that other old movie with Aaliyah, but it looks like a campy time capsule of baaaad movies of that era.

Anyway, no, you don't need to read the book before watching the show. They changed a massive amount of stuff.

I'm in more of a Chinese media phase right now, but a bunch of friends have watched and said the show is genuinely good.

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The past is revealed to Eren, who can only do his best to prove that it doesn’t change his feelings.

— Content warnings: past child abuse/neglect, drug use, unstable family life, grooming, SA, slightly nsfw, mention of unprotected sex.

— Notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger last week lol but you should be used to it haha. Chapter 10 is now here! <3 There’s a lot going on in this chapter so please pay attention to the content warnings before reading. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

then and now

It wasn’t always so bad.

My earliest memory is that of my mom giving me a warm cup of tea and honey when I fell incredibly ill at three years old. I'd eaten something unclean and I was stuck in my parent's bed for a week, feverish, with little appetite and even less strength. If I concentrate enough, I can still hear echoes of my parents sitting at the kitchen table, crunching the numbers from their pooled savings so they could afford a doctor's visit. My mom remained by my side the entire time to make sure the IV drip didn't spontaneously clog, or that I didn't move the hand that was connected to it and started bleeding out into the tube. The doctor said a little bleeding was normal, but she was scared of it happening at all. 

I developed a hatred for cabbage, which is what the doctor recommended to help regain strength without hurting my stomach. My father went out to buy it and my mom fed it to me in soup. She'd make a game out of it, and she promised to take me to the park to play as soon as I got better. I remember my childhood fondly if I focus on that first memory. So, I'm pretty sure anything before that was just as good. 

I didn't know until I was way older that my mother did drugs before she had me. She struggled with addiction at sixteen, which was well into her relationship with my father. The only difference was, he remained clean after my mom told him she was pregnant during their senior year of high school. 

I couldn't understand that I was witnessing her relapse after I started kindergarten. Apparently, being four and a half years old is the cutoff for being worthy of staying sober for. 

That's when everything started spiraling. My mom failed to pick me up from school several times, leaving me to spend hours tucked away in the library, keeping Mrs. Zacharias company while she pretended to rearrange already organized books. My father worked long hours at a factory, some of which had to be punctured like swiss cheese so he could take me home because my mom was nowhere to be found.

By the time she stumbled through the door, she was being brought in by strange men. I never met them, I just knew they were there because the noise would wake me up in the middle of the night and I'd hear my father arguing with my intoxicated mom after thanking them for bringing her home. 

My mom looked sick. As her number one fan, I was worried. She was getting skinnier, she barely ate and she seemed tired all the time yet never got enough sleep to heal the dark circles under her sunken eyes.

The first time I attempted to cook something, I was six. I could easily get by during school days. I had breakfast and lunch there, and sometimes Mrs. Zacharias would give me pretzel sticks if I read a book out loud to her while we waited for my father to come get me. But on weekends, I was on my own. My father was working even on weekends to make ends meet and even when my mom happened to be home, she wasn't truly there.

So, while she was locked inside the bathroom for hours, I went into the kitchen and tried to boil an egg. I couldn't find the small pot we always used, but my pink plastic bowl was on the drying rack from last night after my father fed me dinner. 

I didn't know you weren't supposed to put plates onto a hot stove. The plate cracked and stuck to the burner. I tried to pry it off but I burned my hand. It would take years for the scar to fade. 

When my mom saw what I'd done, she slapped me straight across the face. I was dragged by my hair and locked in the minuscule storage closet as punishment. That was just the first of many times. 

My father would always be the one to let me out when he got back from work late at night, and I'd quietly call him from the inside, scared because I'd urinated myself and he'd probably be just as mad as my mom. But he wasn't. He'd clean me up, scrape the plastic from my now useless pink bowl from the burner, and feed me.

My father grew tired of it. All the money that was meant for food and supplies went directly to dealers, meaning he had to spread himself even thinner. When he found out my mom had ransacked the secret place he kept his savings for the sixth time, he snapped. 

I was twelve by then, so I understood everything that was going on.

They had a huge fight and he stormed into the bedroom to pack his clothes into a bag. But my mom was ballistic. She took a pair of scissors and started cutting anything she could get her hands on into pieces.

I heard a series of slapping and punching before my father passed me by in the living room — no money or clothes on him — and slammed the door shut behind him.

Things got even worse.

My mom would constantly yell that if it hadn't been for me, my father never would've left. She'd tell me I ruined her life and that I was a burden. Had she not gotten pregnant at eighteen, her life would be a whole lot simpler.

But now we didn't have any money, I didn't have a father, and my mom's addiction pushed her into getting a job. Even back then, at twelve years old, I felt guilty because she had to work because of me. 

She started off at a laundromat. Mrs. Zacharias visited our apartment because I hadn't gone to school for a few days and she wanted to check in. Despite my mom's foul language toward the kind librarian, she helped her get the job. 

My mom was very happy to work at the laundromat, though it had less to do with having a purpose than it did with the crumpled bills she'd find in people's clothes that would later serve as pocket change for her dealer. 

After a year, she was fired after being caught stealing from the register. It was surprising she even lasted that long in that place. 

But now she was even more desperate. 

And that's when the men started coming.

I spent my elementary and middle school years hearing my mom having sex with strangers inside the room she used to share with my father while I did homework on the kitchen table. 

Some of them were nice. Some of them weren't. 

Sometimes my mom's dealer would be the one to come around. 

One day, when I was thirteen, I'd just gotten back from the school library from working on a group project and I was making myself a sandwich when he came out of the bedroom, still buckling his pants.

“Hey there, princess,” he said.

“Hi, Steve.”

I didn't think it was strange to be on a first name basis with the guy. He was around a lot and that in itself meant it was okay to be close with him, in my mind.

Besides, he wasn't that much older than me. I think about eighteen or nineteen. It just made sense to be friends.

“How's school?” he asked as he leaned back into one of the chairs at the table.

I knew he didn't really care — that's why he dropped out, he'd say — but I still answered him honestly.

“Math's getting a bit hard but I'm doing okay.”

“That's ‘cause you're smart,” he praised as he lit up a cigarette and took the first drag. “You're gonna make it outta here real quick with that brain of yours.”

He held my gaze as he blew out the smoke away from my face. It didn't matter because it drifted back to me anyway. 

“You're pretty, too,” he murmured before taking another long drag.

I shook my head, an unamused scoff leaving my lips.

“I'm serious,” he laughed.

I turned back to look at him again, suddenly feeling shy. 

He had very nice eyes. Sometimes bloodshot but always very blue. 

I always liked how blue his eyes were.

I also liked that he complimented me. Outside of school I was barely praised for anything. 

“You think I'm pretty?”

His smile slowly faded as he squashed his cigarette butt on the floor and leaned closer to me.

“Yeah, you're fuckin’ pretty, darlin’,” he murmured, his eyes flitting to my lips. “Wish I could taste you.”

I could feel my face grow hot at his words. At the time I thought he meant he wanted to kiss me, and perhaps that was all there was to what he said, but I found myself leaning closer to him, too.

I had my first kiss with a nineteen year old drug dealer. I didn't know what I was doing, of course, so I just tried to mimic his movements. He tasted awful but I felt my stomach fluttering at the thought that someone thought of me as pretty and not a disgusting nuisance.

The kiss was cut short when my mom caught sight of the scene and angrily kicked him out.

She was fuming when she got back to me, and I could feel my stomach trying to climb up my throat in anxiety.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled.

I tried to explain that he asked to kiss me first, that he made the first move. But she overpowered me.

“You think I don't notice the way you look at all my men?” she sneered. “It wouldn't kill you to stop wearing that skimpy little skirt around, you filthy slut.”

I was next to be thrown out of the house. 

Living on the first floor of our apartment building included some perks, one of them being we didn’t have to climb the metal stairs attached to the side of the building to get to our apartment. There were no stairs connecting the apartment floors on the inside, either, which meant there was plenty of privacy. 

But it also meant I had no way of getting back inside that night.

It was December. It was snowing. And I slept outside.  

From then on, I was nothing but a whore, a vicious slut who was interfering with my mom's business. I had to leave the house each time she had someone over, or be locked in the closet until they finished. My mom said that as long as I was in view, men would be more interested in me, the pretty young thing, instead of her. And that wasn't fair.

Over the next couple of years, we coexisted with each other. I stayed out of her way as much as I could, a habit that ultimately translated to other aspects of my life. And she spared me just enough attention when I needed to be punished for taking money for school supplies and food. 

It got to a point when I started hanging around my high school more than I should. I'd get there extremely early and leave as late as I could without getting in anyone's way. 

And I actually really liked school. Steve wasn't lying when he said I was smart. I really did have a knack for picking up on things easily, and good grades came to me like a birthright. 

I was top of the list for everything.

Minus social skills.

I kept to myself. I was smart but I barely raised my hand in class so as to not rob anyone else of the opportunity to participate. I ate lunch alone in front of my locker to not take up any space at a table in the cafeteria. But I was fine with it.

Everything was fine.

Zeke Fritz was the youngest teacher at my school. He was well-mannered and charming, and he was very popular among all his students — but especially the girls.

He just had a dignified presence that drew everyone in. A lot of the female teachers would shamelessly flirt with him but he always remained very composed.

As the only male born to politicians with connections just about everywhere, Zeke Fritz could've lived a cushy life with a breezy job that would keep him comfortable for life.

But he wanted to be a high school teacher. So, fresh out of a masters program in math, he quickly snagged the open position at the high school I enrolled in years later. Not that an open position was a sign of good luck. For Zeke Fritz, spaces were manufactured for him wherever he chose to go.

He was well qualified for the job, though. He'd also taken a liking to me during my first and only semester of my first year. I was the first to pick up on every formula he taught and he found that endearing. 

