#because he CAN'T have the same foods in space... things that were constant in his life

[macabr3-barbi3]

Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself. 

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers. 

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested. 

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along. 

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

 “Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive. 

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt-  perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking. 

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.” 

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being. 

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,”  you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it. 

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

[thegnomelord]

was thinking about drawing Ifrit from "Hell has a basement floor" and had some headcanons on his appearance.

on one hand i was thinking to make him tall and burly, built big to store all the mana and power he has, make him built like a volcano.

on the other.... what if and hear me out.... Ifrit.... skinny. tall and gangly, long limbs, underfed, outlines of bones poking out from underneath the skin, sunken eyes for that extra unsettling factor. besides magic does have a cost. maybe it's just your body that needs to be exchanged.

now i thought of the second hc because tall and skinny isn't exactly associated with the kind of brute force Ifrit has but he's still strong even if his lifestyle is gonna put him in an early grave. now imagine when he's finally part of tf 141 they notice that he's not very well in the food and weight department for his height and the amount of energy he spends so... they start feeding him (especially Price and Soap because protect and care hoard/pack)......

i've also been getting into the trope where characters gain weight as a sign of health and living a better life. so yeah tell me what you think

and maybe share your hcs on Ifrits appearance because i don't want to butcher your creation on accident

Okay 1: you have no idea how happy it makes me when I hear ppl want to draw fan art of my stuff :DD, internally I'm like that dog video where the dogs happily tapping his paws lol bc he can't contain his excitement lol. And also yeah, I'm a huge sucker for the trope and your little idea with Price amd Soap tickles my brain.

And 2: man you did some mind reading bc your hcs are actually very close to what I've made up for the lore of the whole au. While I want to overall leave Ifrit's body type ambiguous to give readers some space to imagine themselves in Ifrit's place, Ifrit is 100% underweight with more of a volleyball/basketball player type build, as mages focus on stamina and endurance rather than raw strength bc that can be augmented with magic. Also has stretch marks because their weight fluctuates a lot lol

Okay lore spoilers so if y'all want to find out through the story skip this-

Okay so— magic is increadibly taxing on the body, not just by eating away flesh and creating mage marks as a Mage's power grows, but just by simply existing inside the body magic stresses the body. Because fundamentally magic is toxic to humans, and even mages who have the needed adaptations to utilise magic are no better than our ancestors when they were first learning to stand on two legs.

The best metaphor I have for magic is chemo drugs. They're used to kill a cancer but they also damage healthy cells. Magic, similarly, damages the body by existing inside it, but also is used by mages to heal the damage as soon as it happens. This uses a lot of calories and also why mages have really irregular weights, losing 10kg in a week isn't an uncommon thing.

Someone possessing even half of Ifrit's capabilities would need to eat 3x that of a regular human of the same height and weight. Mages are literally Shaggy from Scooby Doo lol. And that's only to get the bare minimum their body needs, caloric need becomes much bigger if they're active like Ifrit is. So you'll find that many mages, but especially military ones, are underweight and need to regularly get Iv fluids and nutrients to help their body recover from using magic. They also need to eat a lot of highly caloric food, which isn't easy when one of the most common side effects of magic use is puking your guts up.

Most military mages don't reach 30. The average life expectancy is around 25, with active duty (i.e. constant missions and daily magic use) mages lasting on average 3-4 years before their body basically breaks down, but they can last longer depending on how conservatively they use magic.

Now, knowing all that, Ifrit has been actively using strong magic on par with military mages since they were 14-15 years old and while they're not the healthiest, they're healthy as a horse when compared to most mages. The reason behind their continued survival — their mage marks.

[manybcdthings]

HUNTER CROSS — HEADCANONS

QUIRKS, HABITS AND MEMORIES

Hunter is a whistler. Mostly to himself but also when he's meandering around, hands behind his back like an old man. He whistles parts and sections of confederate songs. This one.

Doesn't fair too well in New York with how crowded everything is, so even a simple walk somewhere along the street turns into a confrontation with strangers.

Somehow within months of living in New York, he's managed to stumble upon an illegal gambling circuit at the back of some clubs and he's usually there playing poker with them on weekends.

Still remembers Spanish from the cursed vase because his brain is analytical and focused, so without him even realizing it, he is now bilingual.

Since the Benny Saint and Elliot dating rumor, Hunter has actually lost a few followers and is unaware he was even name-dropped in any articles. He's also unaware he's actually been locked out of his Instagram because of the influx of spam on his confederate flag posts.

He's had the same stolen iPhone for years and the screen is barely usable. He still gets texts from friends etc of the previous owner and he replies to them. Has a vague friendship with someone called Ron, despite Ron thinking he's keeping in touch with the previous owner.

The rings he wears are purely for punching purposes and are made from lightweight and light traces of silver so when he takes them off he has faint scars around his fingers. The constant discomfort from them doesn't bother him, they're in case they need to be used on another wolf.

Says that he's bad at math but isn't at all, but his math skills usually become noticed when dealing with money or if he's doing something that requires measurements etc he's always insanely accurate.

Something's fucky. It usually always is, even if he can't say what's fucky at the time.

Suffers from reoccurring nightmares about having three sets of twin boys with someone called Kat. Wakes up in cold sweats and doesn't speak for half a day after he has them.

When it's time to replace old clothes, he manages to find identical items to what he's replacing. Technically hasn't had a wardrobe refresh for decades.

Within moments of entering a space, he's already figured out the fastest and most efficient exit route. In the same token, within moments of speaking to someone, he's already calculated how they're standing and their position to said exit routes in case he needs to punch them and leave.

Weirdly, he's an attentive listener and his eyes are constantly scanning the other person's face. Probably looks like he's staring at their mouth a lot too, but this is also because he doesn't always understand what the fuck anyone is saying to him.

Even if his demeanor seems otherwise, if someone genuinely came to him for help (especially if it required a physical involvement) he will help them. Also generous with money and food, because of Elliot.

Has a picture of Brandy holding a baby Elliot in his wallet. The man in the photo has been ripped out.

Is good at anything that requires manual labor, so fixing things up or making new things is his hidden talent. Along with the useless hidden talent of card tricks and shuffling them.

He enjoys taking things apart just to put them back together again, would've loved lego sets as a kid if he knew what they were.

For some reason, Hunter is prone to just seamlessly joining groups of men but usually foreign men and speaks old-man silent language with them. He's made a bunch of weird friends this way, so always has someone he knows who can get something, do something or is helpful to a situation. Doesn't say more than 3 words to them when they arrive, though.

Refuses to Uber or get a cab anywhere in the city because he doesn't want to be in the bitch seat or the back. Also avoids the subway, but when he does use it, he usually gets in a fight.

[halliescomut]

My Beautiful Man and the Plight of Celebrity....

I've been watching My Beautiful Man, and while it's kind of not for me as far as the romance aspect, at least in the first 2 seasons. The movie I actually enjoyed quite a bit, likely because my issue with the series was the CONSTANT misunderstanding between Kiyoi and Hira. I've very much enjoyed the films commentary on celebrity and fan culture. Once we get into season two and the film, Kiyoi is now like a full-fledged celebrity, and we are also given insight into Anna, his colleague and coworker.

We see sort of the struggle between following artistic passions versus what will raise an actor's status with Kiyoi auditioning for stage roles, while his manager encourages him to pursue TV dramas. I think it's easy to forget sometimes that actors come into these careers for love of the art and not in the pursuit of fame or fortune. Which I think is a conversation that doesn't often happen. Even if you are well-versed or aware in audtioning politics and all of that, it's not always as simple as it seems to get the roles that you want, especially as a newer actor like Kiyoi, talent aside. And many management agencies focus more on public perception and popularity rather than an actors skill or talent.

The 'fandom' problem that we've seen so often in real life is shown here as well, with fans being on set, showing up on location and being disruptive. It's nothing as extreme as we may have seen in real life, but it very actively reminds me of fans showing up at airports and being invasive and disruptive in those spaces. We've sadly seen an unfortunate level of these situations happening and moving beyond being simply overwhelming and intrusive to 'fans' putting hands on people, which is not okay. And while there are occasions where fans are invited, some companies announce their departure and even set up an area for fans to say goodbye, we've seen things happen when actors are travelling for personal vacations, and just essentially are off the clock and should not be disturbed. (Also, I'm clearly not talking about those that just happen to run into these people, I'm talking about those that are purposely turning up places they know they will be.) It's a conversation that's been addressed by many in fandom, but I've not seen much in the way of real change, likely because those who are doing these things don't feel they're doing anything wrong (What? I can't be in a public place?) or simply don't care (I'm allowed to because I know them and love them).

And the unfortunate thing that is actively touched on in the show is the lack of agency that celebrities really have when it comes to fandoms. When there's fan backlash over dating rumors, it's generally not allowable for a celebrity to respond "It's not your business, fuck off." When fans cross boundaries it's difficult for celebrities to respond without risking alienating fans. In some cases you will have people who are at a level where they don't have as much concern for reprise, from either fans or management, like Jung Kook's response to people sending food to his residence. He has a level of influence that brings him more autonomy than newer idols or celebrities would have. On that same note, when 'fans' met Mile and Apo at the airport (while they were traveling for personal and not professional reasons) and put their hands on them, he could not respond as many people would ("What the fuck is wrong with you??"), but instead had to simply smile and play along. And there's a difference in some ways, since in one case you are face to face versus over a livestream, but it's still addressing boundary crossing.

But moving to the more extreme, what I would call sasaeng or stalker level of everything shown through the movie. We first encounter the fans of Kiyoi and Anna and they're presented as mostly cool if a little extreme. The Kiyoi-fans shunning of Hira is more in relation to him behaving so different from how they do, and it's honestly not unreasonable for Hira to gain the nickname 'suspicious man'. But in general it's an amiable atmosphere. The introduction of Anna's fan is where things really do become suspicious and more than a little creepy. I posted a little throw away here about how I specifically found it disturbing that he kept describing Anna as 'pure'. And the reason I found it so off-putting is because that type of language speaks to an unhealthy level of obsession and is an indicator that his 'affection' for her has requirements. But these are things that she has no awareness of. He has placed her on a pedestal in his own mind, and should she fall it sets up a situation where she could be in real danger. Because of the dating rumors that begin to go around her 'purity' comes into question and he instead turns his wrath to Kiyoi as the one who 'defiled' her in his mind. And hilarity aside of him tying him up with red ribbon tied in bows instead of knots, he presents a very real physical threat, and because of his obsession would not see himself as the villain at all because he is simply defending Anna.

