#at all times they are 2 steps to the left of dysfunction to the point of Severe Distress

[thegreatyin]

neon future scoundrel is like. one of those incredibly unstable influencers that's having public meltdowns every two weeks and you're honestly not sure if you should be happy they keep getting karmic retribution for their actions or pity that they keep Going Fucking Through It

[kimarii-00]

Honey would please write something like when Armando left his gf she is a hacker and a weapon specialist without saying anything turned out that's not the only person he left behind. ( Tiny a baby girl who like to hold a wooden spoon ) They meet again when they going to the ammo squad in bad boys for . Her Kelly are besties . Very very angst.

(I accidentally deleted the ask, but I wrote it down before I did so above is the prompt for this, asked by anonymous)

Regrets and Punishments

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language

❥Word Count: 2.7k

❥Part 1/2

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AN: I’m ngl I’m not sure if you meant that you wanted them to have a kid or not, but I wrote it just in case, let me know if that's not what you wanted and I’ll rewrite it! (I also gave the kid a name)

I think I’m going to make this a two parter because I kinda took this prompt and ran with it lol

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He never thought he’d see you again. As much as he didn’t want to, he accepted the fact that he’d fucked up your relationship when he decided to leave you in favor of helping his mothers’ dirty work. He didn’t even give you so much as a call after he’d left to let you know that he was even alive. He only hoped that you were doing fine on your own.

Nonchalantly, Armando walked through the door to the house of the people Mike and Marcus knew, not giving a damn about the warning to stay outside like Mike had told him to. No wonder a gun was drawn and pointed at him as soon as he stepped foot in the home.

“Woah, woah! Kelly-” Mike began his attempt to mediate the situation, “I asked you to wait outside for a second… Alright, Kelly, he’s with us.” Standing in between the gun and his son.

“He can’t be here.” Kelly retorted, keeping her gaze on the wanted criminal standing before her.

“This is my son, Armando.”

“I know who he is and that’s why he can’t be here,” The gun never faltered as she spoke with a solid, demanding voice, “I trust you with my life, but I sure as shit don’t trust him.”

“I trust him,” Mike confirmed.

“Then take him to your house.”

Dorn cleared his throat, trying to release some of the tension that had built in the room. Armando said nothing as Dorn came over to try to calm his girlfriend, and Mike took his son to the opposite side of the room.

Marcus sat down on the couch in the middle of the room and snatched up a bag of chips, “This is some dysfunctional shit.” He said, looking back and forth between the two duos.

They came back together after a minute or two. “She’s fine,” Dorn said.

“She don’t look fine…” Marcus expressed, taking in the obvious irritation and discomfort on her face.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” Everyone turned in the direction of Armando, where he only opened the fridge to grab a drink.

“It’s the language barrier,” Marcus explained to Dorn.

“It was English!”

“It was definitely English.”

“I have to call someone. I’ll be back,” Kelly said, picking up her phone and already beginning to dial, “If I’m going to do this I’m gonna need another girl here. She’ll be able to help with the tech stuff too.”

“Is it–” Dorn began, but cut himself off when Kelly nodded, “Tell her to leave Demi at home, we don’t know what kind of shit we’re getting into.”

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When you got the call from Kelly, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. She told you she needed you to come over, but when you asked her why, she only said something about “emotional support”. You’d tried to press her for more details but she only mentioned having some people over and needing your tech skills. After a while, you just decided you’d go, but not before you handled your own business.

“Demi, come here please!” You called out while folding another shirt, making a nice crease and adding it to your pile of similar neatly folded shirts.

The aggressive pitter-patter of small feet hitting your hardwood floors alerted you that the person you’d called for was on their way.

“Mama!” You felt the bed on which you were folding clothes dip a bit as a weight threw itself into the soft mattress. You smile when you set your eyes on the girl who is smiling to herself contently—your daughter.

“Mimi, mama has to leave soon,” You said as you picked her up and set her on your hip so you could continue to fold while holding your toddler, “Tiara should be here soon to look after you, okay?” You say, referring to your babysitter that you should probably be paying more considering how many times you’ve called her in the past week or so.

“Mama leaving… again?” Your heart dropped when you watched the smile fade from your daughter's face when she realized you were going to be gone and she was going to be left with the babysitter for what felt like the hundredth time. You always felt bad when things like this came up but… you couldn’t just blow Kelly off. Not after all she’s done for you.

“Yes… Mama’s leaving, I’m sorry baby but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?” You tried to cheer her up by giving her stomach a few tickles but your daughter was as stubborn as they come, her pout seemingly permanently stuck to her face.

The doorbell stole your attention and you gently set your daughter down. She followed you to the front door, and when you opened it her permanent pout was replaced with nothing but… confusion. You joined her in sporting this facial expression when you both looked at the stranger at your doorstep.

“Can I.. help you?” You ask the woman. She had a soft smile on her face, but for some reason, it didn’t seem welcoming.

“I’m your babysitter.” The woman replied.

“Um… I’m sorry there must be some mistake. My usual babysitter’s name is Tiara, I called her a while ago-”

“Tiara asked me to come here in her stead, she isn’t feeling too well, unfortunately. I’m a coworker of hers.” The woman explained, but you weren’t convinced. Tiara hadn’t mentioned any of this to you when you called her-

Just then, as you were about to make up your mind about whether or not you wanted to slam the door on the lady, you received a message from… Tiara.

3:34 Tiara (Babysitter): Hey, so sorry for the inconvenience but I’m not feeling good today, I sent over my coworker because I know you needed a sitter ASAP! Her name is Sara.

“What was your name again?” You asked, slowly taking your eyes off of your phone and to the lady, still wearing that smile on her face.

“Sara.”

You look her up and down once more before stepping to the side to let the woman inside. Your daughter hid behind and clung to your leg, only peeking out when she was sure the strange woman was not looking at her.

“Um… This is Demi,” You gesture to the girl who has glued herself to your right leg. You try to get her to say hello but she refuses. Sara stoops down to your daughter's level and tries to wave at her but Demi only scooches further out of sight. “The fridge is fully stocked, there are only a few weres, really: Don’t invite anyone else over, no drinking, oh and her bedtime is 8:30.”

“Please do not worry, I’m sure me and Demi will have a great time together.” Sara expresses, that damn smile still plastered on her face. There’s something about this lady that you just don’t like, but if Tiara sent her then it’s probably just you overreacting, right?

“Right… Could I get your phone number, just in case?” You say. She recites her number to you and you quickly enter it into your phone and save the contact, just in case of an emergency. You then turn around and kneel to look your daughter in the face.

“Be good, okay Mimi? I promise I’ll be back soon,” You say, giving her a quick peck on the forehead and a hug. She looks extremely hesitant and to be honest, so are you, but you’re already running late… “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Demi says meekly.

You smile and turn to leave.

If Tiara sent her, there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

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You parked in front of the house that your best friend and her boyfriend lived in. You had no guesses as to why she called you here, but if your technology skills could be useful to her, you’d want to help in any way you can.

You knock on the door and after a while, Kelly answers but stops you before you can go inside. “We kind of got ourselves in some shit, we’ll fill you in.”

She grabs your wrist, pulls you inside, and closes the door shut. The first thing that you lay your eyes on is the monitors that Dorn was sifting through. Pulling up various pictures of people and files that look confidential.

Should I even be here right now…?

“What's the situation?” You ask as you move towards Dorn.

“Remember when we told you all that stuff about Captain Conrad–”

“(Name)?”

You pause when you hear your name. The voice sounds so familiar you're almost scared to turn around and see who it was that called you. You think you know who it was that called, which is probably another reason as to why it takes you so very long to fully turn and face the man that has broken your heart time and time again.

It’s like the world stopped. All of a sudden, everyone in that room except for the man in front of you was irrelevant. There were so many things you wanted to say, yet no words left your mouth.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

All of the emotions flowing through you quickly became too much. Without a word, your feet guided you to the nearest room in which you could be alone.

“Do yall know each other?” Mike asked, but received no answer when his son went after the girl, “Do they know each other?” He asked in a more general way, but was met with nothing. The tension silenced everyone.

You ripped your arm out of the hand that had caught it when you reached the empty room. “Get the fuck off of me! What the hell are you doing here?” You exclaimed angrily. All of a sudden, all of those feelings you felt were entirely replaced by rage. Anger, directed at the man who’d left you without a second thought.

“I–” Armando began, but was cut off.

“Y’know what, I don’t care! Get the hell out of my face!”

“(Name), wait– stop,” He said, grabbing hold of your bicep when you tried to turn away from him again.

“You have some fucking nerve!” You growled, entirely in shock of the fact that he thinks he’ll just have a nice chat with you, “I haven’t seen your ass in years! Not a fucking call, or even a damn text! Nothing!”

“I know, I know, I didn’t plan on it being like that,” he pointed out. In actuality, he had no clue or reason as to why he followed you here. He knew he fucked up their relationship and a few words wasn’t going to change that fact. So why was he so desperate to get you to hear him out? He was never like this. It’s been years, why do you still have this weird affect on him?

“Yeah? Well I never planned on being abandoned by you, but look where we fuckin’ are now. Get the hell away from me,” You seethed. He had no clue how hard you were trying not to cry, “I said get the hell off of me!”

You snatch your arm from his grip. Deep down, underneath all of the anger that had boiled up to the surface, you’d missed Armando. You really did. Dealing with the pain of losing him, and never hearing from him until, well now. Taking care of Demi–

Does he even know about Demi? Does he know he’s a…

“Guys, so sorry to interrupt but we have a problem,” Kelly announced from around a corner. You hold eye contact with Armando for a few more seconds, trying to read his face but ultimately giving up. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. You stomp out of the room, and he lags behind you.

Upon entering the room where everyone was gathering around Dorn and his monitors, you see he is tapped into someone's security feed, which you quickly find out is Marcus’ and Mikes’ homes where their families were. Dorn was notifying the police to send backup and you realize that there are people attempting to break into the homes. Does this have something to do with their investigation with Captain Conrad?

Mike and Marcus grab their phones and quickly make calls, telling their people to hide, and leave their houses. You watch the cameras and watch as the masked men make their way into the two guys’ respective houses.

“Fuck, fuck!” Marcus says when he watches someone from his house grab a gun from a safe and hide the rest of the family in a closet. You can only home that whoever Marcus decided to trust with his family’s safety was skilled.

Everyone watches and commentates on the man's performance in the security feed, taking down the trespassers one by one until he is able to safely transport the rest of the family out of the house, but not before saluting to the security camera for us onlookers to see.

Mike is not so lucky, as he is not able to reach his wife in time to warn her and the girl who was with her at the time. We all have to watch when she’s easily overpowered and tied up. Mike is still on the phone with her, able to hear everything that’s going on.

A sudden devious voice sounds through the phone, one that was definitely not his wife, “Mr. Lowrey.”

“Who am I speaking to?” Mike lowers his voice and says in a serious tone.

“I think you know who you’re speaking to,” the voice says ominously, “I need your boy, and whatever evidence your beloved Captain has foiled away.” You eye Armando whose eyes were flicking back and forth from the phone to Mike, “And for that, you can have your wife. I’ll call you back with instructions.”

“Ah, shit…” Mike grumbles, but the man on the other side of the phone has not yet hung up.

“Ms. (Name), I know you’re there as well.” Your heart drops to your toes. What could this man want with you? “I’d go ahead and check the security systems for your house as well.” A beep was heard as the man hung up and your eyes widened. No…

He wouldn't, right? You had nothing to do with this operation.

Nevertheless, you pushed Dorn out of the way and pulled up your homes’ cameras, and scanned for anything out of the ordinary. You spotted Demi playing with dolls in her room. The only thing was that you couldn’t spot the babysitter, but you figured she must’ve been in the bathroom.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“Who’s kid is that?” Armando spoke up. You looked over but didn’t fully turn around, fearing he’d already figured it out, and just wanted clarification. You were afraid. You were afraid that if he found out, he’d come back into your life. Demi’s life. You didn’t want to get hurt again. You don’t think you could handle him leaving you again, so you stayed silent. You left the question to hang in the air.

The breath you let out was sucked back in when you saw your front door open slightly, then all the way and three masked intruders walked in. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, snatching up your phone and dialing the phone number you’d received from the new babysitter before. She answered after one ring, which you were entirely grateful for, “Sara, grab Demi and get the hell out of there, now. Please!” You frantically spew out. You’d be surprised if she caught any of that.

There was no response on the other end until Sara spoke, “There’s people in the house?” She asked, too calm for your liking.

“Yes, so grab Demi and get the fuck out of there. Take the window if you have to, they’re searching the living room right now,” You say, watching the men search the living room and kitchen, slowly making their way down the hallway which they would find your daughter.

Again, no response. That is, until the chilling words made their way into your ears. “Finally, I was wondering when they’d arrive.” And she hung up.

Your eyes were blown wide enough to where you were sure you were going to start hearing colors and seeing sounds. You were speechless and your heart was racing a mile a minute as you watched the ‘babysitter’ pick your daughter up and… deliver her to the intruders.

You could only watch, helpless as your daughter was kidnapped.

What the hell just happened?

[featherandferns]

Prompt 2 with angst

2. I blame you for this.

I lost the original ask (which was from ages ago - sorry!) but they added extra information along this line: JJ cheated by ‘accident’ and wants reader to forgive but having hard time trusting. Fluff ending, possible smut.

a mistake - prompt 2

JJ is hot on your tail as you storm into the chateau. You can’t believe he followed you back. Can’t believe he had the nerve to. No, not the nerve. The audacity. 

“Baby, come on! We can just talk about this!”

“Talk about it?” you echo. Spinning around, you can’t help but laugh humourlessly. “What the hell is there to talk about?”

JJ falters in his step. You watch as he swallows, slow and thick, and you shake your head, lips down turning into a painful, deep frown. 

“JJ. You slept with another woman.”

You’re surprised you keep yourself from gaping in shock when he raises a finger, pointing at you accusingly. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t say it like that! Like I cheated on you or some shit!”

Another laugh bubbles up through you. You’d never been good with shock. Some people freeze, some people cry, and some people laugh and cackle and grin. The whole situation is so absurd to you, so far from what you could ever imagine, that it doesn’t feel real. 

“You did!”

“We were on a break!”

“You think you’re getting out of this on a technicality?”

“I think it’s an important dissertation,” he loudly replies. 

You grit your teeth, eyes narrowing. “It’s distinction, and no, it is not.”

You want as much space between you as possible. He could be on another continent and it still wouldn’t be far enough. The thought of having him near you, having him talk to you- it all just makes you feel sick to your stomach. Storming into the hallway and into John B’s (thankfully empty bedroom), you go to shut the door. JJ forces it open, stronger than you. Tears begin to sting your eyes. Why can’t he just leave it alone? 

“Look, can you just try to understand things from my perspective?” JJ says, the anger morphing into desperation. 

You stare at him, lips parted. He takes your silence as cause to continue. 

“I thought you’d left me forever, and I was spinning out, and freaking, and didn’t know what to do.”

“So you fell into another girl’s bed?”

“It was a month later!” JJ snaps, throwing his arms up. “You hadn’t spoke to me for a month!”

The thing is, you and JJ had a rather dysfunctional relationship. Neither of you had very good role models growing up of what a healthy, happy romance looked like: your dad had cheated too many times to count on your mom, and JJ’s mom and dad were a nightmare before the former up and left. That meant codependency and challenge and combativity. I’m not happy if you’re not happy, and you’re never fucking happy type beats. So, you finally broke. You told him that you both needed a break and some space to think. And now it seems that whilst you were actually trying to reflect and work on yourself, JJ had been getting his yips from other chicks on the island. Beneath all the anger and rage, you were breaking inside. Since JJ admitted it after a more than bizarre interaction with some brunette at a kegger, all you can picture is her lips on his neck, and his hands on her figure, and their writhing, sweaty bodies intertwined…Your stomach is sick. 