“I think I want to be a teacher someday,” I confessed one late afternoon when he asked me to help grade my classmates’ recent pop quiz. 

I'd accepted out of a sense of duty, and because if I had rejected him, it surely would've caused him trouble of some sort.

Right?

“You'd make a fantastic teacher,” he smiled.

So, there we were. Looking back, that must've been the day I dug my own grave because Mr. Fritz seemed awfully delighted that I didn't reply to his request for help with an excuse, and that I basically confessed to looking up to him. My compliant attitude must've looked a lot different for him than it did for me.

He drove me home an hour later and watched me open the door to the apartment before leaving, like a perfect gentleman. I waved him goodbye and he smiled at me from inside his car, waving back as he sped off.

That was one of the last few times I saw him. Because just two weeks later, I dropped out of school. 

Little by little, my mom had built up a large debt with Steve, and seeing that she'd taken loans from different people, whatever she earned from selling sex just didn't cut it. Our water, gas, and electricity bills were more than we could pay for, so I had no choice.

I started mowing lawns, raking leaves, cleaning pools and houses, and walking dogs for extra cash. I wasn't rich by any means, but I'd split most of the money to appease debt collectors and whatever was left to save for a rainy day. 

When my mom noticed I was bearing most of the weight, she began slipping away from her own, leaving it for me to pick up. She continued abusing, and even developed more expensive tastes. There wasn't much I could do at that point. I could beg her to stop and flush her pills down the toilet but we'd just go in circles for hours and I'd end up huddled in the corner with tears, hugging myself in an attempt to feel some warmth. 

I landed a waitressing job at a diner. I'd go three days a week and on my off-days I'd keep working odd jobs to stay afloat. 

On one occasion, Mr. Fritz walked in.

He pronounced my name with surprise. I was even more surprised he remembered me. An entire year had gone by since I'd seen him, and I was sure he had plenty of fresh faces to occupy himself with to remember his student of roughly four months.

I politely nodded at him in greeting and showed him to a table. That night, after he insisted on driving me home, I finally caved at his fourth try. 

However, as we neared my neighborhood, I burst into tears. He pulled into a dead-end street and turned off the car. I cried for the longest time, explaining through sobs that I was tired and that I missed school but I felt forced to leave.

He held me in his arms, his hand brushing down my back in comforting strokes until I calmed down.

He began frequenting the diner after that. Every Friday, he'd invite me to sit with him during my break and he'd fill me in on what he was teaching that week. 

One night when he came in, I had a nasty bruise on my face. In one of my countless fights with my mom, she'd thrown a broken glass at my face and cut my jaw. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to leave a mark for a couple of months. 

I didn't go back home that night. I felt awful for intruding on Mr. Fritz’s space, but he was adamant I stay with him until I figured what to do. 

He provided me with food that night and clothes the following morning. I didn't want to burden him, but he'd already bought them, so I accepted the clothes with a polite nod. I remember my face warming up when I noticed his generosity went as far as new underwear and a plain white bra that fit me a bit awkwardly, but he seemed unfazed.

His place was closer to the diner I worked at, and odd jobs could be found just as well in his neighborhood. So, as long as I stayed there, I kept my routine and even helped tidy his apartment as a thank you. 

At sixteen and a half, I started studying for my GED. Mr. Fritz helped me cram for the math portion and did as much as he could for other subjects. I was incredibly grateful. 

The afternoon the results were posted on the testing portal, I was a nervous wreck. Mr. Fritz stood behind me, his hands resting comfortably on my shoulders as he assured me I'd done just fine. I scrolled down the web page in search of a passing score. When I saw it, I jumped out of my chair and screamed excitedly. Mr. Fritz picked me up and spun me around as he rejoiced in my success. 

Even when he put me down, he kept his arms around my waist as he smiled down at me.

��Congratulations,” he murmured.

And then he leaned in.

The kiss took me by surprise. His hold was strong so I merely stumbled as I tried to draw a distance.

“Mr. Fritz—” 

“What's wrong?” he gently asked me. “Don't you like me?” 

My face warmed at the question, and I barely stuttered out a response. 

“I do, but–”

I wanted to explain that my fondness was out of admiration, but he cut me off before I could.

“Then why can't we kiss? I like you, too. I always have. It's only natural. I'm a man and you're a woman. We live together; it was bound to happen.”

Confused, but trusting that his logic was a compelling argument, I nodded.

“I guess that's true.” 

“And besides, I've been helping you this entire time. I did it because I care. I'd be hurt if you didn't think I was worthy after all I've done for you. Think of it as a token of your appreciation.” 

“I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful,” I murmured. 

My voice was barely above a whisper, but my meek demeanor made him smile.

Lifting my chin, he leaned down to kiss me again. I didn't stop him that time, and he just kept going.

Before I knew it, I was routinely bent over his dinner table or pushed down to my knees so I could repay his kindness. 

This went on for months.

I felt a bit guilty. Because even though I could feel it in my gut that his logic had its flaws, I still let him have his way with me. But a few weeks in, I was convinced I was in love with him. 

It was only natural, as he once said.

People who love each other do everything together. People who love each other kiss in the shadows all the time. They sleep next to each other in the same bed and they wake up at three in the morning to have sex, which ends with the guy telling the girl he loves her because the girl asked what she means to him. People who love each other would rather stay home than go out on dates where people can see them because love is best kept private.

That's what Zeke told me.

And I trusted Zeke. I loved him.

After the diner I worked at closed down, I started making deliveries for a nearby restaurant owned by a family of the name Grice. They could only offer me weekend hours, which meant I had to move my other jobs around but I accepted their offer. Since I couldn't drive a car or a motorcycle, I had to bike everywhere. Thankfully, the Grice's eldest son, Colt, gave me his old bike to use.

Colt Grice was nice. He was only a year younger than me but we'd never met until I started working for his parents. He went to private school, so it made sense we'd never crossed paths. 

Colt Grice also had a thing for me. He asked me out a couple of times but I always politely declined. I couldn't tell him a name, but I let him know I was seeing someone. So he remained a distant admirer. 

One Saturday afternoon, as I was cycling to and from the restaurant to make deliveries, I got lost looking for the last address on my list. 

I took a wrong turn and ended up in a neighborhood I couldn't recognize. Frustrated, I hopped off Colt's bike and started walking, hopeful to find someone to ask for directions.

I passed by a dead-end and there I saw it. Zeke's car.

Confused as to what he was doing there, but relieved nonetheless, I started walking toward the car to surprise him. But I never made it.

Because as soon as I stepped forward, I caught a second figure inside the car. A girl around my age, or maybe even one or two years younger was sitting on his lap in the back seat, fervently kissing him — and he wasn't doing anything to stop her.

Stunned, I rushed out of there as fast as my feet allowed me. 

By the time I came through the door of the Grice restaurant, I'd succeeded in my last delivery but I was a mess. Colt's parents rushed to me, asking if I was okay but all I could do was apologize for the delay. 

Seeing as it was already dark out, Colt offered to walk me home. He remained quiet the entire way to Zeke's apartment building, which was perfect because I didn't have it in me to talk. As I stepped one foot in front of the other in a zombie-like daze, I thought about how crummy my life had been so far. I kept seeing flashes of Zeke and that girl in the backseat. I also thought about whether I should actually be with someone like Colt Grice.

If I was honest, had Zeke never entered my life, I would've said yes to Colt Grice ages ago. He was kind and tall, and he was nice to look at. Not to mention he was closer to my age than Zeke was. 

So when we reached the front steps of Zeke's apartment building and Colt bid me goodbye with a smile, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

He was taken aback, of course. But he kissed me back as soon as the shock subsided. 

Blushing, he asked if I'd like to get a smoothie with him after work tomorrow. 

I decided right then and there, on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, that I would cut ties with Mr. Fritz.

“I'd love to.”

Colt nervously laughed, amazed that I finally accepted his offer.

“I'll see you tomorrow, then,” he smiled, my name sweet on his tongue.

I didn't know Zeke had been watching us the entire time from his living room window.

My resolve to leave him was literally beaten out of me as soon as I walked through the door of his apartment.

I never brought up the girl from the dead-end street. 

I never showed up for work the next day, I never showed up for my date with Colt, and I never saw the Grice family again even after I left Zeke for good six months later.

I went back to living with my mom. As expected, she was still a mess but by then all the crap in her system had worn her out so much that I had to do everything for her. 

She couldn't fight with me like she used to just a year and a half ago, but it was still hell. She'd throw plates at me and scream horrible things at the top of her lungs until I'd break down crying each time. And that just wound her up even more. 

I couldn't just leave her. She was all I had and I was all she had.

But even the most patient hearts are worn out, and so even though I held out as much as I could for six years — and I was probably just waiting to keep her company on her deathbed — I left. She was too out of it to realize who she was talking to, but angry enough to throw a picture frame at the door when I walked out.

I moved to a new city and got a job. I used my savings to furnish the small apartment I found for myself, filling it with soft pastel colors that made the place my safe haven. 

I started wearing neutral colors, not wanting to draw attention to myself, and eventually found comfort in treating myself to the nice things I never had. 

I only went back to my hometown to fill out paperwork when I got a call that my mom had died. That same week I spent there, I heard through the grapevine that Zeke got arrested after he failed to manipulate the young daughter of one of his family's friends, bringing shame to the Fritz name. I never saw him, or Mrs. Zacharias, or Colt Grice ever again.

You don’t seem to notice that your hands have been shaking for a while now, but Eren does. He's been holding them the entire time as they prune in the cold water. 

Tears are pricking at his eyes but he refuses to let himself cry no matter how heavy his heart feels. It just doesn't feel appropriate when he's not the one trembling at the retelling of their life's story. 