Now, in the story we know that the villain will be vanquished and that our intrepid Hira will get his happily ever after with Kiyoi, because this is a love story and that's part of the agreement. But real life situations have existed for as long as specifically visual media have existed of fans going too far and causing harm to the 'objects of their affection'. The point that always comes to mind for me because of my age is Selena, who died at the hands of not just a fan, but someone she truly thought was a friend and that she trusted. It's these stories that lead me to be extremely nervous to see fans approaching celebrities when they shouldn't be. The video of the recent encounter involving Jackson Wang when he was out with his parents for dinner literally makes my blood run cold because that is a person that got close enough to cause real physical harm if that was their goal. It seemingly wasn't, but we can't ever know people's intentions. And it becomes incredibly unfortunate for any type of fan because as the few begin to violate these boundaries set by both society and these celebrities, they will have to institute more and more safeguards for their own privacy and wellbeing. It's pretty well known that Jackson is an incredibly friendly guy and often happy to chat with fans that he encounters in public when he has the time, but these types of intrusions when he's clearly on private time are probably going to put an end to that.

But I was particularly impressed with how these different aspects of celebrity were handled in the film. It's made clear that the fans are a consideration, but not always a priority (which is as it should be) and that can be possible to have a happy medium. While we don't truly get to see fan reaction for the reveal of Anna and Hiriya, we do have the privilege of both of them coming to the realization that they don't have to make their 'celebrity' the center of their world, and also that they don't have to sacrifice their careers in order to be with the one they love. Now it's of course very much different for them as a straight couple than it would potentially be for Kiyoi and Hira, but that's not quite as much a of a concern for them. To me it looks like all they might want is to be able to be known or out to the select few around them, not to the whole world. Hira doesn't want to announce to the world that he loves Kiyoi, he simply wants to stand next to him when he can. Personally I would predict that their future holds something more akin to Hira accompanying Kiyoi to private industry get-togethers and not to public appearances. People would know of their professional relationship, but not have interest in their private one. Also realistically, because of his age here, it would be quite a while before we would see fans or media speculate or comment on Kiyoi's single status, meaning that if they did ever choose to make their relationship known they would be very comfortable and stable in that relationship.

IDK, this was quite the ramble, I don't know how interesting anyone will find it, but if you read this far I appreciate it.

I wish I had enjoyed the show more, but sometimes it's just not your bag, but I will say that overall it's a very well made and well acted drama, and I very much appreciate the time and effort that went into it. Please enjoy this picture of Riku and Kusei being cutie patooties

[fatbiatchforever]

Out of Time (Pt. 3)

I didn't think this would happen right now, but all your support really motivated me. Thanks for everything guys!!!

****

"Are we sure all of this is yours?"

You roll your eyes, "Yeah."

He picks up one box and begins to unpack, "I can't believe this is how I'm spending my weekend."

Rox commented, "No one asked you to be here."

There was a lot to unpack. You definitely didn't think about the actual logistics of moving when you decided.

You grabbed one of the boxes and walked to the bedroom. You set the box down and sat on the ground to look around.

This is my room.

The word 'my' repeated in your head. You were used to using words like 'our'.

You brought your knees closer to your chest. The fact that a week ago you would have bursted into laughter if someone said you almost broke up with, potentially, the love of your life and moved out of your home.

You were craving/praying for a mini coma. This constant feeling of sadness and hurt just wasn't it. And now the idea of having to stay somewhere knowing that he's not going to be there was even harder.

You didn't regret making this decision though. You're not letting ANYONE think of you as disposable. You were making a statement, clear one at that.

You opened the box and decided to push everything away, feeling wise. You threw yourself into making everything just the way you want it in the room. The occasional fights in the living room helped too.

"Dinner!"

You got the boxes together and walked back to the living room. They were spread around the coffee table with Chinese take out and beer. You happily took the food and laid back on your couch.

"So you didn't see him once?"

"Nope."

"Did he move out?"

"Nope. We have an agreement."

"So he's giving you space."

"Yep."

"Y/N."

You sighed and looked away from the container of orange chicken, "Jake."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I am. I need this. I need a minute for myself. And I'm glad Bucky is respecting that."

"So you guys are together?" Adrian asks.

The thing is, you didn't know. It feels like a break up but everything put together it didn't seem like one. Like he never said he wanted to break up. And he came back for you the next day.

"I- no." A second later, "Maybe?"

"I checked up on him."

You raised your eyebrow, "Really?"

Jake nodded, "I know him because of you but no matter what he's a friend. We've spend so much time together, so it felt like the right thing to do."

You knew you would regret this, "How is he?" 

"Honestly, not that great. Sam was there when I went to your, I mean, his place. He had some meeting and ended up loosing it on some colonel. Sam had to drag him out of there. And if we thought he was man of few words before, you would be stunned by what he can do now."

Yep, you shouldn't have asked. All of that laid heavy on you for the rest of the day. 

All of your friends soon left, leaving you alone at your new place. This is when it really hit, the loneliness. You felt alone in every sense. You couldn't help but wonder if Bucky felt the same way. That night, you cried yourself to sleep. The only warmth you received that night was the tears that stained your cheeks.

You woke up when your phone went off. Your eyes were blurry from all the crying. You kept them shut and answered the call,

"Hello?"

You waited for a response.

"Hello?"

You moved the phone in front of you and waited for your eyes to adjust to the light. 

"BUCKY?"

A moment passed before, 

"I couldn't stop myself."

It was another moment where you realized how much he meant to you. His voice gave you a wave of relief that nothing else could provide. 

"I know you asked for space. I'm trying to give you that but," you heard him shift, "it's like I came back to my worst nightmare."

All you could do was listen.

"It's like you never lived here. All the memories I have with you, in this house, feels like it was all in my head."

"Bu-"

"I don't know if I could say this enough, I'm sorry Y/N. For everything. For being the reason we're here."

You opened mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"Please." Bucky's voice cracked, "Please say something."

"I miss you."

You heard Bucky breathe out.

"Doll, I miss you. I miss being around you."

You laugh, "You miss someone venting all the time?"

He laughed, "More than anything."

The line goes silent again. Your head wasn't producing thought in light speed. You were simply refilling yourself with ✨Bucky energy✨.

"Do you think you could forgive me?"

You heart clenched at that, "I, " you shifted in your bed, "I don't know."

"Okay." 

You didn't know and you weren't going to lead him on. It was the right thing to do. Right?

"I'm going to wait. No matter how long. Till you tell me you want me to stop."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm tired."

"Y/N," you could hear him moving around, "Can we stay on call? Only for today. I promise."

You couldn't say no. You didn't want to.

"Yeah."

You placed the phone right beside you and pulled the blanket closer.

"I love you. I always have."

You hummed and closed your eyes, "I love you Buck."

*****

It's been a week.

A week since you moved into your new place. A week of running around to completely set the new place up. A week of new routine and schedules. A week of no Bucky.

After that night, the next morning, you woke up to no one. The call had been cut and it was just you on that bed. You even doubted if any of that part of night was true.

You chalked it upto him giving you space as you asked. But now, it was getting to you. You just wanted to know if he was okay. So,

"Hey Sam."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Been better."

You sighed, "Yep, I agree. Listen, promise me this stays between us."

"Of course. You know I have your back."

"It's about your bestie."

He scoffed, "Told you not to say that."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Y/N, we should meet. Come over to Sarah's?"

"Sure. Ok, how is he? I just want to know if he's fine. I haven't a heard a single thing from him and I, Uhm, I just want to know if he's okay."

"Y/N,"

"What?"

"I wanted to talk to you. This is why I kept asking you to meet me."

"I'm sorry. I just got busy Sam. And I'll be lying if I said I wasn't ignoring you. I know I would ask about Bucky and obsess more over the whole thing."

"I get that. Today evening then?"

"Cool. Tell me what you wanted talk about."

"We can talk about it when I see you."

"Sam, please. I don't need more things to worry about. Just tell me dude."

"He left."

"Huh?"

"Ross told me that he left for a mission."

You nervously tapped on the counter, "When is he coming back?"

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, "I don't know. He moved out before leaving."

"What?!"

"I know. Ross refuses to tell me anything about the mission. I found out about him moving out when I looked around about this whole thing."

You felt numb, "He didn't say anything. He just left."

"Y/N, we don't know that."

You got up and a wave of anger hit you, "Sam, he left his home. Why would he need to move out for a mission? Did you hear anything about him getting another place?"

"No."

"Fuck him. I'm done. I'll talk to you later."

"Y/N there has,"

You cut the call. 

He left. Without saying anything. He left everything behind and disappeared. FUCK HIM!!

[shootingstarpilot]

Hello from TheRedScreech! I'm writing a post-Melidaan/Tarre Vizsla travels into the future fic (Chapter 1 is here), and I'm wondering what your thoughts might be on a PTSD 14-yr-old Obi-Wan? He has returned to the Temple on Coruscant, and I'm thinking being surrounded by "Elders" is a biggie, nodding to your chapter about Obi-Wan and Dexxter and "There were no Besalisks on Melidaan". Quin and Friends will help him out a lot here and Obi-Wan can only be taken care of by non-Human healers like Vokara, but I'm also wondering what else might be prevalent at this point in his recovery?

Thank you! And I hope you're keeping well with all your life's big changes.

Hello Red!