Finally, the tears begin to fall. Your heart shatters as you let out a shaking breath. JJ’s own face crumbles with that. He closes the distance between you, grabbing for your arms and hands, refusing to back down until you relent. 

“It was a mistake. It meant nothing, okay? And I know jackasses always say that, and it’s a cheap line, and it sounds like a cop-out, but I swear on my ma’s grave that it’s true. I swear on my fucking life.”

Your lip quivers. You can’t help but look up at JJ. Darling, sweet, troubled JJ. You knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. And as you stared up at him, you knew he was telling the truth. Maybe some might say that you were being wishful, or too forgiving, or running back to a bad thing…But you’d seen JJ lie plenty of times to know when he was being honest. To you, the difference was as clear as night and day.

JJ tries to steal himself. His voice is quiet, vulnerable, prepared for rejection, when he speaks. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

“I blame you for this,” you hear yourself say. You’re not entirely sure what you by it. Blame him for cheating? For making you walk away? For making it so hard for you to say no, here and now? 

His eyes slip shut, ready for the final blow. You can see him mentally preparing to depart from your life forever. 

But no. 

No. 

Slipping your hands up, cupping his face with each palm, you lovingly stroke a finger over his damp cheek. At the tender action, JJ forces his eyes open. 

“But I don’t know who I am without you either.”

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt 4

Hiiiiiiiii! Sorry this took a minute, It's midterm season and I just adopted a new cat because I can. It's been busy. Hope you enjoy :p

Word count: 4.7k

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

Lae’zel tilts her head, eyes closed, as she listens to the distant shouting. You open your mouth to ask her what’s happening, but even with her eyes closed she somehow senses what you’re about to say and holds up a hand, silencing you.

Patience has never been a virtue of yours.

You bite your tongue and bounce on the balls of your feet while you wait. A glance at Astarion reveals a similar image. His head is inclined in the same direction as Lae’zel’s, his eyes unfocused. It seems that you and Gale are the only two with inferior hearing. He at least seems much less frustrated by that fact. You watch as he draws some sort of glyph in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

In his defense, after the day you’ve all had, some shouting isn’t all that alarming compared to abduction and mind flayer parasitization. 

Still, you can hear the differences in the voices even if you can’t quite discern what they’re saying. There are at least half a dozen people not far off from you, people who might be able to point you in the direction of a healer.

“We were right,” says Astarion after a pause that felt as if it spanned centuries, “There is a civilization up ahead.”

“Not for much longer,” Lae’zel drones in a bored voice.

“What?” You ask at the same time a horn sounds somewhere in the distance, followed by a rallied war cry.

“Goblins,” Astarion mutters.

Because why not?

You bite down on your bottom lip until you taste blood, weighing your options.

If a band of goblins takes whatever camp they’re attacking they’ll kill the only people you’ve managed to find after an entire day of walking. Your days are numbered now, and you don’t have many left. There doesn’t seem to be a choice to make. You turn to start down the path leading to all the noise when Astarion catches your arm.

“Wait.”

You try to pull out of his grasp but his grip only tightens. 

“What?” You snap.

“Why do we have to play hero for every sad soul we come across? This will make what, the fourth life or death altercation of the day?”

“Those people will die without our help!”

“People die everyday! Your inability to accept that fact is going to get us all killed alongside them.”

You rip your knife from its sheath and flip it up, holding the blade an inch from his throat. A normal person would have let you go and backed away from the weapon aimed at their jugular. Astarion only raises an eyebrow in a silent dare. Not the response you expected, but it is nice to see him on the receiving end of a knife to the throat for a change.

Lae’zel, who seemed to be regarding your disagreement with a cool disinterest, perks up at the sight of a weapon drawn. She unsheathes a blade of her own and begins cleaning her nails with it, watching you and Astarion with a sort of wicked approval. 

Gale, who appears to be the most reasonable one of the group, takes a step back. He eyes you both warily, but you get the impression that he's mildly satisfied to see Astarion in the same position he himself was in just a few hours earlier, a weapon aimed at his head. 

As a group you are rather dysfunctional.

“Those people currently being slaughtered may know something about the tadpoles in our heads, or at the very least may be able to point us to the creche. We’ve been wandering the wilds for hours. We have days before these parasites rip us apart. If you want to leave the best chance we have stranded to be murdered by a pack of goblins, be my guest, but I’m not taking that chance. Let. Me. Go.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, but he drops your arm.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Tav.”

“I hate to agree with him” Gale chimes in, “But it seems rather reckless to jump into battle without a plan.”

Lae’zel flashes the men a feral smile, gleeful at the prospect of bloodshed.

“The plan is to eliminate the goblin scourge. If that is too complicated for you, remain here until we return” She drawls 

She turns and stalks away, following the sounds of screeching goblins and howling wolves.

Astarion tilts his head back and sighs deeply as you follow her, muttering something under his breath.

Still, as you pass him you feel him silently fall into step behind you. Gale reluctantly trudges along, lamenting about how much he misses his library.

The noise of the battle grows louder with every step. Swords clang and wolves snarl loud enough to shake the ground under your feet. You break the treeline and find yourself at the narrow entrance to a small clearing in the middle of the dense woods.

To your left is a large rocky hill that overlooks the clearing. To your right, a cliff that connects to a massive wall split by a heavy wooden gate.

You stand in the bottleneck, watching chaos unfold in the field ahead. A horde of goblins- stout little creatures with razor sharp teeth and a bloodlust that probably rivals Astarion’s, are throwing everything they have at a human scouting party. A few tieflings stand on the wall, frantically shouting for back-up and returning fire when they aren’t being pelted with arrows. 

The air is heavy with the smell of blood and smoke.

Astarion takes a deep breath through his nose and hums a low, pleased sound that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Lae’zel observes the carnage and laughs, a sound you admittedly didn’t know she was capable of making. 

In a flash her greatsword is in her hands and she’s diving into the fray with all the murderous enthusiasm of a rabid displacer beast. 

She blocks the swing of a bugbear’s club and throws it off balance, but misses her next attack on the creature as it throws itself to the side. She hisses in rage and stalks after it as it scrambles away on its hands and knees.

Her arrival doesn’t go unnoticed, and several goblins turn, redirecting their murderous rage towards your group.

You hear Gale begin muttering the sleep incantation and do your best to provide cover as he chants, launching magic missiles at any creature that comes too close. You do a decent amount of damage, knocking more than one goblin clear off its feet, but they don’t seem to notice the pain. They only seem to get angrier as they charge the humans at the gate. You could use an archer right about now.

Where the hell is Astarion?

You whip your head around, scanning the battlefield, but he has disappeared completely. Disappointment fills you when you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. You didn’t take him for a coward but it’s possible you misjudged him. You don’t have time to dwell on it now. 

A flash of silver catches your eye in your search, and you’re momentarily distracted by a strange newcomer cutting his way through a throng of goblins. He’s not dressed like the other humans, his clothes are dark and well armored as opposed to the brown leather outfits woven with leaves the scouting party are wearing, presumably for camouflage. He’s brandishing a blood soaked rapier, and you can’t tell exactly what from here but you think there’s something off about one of his eyes. 

He laughs as he cuts down a snarling goblin. There’s something so distinctly familiar about him, but now is neither the time nor place to find out what it is.

A goblin whose arm was singed by one of your missiles turns and locks eyes with you, smoke curling up from his burned flesh. The smell has bile rising up from your stomach. It lifts its scimitar above its head and screams a battle cry, sprinting for you with a promise of death in his eyes. 

Time itself seems to slow as you raise a shaking hand. Your power recoils when you reach for it. Your vision swims. The strain sends a spike of pain through your skull. You’ve used all the magic you can. 

The goblin is a few steps from you now. The rusted blade he holds above his head is dripping black blood, and so are the pointed shark-like teeth he bares at you in a snarl.

You suppose this ending is slightly preferable to becoming a mind flayer, though not by much.

You brace yourself as the goblin lunges for you, but a brief flash of light slams into it mid-air, and it drops like a stone at your feet. 

You stare at it in stunned silence for a moment before an unexpected sound rattles its small frame.

Is it… snoring?

You whip your head toward Gale, whose eyes are glowing with pure white light. He nods at you and continues casting, launching magic missiles of his own at one of the goblin’s wolves. 

You take the rescue for what it is and plunge your knife into the sleeping monster. It twitches once, and the snoring stops.

You’re out of spells. You have firebolt as a cantrip, but every time you use it your vision blurs and vertigo wracks your body. You wouldn’t know how to shoot a bow even if you had one. If you want to continue fighting the goblins you’re going to have to get a lot closer.

You leave Gale to his casting on the outskirts of the battle and cut your way towards the center, forgetting that you’re opening yourself up to fire from the archers positioned somewhere on the hill above you.

You realize far too late that you don’t have a shield, but you also notice that somehow the arrows that were previously raining down from the top of the hill have inexplicably halted, and you have a clear path forward. 

You spot Lae’zel, who is battling a bleeding one-armed bugbear and a snarling bare-faced wolf. The wolf lunges for her, and she’s forced to dodge backward toward the bugbear who uses his one remaining hand to slam his metal club into the back of her head. She blinks dazedly and sways on her feet for a moment.

The wolf leans back on its haunches and prepares to lunge for her throat.

You won’t reach her in time. 

You sprint for the creature anyway, fear for your companion fueling you, when an arrow sinks into the wolf's side. It yelps and frantically gnaws at the arrow, attacking the source of its terrible pain, ripping its own flesh in its panic. It provides just enough of a distraction for you to change course and leap onto the back of the bugbear, burying your knife in its throat. It gurgles for a second, choking on blood, and drops to the ground at Lae’zel’s feet. She turns with a shout and beheads the yelping wolf in one swift strike. 

Panting, she turns to you. One of her pupils is blown wide, the other just a slit.

“I didn’t ask for your assistance” She growls.

“You’re welcome” You reply, which earns you an unfocused bleary-eyed glare from the concussed Githyanki.

An agonized scream pierces through the clang of weapons and the crackling fire. You turn just in time to see a human archer a few yards away staring down with horrified eyes at the grinning goblin who’s scimitar is buried in her stomach.

Fuck.

You change directions and lunge for the girl, hurling a firebolt at the goblin’s head in the process. It screeches, dropping the scimitar to swipe at the flames engulfing it's pointed face. Vertigo almost takes you to the ground, but you manage to clumsily catch the girl as she drops to her knees, her skin pale and clammy.

She babbles frantically as you lower her slowly to the ground.

“I can’t- please I’m only t-twenty I d-don’t wanna die” 

Her hands are slick with her own blood and they clutch at your shirt as you assess the damage. The only healing spell you know is lesser restoration, and while that may buy her a few seconds of relief from the blood loss, the wound is still open. Even if you did know a healing spell powerful enough to save her, you couldn’t cast it in the state that you're in. You can do nothing to solve the issue of the blade protruding from her belly. 

You apply pressure to the wound. There are only a few goblins left alive, the battle will soon be over, but every second the fight drags on feels like an hour as you hold this girl together with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” You try to assure her, your voice shaky.

She swallows dryly and shakes her head.

“It doesn’t”

That can’t be good.

“That’s good. A healer is on their way. You’re going to be al-”

Before the last word can leave your lips something launches into your side, and the breath is knocked from your lungs. Your vision doubles and a formless black blob sways above you. You blink a few times and your eyes clear. The goblin you lit on fire smiles at you as best it can with the skin of its face crisped black and melting off. Your eyes shift sluggishly to the dagger raised above its head, just in time to watch it fall. You hear the wet squelch of the dagger ripping through the flesh of your shoulder. 

It doesn’t hurt at first, it almost feels as though your arm has fallen asleep. A riot of pins and needles shoots down all the way to your fingertips and back up again. Then comes the explosion of pain so intense your body jerks under the goblin that still sits on top of you. It cackles as you tense in a silent scream, twisting the blade until your vision darkens around the edges.

It happens so suddenly you almost miss it. One moment the goblin is twisting the blade and laughing, the next it’s gurgling and choking on the arrow protruding from its throat. You reach up with your uninjured arm and yank the arrow free of the creature’s neck, watching the life fade from its yellow eyes as it pitches to the side and slides off you, leaving the dagger buried in your shoulder.

Your gaze snaps up to the top of the hill, where you see Astarion, his bow raised, eyes trained on the dead goblin that fell to your side. At his feet, two more goblins lie dead with their throats slit, their bows still clutched in their hands. 

That’s the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

~

You fall through an endless black void. The wind rushing past your ears and whispering over your skin is the only indication you’re moving at all. The darkness is so potent you genuinely can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed.

You spread your limbs out as far as you can, hoping to feel something, anything, but you’re falling through open air.

Oh. You’re closer than I thought you were. I wasn’t expecting you so early.

A voice that is not your own bounces around inside your skull. 

There’s a blinding flash of light, your eyes were open after all, and reality shifts. You don’t land but suddenly you aren’t falling either, you’re standing on a rocky island floating in an endless purple sky. In your cursory glance you find a shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the island, legs kicking over the vacuum of empty space below them.

You freeze, unsure where you are or how you got there.

“Come,” Says the same voice you heard in your head moments ago, “Sit with me. There is much to discuss.”

The voice is soothing, gentle, and you take a step forward.

~

With a crack you're suddenly yanked from the dream world and back into your body. You find yourself still sprawled on your back on the battlefield. There’s a sharp burning sensation in your cheek, and a shadow leaning over you, haloed in sunshine. It looks almost like…

“Astarion?”

The shadow sighs in relief.

“Yes! Thank the gods. This would have been really awkward to explain if you had amnesia.”

“I-” you reach up to rub your stinging cheek and groan when pain lances down your arm. You can’t move it.

“Did you slap me?”

You feel yourself fading away again, consciousness slipping out of your grasp.

The shadow that is actually a rather blurry vampire nods solemnly.

“I did. I’m about to do it again.”

“S’not nice.” You mumble.

“Tav, if you can stay awake for a moment longer I can get us out of here. I need you to look into my eyes. Can you do that for me?”

You aren’t entirely sure, your eyelids are so heavy, but you do try. Slowly, you manage to pry them open enough to meet Astarions eyes. Once your gazes collide, you wonder why you ever thought it was hard to keep your eyes open at all. It would pain you to look away now. His eyes are such a hypnotic shade of red. You think it might be your new favorite color.

“That's it Tav.” His voice is low- enticing. It satisfies something deep within you, and you find yourself holding your breath, hanging onto every word. 

“You aren’t going to sleep anymore. You’re going to stand with me and walk through the gate.”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished speaking.

Vaguely, you know what this is. Vampires, and apparently vampiric spawn, have the ability to compel creatures. Some are better at it than others, and some creatures are harder to compel than others, but you make it easy. You don’t even try to resist, knowing this compulsion might just save your life.

That is until you accept Astarion’s lended hand and stand, looking down to see the glassy, lifeless eyes of the human girl you were trying to save before the goblin stabbed you.

Her arm is stretched toward you, a look of despair frozen on her face, as if she reached out to you in her final moment.

You reach for her, praying to anyone that will listen that she’s not actually dead, when Astarion catches you with an arm around your waist.

“There’s nothing more that you can do for her. Walk.”

Your resolve is weaker than it’s ever been, and the compulsion takes you completely. Your legs move on their own accord. Astarion keeps an arm around your waist and pulls your good arm over his shoulder, bearing the brunt of your weight as you make slow progress toward the gate that everyone is fleeing for. You see Gale and one of the tieflings carrying an unconscious Lae’zel on fabric stretched between two long branches. They place her on the ground just inside the entrance and rush to find a healer.

You stumble inside after them. Every heartbeat triggers a fiery explosion of pain that leaves you gasping. Astarion half-drags you to a wooden stump and sets you down on top of it, his compulsion fading along with the rest of your energy. He crouches in front of you and inspects your shoulder, tsking softly.

“Go'head” You say, your words somewhat slurring together.

His expression turns wary as he motions something over your shoulder.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

“Say it.” 