Words don't come easy to him, either. An apology seems out of place, and any string of comfort just doesn't seem to cut it. He wanted to know everything and now he does. Now he's just lost on what to say that could prove to you that you made the right call to trust him.

“I'm sorry,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, pulling his hand out of the water, and kissing his knuckles. 

The gesture makes him ache.

“I know it's a lot.”

Eren could never lie to you. Everything you just told him definitely took a toll on him, but he’s also grateful that you shared it with him. And you shouldn't be the one to comfort him. It's given him an entire new perspective on who he wants to be for you. 

It rips him apart from the inside to think that you grew up believing you weren't worthy of healthy parents or a proper home. To think that the only time you experienced love it wasn't even real, and that distorted your understanding of the word forever. To think you were present to help anybody you could without someone to do the same for you without any ulterior motives. To think you made yourself small when you deserved just as much as anybody to take up space in the world. 

What can he say to a person who refuses to believe she could be genuinely loved but whom he loves like it's breathing?

If he had met you sooner, he would've done everything to protect you. It kills him that he couldn't keep you from being manipulated and used. 

“Do you still like me?”

Your timid voice wavers in the air. 

It dawns on Eren that he has yet to speak a word, and that you have no clue of where his head has been for the past few minutes since you caught him up to your present life. 

You don't turn around to look at him, nor do you make any other move. You just remain with your back to him, looking down at your naked legs through the soapy water.

When Eren peers at you over your shoulder, lifting your chin with a wet pruned finger, you struggle to meet his gaze. 

“Why wouldn't I?” 

You crumble in his arms. 

Eren cradles you as you cry into his chest like an affection-starved baby. He presses your naked body against his chest, rhythmically shushing you as his hand soothes your bare back and he presses his lips to your temple. 

You cry out twenty-four years worth of pain with Eren as your anchor. Your eyes swell and your features contort in anguish as you sob so violently, the movement reflects on your shoulders and your cries are mute. You cry until there are no more tears to shed and all that's left are a few hiccups as your body comes down from its panic. 

Eren turns on the shower and scrubs your body down. His fingers massage your scalp as warm water pours down your fragile frame. He sweeps the suds from your face with a gentle hand, as he looks down at you, teary-eyed but smiling as warmly as ever when you blink up at him. 

A soft, fluffy towel is ruffled over your hair as he draws out the excess moisture before he wraps a second around your body and lifts you in his arms in one swift motion. You cling to him while he carries you to bed, where he carefully sets you down and he hugs you to his chest, coaxing you to sleep while the world outside your window slows down and darkens.

It's around three in the morning when Eren stirs awake. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he finds you looking at him.

“How long have you been awake?” he whispers.

You smile.

“A while,” you admit. “I didn't know watching someone sleep could be so fascinating.” 

“Well, now I'm embarrassed,” he laughs, his voice still groggy.

“Now you know how I feel,” you smirk, reminding him of when he's done the same. 

His hand comes up to cup your face.

“How are you feeling?” he tenderly asks, his bright emerald eyes shining in the dark.

“Better,” you murmur. Then you meekly add, “I didn't think I would cry so much. I'm a little embarrassed about that.”

Eren leans forward to plant a brief kiss on your lips. 

“Thank you,” he says, to which your eyebrows upturn in confusion.

“For trusting me,” he explains. “I know it couldn't have been easy to relive everything.”

He clears his throat as he strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I didn't know what to say at the moment. If that freaked you out, I'm sorry. But I promise none of that changes the way I feel about you. Not that, not anything. I swear. I won't fail you.” 

You thought you were dried out, but Eren's words draw another series of tears to well in your eyes and cling to your lashes.

“So you still want me?”

He smiles.

“I told you. I'm in it for the long haul.”

As you melt in each other’s embrace, you realize this is what genuine love is. People who love each other want to know each other. They hold hands and play on swings in childlike glee. They wake up at three in the morning to watch the other person sleep, careful not to disturb them because the image of them dreaming is just too precious. And whether it be in light or shadows, people who love each other kiss slowly as words of praise and worship are poured into each other's mouths and warm hands caress each other’s scars.

The last two days leading to the New Year's Eve party at the Jaeger house are spent making last minute arrangements and check-ins with the catering service, florists, pyrotechnicians, and others. 

You and Carla spend the last day shopping. You brought one of your fancier dresses in your suitcase, but after witnessing all the crates of champagne being delivered and hauled into the house in preparation for the party, as well as a preview of the flower arrangements, you felt the need to seek something livelier than the original sleek black silk dress.

It takes several stores and countless fittings until Carla finds you the perfect dress. It's simple but pretty and you and Carla are over the moon with the way it fits you when you step out of the changing room.

The following night, the music from the main house's terrace can be heard all the way inside the pool house. You haven't met anyone yet, but the sound of car doors and alarms have been faintly echoing in the background for a while.

Eren’s fixing his bow tie in front of the bedroom mirror when you slowly wander into the bedroom, in your pretty pastel dress and strappy heels, fixing your earrings as you go. 

Eren's mouth falls open when he turns around and takes in the sight. 

“What do you think?” you shyly ask.

You're in a flowy midi knife-pleated dress, washed in pastel colors that blend seamlessly between lavender, pastel pink, blue and green, like a watercolor painting. The bustier-style bodice is connected to dainty straps in the same soft colors. 

His lips part and close as he struggles to find the right words. When you giggle, he finally grins and pulls you in by the waist.

“Are you even real?” he murmurs.

You laugh as he pushes you back against the wall, smiling and cradling your face with one hand as the other keeps you pressed against him by the small of your back.

Your hands drape around his neck as he catches a glimpse of the angel necklace resting below your collarbone.

“I think we should bail on the party and just celebrate here,” he grins as his nose brushes against yours. “You know, in some cultures, New Year's is more of a private holiday.”

You throw your head back in laughter as he peppers your neck with short, eager kisses.

“Seriously,” he says, leaning back just enough to admire your smiling face. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you shyly reply. “You look really good, too.”

“Well, I remembered you liked me in a suit,” he smirks, eliciting a pleasant shiver to run down your spine. “So… what do you say?”

Giggling, you shake your head.

“I think your mom will notice if her only son doesn't show up to the party.”

Eren pouts.

“You're right. Then at least I'll get to brag about having the prettiest woman in the world with me.”

He enthusiastically pulls you into a kiss, drawing out an amused giggle from your lips as you melt into his touch. 

When he pulls back, you're both smiling, connecting in one enamored look.

“Eren, I love you.”

Your eyes twinkle as they blink up at him.

“I know I haven't said it in a while but… you know I do… right?”

Eren's heart frantically pounds against his ribs as he caresses your cheek with tender strokes of his thumb.

“Of course,” he murmurs. 

Your shoulders visibly relax, like you've been holding back on repeating those three words and this moment has finally granted you with relief.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. 

“Okay,” you sigh happily. You peck the corner of his mouth. “Come on, Carla's probably wondering what's taking so long.”

Eren doesn't move, keeping you in place against the wall.

“Wait,” he says, his voice quivering slightly at the end.

He brings your hand to his chest, giving you a second to feel the fervent beats.

You look at him curiously as your name rolls off his tongue.

“I love you.”

His features soften before you as the words leave his lips, like pronouncing them has lightened an unknown weight on his shoulders.

“I didn't say it back then,” he adds. “But it wasn't because I didn't feel it. I was just surprised you said it first. But you know I've loved you this entire time… right?”

His shy confession lines your eyes with tears. 

“Of course,” you murmur. 

He sighs heavily in relief as he kisses you once more.

“I love you,” he repeats, the words falling from his lips like it's what he was put on this earth to pronounce. 

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.”

You cling to him, your fingers carding through his hair as he ruins your lipstick with his fervent kiss.

“I love you, Eren,” you repeat, as you fall back onto the bed, where his hand snakes up your thighs and his fingers tug your underwear to the side. 

“I love you,” you sigh as he buries himself inside you, the contact raw without a single thing to keep you apart. 

“I love you,” you whimper as your legs wrap around his middle and he finishes inside. 

You both rest on the bed, hands laced together as you regain control of your breathing. 

“I love you,” Eren smiles, your full name bouncing off his tongue and making you giggle.

“I love you, Eren Jaeger.”

The music from the string quartet on the terrace begins to play, reminding you of the night's agenda. 

“Let's go,” Eren says, helping you up with one hand.

“I'm gonna need a minute,” you tell him as you fetch a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser. “I'll be quick.”

He nods, a cocky grin taking over his lips when he notices the streak of your lipstick smeared on your chin. 

“I'll wait for you outside,” he smiles. “I gotta make a call.”

You nod and slip into the bathroom.

As you take in your reflection, an excited flutter stirs in your stomach. 

Being with Eren doesn't compare to anything else in your life. He's the warmth you've craved your entire life. He's deep in every cavity of your being, patching you up from the inside with his strength and affection.

You decide at this moment that you've never loved anyone until him.

As you trade your ruined lipstick for a tinted lip gloss and you clean the remnants from your spontaneous lovemaking, three little words shaped by Eren's warm voice echoes in your ears.

I love you. 

With one last look in the mirror, you walk out to meet him. 

As you shut the pool house door behind you, you pick up the last of Eren's call.

“I gotta go… Yeah… Good luck, buddy.”

Eren ends the call with a quick tap to his screen before turning to you.

He holds out his hand for you to take.

“Ready?”

The party is in full swing on the terrace. Champagne bottles have been popped and music and lively voices fill the air.

You feast on shrimp and cream puffs, bacon-wrapped asparagus and antipasto skewers. You clink your champagne flute with Carla and the ladies from her book club as you suggest titles for their next read and you look over at the pyrotechnicians as they finish setting up for the fireworks show with ten minutes to spare.

Eren never leaves your side. 