This is 100% going to be explored a LOT more in the next fic in StS, so I'll probably end up coming back to this, but here are my initial thoughts (standard disclaimer that I am not a psychologist and have done exactly zero research):

Swinging between clinging and hostility. A fear that Qui-Gon/ [trusted adult] will abandon him again, and so he's- consciously or not- trying to get ahead of the game, trying to make them abandon him, because if he gets rid of them first then they can't leave him when he's not expecting it.

I've definitely already touched on this, but the way I see it, he'd have an extreme aversion to medical treatment in any sort of formal setting. He's just spent x amount of time (in my 'verse it's a year, but I genuinely have no idea how long it is in JA canon) in a very high-stress situation without the supplies to deal with injuries. Any injuries, he either tries to patch up himself, or just forgoes dealing with them altogether- after all, he can still stand, he can still move, he can still fight, so he's fine, he's fine, he doesn't need help. He's still operating under wartime scarcity rules.

Staying under things. Avoiding open spaces. In the same way that children who live in places where bombings via drone are common prefer cloudy skies because that means the drones can't fly, I think that Obi-Wan would have a similar reaction because of the constant threat of bombardments. Ducking under things when he's frightened. Sleeping under the bed or in the bathtub. Somewhere more enclosed, you know?

Again, something that I've already touched on: a reluctance to eat food that either isn't sealed or that he hasn't helped prepare himself. It could have been tampered with, it could be spoiled, and he can't tell--

Something else relating to his relationship with his surroundings: always needing something at his back. Not being able to sleep without someone keeping watch.

Also, I do like the thought that he keeps forgetting his lightsaber. He's just waged a whole war without it. I like the idea that he... kind of forgets that it's a weapon he can count on again, you know?

Wildly protective of his friends his age and younger kids, lashing out at adults around them-- even though the adults are people his friends trusts. Like lashing out at Master Tholme if he gets too close to Quinlan.

Oh, nearly forgot about this one-- keeping his hair short. Long hair can be grabbed. In my mind, all of the Young keep their hair cut short, even twenty years later. Long hair is a tactical disadvantage. In StS, Obi-Wan grew out his hair once he was knighted, trying to move past everything, trying to prove he's better- and then the war started up again, and old habits reasserted themselves. (Then, of course, Dooku happened...)

These are a few situation-specific ideas that I had, but there are, of course, plenty of ways you can explore other manifestations of symptoms of PTSD- insomnia/ nightmares, intrusive thoughts, apathy, depression, psychosomatic pain, an inability to enjoy situations you'd enjoyed pre-trauma...

I will be back with more ideas, but I hope these provide some fodder for you to start! Feel free to message me if you want to chat more about this, I do love putting Obi-Wan through the wringer >:) and best of luck with your fic!!

[aikoiya]

Thoughts on Undertale

I've never liked Undertale's messages, because when you think about it, it comes across as being told "don't defend yourself against attackers," "just stand there & take the abuse as you try & reason with them," "don't even defend yourself from deadly force, even if it means you die," & "humans are evil & monsters are good even though the monsters are trying to kill you & take your literal soul to start a fucking war with humanity."

There's also the double standard of it all. The whole, "if YOU defend yourself against monsters who are trying to literally kill you & tear out your soul, then you're a horrible person, even more so if you kill them, even accidentally, but if the monsters attack you & legitimately try to kill you to take your soul & wage war upon other humans, then it's totally fine; they're just sweet, misunderstood softies." Fuck that!

For all Undertale's talk on pacifism. It only seems to apply to humans. No one talks badly about monsters when they're violent!

Sans is the worst, even though Toriel asked him to look out for Frisk, he took that to a literal degree & just watched, over & over again as Frisk was killed repeatedly & never once assissted them. He's an ass & a lot of the other characters are also asses in their own unique ways.

Even Toriel did something bad. All those kids? Yeah, they might not have died had Toriel escorted them out or, Hell, she could've told them that you can't get out without a monster soul. But, she didn't, she just let them go with false hope in their hearts.

The only one I think did alright is, ironically, Asgore, because he has the excuse that he was the literal king & knew that his people were running out of food & space, meaning they were on a timeclock. He also at least had the decency to regret the choices he made. You can feel it, see it, that he was sorry. Regret was pouring off of him. You know that he wouldn't have done this if he believed there was another way.

No one else who hurt Frisk ever seemed to have regretted their actions! Let alone apologize!

Alphys was, by far, the worst! Yeah! Yeah! Shy introverted bisexual lizard nerd! Whatever!

This isn't even about how she put Frisk in danger to prop herself up. This is about the Amalgamates! The Amalgamates are walking tragedies for multiple reasons.

Yes, it's tragic that those monsters are living in constant pain & that is awful. But at the very least they get attention. At least they get an apology! At least they're alive & can be with what remains of their families!

What pisses me the eff off is the fact that Alphys & Sans tortured & extracted the Determination from the literal souls of human children repeatedly & no one ever acknowledges it.

Add to the fact that it is confirmed that these souls have some degree of consciousness after death (as seen in the Flowey fight) & that paints a nasty fucking picture for the monsters' characters. Alphys & Sans specifically.

Yet, despite all this, the only thing Alphys apologizes for is hurting her fellow monsters, not for torturing the souls of children.

There's also the fact that the story of the Human-Monster War just does NOT make sense when you have all the information.

They would have us believe that their imprisonment was undeserved & that the humans just suddenly attacked for no reason. That humans are so much stronger & more durable than monsters (despite them all having magic & some even being able to supplex literal boulders).

At the same time, they say that the humans attacked fearing monster's ability to absorb human souls.

The question that bares answering is: How did either species learn that such an ability is possible if no monster had ever taken a human soul before?

You don't just wake up & say to yourself "I can absorb souls" & it turns out you're correct!

How do monsters know that this is possible if it'd never been done before??

Unless it had been done before & was, in fact, being done so often that it was well-known amongst humans. Which would mean that those humans' fears were entirely rational & warranted.

Not only that, but we also know that if a monster absorbs 7, then they gain godlike power. Which is confirmed. So, this means that monsters are also fully capable of becoming serial killers.

Made of love & compassion my left asscheek.

Hell, the fact that the monster race was IMPRISONED rather that systematically killed is actually VERY telling.

If the humans in-game were as evil & merciless as the monsters portrayed them as being, then there would BE no monsters left to argue about it because humanity would've executed them all upon winning the war.

Think about it; if you were evil & merciless & just won a war with someone who had the power to take your soul & use it to become powerful, WHY would you waste time & energy creating a giant magical prison to keep them in instead of just KILLING them? Unless, you don't plan on them being in there forever?

After all, many criminals are kept in prison until they either live out their sentence or learn to be a healthy member of society.

In fact, why are humans even able to enter the Barrier at all unless there's a specific reason, a specific outcome, that the mages wanted to occur? Like, for instance, what if the humans don't NEED to be dead? What if humanity expected the monsters to befriend 7 humans who would then all ban together to break the Barrier of their own accord?

In fact, why did the monsters just assume that the humans had to die in order to break the Barrier? We never really get a reason as to why.

What if the point was to prove that humans & monsters can live together in peace?

If anything, it's the monsters who are portrayed as genocidal for immediately jumping to violence in order to open the Barrier. "Destroy all humans" anyone?

I mean, why didn't they try imprisoning the humans first?

Random Stuff Masterlist

[siempredelsol]

Chapter 2: The Lost and Unfound...

Sunday.

There are too many leaves upon his grey plaque. Her feet cautiously step towards it as she tries not to trip drunkenly. There is no one to catch her if she does, she came alone. Not that there was anyone to come with her anyway. She stands on the outside of the square below. She’s dirty, but respectful of his space. The grass- cold on her knees as she kneels. Hands pushing the leaves away to reveal his covered last name. Her last name. She wants to cry, but she just smiles.

"Hi, Dad."

He doesn't speak back. Her hands cup her face and she just stares at the words engraved on the stone.

Yeah, she just stares.

Monday.

The food is good. The atmosphere is elegant and posh and so far beyond her, but no one notices how much she truly sticks out. She’s dressed appropriately and there are pins holding her blonde tendrils back. She even manages to get no sauce in it as she brings the fork to her lips to take a bite of the pasta dish that was ordered for her. Dave looks pleased. He hates to be embarrassed.

A foot rubs hers under the table and smiling eyes meet her greens as he sips slowly at his wine. "How did truffles taste for the first time, Selena?" he inquires.

She wipes her mouth and places her napkin back into her lap. She is a fucking lady, tonight. So she smiles and fingers the rim of her glass, foot giving a rub to his. "Delicious."

His eyes are pleased and he refills her glass. "Stay with me tonight?" His voice is low and he doesn't look at her as he asks. His only interest is knowing whether or not she’ll be getting him off tonight.

"Can we get dessert?"

Dave settles the bottle of wine down and reaches for her hand. His gesture is not unlike any other man’s would be for his lover. The table across from ours; there is a couple doing quite the same. His lips press to her knuckles. "Anything you like."

His generosity won't go unnoticed tonight.

Tuesday.

She holds her purse snug to her side as though it has a million dollars in it, not three hundred. She tries to remember all the things she needed and realizes quickly that she should have made a list. Her lips are sore from the constant chewing on it, a nervous quirk about her that she couldn’t help. Chapstick. She needed Chapstick.

She paces the aisle nervously, trying to get in and out of as fast as possible. The owner no doubt still remembers her during her rougher weeks and she’s definitely still not welcomed, but it's the closest store to her motel and she needed things. There is only a small selection of items in the refrigerated section. Cheese, pepperoni, milk and some other random things people will buy at 2am from a convenient store. They'll just have to do. She drops them into her basket and walks toward the end of the aisle, reaching for a case of beer before she heads to the line. There are three people in front of her, and one of them is having an issue with finding their ID. Maybe because they were too young to be purchasing the alcohol that sat on the counter in front of them. These fucking kids. She taps her foot nervously and shifts the heavy basket on her hip. She feels weak and hungry and eyes the display of candy bars, but reaches for nothing. The kid is arguing with the clerk and she can't take it. She needs to go- the money in her purse makes her nervous. Nevermind the beer getting warm and she wanted them cold. 