He shakes his head in confusion, and you try again, pushing the words out through shallow huffs of air.

“Say ‘I told you so’” 

“Ah” he smiles “As much as I would love to, it’s beneath me to kick a lady while she’s down”

“I’ll show you who’s down.” You attempt to threaten, but when you lean forward a wave of nausea hits you, and you double over, pressing the hand you can move to your mouth as if you can push back the rising bile.

Astarion positions you back upright with a hand on your good shoulder, something resembling concern in his voice as he calls for a healer. It’s becoming very hard to breathe.

You hear someone rush to his side, but you don’t even have enough energy to turn your head to see who it is. 

“Is she ready?” The stranger asks.

“She’ll have to be. She’s losing a lot of blood. I can hear how hard her heart is beating to pump what little she has left.”

He taps your face as you begin to nod off and you open your eyes, unsure of when you closed them.

“This is going to hurt.” Is Astarion’s only warning before he rips the dagger out of your shoulder.

You open your mouth to scream, but someone presses a large bottle full of thick red liquid to your lips and you drink instead, desperate for the relief a health potion will provide. You grimace both at the metallic taste of the potion and at the itchy sensation of your muscles knitting themselves back together. The wound closes and the pain subsides, but your shoulder still tingles savagely with pins and needles.

Some of your energy returns to you, and you glance up at the stranger that gave you the potion. The dwarven druid returns your nod of thanks with one of her own before turning her attention to an unconscious Lae’zel, who you notice was moved to a cot sometime between when you stumbled through the gate and now. You peel your bloodstained shirt off your shoulder and see for the first time the angry red scar that remains despite the magic of the healing tonic. You cringe and pull your shirt back over it. 

When you look over at Astarion, he is staring at the bloody dagger he pulled from your shoulder with an intensity that unnerves you.

“Astarion?” 

He startles as he’s pulled out of his thoughts and drops the dagger on the ground at your feet. He bares his teeth in an expression you think was meant to be a smile, but doesn’t quite make it past a grimace. He stands fluidly, and you scan him from head to toe for injuries. He doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him. 

Relief and annoyance battle it out in your head as you follow suit, standing on shaky legs.

“Thank-”

He turns and glares so angrily you shut your mouth with an audible click.

“I don’t want your thanks. We had a deal, Hero, all I did was hold up my end.”

You remember the deal you made with the vampire.

You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.

Interesting.

“I don’t think I like that nickname” You frown.

“Oh? I can think of a few more you might like better.” He winks, and your eyes widen in genuine fear as you imagine what he could possibly mean by that.

“No no, hero is good- great even.”

Astarion chuckles in sadistic delight and ushers you further inside the grove toward Gale, who you see also looks mostly unharmed other than a gash above his eyebrow. Upon closer inspection however, you see the same bone deep fatigue you feel mirrored in his eyes. Magic takes energy to cast, and the toll exacted on a caster for pushing their limits is merciless.

“Glad to see you’re okay Tav,” He says by way of greeting. He gestures at the older tiefling man he was speaking to when you approached.

“This is Zevlor. He’s offered to allow us to make camp inside the walls of the grove until we recover from the battle.”

The tiefling nods and places a hand over his heart bowing his head at you and Astarion. In your current state, drained of magic as you are, the tadpole seems to have more control than it did before. Your mind is drawn to Astarion’s like metal to a magnet, and when the connection clicks into place, you feel his awkward uncomfortability with Zevlor’s gesture. It seems Astarion is inept at accepting thanks from everyone, not just you. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your assistance out there.” Zevlor begins, “There surely would have been many more casualties if you had not done what you did. Your friend Gale of Waterdeep-”

A pulse of sadistic amusement bridges the gap between yours and Astarion’s mind and you watch his mouth twitch as he suppresses a smile. Gale’s lips press together in thinly veiled annoyance. Zevlor continues on, completely oblivious, “-tells me you’ve been searching for a healer. Our main healer left with the scouting party you saved today and hasn’t returned, but his apprentice Nettie is more than capable of healing most ailments. I’m sure she’d be happy to counsel you in the morning once all the wounded have been tended to. We’ll point your Gith friend your way once she wakes up.”

You nod gratefully and Zevlor is called to help someone else before anything more can be said. The link between your mind and Astarion’s buzzes with energy and he turns to you with a horrified expression as he’s suddenly bombarded by everything you’re feeling. 

“How are you standing up right now?”

“I have no idea. I can’t feel my legs.”

Gale flashes you an alarmed look. He notices your shaking limbs and holds out an arm. You consider his offered help for a moment before shaking your head. You don't want to be a burden to this man you've just met. You'll be fine as long as you can sit down sometime in the very near future. Gale drops his arm but not his concerned expression.

“A healer I am not, but I don’t imagine trembling with every step is a sign of anything good.” He warns

You wave off his concern with a weak smile and continue walking. Astarion and Gale follow, a little too close for your liking, as if they're waiting for your inevitable fall.

Astarion responds to Gale's warning for you.

“If I didn’t pity whoever's waiting for you back home before, Gale of Waterdeep, I do now.”

Gale’s face scrunches in annoyed confusion.

“I don’t have a partner... anymore.”

“I bet I know why.”

"You most definitely do not."

“Would you two shut up for a second?” You hiss.

You're passing a merchant’s table littered with armor, camp supplies, magical artifacts, dyes, and weapons. A crossbow catches your eye, and you remember earlier on the battlefield wishing you had a bow that you knew how to shoot. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had more than a puny knife to fight with. You stop in front of the table. Astarion and Gale nearly crash into the back of you.

“How much?”

You ask the dwarven merchant digging for something in a box behind the table, pointing at the crossbow.

Astarion raises his eyebrows, but says nothing.

The dwarf’s head snaps up and his eyes widen as he takes in your blood-soaked ragged appearance. He sees the pale elf and the human wizard behind you and something clicks.

“I know you. The other druids won’t shut up about you. You saved the grove.” He says with a certain measure of awe.

“Tell ya what. I need to get rid of most of this stuff before the grove gets sealed shut in a few days, and we do kind of owe you our lives. Take whatever you want. On me.”

You feel guilty accepting gifts from this kind stranger, but you are in desperate need of camp supplies. Astarion doesn’t seem to share your hang-up. He begins grabbing things to stuff in his pack. Another dagger, two small hand-held crossbows, Black armor of some sort. Gale peruses the magical scrolls lined up on the other side of the table. You take the crossbow you originally asked about, intending to take it and it alone, when an amulet catches your eye. A simple black metal chain holding a small silver medallion. Ferre procul is engraved neatly along with a rune you vaguely recognize on the pendant. Upon closer inspection you realize it’s emitting a faint silver light. You think it's a magic storing item, one that would grant its wearer the ability to cast misty step. You pocket the amulet, and thank the merchant profusely before you follow Astarion and Gale toward your new camp. You nearly weep with joy at the sight of a fire already made, and the bedrolls laid out around it. You don’t even spare a glance at your companions. You toss your bag to the ground and collapse onto the nearest bedroll. Sleep claims you before your head hits the pillow.

----

Tag tiiiiiime.

This list is getting long 0-0

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

@smaranshakthi

@perseny

@stronglycoffeescented-blog

@hadesbabygurl

@y2cade

@screechingphantommaker

@whoopsitsloobis

@coratatum

@rando-no-5

@usuallyunlikelyfox

@kamartsu

@yaimlight

@h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333

@vulgarfuckinvirgo77

@ellie1725

@skittleabyss

@nari1837

@bitchyzombienacho

@otayz

@yggiboo

@alexandritgreylock

@grimissleepy

@raygunny

@thedevilssinner

@mythoughtsofinsanity

@olitheghost

Okay I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed ya.

[hwaightme]

Rewind and remix

🎶 pairing: hongjoong x gn!reader 🎶 genre: angst, fluff if you squint, a bit of comfort 🎶 summary: your relationship with hongjoong is much like a musical piece made for two, but what if its tone keeps getting darker, and growing dissonance threatens to turn it into a cacophony? 🎶 wordcount: 5.3k 🎶 warnings/tags: angst on valentine's day 'nuff said, seonghwa is the friend with some sense, heartbreak, try again, neglect, conflict, quiet arguments, miscommunication, secrets, hoping for something better, unedited (lmk if there is something too chaotic) 🎶 wordcount: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 🎶 a/n: Hello beautiful people, this is for all those who wish to dive into angst today, much love and biggest hugs! (p.s.: Sky, you know exactly what conversation this came from xD)

» [regent's park by bruno major] « 0:00 ─〇───── 2:57 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Hongjoong wished it would rain. He wished that the clear ultramarine blue skies would concentrate into blue droplets and pour down in a lifesaving frenzy and drown out the sound of his heart as it pounded. Drumming out a cacophonic, dysfunctional beat against his ribcage, already preoccupied with containing his progressively less functional lungs. But most importantly, he wished that it works rain so that you would not look as beautiful as you did, glowing even under the February light, magical as you floated across from the park gate, slowly making your way towards him. Maybe if your hair did not frame your face as well as it did and was stuck to your delicate features hidden under an equally soaked beanie, then he would be less afraid to look you in the eyes. Maybe if your amble were to be an unsteady jog, with all your efforts concentrated on chasing a spot where the downpour had not yet started, maybe then he would not be frozen in place, terrified of your approach and dreading the conversation. Maybe if some external circumstance could have perturbed you in some way, any way at all, then he would not have to experience your indifference, your masterfully crafted mask that signified it was truly over.

You had given him an ultimatum. Exactly a month ago, while sat at the cafe which you two had called 'yours', you told him to step up, or confidently decide to fall apart. It had not been a spontaneous proposition, either. For the many months over the course of your relationship, you had felt like you were giving your preferences up in favour of his far too often. In terms of organised meetings, you had managed to find a compromise, sure. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date Hongjoong, with high stress and chaotic schedule being a regular element to consider while planning, so you were more than happy to find time whenever you could, calmly settling for any short-notice changes and for unplanned emergencies during your times together. But in terms of the quality, there was a lot left to be desired, at least when it came to knowing where both of you stood when it came to defining your duo.

You swore that him asking you to be his girlfriend had not been a hallucination, but at times it really felt like such. As though this had all been your wishful thinking, turned into an obsession that you had been projecting onto him. Your request was a cry to prove you were sane, at least when it came to Hongjoong and you. There was no need to continue entertaining something that was a mere figment of your imagination, as painful as letting go would be. You did not want to do so, but what would the point be if all you had been holding onto was thin air and a man of your own design? You needed something real.

Hongjoong could be a romantic when he wanted to. He had written songs just for you, rapped adoring lines over syncopated beats and sang his sweet confessions. Even if circumstances had, on occasion, made it virtually impossible to contact one another for more than a couple of texts back and forth, you still had those personal reminders playing all through the day, on repeat. From voice notes to compositions to playlists painstakingly crafted for your ears only. Perhaps he had even made you fall in love through sound alone. But as your feelings grew, so did the silence. Until all you listened to was your alarm clock in the bleak, lethargic mornings.

» [a thought on an autumn night by JANNABI] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:07 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Another night without as much as a single emoji to tell you that he was thinking of you, even if just in passing. You had reached a new low - barely sleeping in the hopes that perhaps his insomnia would lead him to shoot you a message. If that were to happen, and you were to stay awake and ready, you could immediately text back and have a conversation, for once without a few hour long delays.

Alas, here you were, curled up into a feeble ball in your bed, supposedly not alone, but so incredibly lonely. What hurt was that you knew he was awake. You knew that he was in his studio, as he always seemed to be, even that time when he had said he missed you. It could have been a song lyric that he had accidentally sent you, you assumed, since as soon as you had sent your loving greetings back, he was long gone. That evening you could not believe you had to settle for the official photographs posted on the group's social media to feel like he was your significant other.

Today, you had not been so lucky. No Fan Café, No Universe, No Instagram, No Twitter... You stopped counting on him contacting you on his own. Of course, there was a time and a place for everything, but it hurt that you had neither in your own boyfriend's life, it seemed. You had tried to hint at this problem on the rare occasions that you could spend time together, but he appeared to be perfectly content with how things were, his perfect smile healing a portion of your fragile heart, only for it to crack and crumble as soon as you said your goodbyes and parted. He needed for you to be like a virtual assistant: there when he called on you, ready to help and to listen; silent and easily forgotten otherwise.

Your situation and state did not feel real as you began to doze off, not bothering to draw the curtains, as that meant at least the moon could embrace and comfort you. If a couple of months ago you would have fallen asleep with a smile on your lips, this hurting hour of the night you were fighting back a cry of disillusionment. What was even scarier was, when, a few hours later, you had awoken from a restless slumber and noticed a message from Hongjoong – judging from the preview it was an apology for ‘not being in touch as often’, ‘but producing is going well’, you could not find a single fibre of willingness to answer him. All the way until late evening, right before you went to bed and set your phone on do not disturb.

» [don't leave me, my love by colde] « 0:00 ─〇───── 4:45 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

As he stared in your direction, his hands clenching the medium-sized box behind his back until his knuckles turned white, Hongjoong was caught in a myriad of regrets. They seemed to enjoy rearing their heads only some time after their source could have been easily amended. Now, the best that could be done was to learn how to sew with actions, and hope that the crude string could turn to gold as time went by. Otherwise, the shared reality would fall apart at the seams.

There was no reason for you to forgive him, he realised that to his terror. With his work swallowing him whole, sleep schedule leaving him winded and the day rendering his ability to function outside of scheduled activities to be non-existent, he had become downright neglectful, both of himself, and even worse, you. You had no part in his mistakes when it came to planning, and yet he was making you suffer the consequences. After having spent months in united bliss, Hongjoong had to admit – he had gotten comfortable.

It was easy to assume that you were never going to leave his side. You were his angel. Kindhearted and understanding, he could never comprehend why and how you could be how you were. Utterly selfless, you were his confidence, his anchor and clarity. He never told you, but one of his favourite moments had been when, after work, you had surprised him with a visit to his studio. Sharing your favourite snacks and enjoying your favourite music, you two were immersed in your own universe. He enjoyed the moments you had made him forget about time. Until it caught up with him. But you were who you were, so you would understand him, right?

And that, you did. He was on cloud nine when you had said, in response to an allusion to a busier period, that you fully appreciated his unpredictable schedule, and that you wholeheartedly respected if, sometimes, he needed to fully prioritise work, so long as he communicated. Sounded like a dream, with which he had agreed on the spot. But as the ideas, the projects, the recordings kept on piling up, so did the number of times he would say ‘later’ when it came to reaching out to you. When was ‘later’?

» [i'd rather be alone by boodahki] « 0:00 ─〇───── 2:22 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

“Hey Joongie!” you exclaimed, waving shyly as your boyfriend opened the door to his studio. You had to knock quite a few times, much to your surprise. You had even informed him of your arrival and checked with him whether he would be free.

“Oh, Y/N. Hey… what are you doing here?” you stopped dead on your tracks, midway across the room, while Hongjoong had remained by the door, holding it open and appearing to be deep in thought, albeit a little lost.

“I… I sent you a text. And you responded, by the way. With a thumbs up.” You felt childish elaborating this. The canned coffee in your bag suddenly began to feel far too heavy.

Confusion was written all over his face, as he finally shut the door – an action which you swore had been done with severe hesitation. He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? You looked over the place where, evidently he had been borderline living who knew how long. The lights had been dimmed, while the computer screens were glaring like lighthouses into the musical ocean. A blanket was draped over one of the arm rests of the couch, and a pillow was thoroughly beaten up and stuck in one of its corners. So, he had been sleeping here too. In order words, the opposite of what you had been asking him to do for the past… however long.

You had lost count of the times you had the conversation that Hongjoong should take better care of himself. There had even been a couple of instances that you had called Seonghwa, fellow ATEEZ member and resident ‘mother’, to team up with what Hongjoong undoubtedly considered to be nagging. That was pretty much how you had bonded with the eldest, and formed the Hongjoong protection front. But now, as you stood in said man’s studio, you felt like you were treading on unwelcome territories, invading his safe space and making him unbelievably uncomfortable.