He laces your fingers with his as he tugs you away from the railing to dance. His hands fix your arms around his neck before settling on your waist.

He's not much of a dancer, but you follow his lead in swaying to the music. Your limbs tingle with the light buzz of brut.

“Are you happy?” he asks as he presses his forehead to yours.

You smile.

“I'm never not happy when I'm with you.”

He laughs.

“I guess I'm stuck with you, then.”

“You are,” you murmur as you draw closer to his lips.

He pulls back teasingly, chuckling when you inevitably pout at his evasion.

“Easy, you'll get your kiss in a couple of minutes.”

Resting your head on his chest, you continue to sway. It's not long before someone calls out that it's a minute to midnight. 

As fresh champagne flutes are handed out to every guest, you turn around in Eren arms so you can face the fireworks show. As everyone around you excitedly counts down the last ten seconds of the year, Eren hovers over your shoulder and lifts your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” you murmur back.

The two of you kiss as golden lights burst in the sky.

Later that night, buzzed from champagne and with a new bottle tucked under Eren's jacket, you stumble into the pool house, giggling like teenagers who just stole from their parent's liquor cabinet. As you clumsily undress each other and exhale sweet words in the air while reconnecting your bodies one more time, you think to yourself that Eren has managed the impossible — to heal every wound and make you happy. 

The following morning, you'll find a new series of text messages where Mikasa and Jean let their friends know they're engaged, and you'll be even happier.

Two days into the new year, you part from Paradis Island. 

At the airport, as you, Eren, and Carla have a quick lunch before you leave, Eren pulls out his phone and asks you and his mom to pose for a picture together, before asking a security guard to snap a photo of the three of you.

Carla hugs you tightly as she makes you promise you'll be back soon even for just a few days. You hold onto her just as tightly, thanking her for everything, even for the things she didn't know she gifted you, and you swear this isn't the last she'll see of you.

Roughly thirty minutes later, as you look out the window, waiting for the plane to take off, Eren's hand gently envelops yours. 

You turn to smile at him and he dips forward to kiss your temple. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

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[neomedievalist]

hey chat. I did a deep (medium) dive into gamescent to figure out what the fuck they meant by any of that

first of all, the price tag, holy shit. second of all, AT PAX EAST? it took me a second to realize implication of this being at pax east. this is going to be an INVOLUNTARY EXPERIENCE for some people LOL. THE STINKY BOOTH AT PAX EAST.

The first thing I wanted to know is how the fuck does this use ai? i conjured a beautiful world where we could actually experience ai-generated scents but no, obviously it's just a buzzword used to drive investors. it uses ai to analyze the sound in your game to dispense the appropriate scent, which sounds bad.

Brief interlude i love this ai generated image they use on their "blog" section on their website, me and my little car i use for gaming

the first thing you'll find with this article and the website is that they are downright ADDICTED to pretending smell-o-vision was a good thing.

AHEAD OF ITS TIME? I WOULDN'T GO THAT FAR.

GEOFF, I DON'T THINK THE INSUFFICIENT TECHNOLOGY WAS THE ISSUE HERE.

The ONLY benefit of using AI they can come up with is the timing of the release of the scent lolll

ANIME SCENT

I'm personally obsessed with them calling it DLC because I have no idea how this is supposed to be downloadable lmao i couldn't find anything on their website using this terminology. Geoff Keighley what did you mean by this. You wouldn't download a scent.

to the eager anticipation of all ultrakill fans/sex freaks the BLOOD scent DLC will be coming soon.

there's a giveaway section for data harvesting and apparently 11,000 entries which i somehow doubt

I really love the vague wording here "will not be responsible for any outcome" ANY OUTCOME?

I forgot to say of course they have an app lmao. and i love how every physical item you buy is now just a license to use that item now. Surely they wont shut down service for this making your 200 CAD scent box useless laughing crying emoji

Literally what the fuck is this what does this product have to do with fitness. i can't find ANYTHING correlating this. i had a sneaking suspicion that most of this writing was ai generated but this might just confirm it lol

What is this tweet

tldr im not looking at this anymore when are they releasing the gabriel ultrakill armpit sweat dlc scent

[blitzwhore]

Hello, asking random people in the fandom just out of curiosity, What made you start watching Helluva Boss? What sparked your interest to keep watching? Nowadays, what still makes you stay? Hope you have a nice day! :)

These are great questions and I will very gladly answer them!

I'll preface this by saying I'm one of those people who doesn't watch(or play, or read) new stuff often. Yes, I spend a lot of my time watching media. But it's always the same media, over and over. Knowing what's gonna happen brings me comfort, so re-watching is miles easier for me than watching new stuff is. So when my friends recommend something new, it goes straight into the "I probably won't watch it for the next 20 years" box that exists in my brain against my will.

The friends who've known me a long time know this, of course, which is why they've found strategies to overcome this obstacle. And on one particular afternoon in... November-ish of 2021? I was hanging out at a friend's house, just chilling, when her girlfriend randomly grabbed the remote control, and played episode 1 of Helluva Boss on TV. Just like that, no warning, and without any of us knowing wtf it was, just that it was "related to hazbin hotel" (my gf was apparently familiar with the pilot and Addict, meanwhile literally all I knew about hazbin was it featured in a lot of unhinged tumblr DNI lists lol).

And so we watched the first episode. Then the second. And then everyone else was asking for the third and I was like "STOP. PAUSE. NO MORE EPISODES" and they were like "??? Do you hate it?? What's wrong?" but I absolutely did not hate it. On the contrary. I was enjoying it so much that I promptly decided this show needed to be binged at home from under the darkness of my blankets at 3am. Not with my friends, where the sensory input (lights, voices, etc) would prevent me from fully enjoying this wild experience I had just been thrust into.

So that's what I did. That night. And then nightly and weekly for months afterwards. I rewatched everything from the pilot to Ozzie's on loop until I could quote every single line of the show by heart, and then kept rewatching. I squeezed every single drop of gut-wrenching anguish out of the song House of Asmodeus until I couldn't feel anything anymore. This was my life now. (Luckily, my girlfriend matched my freak and we could scream about it together). And when The Circus aired months later and the two of us got the notification randomly while hanging out alone, and we watched it together, our screams were so intense that they cemented the brainrot forever.

As season 2 aired, I tried to scream about it to the friend who had originally introduced us to this show. But lo and behold... she'd already moved on and was like "eh" 🤣😭

Funniest part is this isn't the first time this has happened. This friend will show me (and others) random media she finds, it will literally change the course of our lives forever, and 3 months later she doesn't even remember it and has moved on to something else while we are left behind in a screaming and burning pile of fangirl trash 😭🤣 (I love her and hope she never changes because it's hilarious every time sjfjakshd).

So that's how I started watching it. As to what sparked my interest... The correct answer is probably Loo Loo Land, since that's the episode that made me realise I was going to be absolutely unwell about this show. It's been a long time, but I think it probably happened somewhere between You Will Be Okay and "I'll paaaaay yoooou" "pay me what?" "moooneeeyyy" "DONE!" because I remember that by the second half of the episode, I was already shaking with how badly I needed to ask them to stop playing it so I could process it properly.

Nowadays I stay for the same reason, which is they continue to alter my brain chemistry every single day and with every single episode. It's my main fixation at the moment and that's not likely to change anytime soon. I have a history of having the same media fixation for many years at a time, even when the story itself is already finished, and in the case of Helluva we still have 2 whole seasons left, so... I'm here to stay 😂

Hope you have a nice day too! ❤️

Edit: oh, and I should add, this blog wasn't created until shortly after Just Look My Way aired (late December 2023). It was at that point that I decided I needed to Scream Online about these blorbos, and make memes and write fanfic. Usually I just scream about all my fandoms on my main blog, but my main blog (and ao3 account) also have a lot of followers from my previous main fandom, and when I realised I was going to be screaming about Helluva Boss daily for the foreseeable future, I decided to spare them and make a sideblog and alt ao3 account so I could be unhinged guilt-free 😂

[moonstruckdraws]

The Red Queen

An alternate version of Vera! @hellishgayliath daughter I've been drawing nonstop (this being no exception)

like always, this is a spiel so- yeah

Ever since looking back at my first sketch of her in this red dress a few days ago, my brain started to trail off to "what ifs" & one of these is what if Vera was bitter & frustrated to the extreme in contrast to her current self is improving from the event.

But the premise is that Vera would become a mob boss herself! While not as reknown as Big Mama, is still a bigger threat (compared to the smaller mobs like in that one episode in Hueso's restaurant)

I don't know how she'd be pushed over this edge to where she'd stop caring about others (being a therapist & all) & I won't even try lol. But in this version, it starts off with the break up (with my assumption of how she would handle it in my other post; compared to her actual reaction would be) & I'd imagine she'd just tear up the room before going to her own living quarters.

Being one of Big Mama's lovers, & a temporary model for the Grand Nexus's advertising, I'd imagine that their breakup would be talked about & Vera would probably start being bombarded at work; unable to take off from work. Maybe she'd start spiraling then? She'd fall off the face of the earth for a while before rumors of a borzoi mob boss rising up starts to become the talk of the city. Of course, I'm sure this would intrigue Big Mama or something, but Vera wouldn't announce her identity. & Idk, that's all I got lol

Aight lil details & facts this Vera would have

Vera's favorite color is ruby/scarlet, so I think her keeping this dress & making iconic look fits. It'd also tie into it being a constant reminder of when things took a turn for the worse & her trust in someone important to her was shattered. Also a funfact about her, by Helli, is that apparently she doesn't wear purple anymore; only wore the color when with Big Mama, aside for makeup. This version of her despises the color & refuses to have any hues of it near her as it reminders her of that Spider. It's why her make up is now red as well. It's also red because blood blends into it well :] (was gonna name her the Blood Queen, but that sounded a too much for Vera; also Red Queen to reference Helli calling Vera that in the first post I made of her)

I don't know how Vera feels about Big Mama fully (aside for wondering if Big Mama was pretending the whole time or not) in the sense of if she's over her. This version is probably less over her than the original, hating her guts but forever thinking of the past. Unlike the original, this version would probably carry any memories of those days with her (on good days) like the cloaking broach. She also has eye creases because tears & probably being more addicted to coffee.