This kid has no idea how lucky he is that someone- more specifically herself- is about to stop him from ruining his life. 

"Fuck! There are others here, you know!" she screams out loud and it’s like someone else's voice.

The people in front of her – all men – turn around and stare. The kid at the counter is pissed, clearly not liking her interruption. He was already embarrassed and she just made it worse.

"Fuck you, bitch. This is America and I have a right to do whatever the fuck I want."

He's pointing and she’s officially over arguing with the child, but she’s unable to control her mouth from closing. "You also need to be twenty-one to buy alcohol," she raises her basket and looks at the clerk, "I have ID, can I just fucking pay?"

"Hey, I'm next- not you," The guy in front of her argues. "If this guy will ever move."

"Fuck you, Bro! I'll take my time."

Great, now there was mass chaos. She drops her basket and walks out of the store, leaving them to argue. She’ll just grab something off the street vendors to eat. Fuck, she needed the beer. She pauses and debates for a moment, but never looks back. Fuck the beer. Clutching her bag and walking quickly, she continues to make her way back towards the motel.

She knew she should have just invited-  

Someone grabs her from behind and she spins quickly, stumbling her steps a bit while backing away. "Don't fucking touch me! Don't fucking touch me!!"

The figure holds up his hands. "Whoa. Whoa. I was calling for you, but you didn't hear me. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She clutches her bag and takes another step backward. "The kid left," his thumb points back towards the store. "It seemed like you needed these things." A plastic bag is extended to her. Along with the goddamn beers. She looks at it and then him and then it and then him. Her hand snatches it away and she stares at him some more. He is still standing here, but says nothing.

"What do you want?" she asks.

“Excuse me?” he struggles to understand.

"I mean, what do you want?" She moves her body in a way that men understand.

"No, no. I'm not….I'm married," he stammers. “It was twenty bucks.”

She laughs. "You're all married, Sweetheart." He’s shaking his head. His hands shove themselves into his pockets and she can see his discomfort. She eyes him, noticing his clothes are rather nice. His shoes are even shiny. "I just didn't want you to be hungry…or thirsty," he smiles slightly in reference to her choice of refreshment for the night.

This fucking town. Full of goddamn crazies, she swears. She dips her hand into her bag and tugs a twenty from the roll of cash. "Thanks for the curb side delivery, Creep.” She stuffs it into his palm and turns away, heading back towards her motel.

"It was my pleasure," he calls from behind. There is amusement in his tone. So she holds up her hand and gives him the finger as she crosses the street.

In her room, she dumps the contents of her bag on to the bed and quickly opens up one of the beers, chugging and not stopping until she needs the air. The package of cheese is next and she devours three slices before her eyes notice something in the bag she didn’t pick out, only eyed.

A candy bar.

Wednesday.

It's a little foggy outside. She opens one of the packages Dave left her. There are boots and a new coat. A warm-looking, graphite colored cashmere sweater. She holds it to her face and smiles. It’s soft. She places it down on the bed gently and goes to wash up. Making sure her body is clean and smooth before she puts on pantyhose with a black leather skirt. The sweater came next and she’s in love. It hugs her and smells wonderful, she can't stop touching it. She does as his directions tell her and meets him at the train station. She still doesn’t know where they’re going.

Thursday.

She can't find it.

Friday. 

The bouncer is pulling him off of her. She’s screaming and cursing and following them out the back door. Barry is usually better behaved. She doesn't know what his problem is tonight. Cal is working it out of him though. His fist hits his cheek, his gut, his jaw. Barry is bloody and slumped against ground and Cal stands over him for a moment, then spits. "You take that shit to Rick’s club; where they don't give a fuck, Asshole. Not at mine.” Her eyes are thankful as he passes her in the doorway.

Saturday.

It was in the zipper of her bag, buried under old receipts. She’s grateful.

Sunday.

Her hands are clearing the leaves again. She doesn't shake as badly this time. The sun is out and it’s warmer. She sits on the grass and traces the letters of his name. The date. Reaching in her bag, thankful to know exactly where to look for it now she pulls out his badge. It shines under the sun, the brightness hurts her eyes and she settles it down onto the plaque, beside the words about him being a loving father and valued protector. "I heard Mom married some dude. He plays football though. A football player, believe that shit?" She laughs, closing her eyes and remembering him sitting there, watching NFL on the television. His chair is old and withered and smells like his police jacket after a day of hard work. Sometimes he just couldn't take it off when he got home. Hell, he could never take it off. That's why she was here.

Motion catches her eye and she looks to her left. A few yards away there is a man, crouched down, holding flowers in his hands. He stands and takes a step back, the flowers in his hand shift and he rubs his face before squatting back down again. They’re tentatively placed and he presses his fingers to his lips, then beside the flowers.

She mimics the gesture and leaves her father with a kiss, along with his badge. She could hear the man on the phone as he walks by her, heading for the exit. He is mumbling something and pulling out his car keys. She eyes his suit from behind as he walks up to where the lights flash when he presses the button on his keys.

A Mercedes. Figures.

She looks back to his suit jacket and silver watch and well-pressed pants. As he opens his car door and climbs in, he leaves one foot on the pavement while reaching for papers in his visor.

He has shiny shoes.

[savingnightfall]

Dealing with crazy bf's dad

lately between me and my partners relationship and life our biggest hater and challenge has been his dad. typically, i only really hear of SO mothers hating their sons' daughters but it's the opposite case here. i want to post here because it's not something they would easily find as we currently lease under his house at the moment. it's stated that he can void it at any moment for any reason, which brings me a lot of anxiety. but i want advice on how to deal with this sort of stress that otherwise could be dealt with if we were talking about someone who had the usual amount of ego and accountability.

unfortunately, we are dealing with someone i can't describe otherwise other than a narcissist. i really don't like using that word lightly because it's a heavy word, but with everything that I've seen and heard i have to agree with my partner. I've made a list of different things that he has claimed i have done. i want to go through some of them but first i want to explain some context.

I've been living with my bf for a year and some mo., and we've been together for nearly 2 years now. during this time his father has recently went through a divorce and we had to move another state. there were a couple of things promised that fell through that i can explain in another post, but due to the price we decided to continue staying with him so we can save more money and have more time to look for places. everything was going really fast. I've tried being nice and understanding his multitudes of reasons he could be acting harshly, but his claims are baseless and I'm tired of hearing them through my partners mouth instead of directly to me. I've tried having conversation with him, but its tense and we don't have a lot in common, i don't mind that sometimes it is what it is, but the constant disrespect and reluctance to speak to me is what tires me out. here are some of said baseless claims that he's said to other people instead of me:

starting small and inconvenient

steal his water bottles from the fridge

ruin the washer on purpose to destroy it and the household with it

imply he cannot buy anything. i sent a message asking that i noticed someone using my coffee machine, which is fine, but i asked for them to use a coffee filter so there's less of a mess. he bought a bigger coffee machine. the exact same.

semi-serious

not buy anything for the household and claims i use my boyfriend for his money and i take advantage of him. i buy literally so much it's not even funny. I've made decent improvements on my spaces i have access to and i make meals for my bf, his brother and I. i don't eat his food and when i do i suggest buying the next (mostly chicken). i don't even know what to say to this.

we were promised a basement, and we got a room. no previous disclosure it was the same day that we saw the new house. we asked for at least another space, either public or private to use. offered to spend more money for it but was declined. his brother wanted to make into a public chill-out space because its being used as storage space but was told that he shouldn't let us take advantage of him so we can steal the room. steal the room. might as well steal the moon too while we're at it.

hes called olur jobs personally to see if me and my bf were lying about the day that we quit. they told him its been a couple months, as it has. my bf thinks hes bluffing but its not out of character for him so i believe it. pretty stupid but the action is crazy to me.

serious claims

thankfully right now its down to one, he hasnt said it to me which makes me think it was just another thing to blame on me, and he realizes its baseless, but hes half said/joked that before he went on a weekend trip with his gf i tried getting into his bank account. he apparently got a notif taht there was an attempt on his account and one of his first thoughts were me.

so, with all of this not only does he not communicate with me, and continue to make these claims, he doesn't expect me to know either. he has said most of this stuff (and more nasty stuff about me) to either my bf or his brother, but he doesn't know i know. this is our last lease with him and its only 2 months, but since I'm not able to properly defend myself to him, i want to know if anyone's dealt with something like this and any good tips on either getting out or making it easier for the rest of the time we have. I'm grateful to have my bf to stand up for me, but he's equally exhausted because of all the mental and emotional abuse from him. everyone just wants to be away from everyone. it's expected we most likely will cut off contact when we move out. sorry for the long post, thank you if you made it this far and thank you for any input you can give.

[fyreanddesire]

Chapter 2: The Lost and Unfound...

Sunday.

There are too many leaves upon his grey plaque. Her feet cautiously step towards it as she tries not to trip drunkenly. There is no one to catch her if she does, she came alone. Not that there was anyone to come with her anyway. She stands on the outside of the square below. She’s dirty, but respectful of his space. The grass- cold on her knees as she kneels. Hands pushing the leaves away to reveal his covered last name. Her last name. She wants to cry, but she just smiles.

"Hi, Dad."

He doesn't speak back. Her hands cup her face and she just stares at the words engraved on the stone.

Yeah, she just stares.

Monday.

The food is good. The atmosphere is elegant and posh and so far beyond her, but no one notices how much she truly sticks out. She’s dressed appropriately and there are pins holding her blonde tendrils back. She even manages to get no sauce in it as she brings the fork to her lips to take a bite of the pasta dish that was ordered for her. Dave looks pleased. He hates to be embarrassed.

A foot rubs hers under the table and smiling eyes meet her greens as he sips slowly at his wine. "How did truffles taste for the first time, Selena?" he inquires.

She wipes her mouth and places her napkin back into her lap. She is a fucking lady, tonight. So she smiles and fingers the rim of her glass, foot giving a rub to his. "Delicious."

His eyes are pleased and he refills her glass. "Stay with me tonight?" His voice is low and he doesn't look at her as he asks. His only interest is knowing whether or not she’ll be getting him off tonight.