“What… are you… working on?” you whispered, a sheepish grin on your face as you let your boyfriend walk right past you. What if you had merely caught him at a bad time, and he was annoyed at something other than yourself? What if a computer program had crashed and there was no recovery file?

He plopped back down on the spinning office chair next to the equipment and set up, not bothering to invite you to take a seat anywhere around him. In the light coming from the screen, you noticed the dark circles, half hidden by a pair of glasses, weighing on his features, so deep that you could call them designer. He was pallid and haggard, clicking away while in a zoned-out state. He was attempting to be discreet, replacing all the open files with some others from the same applications, but you were not that ignorant to not notice practically all the loops, and instrumental tracks that were on Ableton change. You squinted in suspicion. So, what was he hiding? Only once you leaned in, and were within centimetres of him, did Hongjoong honour you with a response.

“A new track. Just, you know, some thoughts here and there. Nothing special.”

“When you say it’s nothing special, whatever it is ends up being a masterpiece, so I am very much intrigued! Also, why the secrets? I know you switched the tracks up. Not the best at being sneaky, I’ll be honest with you.” You responded, trying to keep yourself as neutral as possible in your delivery, even though it was a challenge to not get upset. You bit back your comment on him probably not wanting you in his space – you were not even asking for a hug, just… a softer look. The bare minimum.

“Uh…” caught off-guard, Hongjoong scrambled for excuses. But only found your desperation. He could not sustain your gaze, eyes darting back to his keyboard. He began to spin the rings on his fingers to distract himself, their intricate detail providing him with an escape. “Seriously, it is nothing. I was just… working, and caught up in a lot of things. You know how it is.”

So, it was on you now, apparently. Your apparent lack of understanding. Were you not patient enough? Were your basic human needs for affection and for a simple conversation too much? ‘You know’… oh yes. You knew that this was disrespectful. This had not been the first time you had been to the studio, in fact, the production team knew you well enough to leave you to your own devices in this room, and even let you in when Hongjoong was not here. But this was the first time you wanted to bolt and not look back, due to how scalding the coldness of your boyfriend’s approach was. Before your heart was to freeze over entirely, you tried one last time to bridge the gap:

“Is everything okay Joong? It’s just, well… I feel a bit distant lately, so I wanted to visit. If it is a bad time I understand and-”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong cut you off, not daring to look up at you. Your heart was beginning to shatter, and the sickly, suffocating silence that followed his response was doing nothing to soothe you.

“Yeah?” barely a whisper escaping your lips as your hands dropped to your side after keeping them intertwined, as if in prayer.

“A bad time. If you don’t mind.” you were not going to cry, you were not going to cry… you kept on repeating to yourself. It was not the first time you heard these words from him, quite frankly you encouraged open communication and setting of boundaries, but not when there already was an abyss forming between the two of you and you were desperately trying to salvage what was left. To no avail.

“Dang. Hah. Okay. Yeah. Sure. Fine. Well. See you. Then. I guess.” You stuttered out, in deep shock, and spun around to shoot out of the room. You could not bear to stay here any longer. The coffee was just going to have to deal with staying in your fridge. Or better, if you saw anyone you knew in the corridors, they could enjoy it with someone who cared.

The door slammed shut and woke Hongjoong up from his trance. He was exhausted, and could barely piece sentences together. The number of hours he had slept in the past week was clearly not enough. Your arrival was almost like that of a divine apparition: floated in, floated out. Blurry figure in his eyes. He could not properly register what you were saying, but figured that you were probably curious in what he had been up to. But Hongjoong could not say. He could not expose himself to you like that. Not when he had a grand masterplan in the making - pretty much the reason why he could not rest. He envisioned himself playing it to you on Valentine's Day, and as it finished, to be there, on one knee, waiting.

But now instead of continuing to work on it, he cursed at himself and began to search for his phone. Five calls and seven texts later, he pressed his face into his hands, the conversation that he had just dared to have with you screaming back at him in his head.

» [seasons by wave to earth] « 0:00 ─〇───── 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Song: seasons – wave to earth

As you walked, your shoes letting out a clicking sound with every step you took, you could not believe that this could be the end. You had concluded that you had acted rashly. Maybe that meeting, and a calm conversation would have been enough to change things. You did not have to set such demands, with you and him hanging by a thread, your entire relationship, more than a year on the line. So what if he was to be colder than you wanted towards you. That was ‘just Hongjoong’, and if he had to be that way, so be it. You could learn to get used to it and appreciate it. Just like his night and day not having particular hours. You could just pretend that for that collection of moments, he was in a different time zone. It would be easy then. Had you just a little more patience.

The scarf you had gifted him without any specific occasion aside from the fact that it was getting cold, tightly wrapped around him with the material pushing up and covering most of his chin. How adorable he looked with his hair having been tousled by the winter wind, that was growing warmer as the spring was starting to fight for its turn. The closer you got to the man who still was fully in control of your thoughts and feelings, the harder it was to subdue your trepidation. If you could be a third person, acting in the role of an observer, you would cover your eyes, fast forward, skip the scene. You felt the greatest loneliness not when you were alone, but when you were with a person who you could not understand, and one who could not understand you.

Had you a little more patience, you could have dedicated more time to learning his habits and behaviours. If you had more time, what you did not have otherwise, to rearrange your mind palace into a cosy hut so he could visit, then you could be one of those couples who did not even need to speak to understand each other. Finish each other’s sentences, and whatnot. That was how things were supposed to be for happy couples, right?

But you were running on empty. With only one last hope in the form of Hongjoong, standing there, waiting for you in the middle of the park where you had had your first date. As you had told him to exactly a month ago. Not a second went by when you did not want to call him, but for the sake of proving to yourself that you could survive without him if you wanted to, you waited. Right up until the day that you had marked on the calendar hanging in your room.

You were grateful that it was sunny, otherwise the season would be far too similar to the turmoil you were concealing, and you were afraid that you would not be able to hold back. Just imagining Hongjoong hidden under an umbrella, in the same place as he was now, gazing in your direction, was enough to send your thoughts into a frenzied spin. Rain had always made you think of him. The only reason why you had come to love autumn. Rain was an extension of Hongjoong’s warm embrace, and made you think of times you had spent tucked away indoors, together, listening to song after song, enjoying each other’s presence.

There you were. Standing right in front of him, unreadable and untouchable. The young man was unsure of how to begin, even though he had spent many nights rehearsing, down to every gesture that he was supposed to make. But as soon as his eyes met yours, and spotted their magical glimmer, he could not breathe, let alone utter a single word.

» [gone gone gone (dream edit) by HONNE] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:09 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

After two weeks of radio silence, followed by the meeting at the café, you had slammed the brakes so hard Hongjoong’s world came crashing down. It was at that moment he wholeheartedly realised just how horrifically he had treated you and disregarded your humanity. For being a captain and, supposedly, a responsible man, he had behaved like a walking trainwreck, and no clue as to how to even begin to pick up the pieces. He could only trace back the steps, and come to understand just how many times he had not realised that what you were doing, and choosing, you were doing for him.

You never played up your workload and did not let it creep into the time you had dedicated to Hongjoong. Similarly, you were not one to dump all the happenings of the day onto your boyfriend, out of the worry that he was already juggling too many things at once. There were some advantages to this – you were able to remain level-headed and reassess your climbing anxieties. But at the same time, was this not another form of a lie? To him, you were never busy, when in reality you were almost always overwhelmed and struggling to keep your head above the water. There was the overtime – your colleagues constantly offloading their tasks onto you, since you were the junior, and apparently that meant you could be exploited. There was the derogation – you had somehow become the target of the gossip chain, and it was commonplace to hear comments about you around the office, some half true, some so false they could barely even be associated with you. There was the spiral into which you sank in the times when you were left alone with your thoughts for far too long, the blame, the constant ache, the fear, the idea that you were not deserving of anything and that was why you kept on experiencing the things you did. Because that was where you were meant to be. But Hongjoong did not need to know all that, he had enough to worry about.

You had let all your concerns bubble over into a crisis, and something that might have been one conversation was now a make or break. If he cared to listen, if he cared enough to treat you like his significant other and not empty space, then you would promise, and act on said promise, to learn to be more open about your not so happy times too. But until then, you were to drive yourself mad and ignore Hongjoong’s attempts to contact you in the same fashion as he had done – always busy, always at work, always unavailable for him specifically.

If he had a questionable sleep schedule before, he had none now. Walking around like a zombie, he had grown so sluggish that he physically could not keep time to any music, and registered any conversation around him slower than the worst video game lag. Even Yeosang was impressed by how many times the members had to repeat what they had said to him. Hongjoong did not want this ‘us’ to fall apart, but was clueless as to how to fix anything, whether it was even possible. A misery that he could not shake, amplified by the visions of you in every object, every moment, every passer-by. It was always you, and yet he wordlessly crossed it out into a never. A villain, undeserving of your unconditional love. Could it be for the better-

“You’re bringing the mood down so low that I can almost see your cooking skill.”

“Huh?” Hongjoong raised his head to find Seonghwa standing in front of him. Recently he had been practically locked away in the studio – while before it had been maybe for half a day, now it could easily be upwards of two or three. The vending machine down the corridor became his trusty supporter.

Seonghwa looked less than impressed at the leader’s position – splayed out on the couch, the same hoodie enveloping his ghostly form for the fourth day now, eyes bloodshot. After giving you a spontaneous call and seeing you in a similar situation, though you were better at hiding it than Hongjoong, he put two and two together. Something had happened between the two of you, and that needed to be sorted out, pronto.

“So, your speech level stopped about there too?” Seonghwa crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. He kicked Hongjoong’s shin, and commanded: “Get up, you sack of potatoes. You have a love to save.”

“How did you-”

“I know you, Joong. And you would not be playing the most sappy, sad songs on loop if you weren’t in a deep feels hole. Now, what did you do?”

“Hwa, I’m so stupid…” he wailed, covering his face with the sleeves of his hoodie that slipped over his hands. Squeezing his legs to his chest, he wanted to become as small as he could, or disappear so that he would no longer be an inconvenience for you. You would be so much happier without him.

“Tell me something I don’t know. What did you do?”

“They are gone… Hwa… they are gone, gone… so gone…”

“No yet they aren’t. I spoke to them this morning and wow, Hongjoong. You really screwed up. But they are a saint. So, instead of doing… this,” Seonghwa gestured towards his friend, “You should use those rusty gears in your noggin and do what you can actually do to get at least something back on track.”

Seonghwa sat down beside Hongjoong, leaning over to put his elbows on his knees and rest his head on his palms. There was a comical similarity between the captain and you. Both of you were so desperate to not burden one another, that you ended up hurting each other in the process. It seemed that sometimes, love could turn out to be too much and turn into a weapon. Without conversation, without sharing the soul there could never be a harmonious duet. For this piece to continue, Hongjoong needed to follow through and show he was willing to switch up the melody, destroy the discord and continue the musical journey together with you. Otherwise, Seonghwa’s friend would find himself as a solo artist in a few weeks’ time.

“Is there really anything I can do to be better?”

“Be there. How did you show them you were there before?”

“Well, I have the track in the works, but-”

“Yeah, don’t even think about proposing right now. That would just be downright manipulative. You have some issues to settle first. How?”

“…I think I have an idea.”

Funny how everything was to be decided on Valentine's Day.

» [we go down together by dove cameron, khalid] « 0:00 ─〇───── 3:04 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

“Hi.” He mumbled airily, attempting to quietly clear his throat. The lump that had lodged itself in it, the jumble of emotion and nervousness, remained motionless.

“Hi.” You mirrored, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your coat, glancing off to the side. It was too much for you to keep the eye contact if you were to remain standing.

Two people on the verge of breaking. Fumbling for a way to rewind, and repeat the path that they had traversed together, avoiding the pitfalls. Bold to assume that either of you knew what the future would hold, making promises that you could not keep until they formed their own tragic symphony, haunting you into your and his isolation, respectively. This was why one fell in love, instead of rising above the clouds, proclaiming this to be their forever. Love was a thorned path that challenged vulnerability and the natural tendency of people to run and abandon. You were brave, braver than Hongjoong could ever be, giving him more chances than he ever deserved.

“So…”

“So?”

“I am…” he took a shallow breath, collecting himself. His eyes fluttered shut as he recalled his preparations and began.

“I am very, deeply, sorry. I know that no apology would ever be able to heal the hurt that I had inflicted upon you. And for that, I am sorry. I know that I am not able to turn back time and make the right decisions, and for that I am sorry. I know that I have, again and again, taken you for granted and your kindness was exploited by me, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for ever making you think that you were not loved. I am sorry for not being there when you needed me most. I am sorry for not being enough and for not giving the bare minimum while you gave me the universe.”

You felt your legs grow weak as he spoke, and when he reached out with one hand to support you, you let him. Biting your lower lip, you attempted to stifle the building cry. Hongjoong searched for your eyes once again, leaning until he was only a few centimetres away. He dropped his volume to a whisper, and let his hand travel to yours, fingers intertwining.

“I am so unbelievably grateful for you giving me this opportunity to even see you again… even though I don’t think I deserve it one bit after how I had made you feel. I… I lost the rhythm. I failed us and I failed what we had been fighting for. I made you carry the load when you already have so much to consider, so much to work so hard for. It is too much to ask, I know, but if we can stay as a ‘we’, it would be an honour to continue our composition. Through thick and thin. Come rain or some shine. Go down and go up together. I love you, and I would never dare to feel otherwise.”

Inhale. Exhale. You mentally counted the moments flying by.

“This is not much at all. And you do not have to accept it, but… remember our playlists? The ones that we would make together for any mood that existed?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, this… this selection is for us. Now. Right this moment. Reliving the days that we had spent too far from each other, presenting them in these songs. I am not too good with words, but I want to prove to you now, and in the future, if you let me, that I am here. And I am willing to keep on going, for you, with you.”

Hongjoong revealed the box behind him, and opened the lid to reveal a DVD, a player and small headphones – a set which he had showed you some time ago, a ‘trophy’ which he had found while thrifting. You took the DVD out of the box, reading what had been written on the disk in sharpie.

I really love you but I’m not good with words so here you go

He helped you put the headphones on, and guided you to a nearby bench, and patiently waited as you listened to each track in the collection. He watched for any reaction from you, concern growing as you remained motionless.

Until the last song. Abruptly, you rushed to grab the player, and hit the rewind button until you were at the beginning of the song again, and closed your eyes. Soon enough, you did the same thing again. And once more. When you felt Hongjoong’s hand touching yours, in an attempt to awaken you from your daydream, you opened your eyes and broke into a bittersweet grin, clicking pause. Finally, an understanding between you. You scooted closer to him, and tilted your head until it was against his shoulder, and sighed.

“I don’t want this song to end, Hongjoong.”

“Neither do I.”

“You better keep it going, music man.”

“Only with you as co-producer. Rewind.” He motioned a circle with the index finger of his free hand, and you slapped it playfully with your own.

“And remix.”

[nifolution]

I Quit 3

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is written in 3rd person. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts are in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Chapter 2 Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Y/N welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.

Y/N was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody. 

She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”

Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?

Y/N firmly answered, “I did.”

The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”

“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Y/N. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”

Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Y/N, that's a lovely name.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”

His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”

This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.

What an ass.

Was he cute, absolutely. But Y/N was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.

Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.

---------------

A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands. 

Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.

It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he’d find out.

“You'd look better with your hair down.”

Y/N didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”

“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”

“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis. 

Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.

No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Y/N smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.

Damn he smelled good.

Chapter 4

[jaimebrienneonline]

Fun with Fics

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

(I got this twice in my inbox, so here goes.)

1. The Wine Is Not Enough

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

2. The Seduction

Jaime lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulled back and began kicking off his shoes. "Fine. See. You've won. I yield. You can have your way with me."