Her being a therapist means she a smart cookie in psychology (i believe so), so she'd definitely use that to her advantage. Being able to see signs of lying, finding spies in her minions, etc.

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, she burns things; burning things like her burning rage

I image this would be her first major appearance, setting a fire. Idk, I just wanted to draw it lol (lil fact that I drew most of this earlier today in my notebook because there was nothing to dooooo)

And yeah, that's it. Very out of character, but hey that's what alternate versions are right? :D Don't mind me, just my brain running on nothing but thoughts.

[teriwrites]

The Fatal Choice: Part 1

My Live Reactions to Reading Through My 2013 Novel

Story opens with Delroy sighing over studies, he's so real for that

'He straightened himself up and - without even realizing he was doing it - flattened out his shoulder-length hair again and fixed his crooked tie.' okaaaay with the casual character quirks, the man cares about appearances

"Hello, fine chap. I was wondering whether you could accompany an old friend to dinner." Okay is this dialogue style a bit or are they really gonna sound like this for the whole novel?? bc it sounds like a bit. really hoping it's a bit

Their rebel group is really more of an anarchist commune in the mountains than a proper 'rebellion'

I mean they're literally called the 'Isolates', they're not trying to rejoin and stir up trouble in society

Ewewew Delroy is younger than me

I made him 25 to be a 'proper' adult

Raelyn's dad doesn't like him or his friendship with Raelyn bc he's Poor

Delroy supposedly has 'natural charisma' but I can tell you confidently, based on the events of this book, that that is not true

A lot of explaining characters directly rather than allowing them to show up on the page but I'm just glad I was clearly thinking about them lol

"Ah, Keegan," Delroy sighed. "You always deliver news a tad bit late, but I am glad to hear it nonetheless." okay he does just talk like that, folks

"What does it matter how the coup started? What does it matter what relationship the Governor Cedric Boyd has with the current Prime Minister?" (idk if I knew it at the time, but that's literally like the plot of book 2 lmaoo)

Whoooooa wtf Keegan is a man?? From what I remembered, he was originally a cynocephalus (man with a dog's head)

Okay, actually, a lot of this plot is different from the story's second draft. These guys aren't rebels at all! They're being paid off by the government! Delroy's friends aren't spies, they're envoys!

The government has denied ties to their group, and have now claimed that Delroy's pals - Seth and Roland - are trying to swindle them, and have decided to sentence them to death, rip

He's in such shock that he just sort of gets ready for bed at like 5PM and stares at the ceiling

'Going to sleep in your day clothes wasn't exactly the most hygienic.' once again, says something about him, love that

Still has to go to class the next day, bummer

'[He] hurried out of his house, trying to rush but not run, which wasn't very dignified.' this guy's gonna choke on his own necktie if it's gonna be this uptight

The set-up of this commune is SO much different from the second draft lol in that one, they're half-based in this enormous stone cathedral built into the side of the mountain (created long before they arrived, it's a whole thing), this time they're a bunch of wooden buildings on a plateau

In Below, it was 'Shawna'. In the Abernathy Chronicles, we hate on the name 'Jacob'

Mahogany shout-out is 100% owed to the Hunger Games movie

"I'm sure you slept well," Keegan commented.' bro you literally told him yesterday his friends are slated for execution, maybe give him a break

"Here, boy, go ahead and put your hair up. It looks much more dignified that way." ahhhh okay keegan is the reason delroy's Like That

Casting one (1) spell for a couple seconds breaks over 50 separate laws in this nation, apparently

Justification for outlawing magic was to insist that it was addictive and people were using it for the wrong reasons... interesting

Weird that this commune based around keeping out of the government's reach has such strict SES divisions - the educated elite, the service workers, etc.

Oh but it's fine, these maids CHOSE not to learn to read

'And Delroy knew that one of the most dangerous kinds of enemies would be an enemy that worked in the kitchen and helped make your food.' and he's right for that

I really loved a flashback back then

He was the son of an orphanage owner, and some of the orphans bullied him out of envy of having a living parent

You ever seen that guy who does 'how many ______ does it take to hold me up?' and then he'll video himself trying one of the thing, two of the thing, etc., each time falling violently to the ground as the objects snap, until finally, they hold him up?

This scene is like that, but 'how many clothespins does it take to hang a small child from a clothesline?'

'Also, not wearing a shirt was a sign of a low class citizen.' alright...

More info on Cedric Boyd: he's in charge of the court system

More info on Ardeai: borders are largely shut down (also it's an island)

More info on Delroy's obsession with appearances: his coat is shit at being a coat and, yk, keeping one warm, but it looks nice!

People need to stop casually breaking into this man's house! I get that he doesn't have a lock on his door, but please! Give him some privacy!

Oh it's mail delivery

His friends mailed him their Wills and goodbye letters, oof

'Despite its rather tacky appearance, Delroy looked at it and appreciated the fact that Seth had bothered spending the time writing a letter at all, with all that was going on in his life.' that's something you say about a friend who had a kid, or is busy at work, not one being slated for execution!! also bro, critiquing the appearance of the letter is Foul lmao

I've been working in the legal field too long, all I'm noticing about this letter is that Seth isn't capitalizing 'Will'

He's talking about dying for a cause, but so far, it doesn't sound like the Isolates have a cause outside of 'avoid having negative government attention', which you fumbled pretty badly here, Seth

'I will be perfectly fine and I'm sure that I won't feel a thing.' you're being hanged, Roland

'It'll be over quickly.' terrible news about being hanged, Roland

And Raelyn is here to comfort and then actually needs comfort herself, classic

Ending Thoughts:

This is so interesting! I have a pretty clear picture of what this story winds up being in the second draft (which was written outside of November and so won't factor into this project like Below's rewrite, though I definitely want to go back and read it one of these days), but unlike with Below, there seems to be quite a bit of difference between how the story plays out here. Some of the worldbuilding is different - the mountain range has a different name, the Isolates don't actually do much rebelling, their set-up is much less 'society hidden away in a treacherous mountain range' and more 'commune set up somewhere far from other communities'. Seth and Roland were diplomats rather than spies. Another thing of note, the writing quality has made another leap! Yes, the dialogue is much more stylized, but in general the phrasing of things flows more smoothly, grammar is neater. We're definitely without our over-the-top narrator offering up input every other sentence, but it's still a really interesting read!

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Getting used to my new terminology for bipolar disorder (and also my newfound cheerfulness now that I'm on Prozac lol), I'm starting to learn to recognize when I'm experiencing bouts of depression or hypomania.

For instance, last night i kept telling myself that I needed to turn out the light and go to bed. I even did turn it out at one point, and then turned it back on a minute later. I got REALLY INTO witchy aesthetics and started planning out elaborate outfits, and then window-shopped a ton of things that are cool but that I definitely do not need. (I laid down a rule for myself recently that I'm not allowed to buy things off the internet after 9 pm, because I tend to regret it a bit in the morning.) So I opened all these tabs so I could look at them and think about buying them in the morning, and I changed the wallpaper on my phone, and I FINALLY went to sleep.

Woke up this morning and was like, "Oh! That was mild hypomania." lol

Bipolar disorder may affect sleep in many ways. For example, it can lead to:

Insomnia, the inability to fall asleep or remain asleep long enough to feel rested (resulting in feeling tired the next day).

Hypersomnia, or over-sleeping, which is sometimes even more common than insomnia during periods of depression in bipolar disorder.

Decreased need for sleep, in which (unlike insomnia) someone can get by with little or no sleep and not feel tired as a result the next day.

Delayed sleep phase syndrome, a circadian-rhythm sleep disorder resulting in insomnia and daytime sleepiness.

REM (rapid eye movement) sleep abnormalities, which may make dreams very vivid or bizarre.

Irregular sleep-wake schedules, which sometimes result from a lifestyle that involves excessive activity at night.

Co-occurring drug addictions, which may disrupt sleep and intensify pre-existing symptoms of bipolar disorder.

Co-occurring sleep apnea, which may affect up to a third of people with bipolar disorder, which can cause excessive daytime sleepiness and fatigue.

(source)

(I'm glad I looked this up just now, because this explains why I've been having particularly vivid dreams lately...)

EDIT: Apparently lamictal, which is my mood stabilizer, can also cause particularly vivid dreams and nightmares. 👍question answered

[starry-mist]

S5e15 and s5e16 thoughts:

Obviously I need to do these ones together. I'm also going to try to do this as sort of a review rather than general thoughts...it's my first time trying this so be nice, LOL.

I have a few thoughts before I jump into the episodes.

One of the main reasons (other than the obvious one of having these additional characters with their own storyline that initially seems separate from what the series regulars are doing) that this initially felt like a backdoor pilot is because one of the titular characters is noticeably absent. And we know this was because John and Meghan were expecting their third child to be born right around the time this was scheduled to film, so he wasn't available. I'm not saying it couldn't still be a backdoor pilot, but I think it's unlikely for the moment.

The story we got was very different from the original synopsis in the article about the Ontario government funding production in Northern Ontario (https://www.nugget.ca/news/five-film-tv-productions-receive-funding) which again, is likely because John was unavailable so they launched Sarah and Jesse into the spotlight for this one.

I know Jesse fans have a lot of feelings about his glasses, and I agree that the explanation for why he no longer wears them is pretty weak. Fans of this show do have a tendency to fixate on changes in character appearances (see also: much controversy on Facebook about Charlie's season 6 hair.) Anyway, characters evolve, people change, I'm just going to leave it at that. Maybe Justin was just sick of wearing them.