"Can we get dessert?"

Dave settles the bottle of wine down and reaches for her hand. His gesture is not unlike any other man’s would be for his lover. The table across from ours; there is a couple doing quite the same. His lips press to her knuckles. "Anything you like."

His generosity won't go unnoticed tonight.

Tuesday.

She holds her purse snug to her side as though it has a million dollars in it, not three hundred. She tries to remember all the things she needed and realizes quickly that she should have made a list. Her lips are sore from the constant chewing on it, a nervous quirk about her that she couldn’t help. Chapstick. She needed Chapstick.

She paces the aisle nervously, trying to get in and out of as fast as possible. The owner no doubt still remembers her during her rougher weeks and she’s definitely still not welcomed, but it's the closest store to her motel and she needed things. There is only a small selection of items in the refrigerated section. Cheese, pepperoni, milk and some other random things people will buy at 2am from a convenient store. They'll just have to do. She drops them into her basket and walks toward the end of the aisle, reaching for a case of beer before she heads to the line. There are three people in front of her, and one of them is having an issue with finding their ID. Maybe because they were too young to be purchasing the alcohol that sat on the counter in front of them. These fucking kids. She taps her foot nervously and shifts the heavy basket on her hip. She feels weak and hungry and eyes the display of candy bars, but reaches for nothing. The kid is arguing with the clerk and she can't take it. She needs to go- the money in her purse makes her nervous. Nevermind the beer getting warm and she wanted them cold. 

This kid has no idea how lucky he is that someone- more specifically herself- is about to stop him from ruining his life. 

"Fuck! There are others here, you know!" she screams out loud and it’s like someone else's voice.

The people in front of her – all men – turn around and stare. The kid at the counter is pissed, clearly not liking her interruption. He was already embarrassed and she just made it worse.

"Fuck you, bitch. This is America and I have a right to do whatever the fuck I want."

He's pointing and she’s officially over arguing with the child, but she’s unable to control her mouth from closing. "You also need to be twenty-one to buy alcohol," she raises her basket and looks at the clerk, "I have ID, can I just fucking pay?"

"Hey, I'm next- not you," The guy in front of her argues. "If this guy will ever move."

"Fuck you, Bro! I'll take my time."

Great, now there was mass chaos. She drops her basket and walks out of the store, leaving them to argue. She’ll just grab something off the street vendors to eat. Fuck, she needed the beer. She pauses and debates for a moment, but never looks back. Fuck the beer. Clutching her bag and walking quickly, she continues to make her way back towards the motel.

She knew she should have just invited-  

Someone grabs her from behind and she spins quickly, stumbling her steps a bit while backing away. "Don't fucking touch me! Don't fucking touch me!!"

The figure holds up his hands. "Whoa. Whoa. I was calling for you, but you didn't hear me. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She clutches her bag and takes another step backward. "The kid left," his thumb points back towards the store. "It seemed like you needed these things." A plastic bag is extended to her. Along with the goddamn beers. She looks at it and then him and then it and then him. Her hand snatches it away and she stares at him some more. He is still standing here, but says nothing.

"What do you want?" she asks.

“Excuse me?” he struggles to understand.

"I mean, what do you want?" She moves her body in a way that men understand.

"No, no. I'm not….I'm married," he stammers. “It was twenty bucks.”

She laughs. "You're all married, Sweetheart." He’s shaking his head. His hands shove themselves into his pockets and she can see his discomfort. She eyes him, noticing his clothes are rather nice. His shoes are even shiny. "I just didn't want you to be hungry…or thirsty," he smiles slightly in reference to her choice of refreshment for the night.

This fucking town. Full of goddamn crazies, she swears. She dips her hand into her bag and tugs a twenty from the roll of cash. "Thanks for the curb side delivery, Creep.” She stuffs it into his palm and turns away, heading back towards her motel.

"It was my pleasure," he calls from behind. There is amusement in his tone. So she holds up her hand and gives him the finger as she crosses the street.

In her room, she dumps the contents of her bag on to the bed and quickly opens up one of the beers, chugging and not stopping until she needs the air. The package of cheese is next and she devours three slices before her eyes notice something in the bag she didn’t pick out, only eyed.

A candy bar.

Wednesday.

It's a little foggy outside. She opens one of the packages Dave left her. There are boots and a new coat. A warm-looking, graphite colored cashmere sweater. She holds it to her face and smiles. It’s soft. She places it down on the bed gently and goes to wash up. Making sure her body is clean and smooth before she puts on pantyhose with a black leather skirt. The sweater came next and she’s in love. It hugs her and smells wonderful, she can't stop touching it. She does as his directions tell her and meets him at the train station. She still doesn’t know where they’re going.

Thursday.

She can't find it.

Friday. 

The bouncer is pulling him off of her. She’s screaming and cursing and following them out the back door. Barry is usually better behaved. She doesn't know what his problem is tonight. Cal is working it out of him though. His fist hits his cheek, his gut, his jaw. Barry is bloody and slumped against ground and Cal stands over him for a moment, then spits. "You take that shit to Rick’s club; where they don't give a fuck, Asshole. Not at mine.” Her eyes are thankful as he passes her in the doorway.

Saturday.

It was in the zipper of her bag, buried under old receipts. She’s grateful.

Sunday.

Her hands are clearing the leaves again. She doesn't shake as badly this time. The sun is out and it’s warmer. She sits on the grass and traces the letters of his name. The date. Reaching in her bag, thankful to know exactly where to look for it now she pulls out his badge. It shines under the sun, the brightness hurts her eyes and she settles it down onto the plaque, beside the words about him being a loving father and valued protector. "I heard Mom married some dude. He plays football though. A football player, believe that shit?" She laughs, closing her eyes and remembering him sitting there, watching NFL on the television. His chair is old and withered and smells like his police jacket after a day of hard work. Sometimes he just couldn't take it off when he got home. Hell, he could never take it off. That's why she was here.

Motion catches her eye and she looks to her left. A few yards away there is a man, crouched down, holding flowers in his hands. He stands and takes a step back, the flowers in his hand shift and he rubs his face before squatting back down again. They’re tentatively placed and he presses his fingers to his lips, then beside the flowers.

She mimics the gesture and leaves her father with a kiss, along with his badge. She could hear the man on the phone as he walks by her, heading for the exit. He is mumbling something and pulling out his car keys. She eyes his suit from behind as he walks up to where the lights flash when he presses the button on his keys.

A Mercedes. Figures.

She looks back to his suit jacket and silver watch and well-pressed pants. As he opens his car door and climbs in, he leaves one foot on the pavement while reaching for papers in his visor.

He has shiny shoes.

[commonplacesobriquet]

LIFE UPDATE

Hi!

It's 7th of November now. I am actually in the middle of work and I have so many things to do, but here I am... all of a sudden, I am writing here. You're probably wondering why here? Why not on my main blogsite (onwoolgathering.wordpress.com)? Well, I suddenly wanted to update this space. So yeah... I have so much to do. I have to check my students' outputs and exams, check the grammar of the submitted manuscripts (which are long overdue—since July!), make activity designs, and many more. Everything is piling up on my plate.

The main reason why I am suddenly writing here is because I have so much in my headspace. I hate the fact that I get lazier each day and I can't keep a journal anymore. There were numerous important events that have passed and were left unrecorded. I feel bad that I have nothing to look back on because I kept no records of them. Photos? Videos? My phone's camera isn't that good, so I can't even use it for documentation. Everything is fleeting now. I can't immortalize a moment.

I'll try to write some recent memories here.

Last October 31, Jet and I moved into a new place. It was a spur-of-a-moment decision, but our desire to move out of our previous place was already there. That's why when our College President said there was a vacancy in the boarding house he lived in before, we immediately grabbed the opportunity. It is a better place for us because we finally have our privacy. We also have our own kitchen and toilet, which was common in our previous place. For me, as a sentimental person, it was bittersweet, because I was letting go of my usual route for more than a year of residency here in Pantukan. I got attached to the place, especially because Ate Lovely and Kuya Ryan have been such good landlady/lord. They've been very accommodating and considerate. When I was still alone in my first few months here, they have been a constant guide to me. I am filled with gratitude to them and I hope they will be blessed more. I could say that I wasn't fully ready to move out, but it had to happen.

In our new place, it's like Jet and I are starting. In the words of my Mama, "Tinud-anay na ni inyo." We are in the process of embellishing the home that we're trying to build en route to our wedding next year. There are still many appliances and stuff that we have to buy. It's a good practice for the both of us.

We also recently celebrated our 1st anniversary on the same day of his 25th birthday. I remember last year when his first proposal happened. We were facing the sea under the moonlight. We had food and drinks that we purchased in Tagum to celebrate his birthday. At the simple picnic, he proposed to me, in vernacular, to be his girlfriend. I must say, that "yes" to him changed my life for good. I have nothing but gratitude.

Anyway, yeah we celebrated our 1st anniversary and his 25th birthday at Jienos Garden Beach Resort with his family, mine, and our dearest friends. We chose that place because that was where we had our dates when he was still courting me and before we got officially together. I remember how I sneaked out at 9PMs and he would wait for me outside. We would first stop at the 7/11 to buy our food for the night, then go to Jienos. We would pay 300 pesos for our entrance fee and cottage. Those dates happened once or twice a week. It was our memorable place and it feels good to share it with our loved ones.

It's a shame that we did not have many photos to keep for that event. It was very special and rare. Despite the lack of mementos, I will always remember how happy we are. Jet and I are both very blessed that we have the best families that we could ask for. That special event was a testament to their love and support for us. I thank God for making everything possible for us.

I guess this is it for now. I have to go back to work.

I will be writing about my Comprehensive Exam journey soon when the results are out. Right now, I am still anxiously waiting for Thursday.

Also, I will buy a new notebook na. Hopefully, I can start journaling again.