3. Vows

He shifted on the bed to lean back against the pillows, angling himself to her. “I left you unprotected in the North. Did that Wildling try to steal you? Did you let him?” His eyes glittered with something she didn’t understand. “Is that why you’re trying to refuse me?”

“No one stole me. Why would anyone even try? I’m not a possession to be stolen,” she huffed.

4. Age Gap

“Seriously though, Tyrion, what’s the point in having a sexy young girlfriend if I can’t have her hold up restaurant menus to prove I can read them from a distance?”

5. The Right Time

He rose from his seat and turned around, facing the bear-like man. With a deliberate swipe of his stump, he knocked the unopened cup to the floor before leaning his perfect muscular backside against the edge of her desk. His voice was like shards of ice as he spoke to the investigator. “Brienne already has plans for lunch. With me.” He then stood straight and took a step closer to the other man. “She has plans today. Tomorrow. Every lunch. Every day. Every dinner, too.”

6. Life's Sweetest Reward

Brienne shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Shuffleboard tournament.” After watching the other couples at parasailing yesterday, she thought she and Jaime were probably the most athletic ‘couple’ on board. “If Jaime manages to get up in time, we’ll likely win.”

Howland drew back from her and his previous affable expression turned into something much harder. Jyana touched his hand, a look of alarm on her face.

“Jya and I have been on ninety-seven cruises. We compete in the shuffleboard tournament every single time.” He leaned in then, his voice dark and low, “And we always win.”

7. The Kingslayer's Speech

No matter how she argued that the first kiss had been an accident, (did you trip and fall into my lips, wench?), he had insisted that he was entitled to a kiss with every goodbye now. It was his due, he said. Just to shut him up, she’d smacked her lips against his and sent him on his way.

8. The Singular Discomfort of Jaime Lannister

He hadn’t thought it possible to be this hard and not explode. “Are you,” he paused, needing to catch his breath, “are you asking me to tell you about the hot, dirty things I want to do to you?”

9. Everyone Has a Price

Aunt Myranda (wife of Stafford, mother of Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle), passed around tequila shots while discussing the benefits of erectile dysfunction medication, but the drawbacks of four-hour erections.

10. Words in the Dark Night

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

----

Okay..this was a lot of fun. Thank you. I haven't double checked all the links, but you can find all my fics by just clicking one and then my user name. I can't always connect writers to tumblrs, so I'm going with the first few I remember. @ddagent @writergirl2011 @seaspiritwrites @glamaphonic @isolacaramella @quizzicalquinnia @ladym-rules @wackygoofball @wildlingoftarth @bussdowntarthiana

[hello-nichya-here]

Why did Zuko feel compassion towards victims of war (Song, that couple's unborn baby) but Azula hasn't? Because she didn't have her own "Iroh" or because she wasn't as much exposed to the other environment?

Before we even discuss Azula, let's remember that despite Zuko's compassion towards others being very real, we cannot forget a few important aspects of these moments of pre-redemption kindness.

After bonding with Song, who had just helped him and his uncle, he stole her ostrige-horse (which Iroh went along with, though showing much more remorse than Zuko - aka any remorse at all).

Even though he didn't steal from that couple because he saw that the woman was pregnant, he still said "the people should be giving stuff to us" because that's what he was used to as a prince adn robbed plenty of people in the Earth Kingdom, taking both food and money, but also stuff he absolutely did not need to survive - to the point that Iroh tried to make him see that this was wrong, to which Zuko said that they would no longer gain anything by travelling together, as a very clear "I'll do whatever I think I should/am entitled to do."

And, of course, even though Zuko DID eventually feel compassion for all of Earth Kingdom in general (we see proof of it when turns his back on his father and joins the Gaang) we cannot forget that, even after that, he did go back to the very nation that was oppressing and killing them, even when Iroh had made it very clear "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good" clearly meaning "It's time to leave your old life behind and help stop your father", and only left when he was forced to think of the consequences of his actions as Ozai planned to burn everything to the ground, and Zuko was disgusted at himself for not speaking out against it.

These are important things to keep in mind because they show us that:

1 - Even when one is removed from the environment they grew up in, it still affects their world-view in the long term (Zuko had been banished for three years after all).

2 - Selective compassion is a thing, and it can be a result of "desperate times, desperate measures" (see Iroh stealing the ostrige-horse even he clearly didn't want to do that), of literal indoctrination and pleasant lies to excuse your bad actions (see Sozin starting the war to "share the Fire Nation's great way of life with others", regardless of them wanting it or not), of the classic "This thing I'm doing WOULD be bad in normal circumstances, but it's totally okay right now because it's a war and they are not on my side" justification, and of just thinking your life is way more important than anyone else's so screwing them over without necessity is fine.

3 - Changing one's whole mentality is a long, difficult process, in which is very common for the person to constantly take one step forwards then two steps back for quite some time before fully moving on.

4 - Having a mentor/support system is nice, but at the end of the day people make their own choices, and it doesn't matter if you tell them (gently or sternly) "You're making a huge mistake" because if they don't see it that way, there's nothing you can do to force them to understand where you're coming from.

Now, let's finally discuss Azula. Much like Zuko, she was raised in a deeply dysfunctional family that gave her all the wrong lessons about how relationships are supposed to work, AND said family was also royalty of an imperialist nation that had normalized war and genocide nearly a whole century before she was born. And unlike Zuko, she did not have someone to even try to guide her towards the right path.

To make matters worse, she's also "Ozai's right hand" and his favorite child for most of the show - which in this context means she's the child soldier that has been brainwashed the most AND the kid that is the least likely to recognize she's being taken advantage of because every unfair thing Ozai demans of her (and that often has very serious consequences for others) is framed as her duty both as his daughter and heir, and as a potential way to gain some of the love and validation the bastard is well aware his children crave.

EVEN WORSE, all the stress Azula was put under psychologically destroyed her - and has made her paranoid. Meaning that even if someone were to try and step up to help her now, she would be convinced that they are either secretly ploting to harm her, or at the very least that they are trying to fool her because they need something from her.

For Azula to ever be able to see the error of her ways, she'd need:

1 - To recover from her breakdown and have a support system of people she trusts.

2 - These people would need to push her to see that the war hurt her, the people she loves, the people of the Fire Nation, and the people of the other nations (yes, in that order). They'd also need to be ready to deal with her taking one step forward, two steps back, just like Zuko did, because as I've already explained this is a long, complicated process.

3 - Recovered and willing to admit that the war was a terrible thing that never should have happened, she'd spend sometime with amongst some of the people it affected the most (that can mean anything from "lots of conversations with Aang and the rest of the group when they visit Zuko" all the way to "life-changing field trip with Zuzu to help rebuild the Earth Kingdom/Air Temples/Water Tribe(s), it really just depends on what you'd like to see in a story)

[niffala]

I Quit (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom

A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 2   Series Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Elizabeth welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.

Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody. 

She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”

Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?

Elizabeth firmly answered, “I did.”

The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”

“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Elizabeth. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”

Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Elizabeth, that's a lovely name.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”

His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”

This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.

What an ass.

Was he cute, absolutely. But Elizabeth was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.

Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.

---------------

A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands. 

Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.

It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he’d find out.

“You'd look better with your hair down.”

Elizabeth didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”

“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”

“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis. 

Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.

No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Elizabeth smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.

Damn he smelled good.

Chapter 4

[squirrelno2]

Jesse Lives AU, pt 5

(learned my lesson, wrote this on Google docs even though I hate it. This experience of course will still not get me to take my computer in to the repair shop because executive dysfunction is Real)

For real this time, Jesse and Jale get the hell away from the Venator wreck, and it's the last time for a while I milk the image of the clone graves for angst. In this series anyway.

Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4

Next

"I still need that monitor," Jale said. Jesse once again wondered why he'd gone along with the crazy theelin.

"You can't reach it," he pointed out, not sure why he was bothering.

"It's grab that or go raid the medbay," Jale said. Jesse had been avoiding medical since Kix disappeared, and he certainly wasn't going to go in there now with the bodies of vode Maul had attacked lying there, dead in the midst of recovery. He was having a hard enough time not thinking things like "Kix would have saved them" as it was.

"Fine. Just… stay there for a second. Don't do anything stupid, if you can manage it."

He knelt to untie the rope from around the walkway, then put it around Jale's waist. He pulled it tight with more effort than he needed, and ended up tugging Jale closer. Jesse stepped back; he was not at all struck by the fact that Jale's eyes were brown when the rest of them was so brightly colored.

"Keep one hand on that," he commanded. Jale almost immediately ignored him as they turned back to the monitor they wanted, leaning out once more with one hand on the equipment to steady it as they worked. Jesse gritted his teeth and wrapped the rope around his hands another time, bracing himself for Jale's next dumb move.

Amazingly, the scavenger managed to finish the job this time, and they threw themself backwards with the monitor clutched to their chest. The walkway shuddered under them. Jesse, having no desire to die for this bottom-feeder, tugged Jale up.

"Let's go before your bullshit brings the whole place down." He got to work untying the rope once more, then resecured it to the walkway.

The descent was more painful than Jesse wanted to admit. His head was pounding, and all the activity was reminding him just how many cuts and bruises he'd picked up in the crash. Normally, he'd already have gotten looked at by a medic. Even with Kix gone Jesse couldn't bring himself to ignore his brother's advice, and the medics in the 332nd were willing to come to him instead of forcing him into the medbay. They all remembered Kix, too.

But now Jesse was really, fully alone, and when he staggered upon reaching the floor he realised again what that meant.

Rather than dwell, he looked at Jale.

"Tell me that's the last of it."

For a second, he thought the scavenger would protest. Then, strangely, Jale nodded.

"We can go," they said.

The wind had picked up. As they reached the place where Jale left the speeder, Jesse heard a rattling - helmets knocking against the sticks on which they were mounted. He lifted his gaze to the sky and tried not to listen.

Jale made him sit in front, though they were also emphatic about Jesse not being the one to drive.

"Can you even see over my head?"

"Your bloody head? Yes. Good thing you don't have hair. If you wanna drive, stand up and walk in a straight line for me."

Jesse had thought his unsteadiness had gone unnoticed. He scowled as Jale finished securing the fuel to the speeder and sat down behind him.

"Was there anything else you needed?" Jale asked awkwardly. Jesse tensed.

Clones didn't have much. Armour, blasters, whatever contraband they picked up over the years. Jesse's small collection of the latter had been passed over to Kix when he became an ARC trooper, and subsequently disappeared with Kix. The blasters were technically the property of the Republic, which no longer existed and also had ordered Jesse to point them at his two Commanders for reasons he didn't understand.

As for his armour…

He turned to look at the place where his helmet was mounted. Jale turned, too, and sucked in a sharp breath that told Jesse they'd figured out what he was looking at.

"I'm good," he said. He passed Jale the helmet he'd borrowed. "Let's go."

[theweirdwideweb]

I'm feeling so sad about this whole thing and I don't have anyone to talk to so I guess it's you, internet.

This evaluation was horrific. First they had me lay on my side and they stuck sensors on either side of my butthole. They inserted a catheter and told me to squeeze, relax, and then push like I was trying to poop. This process repeated 6 times, each time pulling it out 1 centimeter to get different readings. I didn't have a correct understanding of the balloon test going in. What they actually did is start inflating the balloon and I had to tell them 1) when I could first feel it, 2) when it felt like I had to poop, and 3) when it felt like an emergency run-for-the-bathroom type poop. Okay so that's all bad enough. Next they take me to a room with a big scanning machine. I lay down on my side and they used a syringe to fill up my ass and pussy with a viscous barium solution intended to mimic the texture of feces. I'm laying on my side on the horizontal bed, then the whole bed starts going vertical I have to let myself slide onto a "toilet" they set up underneath me. I don't know if I'm describing this well enough but the entire table is now vertical and I'm sitting on a toilet seat over a bucket with the table to my right and the scanner to my left. They tell me to try and poop it out so I'm pooping this white barium solution in front of these doctors until I say I can't get anything else out. They have my step off the machine, NO WIPING, and sit on another toilet they have set up which is just a toilet seat sitting over a mirror. I had to push like I was pooping with this doctor looking in the mirror at my asshole.

Finally they gave me some babywipes and a pad and I could put my clothes back on. Went into the next room to hear my results. So. I have pelvic floor dysfunction.

My puborectalis muscle, shown here, is frozen tight. My asshole is extremely good at clamping shut, normal at relaxing, but when I try to evacuate it causes my sphincter to clench. I think I'm trying to open my butthole, but it' s closing tighter instead. That's why I can only pass very very soft stool unaided. Sometimes I've noticed that it comes out looking skinny like noodles and I guess that's why. Not only that, but it's cause my rectum to prolapse internally. Here's an example marked "R".

This is why I've had to use a thumb up the puss to manually evacuate, because I have a prolapsed rectum. I have to get physical therapy to unfreeze my puborectalis muscle, god knows how, and then I need surgery to fix the prolapse.

I'm just so depressed. It's not like I need any more proof that I have complex PTSD, but it's genuinely shocking to see it manifest this way inside my body. My poor abused body. I've been walking around with this muscle malfunctioning, not being able to use the bathroom, damaging my internal organs, for 25 years. I searched it on the C-PTSD board and other people say the physical therapy is triggering but has changed so much about their bodies---how they walk, how they experience sex. I just feel like giving up. I'm so so so so broken. My brain is broken, my body is broken. I'm turning 37 in 2 weeks. My youth has passed me by while I was busy being a drug addict, alcoholic, traumatized, hurting, angry, and wound up so tight inside. I know this isn't a rational thought but I keep thinking, What's even the point of trying to fix myself now? My life is halfway over already and the 2nd half isn't the point. I'm single, significantly mentally ill, fat and misshapen, I have a prolapsed rectum from being sexually abused, I have body dysmorphia and I'm scared of men. No one has ever been in love with me and no one ever will. It's the one thing I want and it's like there's this thousand foot tall steel barrier of sickness keeping me out. All I want is for someone to hold me and care about me and to stay. What's the point of anything without that? I'll be okay I just needed to express this.

So I haven't been able to poop normal for about ~25 years. Chronic constipation since Y2K, can you imagine it? I had to get an appendectomy at 15 for impacted stool! Years went by and I've always just dealt with it taking laxatives, enemas, suppositories, or honestly been so disconnected from my body that I just let it go. I'm talking when I'm not taking laxatives I poop maybe once a week and it's terrible. Miserable all the time. I had a colonoscopy last month, then a followup with a GI specialist. We talked about what's wrong with my butt and settled on pelvic floor dysfunction. Essentially my muscles are weak down there and my butthole can't open all the way. I've got to stick a thumb up my puss to help evacuate manually (I literally have no idea how males deal with this issue). Tomorrow I'm going in for my official pelvic floor examination. They're going to stick a catheter up my asshole, inflate a balloon, and see if I can poop it out. I'm depressed though because guess what? In my case it's 99% probability that this dysfunction was caused by abuse. I got molested so hard as a kid that I haven't been able to poop since 9/11. I make jokes ya know, hee hee haw haw 9/11, etc, but that's actually so fucked up. I honestly don't think I will be able to poop this balloon. I think they're going to have to extract it manually.

[messrsbyler]

Today I'm here to talk about how from season one we are shown how Mike was forced to grow up and mature at a very young age given the dysfunctional dynamics of his family, the neglect he was put through and how he's been left to fence for himself as if he was an adult.

There's many scenes where Mike's attitude and behaviors make a contrast from Dustin and Lucas, even though they are exposed to the same situations. For example, when Hopper questions them and Dustin and Lucas start bickering over whether Mirkwood is a reference from the Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit, Mike is sitting in the middle trying to convince Hopper they can help as well and that they should be out there to find Will. This isn't because Dustin or Lucas don't care about Will as much as Mike does, but immediately we see Mike taking over the role of leader of the group with a much serious approach to the situation.