Without further ado:

We open with a lovely aerial shot of “Webster Bay,” which I’m sure is 100% a real place and totally not North Bay, Ontario. (It's absolutely not a real place.) A couple is having a romantic moment by the side of the road. Very sweet. Until it turns out the man is there to rob the house across the street. That's...perhaps a little less sweet.

The home invasion/robbery hits a little snag when the homeowner is, well, home, and goes at the would-be robber with a sizeable pair of scissors. He accidentally knocks her out trying to disarm her, and it's time for the happy couple to GTFO.

Roll credits.

Back in St. John's, the Major Crimes team has ordered lunch. Jesse gets an ominous phone call from his previously-never-mentioned sister.

It's the season of new family members coming out of the woodwork. Sigh.

Anyway, Jesse's sister is in Northern Ontario, as far as he knows (which is apparently where they both grew up...look I'm just going to keep rolling my eyes at all of these things that could have been mentioned IN FOUR PREVIOUS SEASONS) and is in trouble. Come quick. No cops. Doesn't sound sketchy at all...

Jesse's ready to go to her rescue, but Charlie doesn't think he should go alone.

Sarah: You want to go with him?

Charlie: I was thinking you. And Rex.

(Yeah, remember those establishing moments I mentioned in the previous two episodes? Those are now relevant.)

Apparently Charlie has some important stuff he has to take care of.

(Please remind me I need to someday write a fic about Charlie’s guilt at sending the trio into harms way.)

This whole scene is a little forced, IMHO, but anyway, off they go.

Cut to Ontario, where we now have MEGAN FREAKING FOLLOWS, OMG, BE STILL MY ANNE OF GREEN GABLES-LOVING HEART. At this point, I should note that I do love these fleshed-out original characters and their stories, which initially feel strange given we've never seen them before, but will make sense later.

(Pause for my usual commentary of same actor, different character: Cihang Ma previously played Holly in s3’s Seeing is Deceiving. Here they play Detective Kai Huang, and let me just express my appreciation for a non-binary actor playing a non-binary role.)

Anyway, Detective Anne of Green Gables Sidney Scott is on scene and having flashbacks. It looks like she lost someone close to her. Kai thinks the people who broke in were addicts. Sidney has other ideas. She talks to the victim's husband, Tim Cooper, who apparently worked with her husband as well. But she makes it clear that she's definitely off work and totally not on the case.

Right...

Back to St. John’s, Charlie is having someone dig up Constable Charlie Hudson’s incident reports from October 30, 2009. Okay first off, I would have appreciated some flashbacks to a younger Charlie, but I don't always get what I want (rarely, in fact.) And we find out that Charlie is investigating his "white whale" of a child abduction case that has haunted him for 14 years, which has of course been foreshadowed in prior seasons because this show is so amazing at continuity. /s

Cut to Charlie's house, with him taping up a makeshift "murder board" on the wall. My dude, you're going to need to repaint...

Meanwhile in Ontario, we have lovely wide shots of fall colours. So pretty. We also have rapid-fire voiceover exposition from Sarah and Jesse on their arrival, where they're going, how long it's taken them to get there, and honestly, this is yet another of those "show, don't tell" moments that this show struggles with.

The trio arrive at “an old Cold War missile site” where Jesse and Crystal came when they were kids, riding their bikes down from his uncle’s place. Questions abound about who actually raised Jesse, who has mentioned his mom (in a throwaway line in s2) and a deceased father. Now there was apparently an uncle? Okay we'll go with it. Anyway, Jesse and Crystal used to hang out here and build camps in abandoned buildings.

Sarah and Rex are the third wheels (actually fourth and fifth, I suppose) in the Jesse/Crystal/random sketchy boyfriend scene as they head into an abandoned hangar. Sketchy boyfriend (who has a name that I'm not bothering to look it up given he won't be around that long) wants to know if these new additions are cool.

Sarah: Dr. Sarah Truong, hi. We’re cool.

(I don't know why I find that line so amusing.)

Rex senses danger. Looks like it's time to GTFO of the hangar.

This is where I point out that two of these characters are weapons-trained cops, one of whom we have seen is basically a sharpshooter…And none of this apparently matters as neither of them have a weapon on hand that they can use. Oops.

Going to have to suspend disbelief at the fact that the sniper can instantly kill the bf, shoot out the tires on Sarah and Jesse's rental car (that's going to be a hefty repair bill,) but then they're all just able to run out in the open and magically escape…right.

This is pretty elaborate for a scene that is essentially just a setup for the plane crash.

Sidney Scott visits a man named Elvis Migwan outside the local hospital. We learn that there is a local Indigenous community whose water has apparently been affected by runoff from a mining operation. Elvis's daughter is sick. And this is a really relevant topic given how many Indigenous communities in Canada lack access to clean water.

Back to the airfield, and I'm just going to speculate that they blew the budget on this next scene and on the plane crash.

Apparently flight simulator games have taught Jesse enough that he can figure out how to fly a plane...again, suspending disbelief. The team take to the skies and are promptly shot down by the sniper, as my anxiety begins to ratchet up.

The remote lake where they crash would be a pretty place to camp in any other circumstance.

Anne of Green Gables Sidney has a nice, large house. It's actually pretty big for one person. Hey, Sidney has that in common with Charlie. They should hang out. Inspector Yousef Ali stops by and brings Sidney dinner. It's a salad. She's displeased. I start to ship them.

Charlie and Joe have a scene at Charlie’s house and it's just not working for me. I can't help it. The whole Alison case appearing out of the blue feels forced.

(However, Joe is totally checking out the new, shall we say, feminine touches in Charlie’s house.)

At the crash site, Jesse manages to smash open his door when there were two perfectly good open ones on the other side of the plane, because reasons? Crystal’s wrist is probably broken, Jesse’s got some cracked ribs…but at least they have a doctor with them who’s totally in one piece and definitely not injured.

Sarah asks for a first aid kit, presumably to do, you know, actual first aid...oh wait, no, instead she scribbles some notes on a piece of paper, which she rolls into a little case that she attaches to Rex's collar. With a tearful hug, she sends Rex off into the wilderness.

Cue “The Littlest Hobo” theme.

Rex wanders the woods.

Sidney Scott decides to go back to work.

Back at the crash site, we find out Crystal’s a pretty big screwup, and Jesse chastises her for her messing up her life. Not super helpful at the moment, Jesse.

Sarah starts to look disoriented and possibly in pain. This is going to get worse before it gets better.

Rex encounters some sort of bird of prey (I think it's a hawk, but I'm not an expert.) No worries, he'll just hide under a bridge for a moment.

Another "same actor different character" moment: the actor playing Bertrand Boyle previously appeared as Tucker Moore in s4’s No Man is an Island.

Rex is under a sky full of stars, which I'm sure he'd pause to appreciate if there weren't a pack of wolves nearby. I believe I read somewhere that Sherri Davis who trains the dogs actually trained all the animals that appeared in this one. I’m in awe of her talent.

Morning at the crash site. Crystal is about to peace out. Jesse talks her into staying. And Sarah wakes up in rough shape.

And here is where I state that Mayko Nguyen is the best actor on this show, fight me. She completely nailed that subtle shift when Sarah realizes that she's injured, and more seriously than she initially thought.

(Side note: I love that Mayko is wearing her trademark huge puffy warm coat. She is apparently always cold.)

So anyway, Sarah has realized that she's bleeding internally, and tells Jesse that he'll need to operate.

Right…

Sarah: You can do anything you put your mind to, Jesse Mills. You just flew a plane!

I really hope they submitted this episode for this year's Canadian Screen Awards.

On his continued trek through the wilderness, Rex encounters the most fearsome of woodland creatures: a skunk. Oh no! What if he ends up smelly?!! Anyway, Rex wins the territorial battle, and over the log bridge he goes.

Oh look, an owl.

So many critters.

There's a road! And with a short swim, Rex has officially made it back to civilization where he is promptly picked up by some sinister characters in a truck.

I'm not going into the gory details of Jesse doing field surgery on Sarah, because I still find it hard to watch, but anyway, give Mayko an Emmy. Hell, give her an Oscar. Give her all the things.

...right now, because I’m not watching these separately.

Ugh. Field surgery. I feel very much the same way as Jesse does when it comes to blood.

Cut to the Ontario Police Service (or whatever they’re calling their version of Ontario Provincial Police) HQ building, which I’m pretty sure is part of Nipissing University, as is the “hospital” we see later.

Detective Scott, meet Rex. He'll keep you on your toes.

See you later, sketchbags in the pickup truck. Nobody messes with our boy Rex.

Oh hey, it’s Charlie Hudson. Kind of forgot about that guy for a moment. Anyway Charlie and Joe get a call from Sidney about the plane crash. Charlie holds back...really any emotion whatsoever.

Sidney! Rex! Helicopter!

Sidney sends Charlie a photo of the note that Rex brought her, and Charlie recognizes Sarah’s handwriting. Joe tries to be reassuring. Okay, now they're showing a little bit of worry at the unknown fate of their friends.

Sarah is now semi-conscious and making last requests.

Sarah: If I don’t make it you have to find Rex…tell Charlie…

Jesse: No, you’re gonna tell him yourself…

Me: Tell him what, exactly? Because you've been a couple more than long enough that I refuse to believe there have been no "I love yous" exchanged, even if we've yet to see it said on screen.

Anyway Sarah passes back out, while I continue to hyperventilate.

Cut to St. John's. Charlie feels guilty for not going. Joe steers him back into his B plot. It still feels forced.

Sidney chatting "with" Rex as he leads her through the woods cracks me up.