[far-off-flower-fields]

I think things with the old buggers are just continually getting worse. It's at a point where other people are pointing out that they're gaslighting me, and where even my brother is saying stuff like "I don't get why they're so different with you". Not sure if she genuinely believes it but she was literally yelling at me that she does so much stuff for me and claiming that I just intentionally forget it (inaccurate). The same person who literally refuses to put food I already have in the oven for me when I'm crying because I can't handle doing it myself (which is because it is triggering my cptsd living with them and their behaviour really irritates my autism and adhd). She's literally referring to picking up a couple small (like we're talking under a pound) bits of food at my specific request and a few other thijgs over the space of literal years that I couldn't possibly forget because she holds everything over my head to beat me with when I get frustrated that she's being shit and will never stop being shit.

It's just constant lies and attempts to fucking tilt the view on everything in their favour, they bitch about each other and try to drag me into their arguments as backup but when they are literally lying to me about shit that happened moments before, no one fucking bats an eye then looks at me after as if to confirm that yes I am remembering right but they don't give a shit and will once again not be stepping in.

He kicked the dog, my mother has done nothing about it, they had me train the dog and go to classes with him only to fucking disregard everything and ruin the whole thing for me and bitch and whine about it and threaten to get rid of him while I still do most of the work (after getting rid of another dog when I was a kid without any warning because kids apparently just don't deserve to know things before they come home as the dog is being taken by his new family in their eyes). Then in front of my brother they act all happy happy.

I lose weight accidentally they don't give a shit. I wish they'd just like use the actual words and admit properly that they just never connected to me or gave a shit. Like they get close to telling the truth then fucking pin it on me instead, my mother once said (while I was really depressed after a shift at my old job) "you never let us in, you had walls up" yes you heard it hear first I had walls up even at fucking 5 years old, I had walls up at 11 years old when I told them things that happened at school, I had walls up at 13 when I explained what happened to result in me no longer hanging out with someone I used to (who they literally admitted once to liking better even if they were just mad at me they shouldn't have said it or at least like took it back and apologised but they didn't just pretended the didn't say it when I quoted word for word) yeah all of the times I asked for help or praise or encouragement or affection those were definitely all because I had walls up.

Every meltdown I've had in the last year has to some extent been caused by them. I am continuing to fall apart exactly as I was when I was working because living with their shit is like a full time job that I have to pay to have. I was a good kid, I try my best to be a good person, even if those things weren't true I still wouldn't deserve this. It sucks because things are bad but never bad enough in an obvious way that no one would argue with for people to fucking do something. If I can't get away, I'm going to die because my brain and body are crumbling.

[an-inbetween-place]

14. ? I don't know

4:03 PM

First of all... WELL WELL WELL LOOK WHO HAS A NEW EDITOR... it's still such a tiny box though, I don't know how big of a difference this makes.

Ok brief interlude to wrap up work...

6:09 PM

We're feeling better today -- almost a little dramatic and embarrassed about yesterday (crying in the park whilst on the phone? god bless). Sleep and food do a world of wonder.

We are going to be okay and we are going to be able to make the hard decisions.

It's weird -- I've never thought of myself as someone who cries often but I've genuinely cried so many times over this man. Just spontaneously! Just out of the blue! Just sitting at my desk whilst thinking about it or talking about it!

That's not a negative, that's just a point.

We don't really know where we're going to go from here but we're determined to make some steps.

Baby steps!

I feel like I'm a constant jumble of emotion so let's at least do what we promised DK we would do.

Con List:

He literally does not want the same thing that I do (and is not the type of guy that I can convince into something... not that I should be doing any convincing).

He's broke (sorry that it has to be on the list but it does!!! A bich likes to go out and do nice things)

He has crippling anxiety/depression - to the point where he cannot follow through with plans and can't get out of bed.

He does not prioritize seeing me/making time for me.

He has no job and at this rate will not be finding a good internship. -- Expanding on this, he cannot get his shit together in order to find a good internship.

He doesn't do things that I have expressed interest in us doing together -- i.e.: apple picking, hiking, etc.

I am a 10.. he is a 6 max. This is purely to boost my ego cause I'm insecure, and that's fine.

He doesn't take care of himself -- he doesn't work out, he doesn't eat right, he doesn't clean his space, he doesn't sleep ... he simply doesn't have his shit together.

The sex is ... it's pretty bad. It's really not great most of the time and it's only good once in a while. He can't even keep it up! It also hurts my self esteem.

What's sad about all of this is that even typing this out doesn't even make that much of an impact on me. Like, I would willingly take on all these negatives if it meant that he wanted to give us a shot. I would nurture and heal him and make sure there was always food on the table.

Ain't that sad.

It's ironic because I definitely said to him "don't say that we can't see each other anymore" on Tuesday. And now, I'm the one that's saying it to him.

I know he's just going to accept it. I know he's going to say 'okay, if that's what's best for you". And all I want is for him to fight for me. To say "no, let's hang out and figure it out together". To say "please don't do this, we'll make it through".

I feel like he really got me wilding because I'm really out here considering "maybe I can just continue casually dating him?". "Maybe the label isn't that important to me?"

Like BFFR bich... how insecure do you feel in your "relationship" with him because he hasn't made you his girlfriend? How many times have you felt like you were overstepping or that your needs weren't being met?

I am definitely writing this right now to convince myself and make myself double down.

I mean, I really don't like the fact that he's on tinder. I don't like the fact that he keeps me at a arms length distance and doesn't give me time.

Okay I think we need another list...

Needs that he has not met:

We don't see each other that often - like once every other week now and that's a MAYBE. Sure, we talk on the phone but that's not the same.

We definitely don't have as much sex as I'd like. Sorry????

He's not loyal. He wants to talk to other girls, see other girls, keep his options open.

He doesn't want to build a relationship together.

He's honestly just not adding anything to my life -- like sure, I enjoy spending time with him and talking to him but at the end of the day, I'm always going to want more. I'm going to want commitment and he's made it clear that he cannot provide that.

He's creating a lot of stress and sadness in my life. At the end of the day, it shouldn't be that hard to make things work.

I'm honestly so tired of thinking about this and talking about this and just ... just being in it.

Undoubtedly, more updates to come.

6:40 PM

[asexualreptile]

If I may jump onto this train:

I'm honestly not convinced that there could be /any/ human that could change Faquarl's outlook on humans as a whole in a similar way to what Ptolemy did to Bart.

I'm sure that a nomadic people like what you suggested would be most tolerable to Faquarl but that seems to me like a pretty widespread opinion amongst spirits, not specific to Faquarl. I can't really see him getting comfortable with them like Bart does from time to time. On the other hand, we know basically nothing about him that isn't filtered through Bart's lens, certainly not about pre-ROS Faquarl. He might have turned out very differently if he's been (more) strongly influenced by some sort of nomadic people in his earlier years and the Mongolians sure seem like good candidates for that.

It's interesting that you bring up their respective outlooks on humanity in ROS because even here Bart is already much more inclined to sparing humans when he argues in Asmira's favour for truly flimsy reasons (did he really believe for a second that she'd get them freed? Nevermind that she did, but the chances were ...not great). And when she releases him at the end, she messes up the pronounciation and he could have killed her for putting him through the wringer, yet chooses not to.

What I'm trying to say is that Bart and Faquarl have been repeatedly stated to be of similar age, skill, and experience level but is Ptolemy the only thing that put them on different paths? I don't think so. I think they we're just different people that reacted differently even in comparable circumstances which is why I don't really think there could be a Ptolemy for Faquarl (assuming you really do mean a human Figuren that inspires the spirit to change their entire outlook on humans in a positive and sustainable way).

Also, the kitchen thing. I would really like an explanation for that as well because I too don't really think he's actually a good cook (or at least notably better than other spirits). I think the attractive Thing about kitchens for him would be the Sharp Things that can get through other spirits protective bubbles (as shown in AoS) without requiring him to toch the metal himself. The kitchen historically is also a servants' space were Masters wouldn't really go, getting them off of his back. I also have a Personal HC that human and spirit servants have very much worked in the same spaces historically (can't recall from the top of my head that we see it in canon). Kitchens are busy places, things can slip into the food of hated Masters/Lords easily and only spirits can be physically bound to charges. Why wouldn't spirits and commoners unite against common enemies occasionally? And why wouldn't Faquarl gain a certain fondness for the profession of cooks?

I don't think Faquarl blindly hates humans, he's smart enough to recognise and understand systems of oppression and abuse (Just like Bart does), but being a slave and being exposed to the absolute worst of humanity for thousands (!) of years, I think he's just given up on humans. And nomadic tribes, even if they treat spirits with respect, still put spirits in a fundamentally unnatural state of being and in constant pain; there is no way around it. (Unless they allow them to possess something/someone constantly? That would at least solve the pain issue but who knows) And unless they figured out something to make being on Earth optional, the first act towards a spirit still fundamentally robs them of autonomy. I don't know about all this. Bart says something about nomadic tribes treating spirits so different from everyone else that it's barely a spirit-magician relationship anymore but on this note I reserve the right to doubt his comment. (Also, on a sidenote: He really didn't differentiate between different tribes from different cultures, did he?)

Additionally, even after Ptolemy, Bart's outlook on humanity remains pretty bleak (re: His first talk with Kitty).

...And I think I'm going to stop here, hope I didn't completely derail your original post!

Question: which people from history would Faquarl hate the least?

He’s a tough nut to crack on that front. Bartimaeus just needs a human that treats him like a person, but Faquarl? You could treat him like a god and he’d still probably hate you. Faquarl would need to be treated with respect, to be summoned for very limited periods of time, to be asked his opinion about politics and then actually listened to… He could only respect a culture that was profoundly rational, and often cruel. And, of course, you would need to be polite about his cooking.

I figure he has a begrudging respect for the Romans, at least in the years of the Republic. He probably thought Julius Caesar was a flash bastard and would have enjoyed bitching to Cato about him – who’s to bet he had a hand in that particular rebellion? And I bet he would have liked Sulla. Or at least respected his style.