Where this is even more evident is at the beginning of Episode 2 when the guys bring El to Mike's basement and interact with her. Here is how that goes down:

Mike: "Is there a number we can call? For your parents?

Dustin: "Where is your hair? Do you have cancer?!"

Lucas: "Did you run away?!"

Mike: "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Lucas: "Is that blood?" *reaches out to touch the blood*

Then Mike stops Lucas saying he's freaking El out. When things get complicated over what to do with El, Mike immediately comes up with a plan for the next day so they all stay out of trouble and can go out there the next night to go and find Will.

Now, keeping in mind that these are twelve years old we are talking about, Dustin and Lucas' reaction to El make sense with how a kid could react. A bit of curiosity, a bit of hesitance and awe, asking questions like of El has cancer because her hair is buzzed and trying to touch the blood on her clothes. Mike, however, takes the approach I would expect from an adult, immediately asking for a number to contact and if the strange girl he found in the woods is okay or in trouble. Instead of giving into his curiosity and awe like Dustin and Lucas, Mike pushes that away and gets to the point in order to help El and learn more about the situation so he can understand how he can solve it.

Then when El tries to take off her clothes we again see this contrast. Dustin and Lucas freak out and turn away, both probably embarrassed and weirded out that a girl just tried to take off her shirt in front of them. And honestly, it makes sense for Mike to feel the same way, but he still instead reaches out to El to kindly stop her and show her the bathroom where she can change. He steps up in the situation and takes control of it. Then when El tells her she doesn't want the door closed, Mike is quick to learn how to communicate with her in order to make her feel comfortable around him (like a protective figure would).

Once Dustin and Lucas leave his house, Mike shows El where she will sleep and they sit down to talk. Now, this is an interesting part of their dynamic because THIS is the first time since meeting El that Mike allows himself to behave like a kid just like Dustin and Lucas had been acting before. When Mike sees El's tattoo he drops trying to control the situation like an adult would and reaches to touch the tattoo because he is a kid and he's never seen another kid with a tattoo, it's something new that surprises him and he acts on that surprise. And then El pulls away and Mike is quick to apologize and pull back as well, and just like that he's back on seizing control of the situation and acting like the grown up between them.

The next day we see Mike also allowing himself to behave more his age around El, showing him around and making impressions for her with his toys, but El is mostly uninterested going around on her own and looking around the house. (This because, in my opinion, El from the first moment is more interested in a parental/protector type of relationship with Mike since she doesn't know what a friend is and doesn't know that type of relationship can even exist. Then El learns about what a friend is but by then Mike has been pushed into a romantic type of dynamic with El by Lucas and Nancy). And then El sees Will's picture and she reveals she knows Will and saw him, and Mike is back on being the leader, the one that makes the plans and doesn't allow himself to be surprised over small things or get distracted with toys and games when his best friend is missing.

So, yeah. Mike has always been in a rush to grow up, but during the first and second season I see it more being an unconscious process for him that comes from being neglected by his family. Then, by season three, Mike takes an active role in wanting to grow up fast and leave all the "childish" things behind in order to fill his role as El's boyfriend.

It's interesting to think how running out of time is Mike's thing in ST, and how that's linked to Mike rushing through life as if he had no seconds to waste because he is either after something or something is chasing him.

I see how El exacerbates these feelings in Mike, that also link to him wanting to pretend to be someone else that's worthy of being with El, from season one when Mike tries to lie to El about the wound on his chin because he doesn't want El to know he gets bullied at school, to Mike wearing that outfit at the airport that's a knockoff of real brands and that, we know, is not his style at all.

Now, of course I HAVE to link this to Byler. And, well, just thinking how Mike was forced to mature at a really young age, how he's pushed into thinking he should be embarrassed about the things he enjoys, about how he thinks he has to pretend to be someone he's not in order to get the "normal" everyone seems to want. And how then there's Will, the one person that tells Mike things don't have to be like that, that on this the rest of the world is wrong because yes, they can stay in Mike's basement and play games for the rest of their lives, they can keep on enjoying their favorite board game, they can make plans to retire at a young age and play Nintendo for a living. Will tries to tell Mike that it is okay if he wants those things, that it's nothing he should avoid or feel ashamed of, that they don't have to stop being kids because the world and the Upside Down keeps making them soldiers, fighting battles they should've never had to fight.

Because Will wants all of that, and Mike wants it too. But Mike knows he's not supposed to. He knows he should want something different, something like what the rest of the people want because otherwise he'll be different. And for now, it is Will the one that's okay with being different because Mike is there, and Mike makes Will feel like it's okay being different, that he shouldn't feel like a mistake at all. And I think Mike has put so much effort into not being different, that he hasn't stopped to think that maybe it could be good, until season four happens and the van scene happens.

There's a TON more of this I wanted to write about but this will do for now.

Anyhow, love Mike Wheeler and how disturbed he's on the inside.

[murphysletsdraw]

How to (efficiently) hand wash dishes

Despite good intentions and decent physical ability, you often walk into the kitchen to find a mess. Dirty dishes piled high, no clean utensils to cook with and old food scraps and mysterious goo making the room feel awful. When you try to wash up you don't know where to start, it feels impossible and takes longer than it should have to, so you avoid doing it and soon get stuck with just as big a mess a few days later. If this sounds familiar, I’ve written this tutorial with you in mind. In other words, my aim is to help a person with executive dysfunction/brain fog/burn out and/or limited experience with housework to deal with a big pile of dishes in a messy, dirty kitchen in a logical, step-by-step way with the minimum of effort. For context: I am cognitively (and physically) disabled and after inventing this method for washing dishes my kitchen has gone from “always dangerously dirty” to “almost always clean”, even when I’m unmedicated for long stretches of time. I can’t promise similar results for you but I can at least promise I’m not an abled, neurotypical, naturally tidy person about to tell you to try harder.

You will need:

A comfortable dish washing tool (sponge, brush or cloth)

Two basins, one for washing and one for rinsing (meaning either a plastic basin and a sink or two sinks)

A dish drying rack

A cutlery dryer

Dish soap

A plug for the drain

Kitchen rags or sponge cloths

1-3 clean kitchen towels (fabric, not paper)

Rubber gloves (optional)

Step one is to get your work space in order.

This will involve some general cleaning and tidying, but trust me, it will end up saving you time and spoons. 1) Remove everything in your path that’s clean (things that shouldn’t be in the kitchen, clean dishes, food you want to keep etc) and storing it out of reach. 2) If possible, place an open waste bin on the floor within easy reach. 3) Remove trash and bigger loose pieces of food waste. 4) Gather up all dirty cutlery, spatulas, ladles and similar utensils and place them head down in a small pot, bucket, food container or similar. Fill the container with hot water and some dish soap and leave it someplace out of the way. 5) Gather your plates and bowls, scrape any bits of food into the bin and pre-rinse them as needed, and stack them by type. 6) Empty your pots and pans and stack them, fill them part way with hot water and dish soap and put them to the side. 7) Empty and pre-rinse your cups and glasses. If any are very caked in dirt, fill them with hot water and dish soap. 8) Gather any remaining miscellaneous dishes, pre-rinse as needed and stack them as much as possible to save space.

By now, your dirty dishes should be ready for washing and sorted by type and you should have some surface space available to work in. Pick one surface area to be your clean area, preferably within easy reach of the sink, and one area to be the dirty area (for now). I usually use my kitchen table (or the floor, as long as I can safely and easily move around the sink) to be my dirty area.

Ideally, your work flow should physically move in a line from left to right (or vice versa), going from dirty to washing to rinsing to drying. If you don’t have enough space, it’s more important to have the washing, rinsing and drying lined up that way.

9) Move all your dishes to the dirty area and keep them separated as before by type. 10) Empty and clean your sink(s) and/or wash basin. 11) Scrub your clean area very clean and dry it. Place a dish rack there or cover it with a kitchen towel. Leave a rag or something similar near the edge - the area will get wet so be ready to wipe up the water before it spills to the floor.

At this point, I usually take a moment to check in with myself. If I’m running out of energy or time, I only proceed to wash my pots, pans, chopping boards, knives and other cooking utensils, and leave my eating and drinking utensils for another time. Why? Firstly, because those cooking tools are usually the only dishes that will be permanently damaged if left dirty and/or moist for too long Secondly, it means that I’ll have everything I need to cook myself a meal and a neat, clean-ish space to cook in. This is after all the most important thing in a kitchen. Everything else is organized, even if it’s still dirty, so it’s easy to grab and wash a plate and a fork as needed so I can eat said meal.

When you’re ready to proceed, step two is to wash your dishes.

Now that things are tidy, there will be limited task switching and moving around from this point on, which I find to be the main reasons I get confused, distracted, stressed or overwhelmed when cleaning. I’ve suggested an order in which to wash your dishes that should save time and help preserve water by going from (usually) less dirty to (usually) more dirty. When the water in your wash basin starts to look or smell nasty, change it. You can also clear away the bin(s) now.

1) Get a clean kitchen towel and throw it over your shoulder so it’s always within easy reach. 2) As I mentioned above, you should arrange your wash basins/sink(s) so that everything will move in a straight, uninterrupted line - wash (in the basin if you don’t have two sinks), rinse in the sink and dry on the surface next to the sink. If you only have one sink/basin, wash everything first, then rinse, then dry. The aims are to minimize task switching, save time, save water and avoid dirtying your clean dishes by cross contamination. If you only take away one thing from this tutorial it should be to use this assembly line type of set up. 3) Fill your wash basin as much as you can with glasses and cups and top up with hot water and dish soap. Wash all of them. If you’re low on energy or time, focus on the rim of the glass/cup and the inside, those are the most important parts. Soak the next batch of dishes while you rinse and/or stack your current batch according to your set up. 4) Repeat with plates, then bowls. Between every stage, check if you have enough space left to work in - perhaps your dirty area is almost empty and you can clean some of it for extra clean space? 5) Cutlery and utensils go next. Since they’ve been soaking in hot water, maybe even twice at this point, you can just swipe the top half like credit cards in a folded dish sponge unless they’re very dirty. I like to arrange my cutlery handle-side up in another container before rinsing them, that way I can grab a handful easily, rinse the handful in one go and then put them handle-side down in the drying container. Else they tend to get tangled and fly everywhere, but that might just be me.

At this point, your clean/drying area is probably filling up. If you’re low on space, rinse whatever is left to rinse, dry it with a clean towel and store it out of the way. That way you’ll have room to wash and dry your pots, pans and other miscellaneous cookware, even if it’s been piling up, which should be your last remaining step.

Take a look around - I usually find that after washing dishes this way, I’ve basically tricked myself into tidying most of my kitchen (to get my clean belongings out of harm’s way and make room for my clean and dirty areas) and stove-top, so if you have the energy to spare this is a good time to quickly clean those down as well.

That’s it, that’s my method for washing dishes with the least amount of stress and effort. To me, a clear, logical workflow that I can write out into a series of steps to follow in order is the most helpful way to avoid stress and extra work when my cognitive functions are at their worst.

To sum up

If you’d like a much shorter step-by-step guide to print out and hang in the kitchen, you could sum it up like this

1) get rid of clean stuff 2) get rid of trash and old food 3) gather, pre-rinse and stack dishes 4) move in a straight line: wash, rinse, dry 5) when short on time, prioritise cooking tools over eating tools 6) wash dishes one type at a time

but you should of course tailor this list to include the stuff you’re most likely to forget or most likely to find useful.

Some other things to consider:

Anything that has come into contact with raw meat or chicken should always be washed separately and with more care. If you’re uncertain on food safety in general, please take a moment to look into it.

Non-stick pots and pans should be handled with care, replaced often and only washed with very soft tools - if they get scraped or damaged, even with age and normal use, they’re no longer safe to use. I would argue that they’re not safe to use anyway and that well-treated cast iron or other good metal cookware will fill the same functions if used correctly, but you should of course decide for yourself.

Don’t use dish soap on cast iron or leave it soaking in water, just wash it with hot water. Make sure to look up a guide to using and maintaining cast iron tools, and if you’re not able to wash it regularly immediately after use, it might be best to use stainless steel instead. Misused cast iron can be fixed, but it takes some effort.

Never pour grease, oil or other food waste down the drain - it will smell awful and eventually clog the drain which can be difficult and expensive to deal with.

Solutions to other problems:

Of course, there are other reasons why washing dishes might be difficult. If you have problems with fine motor skills, I recommend a dish sponge or a rag over a brush since it’s easier to feel what you’re doing and it lets you use your whole hand instead of just your wrist. Try every dish washing tool available to you and pick the one you prefer. Be honest about your difficulties, try to pinpoint their sources, take them seriously and allow yourself to problem solve with some imagination. An example: the reason my partner avoided doing the dishes in our new kitchen turned out to be that because of the poor design of the sink, the floor gets wet very quickly. Once she realised this, we got a set of indoor sandals each and now neither of us have to get our feet wet.

For other sensory issues, you can try:

choosing a dish soap that is allergy friendly and that either smells nice or is not perfumed

getting a nice, protective hand cream to use after washing dishes

blocking out unpleasant sounds with music or earplugs

wearing gloves

wearing a thick apron or other protective clothing to not get unpleasantly soaked, or at least change into clothes you’re don’t mind staining

use incense or an oil burner to get a nicer smell in the kitchen

If pain or fatigue hinders you, use a (safe!) seat instead of standing.

This list could go on much longer (and if you have some advice I’ve missed, please send it my way so I can add it) but the more important point is to get you thinking outside of the box both about what’s actually stopping you and what could be done about it. There is no real benefit to doing things the normal way, unless of course you’re living with ableist people who will punish you otherwise.

Avoiding mess in future

This tutorial hopefully helps you deal with a mess, but it won’t help you avoid a mess from piling up. If there’s interest, I might make a tutorial for that too - let me know what you think and what issues are the most challenging for you and I'll try to help! Of course, if the above method is helpful, just knowing how to solve the problem without having to think up a plan or spend more time and energy than necessary can help with procrastination or avoidance by itself.

Please give me feedback!

If this was helpful to you, or you think it might be helpful to someone else, please reblog it and take two seconds to follow me on youtube (link in notes) - I am disabled myself and making tutorials, especially in video form, is my dream livelihood. If it was very helpful and you'd like more tutorials, please donate to my ko-fi or patreon (link also in notes). If you'd appreciate pictures as a visual aid or to break up the wall of text, and/or if you would like this tutorial in video format, please let me know! If this tutorial was NOT helpful to you, either by being explained poorly or having steps that didn't work for you, please let me know that too! English is not my first language, and while no method will work for everyone I would like this method to be as widely accessible as possible. Thanks for reading and good luck!

[dominimoonbeam]

Scars That Remind - Part 2

More teen pack drama! I will be aging them up soooooon.

AU where Gabe basically adopts Darlin and they end up being like a sibling to David. 

Posted on ao3 as well as here!

tags: homelessness, pack family, dysfunctional darlin aka canon darlin, bullying, family dynamics, learning to trust.

Scars That Remind - Part 2

“You drove Darlin to school,” Milo notice allowed.

David grunted once in the affirmative and dumped some books into his locker. They went to an empowered high-school, one of the perks of growing up in Dahlia. He heard empowered people outside of big cities either had to homeschool or try to go to unempowered schools—which could easily get messy. Just the other day, Asher flirted with an electro until they accidentally fried the lights in the gym.

“You’ve driven them to school every day this week,” he added, not noticing when Asher stole the second half of his sandwich from his lunch.

“Mhm…” David finished his apple and looked up at the sky where a cloud was sliding in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the crowded quad and all the students eating lunch. Milo was a year younger than him and Asher, and a year older than Darlin. The week had been weird to say the least. Darlin was living in the guest room at his house, eating breakfast with them in the morning before going to school and then coming home with him. They pretty much hid in the guest room except for meal times, where they cleaned their plate and eyed the rest of the food but never took anything more than whatever his dad put on their plate—which was a lot.