At the crash site, Sarah wakes up feverish. She knows she probably an infection. So she should totally drink the unfiltered lake water Crystal brings her, because what’s a little E. coli going to do? Anyway apparently it’s all good as long as the paramedics push IV antibiotics…whatever. Sidney and Rex of course arrive at exactly the right time!

Rex lays protectively on his “mom.”

And the look Sidney gives Crystal tells us her shit is officially about to hit the fan.

Jesse has a phone call with Joe and Charlie to fill them in on all the nitty-gritty. Charlie wants to talk to Sarah, who is now in actual surgery. Jesse goes to check on his sister, who is now under arrest.

Crystal: I just watched my boyfriend get shot and killed and was pretty sure we were all gonna die in a plane crash. It’s been a lot.

Sarah Swire's deadpan delivery of the above lines is just so good.

Sidney questions Crystal, and it become clear that she definitely has a personal stake in this. Crystal swears there was no gun at the house her boyfriend robbed. She wants Jesse to cover for her by taking the backpack full of money, which of course he does. For now.

Sidney: Are you here as a cop or a brother?

Jesse: I have to be both.

Rex wants to help Sidney track the shooter. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

In Sarah's hospital room, she's sitting up in bed and talking to Charlie, albeit briefly. That conversation should have been longer and more emotional.

Tracking the shooter leads to more amusing Sidney and Rex "conversation." They find the type of gun that was used to kill Sidney’s husband. Suddenly Sidney's personal stake in the case makes sense.

Jesse and Sarah chat in her hospital room where she's looking pretty well recovered considering she just had two abdominal surgeries...and then she’s up and at it looking over forensics with Kai. It turns out Kai had the wrong time of death.

Joe reassures Charlie, who is feeling stuck on the Alison case, that he’s a great cop, great detective, blah blah. Says he needs to figure out how to move on so he can be ready for the next people who need his help. So clearly we’re done with this case and it definitely won’t reappear in a future episode...*eyes the next episode on the list*

The totally-not-the-shooter guy whose name I can’t be bothered to learn thinks Sidney’s husband would want her to move on and enjoy the life she has left. Okay then.

It seems that Crystal did in fact know that there would be money in the house. Also she knows about the contaminated runoff situation from the mine. Working as a cleaner, she managed to overhear all kinds of things, and through creative use of french fries, casually explains to Jesse how the mine’s money laundering scheme worked.

Incoming sniper. Again. Rex attempts a takedown but the sniper nearly runs him over with his car. Well, at least they should have a license plate now, assuming Jesse can actually see it without his glasses.

Seeing that it's time to come clean, the Mills siblings take the backpack full of money to Sidney. Crystal reveals how she knew the money was at the Cooper house by basically rehashing everything she just told Jesse. And maintains that her brush with law-breaking was "just one time."

Jesse to Crystal: Rex is really disappointed in you.

Sidney goes back to Elvis Migwan and asks how he knew about the mine runoff. And we now know that her husband faked the reports that said the water was clean.

Back at home, Sidney rips down her wall murder board. She's coming to terms with who her husband really was. He was killed in order to keep him quiet, but he knew a lot more than he let on.

Sidney goes off to question Tim Cooper, who is the actual mastermind behind all of this. Inspector Ali tells her she needs backup. It looks like she rolls up with just Rex, who stays in the car.

Sniper dude is on the scene. Oh, apparently his name is Wayne.

Rex takes him down.

Sidney gets a confession from Cooper.

And the rest of the backup team comes out of hiding.

Sidney, needing to make amends, takes a USB with proof of the falsified mine records to Elvis Migwan. It's everything he will need for his lawsuit against the mining company.

Jesse and Crystal chat as he is ready to head back home. Maybe she'll visit St. John's someday. (Here’s hoping.)

Sid puts away a photo of her and her husband. Ali shows up. Sidney tells him she's planning to sell the house, and that she doesn’t like salad. He's brought her a burger this time.

Could be love.

Sidney swears she's getting groceries tomorrow, and will be back at work on Monday. She's picking up the pieces. She also wants to choose her own partner. Say hello to Little Rex.

Sarah, Jesse and Rex head for the plane.

Jesse: You know, second time's the charm flying the plane.

Sarah: Too soon!

Charlie pulls the pictures of Alison off his wall. He's letting it go.

The door opens, and we get probably my favourite Charah scene ever. The clinging hug. The concern for each other. The intimacy of their foreheads pressed together as they gently sway.

Swoon.

Best episodes ever.

[otakween]

One Pound Gospel - Volume 1

Yay, new series! (This one was next on MAL after 0 Man). Happy to be reading something by another icon (Rumiko Takahashi). I've never heard anyone talk about this one at all, so I don't know what general opinions are nor do I know anything about the plot. Let's go!

Ch. 1

So we got a boxer in love with a nun...I saw a commenter comparing this premise to Nacho Libre and now I can't unsee it.

(I might need to include a rewatch of that movie, for the meme).

Anyways, our leads are Kosaku and Sister Angela. Kosaku seems like a head empty jock who thinks with his heart and stomach. Sister Angela seems like she can whip him into shape (emotionally lol).

Despite having watched most of Ranma 1/2, I don't think I've ever read a Rumiko Takahashi manga? Craziness! This isn't her first work but it's one of the earlier ones from the 1980s, so I'm expecting some newbie scuff (or maybe she was just a legend from the start?)

Christianity in anime/manga isn't that uncommon, but to have it be one of the main focuses is intriguing. I wonder if we'll find out how Kosaku and Angela came to the religion as Japanese people?

I don't care about boxing at all IRL, but I don't mind reading about it and learning the lingo. Maybe I'll gain an appreciation I didn't have before lol.

Didn't like Kosaku forcing a kiss on Angela (her being a nun makes it extra scuzzy). Oh the 80s...

Ch. 2

See? I'm already learning stuff. Apparently boxers aren't supposed to drink water during a fight (just rinse) and they're not supposed to have sex prior to the fight (I already knew about that one, but this reminded me). That second one's more of a superstition though.

I wasn't sure if Sister Angela wearing her habit all the time was realistic, but I googled it and apparently in some cases that is enforced. Also, I've seen nuns in public wearing habits, so I guess it's legit.

Sister Angela getting plastered was kind of funny but her breaking her wine bottle was a bit extreme. She's kinda unhinged in general, she shows up at Kosaku's match and tells him she'll never forgive him if he loses? (Seems toxic but okay)

The strategies Kosaku's coach has him using to make weight are kinda fucked up (borderline disordered). Starving himself, laxatives and sweating the weight off. I'm sure that happens plenty IRL though. Pretty sad that athletes feel the need to put their bodies through that.

Ch. 3

People in Japan...they can't actually down like 5 bowls of ramen right, that's just an anime thing? I eat one bowl and I need to lie down lol.

I look forward to seeing the food in the adaptations of the manga. Particularly in the live action.

The crucifix falling over when Angela prays for Kosaku was a funny gag.

At this point in the story the focus is definitely more on Kosaku's boxing career than on romance. I wonder if it will kind of go back and forth between the two or if the romance will always just be on the sidelines?

Ch. 4

I can't tell if Kosaku has a food addiction or if they're literally starving him. They never show him eating healthy/low calorie food that's approved by his coach so it kind of feels like he's just not allowed to eat at all. Anyone would obsessively seek out food if that's the case! He did mention "diet" earlier, so I'll hope it's not...

If I was let loose in Tokyo I'd struggle with food temptation too lol. So much street food... (Wait, is this set in Tokyo?)

Ch. 5

Kosaku stumbles into a win after throwing up in the ring again. Apparently you're allowed to win by yeeting your opponent outside the ring? Seems wrong, but what do I know

All this starvation-binge stuff is making me a little nauseous. There's gotta be a better way!

Ch. 6

You know how straight dudes in the 1980s dressed in a way that seems gay-coded by today's standards? That's kinda what Kosaku's giving. He's really cute. (Not much of a personality tho)

Takahashi sure likes her repetitive gags doesn't she? A lot of "comedy" anime do this and it's frankly kind of frustrating. I'm not gonna laugh when you do the same joke for the millionth time...

They seriously just should have put him in a heavier weight class sooner, but it feels like I'm missing something here. Why does it matter which weight class you're in and why are some more sought after than others? -shrug-

I also don't get the "4 rounds" vs. "6 rounds" thing. Is it like baseball vs. softball or something? At least Sister Angela is just as clueless as me!

Ch. 7

Okay so apparently you pick your weight class based on your bone structure, I get it I don't really get it

Ch. 8

Okay, I immediately hate Onimaru for begging his pregnant wife to have a son and not a daughter 😒 I hope Kosaku kicks his ass

It almost seems like a conflict of interest to have your friend do your confession, no?

This series is reminding me of Spy x Family. Like you know how in that show Yor's plotline is mostly sidelined compared to Loid's? That's kinda how the Kosaku/Angela balance feels here.

Ch. 9

I really don't know anything about boxing, so I don't know what makes a good or bad fight, but this one seemed really pathetic lol. I'm glad at least Onimaru wasn't a sore loser, he probably needed to be humbled anyways.

The manga seems to be implying that Kosaku is fat which...huh? He doesn't look fat at all? Sure, he eats like a fat person but...I think 1980s "fat" meant something different lol.

IDK why Angela is so set on Kosaku being in the lower weight class. I guess it's good to be disciplined, so she sees that as the morally right thing to do?

So so far this seems like a very low stakes manga. It's leaning more towards the sports genre than the romcom, which isn't really what I expected. Well, after 0-Man I could definitely use an easy-breezy read like this. Onto the next volume!