But if Faquarl were to have a Ptolemy… I like the idea of that person being a Mongol. The Mongols were a merit-based society of Eurasian nomads, known far and wide for their brutality to those they conquered. And they conquered pretty much everyone they came into contact with. In fact, at the time the Mongolian word for ‘peace’ was the same as the word for ‘surrender’. They were a shamanistic tribal society as well, which in the Bartimaeus universe means they would have treated their spirits with more respect than the average city-dwelling magician.

Also, we know Faquarl was there at the time. He and Bartimaeus poisoned Genghis Khan in 1227.

Six months after Genghis Khan’s eldest son Jochi’s death under mysterious circumstances.

Which some historians reckon Genghis orchestrated, as their relationship was strained at the time.

Dammit, now I want fic.

[aerynwrites]

Victor x reader - brushing hair behind the reader’s ear or stroking their cheek when he thinks they’re asleep

I kind of went…overboard with this request so I apologize for that my friend 😂 the prompt comes in towards the end of the one shot. I hope you enjoy!

Seeds of Love

Viktor x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: unrequited(?) love, but not really, misunderstandings, out of context conversations, emotional hurt/comfort, love confessions.

The Gala is still in full swing, even though it has been several hours since it started. Fancy drinks flowed in abundance along with dainty hors d'oeuvres and a buffet of food that never seemed to diminish, no matter how much people ate.

High society parties are still something you haven't quite gotten used to, no matter how many times you've been brought as a plus one by Viktor or Jayce. Yet, you loved them all the same. 

Maybe not the parties themselves. Quite frankly, you find them suffocating and filled with too many people who never say what they're honestly thinking.

Too many people fawn over Jayce, the Golden Boy of Piltover, while completely ignoring Viktor or turning their nose up at him whenever Jayce tries to include him. It always infuriates you because you see the important things in Viktor. 

That's the only reason you agree to come to these events anyway. To spend more time with him. And the fact that you know he appreciates not being completely alone throughout the night as Jayce is pulled in a million directions. So, more often than not, you get to spend ample time alone with the Hextech partner, just like now. 

After Jayce was pulled away yet again, you and Viktor retreated to a small balcony. The doors have been propped open, allowing the cool evening air to circulate through the crowded room.

Viktor sighs as you both step out into the open air, and you can't help but agree with his nonverbal relief. Inside was entirely too stuffy, and you could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on from all of the rich perfumes assaulting your senses and the constant hum of conversation and music. 

"Remind me why I continue to come to these dreadful events," Viktor says sitting on a cushioned bench facing the city landscape.

A huff of laughter escapes your lips.

"Because Jayce asks you too," you say, gathering your dress in your hands before taking the unoccupied space beside him.

"And you get to spend time with me." You nudge his arm playfully as you tease. 

The inventor's lips twitch up into a smile as he looks over at you.

"Your company is much preferred to Jayce's, especially considering he is never by my side much at these events."

Taking a sip from the champagne flute in your other hand, you try in vain to stop the butterflies that flutter in your tummy. You want more than anything for his words to mean more than they do.

Your feelings for him have been shoved down since the moment you met him, and as time goes on, you are finding it harder and harder to hide your affections. 

In truth, you've always found the man intriguing. Being friends with Caitlyn Kiramman had inadvertently brought you into the two Hextech creators' lives. And as Caitlyn was to Jayce, you were to Viktor, eventually.

Viktor hadn't said much to you initially, as there wasn't much to say. You had studied Botany at the Academy and are now head of the department, which is vastly different from Hextech. Yet, as Caitlyn was talking to Jayce, you had found your way over to Viktor, who sat hunched over at his desk, muttering to himself about something. He startled when you asked him what he was working on, and the man seemed shocked you were even remotely interested in his work. But as soon as he got started, he didn't stop, telling you about their next project and answering all the questions you had. 

Curiosity led to friendship with Viktor and…something much more for you.

Something you had hoped he would return if you could just find it in you to talk to him about it.

But every time you had an opportunity, you were alone, or he was with you in your greenhouse…you couldn't do it. The words would be right there on the tip of your tongue, and then he would look at you, and they would die in your throat. Golden eyes filled with excitement or happiness would stop you from ever saying anything in fear of ruining what you already have. 

Like right now. 

Viktor has moved on to talk about what he and Jayce plan on tackling next. A larger version of a teleportation portal they have been working on. The Hexgates is what they plan to call them once they get them working correctly.

Viktor is always so animated when he talks about his work; his face lights up, his hands move around frantically in the air…and you want nothing more than for him to talk about you that way.

As selfish as that may sound. 

You almost do it again. Almost manage to tell him how you feel when there is a lull in his speech. Finally, you actually start this time; you can feel your lips part as you speak, your heart thudding in your chest.

"Viktor…"

He looks at you, brows raising in question and a silent request for you to continue. And you just about have the words out when a familiar presence stumbles out onto the balcony, a broad grin on his face.

"There you two are!" Jayce's voice is booming in the soft silence of the balcony, and you can't help the way your shoulders fall slightly at his appearance. 

Another chance was gone. 

Viktor rolls his eyes.

"You act as if we left you to the wolves."

Jayce scoffs, strolling over to stand in front of you.

"You kind of did,” he defends, leaning against the balcony’s railing. "I have had to explain our next Hextech project like fifteen times. It's exhausting."

You move to take another sip of champagne only to notice that your glass is empty. Frowning at the offending object you stand up and send Jayce a smile.

"Sounds like you need a drink. I need to refresh my own anyways." You turn to Viktor. 

"Would you like anything?" 

He shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"No, thank you." He gives you a polite smile. "I could go with you if you'd like?"

Butterflies start up again, and you try to school your reaction slightly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind-"

Jayce cuts in.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to Viktor about something, if you don't mind?" 

You glance from the taller man back to Viktor, a slight sense of disappointment tugging at your chest.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be right back."

The two men give you short nods as you turn back into the building to seek out one of the waiters handing out champagne.

The search takes longer than expected, and the whole time you try to think of ways to talk to Viktor. 

Maybe you've had so much trouble because you're trying to be too forward.

Instead, you could start by asking him out on a date.

Something simple.

Viktor practically lives off coffee, so maybe you could ask him out to the coffee house by your apartment? 

You finally locate a waiter just as that thought runs through your mind, and it feels like something finally clicks when it does.

Nodding to yourself, you pick up two glasses of the bubbling drinks, trading in your empty one.

Why hadn't you thought of that before? 

Of course, asking him out to coffee or dinner would be easier than confessing your love to him.

Probably a bit less awkward too…

You can't hide the triumphant skip in your step as you head back toward the balcony, a new plan already forming in your head. 

However, just as you are about to enter the outside space, the conversation between the two men you are returning to makes you pause. 

"She likes you, you know," Jayce says, presumably to Viktor. 

"What are you going on about?" Viktor asks, his accented voice unmistakable. 

You know you shouldn't eavesdrop, and you are just about to step out onto the balcony when your name falls from Jayce's lips and makes you freeze completely. 

“(y/n).”

"I’m almost positive she likes you. And before you say it, yes, as more than a friend." Jayce's voice is firm as he speaks, like they've had this conversation before. 

Have you been that obvious?

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought.

If Jayce knows…

Then you've definitely been more obvious than you intended. Because that man is oblivious to just about everything. 

You hear Viktor sigh as you take a few more steps closer to the open doors, careful to stay out of sight. 

"I don't believe you are correct," he says, matter-of-factly. "And even if she does feel this way, it's not like I would not act upon it."

You don't even hear the rest of what he says as your heart starts to ache deep in your chest. It feels like you've gone numb, your fingers tingling with how hard his words hit you. 

He doesn't feel the same. Of course, he doesn't.

The familiar burn of tears is what forces you to move, and you practically burst out into the balcony.

The conversation immediately stops as you appear, and both of them look like a pair of startled deer. You quickly hand Jayce his drink, managing to spill a few drops onto his pants due to how your hands shake. 

"Here's your drink. Sorry, I took so long. I-" 

"Hey, Hey. Slow down." Jayce is up from his seat instantly, setting his drink on the ground and taking the one from your hand to give to Viktor.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

You shake your head but can't stop yourself glancing over at Viktor, more tears welling up at the concerned look on his face.

Finally, you drop your eyes to the floor. 

"I don't feel well. I think I'm gonna head home." You say simply, brushing Jayce's hands off you to head towards the door. 

Turning to leave, you don’t wait for a response from either of them, but Viktor is already hauling himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. 

"At least let me walk you home-" 

"No!"

Your rejection comes out much louder than anticipated, and you cringe internally. You try to ignore the startled look on his face as you elaborate.

"I'm fine. Have a good night, you guys.”

You leave before either of them can stop you. Gathering the skirt of your dress in your hands as you walk, you can’t help but worry the delicate fabric between your fingers. Right now, it's the only thing grounding you until you exit the large mansion onto the street. 

Only then, when the crowd's murmur disappears behind the doors, and the cool air washes over you, do the tears fall. 

———

While you had told the boys you were going home, your feet had inadvertently carried you to the greenhouse on Academy grounds.

It was the one place you could go to calm down; your plants always had a calming effect on you. Tending them, pruning the dead leaves away, sketching new blooms or new breeds of flora and fauna. 

It almost helped drown out the ache in your chest.

Almost. 

You can't help but feel silly sitting on a stool in the plant-filled space, your evening gown still on and trailing against the dirt floor.

You had taken your hair out from its intricate style, letting it lay free as you nursed a particularly picky plant in front of you. 

Adenium obesum.

More commonly known as the desert rose. 

It's a beautiful little shrub plant with vibrant pink-white flowers when it blooms. You were able to get your hands on one when a foreign market came to Piltover a few months ago. 

The flower is supposed to bring good luck. It resembles courage, self-belief, and resilience.

Hope. 

All things you had desperately needed-

Desperately wanted to confess.

But it seemed it hadn't done you much good. It was all in vain anyway. 

At first, the plant had struggled to survive. There aren't many subtropical plants under your care, and you worried for many weeks you would lose the little plant. But after weeks of tender care and careful adjustments, the flowers started to bloom. 

And you foolishly took that as a sign. 