“Didn’t they leave the pack? Why are they still in Dahlia?” Asher asked, mouth full of Milo’s sandwich. He asked the way only Asher could, without any offense or ill thought, only vaguely curious.

David shrugged but it was only a matter of time before they knew. Any day now, Asher usually went home with him on Fridays and slept over sometimes on the weekends. And plenty of the pack hung out at the house. It was actually kind of weird no one had noticed in the last few days. “They’re parents left the pack and Dahlia.” It was a fact. Not a secret.

Milo had been about to yell at Asher for stealing his sandwich when the words hit him. “Wait. You mean…Their parents left without them?”

David nodded once, still scrutinizing clouds.

“So…What, they’re living with you and Gabe?” Milo continued, voice pitching.

David felt Asher watching him. Asher could be flighty as fuck but he never missed a detail and he was often first to put them all together. He’d asked David about the bandages on his shoulder on Tuesday in the locker rooms before gym class.

The bell rang and Milo swore, grabbing his shit and hustling off to his class. Asher and David had their next period together and he waited until Milo was gone to ask, “You said someone bit you when I asked. You weren’t joking?”

David sighed and got up. He started walking, Asher falling into step beside him. “No.”

Asher smirked curiously. “Did Darlin bite you?”

David snorted. “No.” He sighed, glancing around to make sure they were alone, walking around the outside of the buildings toward gym. “Don’t say anything?”

Asher nodded once and David knew whatever he told him now, he’d take to the grave.

“They were sleeping in a park and this other wolf showed up. We got in a fight.”

Asher glanced at his shoulder again, like maybe he could see the wound through his t-shirt and hoodie. “That’s rough. I can’t imagine being alone like that.”

David sighed, nodding. Leave it to Asher to find the point and ignore everything else.

“Can I still come over after school tomorrow?”

David nodded again as they ducked into the locker rooms. “Yeah. Of course.”

A couple hours later he was sitting in his truck waiting for Darlin. Waiting too long. What the fuck? The parking lot was almost empty. Had Darlin finally made a run for it? Did they really think Gabe was bullshitting when he said he’d chase them down? It wouldn’t even take him that long to do it. His dad would probably have them back at the house before dinner.

David considered driving home without them and growled at himself for thinking it. Asshole. He got out of the truck, slamming the door and storming back into the school. Where was there last class? They always came from this direction…

“Do it!” he heard someone laugh-shout.

He followed the voices outside, to a spot between buildings where kids sometimes snuck out to smoke.

He heard the very clear sound of someone slapping someone just before he rounded the corner to see the group of younger students. Darlin’s age, and Darlin was the one with a growing handprint across their cheek—the one that was still bruised yellow and brown. The four other kids had them cornered. Still, Darlin should be able to knock these idiots out. He’d seen them fight.

“Shift! I wanna see it!” the air elemental shouted, shoving hard at Darlin’s chest to slam them back into the wall, using a little wind to give themself more force, that air rolling around between the buildings to kick up leaves.

Darlin grinned, lip bleeding onto teeth. “If I shifted you’d shit yourself and I don’t wanna smell it.”

One of the other kids moved fast, grabbing at Darlin’s arm. Darlin growled and tried to shake them off but there were too many hands and for some reason Darlin wasn’t throwing punches or shifting. Smoke rolled off their arm where the other kid was holding—a fire elemental.

David growled when he stepped forward, the sound loud enough that it started all of them. All eyes turned to him, growing bigger when they had to turn their heads upward. He bared teeth. “You want to see a wolf shift?”

The fire elemental stumbled into a second, both looking around for an exit but David was in the way now. The air elemental grew instantly teary, jabbing a finger at Darlin. “They threatened us!”

Darlin’s eyes widened at that. “What? No! Fuck you, I didn’t do anything!”

“I saw you. I heard you,” David said, stalking closer. They all backed up—except for Darlin who just grabbed their bag up off the ground and rubbed at their arm, their sleeve burned. “You were using your powers on them—to cause pain. You know you could get expelled for that, right?” He took another step and they were backed into a brick wall. “You know they belong to the Shaw pack right?”

“But-But they’re always by themselves,” one cried, full tears now.

David growled and one of them screamed. “Pack is pack and if anything like this happens again, you will be enemies of the pack for life. Am I understood?”

They whined and nodded.

David sneered before turning on his heel and catching Darlin by the arm, pulling them along with him around the building and toward the parking lot. “What the fuck was that?” he asked when they were well out of earshot of those shits.

“What?”

“You were just going to stand there and take it?” He kept walking, only stopping when he got to the truck. He pulled them in front of him and then lifted their arm. He grabbed their hand and carefully lifted the sleeve to get a look. Red and welted but not a burn that would scar. “Why?” he demanded when they didn’t answer.

“I…If I did anything they would have told someone. You think anyone would believe me over them?” They jerked their arm back from his hold. “And I can’t get in trouble again. They’d try to call my parents and it’s not like that’s going to work. Then they’d call—” they stopped suddenly, jaw ticking when they snapped it shut.

David stared. “My dad.” They would call Darlin’s pack alpha if they couldn’t get ahold of their parents. “So?”

Darlin looked away.

David’s dad had been called by schools plenty of times. “What? You think he’d believe those assholes over you?”

“Would it matter? It would be a scene. I would have fucked up. Either way I didn’t handle it myself. The last thing I need right now is your dad regretting letting me stay.”

David actually took a step back. It was like this kid learned new ways to hit him. “No one is letting you stay,” he said clearly. “You belong with your pack.” Did they think his dad would kick them out for getting into a fight at school? They made it sound like they were a criminal granted mercy. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Darlin. You aren’t in trouble. Your parents just…” He tried and failed to understand what exactly Darlin’s parents had done or thought they’d been doing. “They left. But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

Darlin stared back at him, eyes big with surprise, like they were actually trying to absorb everything he said. They swallowed hard and nodded once, looking away.

David sighed and opened the passenger door of his old truck. “Get in.”

Darlin did, slinging their backpack onto their lap. It was always just as heavy and full as it had looked Monday night when he found them in the park. He wasn’t sure if they’d actually left anything in their room at the house. He suspected they took everything they owned with them every day.

After that, Asher or David would find Darlin on their way to lunch and drag them along to sit with them.

 -

 Darlin made the bed in the guest room, grabbed their bag and headed out to the living room. Asher and David were in David’s room playing video games and Darlin had overheard something about Asher staying the night.

They planted themself on the couch, in the corner, and pulled a book from their bag, thumbing it open.

When Gabe came home they tensed but kept there eyes on the page. Why did they always want to run away when he showed up? He’d never been anything but nice. They knew that but it didn’t change the gut reaction.

He hung up his jacket and took another couple steps into the house, stopping and looking at Darlin on the couch.

A million thoughts flashed across their mind. Were they not supposed to sit out there? Darlin’s parents hadn’t had house rules, aside from staying out of their way and not touching any of their stuff. Did Gabe consider the couch his stuff? Fuck.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Darlin creased the cover of their paperback. “Yeah. Why?”

Gabe shrugged. Was he smirking? “Haven’t seen you come out of your cave all week.”

David and Asher laughed in his room down the hall, the sound carrying.

“Ash is spending the night, so I moved to the couch,” Darlin explained, suddenly worried they’d made the wrong move. Maybe they weren’t allowed to sleep out there?

Gabe took another step closer, shoulders eased back. “Asher sleeps in David’s room when he’s over. The other room is yours as long as you want to stay, Darlin. You don’t have to give it to anyone and you don’t have to share it with anyone.”

Darlin stared, surprised. He sounded so firm on that—like it was a real rule, like it was their own space and no one else’s. They got the feeling he wouldn’t go back on it either.

Gabe’s gaze flicked to their backpack for a second and then away. “If you want to leave stuff in there you can too. No one’s going to go in there and take anything.”

“I don’t have anything,” they said reflexively. They didn’t have anything anyone else wanted, anyway. It was just their junk. But they wanted to keep their junk. It was all they had.

Gabe was so calm—so different from how Darlin’s parents had been and even farther from how they’d said he would be. They’d been staying at his house all week and there hadn’t been any red flags, no signs that his invitation had been a trick or anything to suggest he’d done it for any reason other than…what? Loyalty? He said they were family like it meant something.

“You have things,” Gabe said clearly and Darlin felt heat in their face. “But I mean it, Darlin, your room is your own.” He smirked and turned toward the kitchen. “But you are always welcome to sit out here too.”

Darlin looked at their bag, considering grabbing it and bolting for the guest room…their room. Gabe was going to make dinner, so he’d be in the kitchen for a while. They chewed their lip and went back to reading on the couch.

Next week when they went to school, they didn’t take all of their junk. They left the clothes they weren’t wearing in the drawers and their toothbrush on the desk with some of their books and the rubbed duck they’d had since they were a kid on the bedside table. It was all right where they left it when they got back. Eventually the surprise of that wore away. Eventually they even thought of the room as their own, slammed the door when they were pissed at David, and told other teens from the pack to stay out with the full belief that they couldn’t come in.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

generalising/breaking down what these all mean for people who are seeing these options and thinking “that specifically won’t work for me” and getting discouraged

- shoes in the room/house for cleaning = preventative against sitting or laying down in bed and getting stuck. other ways to do this would be piling anything you can’t put away in .5 seconds on the bed and/or any other seat in your room so you HAVE to put that stuff away before you can enjoy the comfort of Sitting Down, and when you do Sit Down you should have very little left to do, and clearing your bed After any other seats so that you can sit down and take a Break if necessary but you can’t Lay Down And Take An Eight Hour Nap before you’re done; this also works with clean laundry instead of Stuff but only if your executive dysfunction isn’t strong enough to overpower your desire to keep your laundry clean by not laying on it—if you’re like me and you’ll lay on anything soft, stick to putting Objects on your bed that will make you Not Want To Lay Down

- music in the shower = something that will keep you grounded during your shower + a way to keep track of time. alternatives would be a podcast; or maybe if you have some way to safely put a show on within your line of sight and it won’t Distract You From Actually Cleaning Yourself you can do that; or keep a waterproof activity/game that you can use to stim or to reward yourself for each step in your shower routine; or if you have a partner, not being alone can make anything easier and showers are definitely included in that

- playing pretend while getting ready = making it entertaining for yourself. if you’re not big on this specific idea, you could try thinking of it as a dress up game—this is especially helpful if you have the autonomy to have full control over your closet and own a lot of clothes you love, but just playing mix and match with the colors could help if someone else buys your clothes without much regard for your tastes; you can also try trimming unnecessary steps from your routine, like if you wear makeup but you don’t have fun with it, and don’t want to play around with it to craft a Look that you like, you can just stop wearing makeup to save energy when you’re getting ready, etc.

- doing something else while brushing your teeth = making it entertaining but there are a lot of other reasons why you may struggle to brush your teeth so instead of suggesting alternate ways to make it entertaining im going to raise different problems i can think of and give solutions to help inspire the problem-solving juice in your brain to get juicin. forget to brush your teeth every day? work it into an existing habit that is easier for you to keep track of—for example, i brush my teeth in the shower because i don’t always notice when i need to brush my teeth, but i DO want to crawl out of my skin and get a whole new body when i go too long without a shower, and ever since i started to keep my toothbrush in the shower, brushing my teeth has become a natural part of my shower routine. don’t like the texture/sensation of using toothpaste? experiment with other types—i use toothpaste tabs for this reason—or just brush your teeth with water, because as long as you make small circles near the gums, toothpaste doesn’t make as much of a difference as you might expect, and even if it did, it’s better to halfass brushing your teeth than to not brush them at all. does the 3 times a day, once after breakfast, once after lunch/getting home from school/work, and once before bed, rigid schedule simply not work for you? brush your teeth whenever you have the urge, and/or work brushing your teeth into another habit as mentioned before, and don’t stress about it so much—yes, brushing your teeth 2-3 times a day is ideal, but if that stresses you out so much that you don’t even brush your teeth once a day, you’re way better off brushing your teeth once a day at a random point in the day, every day for the rest of your life, than mostly not brushing your teeth unless you can muster the energy to do so at the exact moment when all the planets and stars align for you to be “allowed” to—and once you build up the habit of brushing your teeth once daily, you can always set a goal to do it twice or three times a day or even more, but you should start with baby steps. generally, brushing your teeth as consistently as you possibly can, even if it’s not exactly in the way you’re “supposed” to, is better for you than brushing your teeth “properly” but only once in a blue moon, so be creative to find a way around any problems that i missed or find alternative solutions if the ones i mentioned don’t work for you. you don’t have to do it the same way everyone else does, you just have to do it, as often as you can.

- kickboxing/dancing for exercise = find a kind of exercise you enjoy. it doesn’t have to be a sport, either. i prefer swimming for exercise, but when it’s too cold i do yoga or i garden, which are both gentler types of exercise that will benefit you if you do them regularly without being as strenuous as sports or running or what have you. the point of exercising isn’t actually to “get in shape,” it’s to keep your body healthy by using it, because with your muscle and joint health it rly is use it or lose it. of course, make sure to maintain proper form at all times, if you garden, lift large bags of soil and heavy potted plants with your legs, not your back; if you do yoga, look up routines and modify certain poses to your needs, etc., you don’t want to hurt yourself. also, you don’t have to exercise the same way every day! obviously for certain things like weight training you need to maintain that, but you can garden one day and do yoga the next and go swimming the day after that and that’s all still good! don’t feel locked into any one type of exercise, the most important thing is that you’re doing something to move your body every day. also, most jobs that aren’t office/sit-down jobs can count as your exercise for the day, because again, above all what’s important is to get your body and mind active for a while every day. just because you’re getting paid doesn’t mean that all that walking around/squatting and lifting things/even standing, “doesn’t count”—it does!! if you get home from work too physically drained to even think about doing whatever exercise you enjoy, then your body already moved plenty enough for the day and you got paid for it, so just give yourself a pat on the back and a meal, and maybe a nap

for any other tasks that are important, if you can find a way to make it enjoyable or, even better, make it feel like you’re playing, not just “doing self-care” because you have to but because you’re having fun, then you should do that! if not, you should look for any barriers that exist between you and doing the task, and tear them down just to see if it works, because it will work more often than you expect, and if it doesn’t, now you know and you can look for a different solution instead. good luck, everyone out there executive dysfunctioning, and remember to eat, drink water, take any meds you need etc if you haven’t today, i love u

How to reach goals as a neurodivergent person by not creating them from a neurotypical standpoint

Make the tasks fun & engaging

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 9/?: Deal

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“You followed us.”

Caleb looked up from the toolbox he was packing up for just a moment. “Huh?”

Hunter leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Last night. You followed us to the town.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He went back to packing up the toolbox, handing it to Hunter and then grabbing a ladder.

“Got there just in the nick of time?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I was following you for a while, but you were doing fine. Didn’t need to step in. Can you bring that outside for me?”

Hunter followed him out the door. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you let us go? If you were just going to follow us?”

“Why did you follow Cyrus?”

“Just in case.”

Caleb shrugged, sliding the ladder up to its full height and leaning it against the roof. “Same reason I followed you. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. It was your first time out in a crowded area since I brought you here, and Silver isn’t exactly well known for their ability to think clearly when there’s a large crowd. I was actually about to leave before everyone started to shout about a wild witch.” He started the climb up the ladder.

“You were?”

“You seemed to be doing alright.” He chuckled. “Plus, I was a little worried you’d notice me tailing you and get upset. Hand that box up to me? Skip the second rung to the top, it’s rotten, I need to replace it. Next on the list.”

Hunter climbed up the ladder, handing up the toolbox and then coming up the rest of the way (skipping the rotted rung), sitting on the roof and watching him nail a loose shingle into place, carefully holding the nail between the forefinger and thumb of his maimed hand and wielding the hammer in the other. “So, it was a test? To see how well I could function out there? Did I pass?” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What? Oh, Hunter, no, of course not. Of course it wasn’t a test, I mean, not of course you didn’t pass.” Caleb grinned, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. “If it had been a test, you would have gotten an okay grade on it, did great with blending in up until the point you angered a mob by helping a wild witch, but you get bonus points for heroism and making sure Silver got out of the crowd.”