[izzy-b-hands]

Deeply craving a food* I absolutely can't have bc it would require being in ND rn

*flying style pizza burger at Big Boy, if you're unfortunate enough to be stuck in Bismarck, ND for any period of time go have one, then another bc they're addictive like that lol. Everything there is good and the money is worth it. Plus you can hang out in the huge parking lot and the birds will eat fries you toss out if you sit and eat in your car, just maybe. only do a few for the sake of the birds' health tho jfdkalfjdl

(politically related worries/things under the cut abt ND and travel)

And had the realisation just now that keeps randomly hitting me and tbh I may have already posted abt it but

I can't go back. Like, ever, for the foreseeable future. It wouldn't be safe; I wouldn't want to risk it just for food of course lmao.

But I'm not going to be able to go this summer to see the oldest out of my three younger cousins get married (if I could find the money for it of course which I know I can't no matter how much I want to.) I can't take my fiance there to show aer all my favourite spots and restaurants. I can't take aer to the best place near the river to walk; it's got actual wooden walkways over the low tide/kind of marshy area before you get into deep water and can see fish swimming around. I'm not going to be able to visit my grandparents or my mum (tbh more worried abt grandparents than mum; they're only getting older and they aren't entirely happy since moving out of their old house and I worry so much abt them.)

I had known that this was already dangerous even before fuckface was back in office; ND is on the 'avoid travel if you can' category on all maps abt trans safety in different states. But like. There was still a tiny chance we could make it work. Be mindful and head straight back to our hotel if we didn't have a destination in mind (aside from walking the downtown area for the restaurants and shops.)

I don't know entirely how I feel abt this. Sad, but in a certain way bc of the above. I should have known it would only get more dangerous. And it's not an exciting place; I'll make fun of it until the day I die in the way you do when you spent most of your life in a place and know all the good and bad abt it. But I did still want to take Fiance there at least once for a longer period of time; just to see the things I mentioned and to figure out how much Big Boy food I can freeze and how many coolers Delta will allow on a flight as luggage and/or carry on. Not to ever move back (FUCK NO), just one last visit and then I would only go there for funerals or weddings or baby showers or things like that*

*if I could afford to, otherwise I'm just sending gifts. On that note, like my cousin's upcoming wedding; I knew there was basically no chance I could afford to fly or take a train back for it. They've got a registry and I'm still planning to buy them something despite them and my aunt and uncle making moves that suggest they've gone from begrudgingly supportive of me as a queer person to slowly pretending I no longer exist.

My cousin is, apparently refusing to send me a save the date or invite, and per my grandma it isn't bc she knows I can't afford to come back, but she won't tell her the actual reason for it. My grandma is telling me to hound her and make my mum ask her why she won't send it, but I think that we would even have to do that, which I don't want to, is an answer on it's own.

And that's okay, or at least I feel like I have to be okay with it. The cousins and their parents have always been openly trans and homophobic despite my grandparents, bless them, for trying once in a blue moon to scold them for it. I think I was 'one of the good ones' to them while I was there, but now that I'm not and they aren't around me as much, it's easier for me to be the family black sheep and they can be open about disliking me just for who I am. It hurts, but in a numb way bc like. Dramatic metaphor but the wound was already there from years of listening to their bs at family gatherings and having to sit there in silence so I didn't get accused of being rude to them by them and my mum's bf. It's just more knives trying to go through a fuck ton of scar tissue, so it doesn't hurt like it used to but. Still hurts enough to notice.

I'm really proud of those kids; I may have been parentified all to fuck but I'm still proud of how I did my best to help raise those kids. Tried hard to teach them about being polite but not letting ppl take advantage of you (thank you to the self help books in the middle and high school library for that knowledge. Still can't apply it to myself bc I'm seemingly stuck in people pleaser/doormat mode most of the time, but I'm glad to have it regardless), to be brave even when things are scary, and to try and be a helper instead of a bully, though unfortunately their parents are bullies to everyone including their kids and each other, so that bit didn't stick as well as I'd have liked.

I want the best for them and I miss them. They may not miss me, but I'm never going to stop wanting all the best for them and missing them.

[dreamingdarklyblog]

Soooo...

Okay soooo um... This is going to be difficult and awkward. But I'm going to do it.

So... Yesterday, when we were playing, my writing partner asked me to write a post for him. Actually he "suggested" I write a post for him.

I was... really out of it at the time. He'd made my breasts really large, and... It seems when he does that I get really foggy and suggestible >_<. Which just... So fucking hot >_<. But I digress.

He told me I would go and write a post for him, and I wouldn't feel embarrassed at all while I was writing it. But would normally after I was done. You get the idea.

Thing is. Shit happened, and I didn't get the chance to write it yesterday before the uh... suggestion wore off. So now I'm feeling pretty damn embarrassed writing this >_<. And let me tell you it's SUPER weird like, remembering suggestions. And remembering how it felt when they were working? And being aware that they aren't now, but, still knowing about it? It's really hard to explain. The pretzel that it kinda ties my head into >_<

And then today MORE shit happened. And apparently he hurt his back yesterday, and passed out feeling bad, today I mean. So I really want him to wake up with a nice post to read, that I know he wanted to read about...

So I'm just going to struggle through it trying not to die of terminal embarrassment.

So what he wanted me to post about was how addicted to rubbing my clit I am >_<. And about how much I love it... and how amazing it is, and some stories about uh... rubbing. Which is so weird >_<. and hot...

I mean... I know I'm addicted. But. I don't care? And. I mean. Being able to remember a lot of this, the suggestions and... The conditioning. I KNOW he's making it worse/better/stronger. But. I was already addicted, right? So. Was I? Or do I just remember being? Which is so confusing. But also so hot >_<

Speaking of rubbing... I need a break >_<

So yeah. Okay. That didn't help the embarrassment. Helped make it a bit easier to focus though. It's just so hard to go very long without rubbing. You have no idea. I probably edged three times in the car yesterday. In traffic. Stuck at lights. I know I probably shouldn't. I'm being safe though I promise. I'm just so horny all the time. It feels so good to be horny all the time. I just. I love how it feels >_<. I guess it's not ALL the time... But I wish it was. That's one reason I keep rubbing so much, like, whenever I don't feel so horny I start rubbing more just trying to stay horny all the time...

break time

Fuck. Really not helping the embarrassment at ALL. UUuuughh. He/you guys better appreciate this. You can tell me if it turns you on. Honestly. I just... I love making people horny >_<. I don't know why. It just makes me feel so... Um... I guess useful? Validated? that's so weird >_<. Ugh. But yeah. If reading this is turning you on please tell me? I'll probably rub myself silly reading it >_<. Fuck im horny >_<. And seriously, can you die from blushing? Lol...

So uh... Stories. Stories about rubbing myself >_<. That's what he said I think... I um. Well. Like i said. In the car... and um. Well. This morning, when I was talking to him, and in the shower. I got really distracted in the shower >_<. And kinda... at breakfast >_<. I was eating and realized I was rubbing too...

yesterday i caught myself pressing against the waahsing machine. had been there probably ten minutes before i realized. And when i was tryingt o do some excercises. Physiohas me doing like, pelvic thrusts? how can you NOT have sexy thoughts doing pelvic thrusts?

break time fuck

yesterday i waskinda rubbing watching tv, andat one point had to run off to the bathroom to rub when i was stuck around people >_< it had been hours and i just. It was too long. i cant go thrat long withotu rubbing my clit. or i dont want to. i dont know. cant/dontwannt to. KIndof a blurry line atm.

fuck im so horny breaks arent working im just typing and rubbing with my other hand or using both and grindignon a pillow ijust fuck i cantt im toohorny

i

igotta go and

rub

mroe

iohope this postwasgood for you and him and everyone and please tellme if it made you hornyor you came oh fuck i hope you came please tell me fuck i need to cum so bad

[miyakuli]

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as your posts make them smile. Please list five things that make you unique, four things you are super passionate about and why, OR three of your favorite memories. Feel free to send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile🦉

omg this is so sweeeeeeeet <33 thank you little owl for this positivity ;v; I'll try to reply to your request haha//////

Five things that make you unique That's the hardest one to do lol

Because I suffered from anxiety issues all my life, I think it made me someone more empathetic and sometimes more able to understand what some people are going through.

I give good massages apparently x) so if you need one....

I'm a good singer I guess?

I think I give off a friendly aura because strangers often come to me for help x'D

I realized lately how I love taking pictures and maybe I'm wrong but I find that they often great/////////////// (at least for me lol)

Four things you are super passionate

I begin with the most important one: music <3 I started singing before being able to speak lol and I played instruments all my life. I need to sing as I need to breathe, listening to music helps me to relax and it always brings me so much good vibes & emotions...I don't know what I would do without music really....

The most obvious thing for those who follow my blog: animation. I just love too much this support to tell stories, idk why I'm more sensitive to it but I'm fascinating by it <3

A bit ridiculous but...my ships xDD like....I can be really obsessed about ships and it makes me feel so happy to consume contents about it like media, fanfictions, fanarts etc....it's a healthy addiction that helps me to feel a bit better when the world falls apart tbh x') so I'll never stop.

Cinema in general, since my 20's I began to expand my cinematic horizons and I can tell now that I tried so many different genres and I think I can say that I now have a certain cinematographic culture and I still follow the new releases closely :)

Three of your favorite memories Ohhhh I never thought about this hmmm

The one I cherish the most is when I sang for a charity concert in a choir, and it was a special ghibli concert and Joe Hisaishi himself was directing us >//////////////< I still feel overwhelmed when I remember being part of it ;o;

I went to the concert of Imagine Dragons last year....best concert of my life lol (is it gonna be all about concert or what xD)

I run a blog about animation so I'm gonna say it even if it sounds dumb: when Yuri on Ice started, being part of the fandom throughout the episodes release was one of my funniest & most emotional experiences ever and I'll remember that excitement all my life I think :')

Thank you again for the good vibe :) (it wasn't easy to do but it makes me feel better rn hehe)