Sighing, you trim away a few dead leaves before opening your notebook to a blank page.

The small shrub is in full bloom, its bright flowers complemented beautifully by its vibrant green leaves.

You had yet to sketch out the plant and decided now was as good a time as any. 

Anything to get your mind off the sting still lingered in your heart. 

You lay your pencil on paper, trying in vain to occupy your mind with your love of plants rather than your unrequited love of Viktor. 

———

The halls of the Academy are eerily quiet in the late hours of the night. It was just past midnight when you had left the Gala in a haste Viktor did not expect.

Jayce had called it a night soon after that, and Viktor agreed, wanting to go check on you more than anything. 

And talk to you after his and Jayce's conversation. 

He didn't believe his partner when Jayce told him of your affections. But after you left, the conversation continued, and he felt like an idiot once his partner pointed out all the signs.

The way you found any excuse to be close to him. The way you'd give him your undivided attention no matter the topic. 

"Do you really think she cared about the stabilization process of the arcane when she has a botany degree? You didn't even use layman's terms, Vik." 

Viktor had always assumed you were just being polite, but the more he realized it, the only polite people to him were his partner, Caitlyn, and Heimerdinger. Everyone else looked down at him or ignored him completely. 

But not you. 

You always praised him.

Laughed at his witty remarks. Brushed your fingers through his hair, looped your arm through his at events…

And suddenly, as Jayce was laying all this out, Viktor realized that he felt much more for you than he ever knew.

He has always wanted to be around you and craved your presence and words. Loved to listen to you speak of your plants and your work.

For Janna's sake!

He spent the precious time he could have been working on Hextech making an automatic water mister for you when you couldn't be at the greenhouse. 

Viktors has been a fool, and he hid all of his feelings behind a wall of 'professionalism' in fear of pushing you away.

…It seems that he's managed that anyway. 

He had gone to check on you after your abrupt exit, and when he didn't find you at your apartment, he knew exactly where you'd be. 

The greenhouse is one of the only places in Piltover with thriving natural plant life. Most of the greenery scattered around the city was intentionally placed to make the city look brighter and more pleasing to the eye. 

But you've made the greenhouse, and the Academy gardens a flourished, lush, paradise.

Even though he's been in the large building too many times to count, it still takes his breath away every time.

Green plants hang from the ceiling, their leaves or vines hanging from pots to create a fantastical atmosphere.

Plants with bright flowers or lush leaves sit on the multitudes of shelves and tables throughout the space, and every time Viktor takes a breath, it feels cleaner than the last. 

He understands why you love it here so much. And he feels the worry that settled in his belly dissipate when he sees your form hunched over your workbench in the far corner. 

He approaches slowly, the sound of his cane muted against the packed earth of the greenhouse.

He calls your name softly, brows furrowing when you don't respond. Then he understands your silence when he's finally by your side. 

You had fallen asleep. 

Your head rests on folded arms, a leather-bound notebook scooted to the side with a half-finished sketch of the plant that sits to your left. A pencil is still clutched between your fingers, and Viktor can't stop the smile that tugs at his lips. 

You look beautiful like this.

Hair down, face calm, and at rest, cheek squished adorably from where it rests against your arms.

But as Viktor gazes at you, he can't help the way his smile disappears as he notices the faint streaks of mascara on your cheeks and the red puffiness around your eyes. 

He reaches up, gently brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear before trailing his fingers along your cheek.

His touch is feather-light, yet it must have been enough to disturb your slumber, because your eyes begin to flutter. 

Viktor knows he should pull away, knows it's more than inappropriate, but he can't bring himself to do so. Not even as you begin to sit up, eyes widening as you realize who's standing before you. 

Finally, Viktor drops his hand as you shy away from him, avoiding his gaze. 

"What are you doing here, Vik?" You ask, voice sticky from sleep. 

His concern never leaves his face.

“Were you crying?" His voice is soft as he speaks, and he reaches up to cradle your cheek again, but you stop him, swatting his hand away. 

You ignore the hurt obvious in his eyes at your action.

"Why does it matter? I told you I wasn't feeling good." You snap, turning back to your notebook.

Viktor frowns, placing both hands on his cane.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were acting…strangely when you left the Gala." 

You huff, turning away from him more as tears start to blur your vision again. 

Why can't he just leave you alone? 

"Well, I'm fine." Your voice cracks, and you don't even care if he heard it. "So why don't you just go? It’s not like you’d ‘act upon it’ anyways." 

Viktor freezes at your words, and everything falls into place. Why you rushed out, why you are pushing him away now.

He feels guilt claw at his chest. 

"You heard us…." He states, voice low. 

"Yes, I heard you." You bite. "So don't worry about it. Forget Jayce even said anything, and I will too. He had no right to even talk to you about that-"

"I shouldn't have said that." Viktor cuts you off, and when you don't say anything, he continues. 

"I didn't believe Jayce when he told me how you felt. And it took him talking some sense into me to open my own eyes." He explains, fingers turning white with how hard he is gripping his cane.

"I was a fool to not see it and an even bigger fool for not realizing I feel the same way." 

At this, you tear your eyes away from your sketching, sending him a wary glance.

"What?" 

"I love you too." He finally says, never tearing his eyes from your own. 

He watches as your lower lip wobbles, and uncertainty fills your gaze.

"Viktor, if this is some kind of joke-" 

He takes a step forward then, cradling your face gently in one of his hands.

"I might be blind, but I'm not cruel." He says, lips turning upwards. "It just took Jayce talking some sense into me so I could finally see what is right in front of me." 

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you lean into his touch, your eyes slipping closed.

"I've loved you for way too long," you admit, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. "I'm sorry for the way I acted-"

Soft lips on yours stop the apology in its tracks, and you hesitate before realizing what's going on. 

Viktor is kissing you.

Viktor is kissing you! 

When your mind finally catches up, you return the kiss, surging forward to bring yourself as close as possible to him.

Viktor obliges, leaning his cane against your workbench and wrapping his free arm around your waist. 

When you pull away, you want to take a breath and kiss him again, but Viktor pauses - resting his forehead against your own. 

"I should be the one apologizing." He tells you, nudging his nose against your cheek. 

Shaking your head, you smile.

"All is forgiven." You say, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the beauty mark below his eye.

"Although I do have to admit, making out in the greenhouse isn't very professional. So maybe we should go somewhere else."

Viktor laughs, pulling away to look at you properly. He brushes a thumb along your lower lip and then your cheek.

"Damn, professionalism." He says, leaning in, so his lips brush yours. "I just want you by my side. For as long as you'll have me." 

The way your heart flutters in your chest is unmatched by anything you've felt before, and you can't help the giddy laugh that escapes from your chest.

"If I had it my way, that would be forever." 

Viktor hums. "Forever, it is."

Then his lips are on yours once more.

And as he kisses you in the greenhouse, flora all around you, you can't help but silently thank the little Desert Flower beside you. 

Maybe it did bring good luck.

[b0nerf4rt]

how they deal with an S/O who goes silent when overwhelmed

including : steveo , danger ehren , bam margera , and ryan dunn

warnings : afab! , swearing

steve o :

- 100% does not understand why youve gone quiet

- thinks your giving him the silent treatment

- "did i do something wrong ?!?!"

- but you just shake your head with a smile and he spirals into even more confusion

- wont let you out of his sight until you start talking again

- aggressively overprotective of you when your in a silent mood

- doesn't let anyone talk to you because if you wont talk to him you can't talk to anybody

- butters you up with affection thinking that would fix you but honestly the constant touching kind of makes the overwhelming feeling worst

- but at the same time it makes it better because you know he's there for you and waiting for you to feel better

- if all you want is space you better be prepared to hide because this little worried love bug isn't going to leave you alone until you tell him what's wrong

bam :

- honestly annoyed by your silence

- and hes very vocal about it

- so try to distance yourself from this man when you go mute

- but he'd ask if your okay first

- and after you nod your head he'd start complaining about how silent youve gotten

- and if you dont talk for a while he'd slowly get bored of complaining

- then he'd ask if you were okay again, not quite believing you

- but you just nod your head again because you knew you wouldnt be able to find your voice to explain anything

- at this point hed stare at you like you lost your mind when his head goes to the worst situations

- "are you pregnant?!" he asked while shaking you visiously

- that got a little giggle out of you but you shook your head

- from then on he'd start trying to guess whats wrong because he noticed how youd only laugh and not talk

- but those little noises were enough to appease him for now

ehren :

- thinks you dont feel good

- "is everything okay? are you feeling alright?" with geniune concern

- honestly so worried

- will spend hours pampering you the best way he could possibly think of, still believing you dont feel well

- forces you to lay in bed or on the couch with thousands of blankets and pillows and stuffies

- turns on cartoons and cheesy romance movies for you

- which is honestly the best for when your in this type of mood in my opinion

- and his constant checking of your temperature by putting the back of his hand to your forehead or by using his lips is almost heart melting

- he'll make you either tomato soup or chicken noodle soup thats been sitting in your cabinet for years

- but he says canned food never goes old

- so you trust him and eat it all, wanting to ask for some grilled cheese too but you couldnt find your voice sadly

- by the end of the day your feeling better but still not talking, and ehren noticed that

- he'll end up just cuddling with you on the couch for the rest of the night watching the cartoons and romanve movies he put on

ryan :

- asks if your okay, but when you dont respond he'll give you some space

- by space i mean him not talking to you but still hanging around you

- he'd distract the people that tried to talk to you so theyd leave you alone

- his general presence is nice and his gestures are even nicer, even if you didnt understand what he was doing at first

- will bring you little gifts like sweets or lemonade

- if your in public he'd direct you to a more unpopulated area and sit down with you

- if your at home he'd have you lay down in bed and maybe read to you or turn the tv on while he lays with you

- "my mom used to read to me when i wasn't in a good mood and that always helped" hed inform you while holding up to different picture books for you to choose from

- it was kind of odd at first but it was a sweet gesture that kind of made things calm down

- he is completely willing to baby you for the time being even if you dont want to be babied

- mama ryan knows best