He sighed at Hunter’s stony face. “Look, I know you’re an adult who can handle yourself, but things aren’t the same as they used to be for you, and you haven’t been here that long. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You seem to be doing relatively well, at least, on the scale of how well you and your brothers tend to react, but there are still things that worry me about you. You don’t need to prove yourself to me.”

“Things that worry you? Like what?” I thought I was doing pretty well blending with the rest.

Caleb put the hammer and nails down, sitting back on his legs to face Hunter properly. “Like… thinking you need to fix every problem in the house without me finding out there was ever a problem? Covering for your brothers even when they don’t need covering? I’m glad you want to protect them, and I know why you feel like you need to hide things from me to protect them, but it’s still something I’m hoping we can work on.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone. Relying on myself is the safest option, and it means you don’t have to do as much work. You’re already wearing yourself thin.” And following us to town didn’t help. Who did you send to watch the other Hunter? A wave of guilt swept over him at the thought that the crystal ball might have been left unattended while Caleb came for them. Sure, we had eyes on him, but what if we hadn’t? What if that had been the moment?

What if Belos had asked Darius to kill smaller Hunter after the parade?

The sudden, awful possibility felt like a slap in the face. Darius wouldn’t… right? No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

If he did, what if he had to fight him? Would he be able to? Even to save little Hunter?

A smile drifted onto Caleb’s face. “That’s not true. You trusted Silver to take you to town. You relied on Jason and Mole to help you slip past Cherry to get into the woods, even if it didn’t work. And when you WERE there, you trusted Matt and Cyrus to help you take that demon down.”

“That was—it’s not the same. They’re reliable allies. It’s not like…”

It’s not like they could replace Darius.

Titan, I hope I never have to fight him.

I couldn’t.

Caleb picked up the hammer and nails again. “You trust your brothers, even as much as you think you need to hover over them to protect them. And I’m glad for it.”

Hunter jumped to his feet. “I am not relying on them, I—”

His foot hit a loose shingle and his feet slid out from under him. Hunter yelped, the world spinning and tilting as he rolled down the roof. He heard Caleb yell, and then something snagged around his waist as he rolled over the edge of the roof, halting his fall. Whatever it was slowly lowered Hunter down towards the ground, and Hunter’s wobbling legs hit the earth, nearly giving out. He slowly untied the… oh, they were vines, around his waist and sat down, giving the vine a tug.

Caleb’s head poked over the edge of the roof, the other end of the vines wrapped around his wrist. “Are you okay?!”

Hunter gave him a weak thumbs-up, not trusting his voice to stay steady.

“Okay, I’m coming down, I’ll be right there, just…”

Caleb shuffled to the ladder, stepping on the top rung. He stretched his foot downwards towards the next one, hurrying towards Hunter. A warning sparked in Hunter’s mind, but before he could call out, the second rung splintered under Caleb’s weight, sending him crashing towards the ground. Hunter jumped to his feet, grasping at his belt for a staff that wasn’t there but would have let him move immediately to catch him. He ran towards the falling man knowing, just knowing that he wouldn’t make it in time.

Caleb crashed to the ground, and Hunter got there just a second later, kneeling down next to him. The human wheezed for air, blood flecked across rocks under his head, and one of his ankles twisted the wrong way.

“Hang on, just hang on—” Hunter started to slide his arms under his knees and back, then stopped. “Wait—don’t move—”

Hunter tore into the house, grabbing the shoulders of the first Grimwalker he found, Matt. “Where’s your mom?!”

“Huh? What was that sound, what’s-?”

“Where is she?!”

“In the garden with Mole, I think, what-?”

Hunter dropped him and sprinted towards the back door. My fault, my fault, my fault—

He crashed into the garden mesh, lacing his fingers through the wire to steady himself. Mrs. Wittebane dropped her basket. “Hunter? What’s wrong?”

“Husband,” Hunter wheezed, “Ladder. Fell off.”

She was out the door in an instant, running around the front of the house. Mole touched his arm, then ran after her. Hunter clutched the mesh like his life depended on it, pressing his forehead against it.

He wouldn’t have fallen if he wasn’t so worried about you.

It’s your fault.

“Hunter?” Jason tugged on his arm. “Hunter, it’s okay. Mom will heal him, he’s going to be okay. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!”

Jason jerked back, startled. “Whoa—”

Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “I made him fall off of that ladder, I was being stupid on the roof, why would I pick the roof to argue, of all places?! He was going to check on me, even though I was okay, thanks to him, and that’s why he fell, I made him fall off.” He stalked towards the gate. “I’m just making things worse. You guys don’t deserve for me to do this to you, I just—”

Jason ran in front of the gate, holding his arms out. “You can’t go!”

“I thought that was the first choice every Grimwalker got to make for themselves? I’m changing my decision. I’m nothing but a hazard. I’ll send the other Hunter your way if I can, I’ll watch over him as best as I’m able, but…”

“Hunter, it was an accident, no one’s blaming you but you, and he’ll be okay! You don’t have to go!”

“It’s not just this!” Hunter’s hands clenched into fists. “He’s looking after too many people, and it’s wearing on him, and I don’t have to be here! Maybe most of you need him, but I don’t, I can look after myself, so if I leave—if I leave, that’s one less person he has to worry about.”

Jason snorted. “Like he’d stop worrying about you if you left. He’d just have mom make another crystal ball so he could check in on you. Or send you raven phones to make sure you were okay.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Jason!”

“Right. Yeah.” Jason shook his head. “You think Cherry should leave, too?”

“What?”

“Do you think Cherry should leave?” Jason repeated, “Or Joseph? They’re both pretty self-sufficient, they’d probably be alright on their own. Do you think they should leave, too?”

“What?! No! He needs them, they can help him, they do help him with the rest of you, and with the griffins, if they left he’d have more work.”

Jason reached up, squishing his face in his hands. “That’s you.”

“What? I’m making more—”

“Nope. You are causing no more trouble than any other new Grimwalker. Except me, obviously I was a perfect angel.”

Hunter chuckled at that, despite himself.

“Got you. Anyway, you’re not making trouble for us. Even if you were, we’d still want you here. And… you’ve been doing a pretty good job of helping out yourself. Who was it that went out and got venom so that Mom could make an antidote for Venari?”

“That didn’t mean anything, your dad came back with a cur—”

“You did. And who was it who got Cyrus to open up about his boyfriend and start to fall in love again?”

“That caused more trouble than—”

“You did, and it’s a good thing for him. And who sat with me on the anniversary of my ‘death’?”

“Cherry. Lucy the griffin. Joseph.”

“And you. Stick around.”

“But I hurt—”

“Okay. Say for 3 seconds, I agree. Say it’s all your fault that Dad’s hurt. Is running away really the way you want to make up for it?”

“It’s not running away, I’m an adult.”

“Besides the point. Is that the way you’d want to make up for it? Do you really think that helps anyone? Stay. Please?” Jason moved out of the gate. “I’m going inside to make sure Dad’s okay. Go if you want.”

He disappeared into the house, and Hunter sighed, resting his elbows on the fence post and gripping the sides of his head.

Get ahold of yourself. Where would you have even gone? And Jason’s right, what are you solving by leaving?

As if you could actually get anywhere close to the other Hunter

You weren’t even taking a concealment stone.

Hunter shook his head, heading back towards the back door. The Grimwalkers had all gathered around the master bedroom, and he peered over their heads. Caleb blinked up at the ceiling, his wife hovering over him.

“Wow. Feeling better already. I’m going to—”

His wife pushed him down. “Oh, no you don’t. You have a concussion, broken ribs, and your ankle is still healing. You are going to stay right there, mister.”

“Agh. But—”

“We can take care of everything,” Cherry piped up, “We’ll take shifts with the crystal ball. You rest, Dad. It’s okay. Just trust us.”

“Where’s Hunter? He okay?”

Every single Grimwalker head swiveled around to look at Hunter, and they all parted to make a clear path.

Thanks a lot, guys.

Hunter shuffled closer. “I’m okay. Thanks to you.” Could have been me, lying there.

“Oh, good. Thanks for trying to catch me.”

“I missed. I’m… sorry. About causing the fall.”

“Not your fault, should have remembered that stupid rung.” He chuckled, then winced. “Guess I’ll remember it now. Ow.”

Mrs. Wittebane stood up. “Okay. Everyone go, leave Mr. Forgetful here to rest. He’ll be okay.”

She steered Hunter out of the room, reaching out, then pausing. “Permission to touch?”

He nodded, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine. Not even a scrape or bruise.”

“That’s not what I meant. Although I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She took a step back, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye, hers flicking across his face anxiously. “You know that accidents and mistakes happen, right? And we’re not going to hurt you or kick you out for this one?”

Embarrassment crept over Hunter, and he shifted back and forth on his feet. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I know that.”

“Okay. Good. He’s going to be fine, this is hardly the worst injury of his that I’ve healed.”

“The worst being the one Belos gave him?”

“Hahhhhhhhh. Yeah.” She gave him a tired smile and wandered back into Caleb’s room, admonishing him to Lie Down The Boys Will Watch Over Hunter.

Hunter felt a tiny smile creep over his face at that. Bad at following your own advice to rely on others, huh?

He made his way to the crystal ball room, taking Caleb’s spot and watching the little guard pace around the keep like a caged animal.

No missions?

That’s not a good sign.

He could see books lining parts of his room, and started to wonder what they were about, the text too small for him to read. Could he and Jason talk about their books? Does he like jokes, like Silver? Or animals, like Joseph? When he gets here, will he be able to adjust? How badly injured will he be? Will he be able to recover, or will he never be the same? Does he know how to use wild magic? Would he want to learn from Sam? Would Sam even like him enough to teach him? Does he know how to reverse petrification?

Hunter rested his chin in his hand, watching him scribble reports and read books.

Do you and Darius get along?

Does he realize you look and sound a little too much like me?

What does he think about that?

I don’t know anything about you.

Is the golden guard title already crushing you, or are you still excited by the honor, flattered by the attention?

Do you know it’s a trap, yet?

A small red bird flew around the room, tugging on the guard’s hair, and Hunter watched with a smile as he set down the report, taking time to eat, and offering the bird some food.

“So you do like animals.”

Is your pet a secret, or does Belos know?

I’ve never seen a bird like that before.

Hunter traced his cheek where the other Hunter had a scar. What was the offense for that?

Did you think you deserved it?

There’s so much I wish I knew.

Why was there a gap between you and I?

Do you have any friends, like I did?

Will you be able to leave it all behind, to live here with us? Especially without a massive amount of time since you’ve been gone?

“I can take a turn,” Cyrus offered from the door.

Hunter stretched, wincing at his sore muscles. That fall had maybe shaken him up a little more than he’d like to admit. “I can stick around.”

“It’s been a few hours. Go get something to eat. There’s a lot of us, there’s no need for one of us to sit here all day, we can switch out. Something Dad could have stood to realize sooner,” he added in an exasperatedly fond mutter.

Hunter nodded and left the room. The door to the unused bedroom was open a crack, and he moved towards it with a frown.

Who…?

It slid the rest of the way open soundlessly, on well-oiled hinges. Hunter caught his breath as he entered.

“Unused” was a… strange word for it. Hunter definitely couldn’t picture any of the residents now using this room. But it clearly had been used, based on every well-loved book on cryptids and creatures of the isles, based on the photographs pinned to the wall of people, people Hunter was sure lived in the town, of the Wittebanes, of trees and beasts and plants. The camera was sitting on the dresser, which had a few odds and ends lined up on it, old film canisters that were being used as holders for hairpins and pebbles. Strings hung across the ceiling, with clothespins for developed film, he imagined, or perhaps for drying plants.

Caleb was lying on the bed, staring up at constellations painted in glow in the dark ink. He gave Hunter a brief smile. “Don’t tell her I got up?”

Hunter shook his head, wandering to sit next to him. “Whose… whose room was this?” Who won’t you forget, but won’t talk about? What did they do to you?

Caleb sighed. “My daughter’s.” He traced the shape of a light glyph on the ceiling.

“You had a daughter?”

“Mhm.”

“We almost had a sister.”

“What… happened to her?” Hunter shook his head. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to…”

“I wanted to name her ‘Mercy.’ Short for God’s-Mercy-Flows-Down. Her mother didn’t like it.”

Hunter couldn’t hold back a snort. “Because it’s awful.”

Caleb chuckled. “Alright, alright. Hey, it’s not any worse than A.T.’s name. But we named her Achsah. She was…”

Hunter looked around the room again, full of knickknacks and photos and random pieces of nature. Pieces of a personality long gone. “I can guess.”

“I didn’t find the time pools again right after my wife and I came through. We built a home. She was already pregnant with Achsah, she had the baby, we built a life here.” One of his arms flopped over  his eyes, hiding them from view. “I didn’t find the time pools at all. It was Achsah. She was twelve, she… she came back, came running, telling me about the boy she saw. The boy who looked like me getting buried alive.”

“Mole,” Hunter whispered.

“Mole,” Caleb confirmed, “We… we went to save him. He was weak, understandably, confused. It took us a while to get back to the portal with him, we had to carry him most of the way. She insisted I go through first, and she would help Mole through to me. I got Mole through just as the tide came in, and…” he started to shake, tears leaking out from under his arm.

“She didn’t make it through,” Hunter whispered.

“She’d be sixteen, now,” Caleb mumbled, hands clenching into fists, “Sixteen years old.”

Hunter’s age. “You didn’t… look for her? After the time pools opened up again for your next Grimwalker?”

“Cherry. Of course. Of course I looked for her, but… it had already been twenty-two years for her, even if it hadn’t been that long for me. She’d… moved on with life. I don’t know how long she waited at the time pool for me, but twenty-two years? Of course she’d moved on. She had a husband. A child of her own. And I knew… I knew I couldn’t bring her back.” Caleb sighed. “It was… hectic. I… we were mourning the loss of our daughter, we were trying to figure out what it even meant that Mole existed, I… I don’t think I did right by him, I was grieving, I wasn’t there for him as much as I should have been. I mean, his life was turned over, too, but I… Every day, I wonder if he thinks I hate him, or blame him and I… I don’t know how to let him know that I never have, not for one second.”

The arm fell away. “How could I? She was so determined to save him, she was convinced we were related. That she was going to have a big brother. She was excited the whole way back to the time pool, was talking about helping him decorate his room, and showing him around… god, I wish she’d gotten to take him to all of her favorite places.”

“And now you can’t lose a Grimwalker,” Hunter said softly.

“I can’t lose another one, I can’t. I owe it to you, I owe it to her. She would have loved having all of this family. Would have gone into every time pool to save them with me, if I’d let her.” Caleb dragged his hands up his face with a groan. “Oooogh, I’m a mess. Can’t help anyone like this, least of all little Hunter.”

“Cherry’s right. You don’t have to do this alone. Achsah wouldn’t want you to do this alone.”

“S’pose I am a bit of a hypocrite, huh? Telling you to trust your brothers and I without letting any of the burden go myself. Alright, Hunter, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let go and let some of you help out a little more with the current golden guard. If you promise that you’ll at least try to trust me a little more.”

I understand you.

The thought came so suddenly and clearly as he looked down at the man he’d been cloned from.

I understand why you are the way you are.

It’s a little like Uncle. Grief. Guilt.

But more compassion than rage.

I understand you.

And that made it just a little easier to think about trusting him. Of course he wouldn’t hurt anyone here. He couldn’t even be angry at Mole for being the reason behind the loss of his daughter. If Meleager, Horus, Hamlet, and Venari were right, he couldn’t even summon up enough rage to hurt Belos, would rather hustle everyone else to safety.

“Okay,” he said softly, “Deal.”

Thank you @kateinator for Achsah’s name!