#but Charlie's self-harm would definitely be worse

[theyarerealtome]

Ok, but let’s talk for a minute about just how good Nick and Charlie are for each other?? Not only romantically, but how their lifepaths are genuinely changed for the better because of their relationship?

Like, we know Charlie gave Nick the positive queer experience he himself never got to have and supported him through figuring out his sexuality. And Nick helps Charlie rebuild himself after Ben and the bullying, and his eating disorder.

It made me think about how things could have gone if they hadn’t met when they did. Beyond the aw-they-wouldn’t-get-to-meet-their-soulmate-☹ and to the sad, wider implications of not knowing each other.

Sorry for the incoming Way Too Long Ramble about what if Mr Lange had done the seating plan differently.

TW for discussions of canon eating disorders, self-harm and sexual assault.

Charlie

First off, I think Charlie would still break things off with Ben after seeing him with a girlfriend. But the big difference is there’s no Nick to discover Ben assaulting him, and to subsequently confide in about their relationship and reaffirm that Ben is the terrible, awful person.

So, we’re looking at a Charlie who is still carrying this toxic secret alone that could damage and tear away at his self-esteem even more than canon where he fairly quickly gets to build a healthy, loving relationship with Nick who actively combats a lot of the shit that Ben told him

(I wonder if eventually Charlie would have told Tori more?? About the guy who ‘made him feel like it would be better if he didn’t exist’. I hope so, because Charlie, my beloved, while you are an actual angel for not outing that piece of dickweed to anyone, you’re allowed to tell someone)

(Don’t even want to get into if the assault would have progressed further without Nick there. Probably Ben wouldn’t have gone beyond kissing. But it would still be more traumatic, and Nick’s discovery meant Ben was warier about coming near Charlie afterwards. Whereas no Nick means Charlie is constantly on guard avoiding Ben)

More under the cut. 

Unquestionably Charlie still develops his eating disorder - and chances are it’s quicker and more severe than in canon, with all this extra crap going on.

The one bit of hope is that while it might take longer for other non-Nick people to notice his ED, I’m sure they would. Charlie still has a good support network, and someone – Tori, Tao, Elle, Isaac/Aled, Mr Ajayi – would pick up on it.

But still getting help, and his recovery process (especially around self-harm) would be much longer, and more painful given Nick was the one who first got through to Charlie and helped him talk to his parents.

And Tori and Nick were both the biggest supports for Charlie through it all – without Nick, poor Tori has so much more on her shoulders.

The events of Solitaire end up being even darker, as Nick/Charlie are basically the main bright spot in all that. So, you have an even sadder Charlie and Tori

When the air clears after an incredibly shitty few years you’d have a 16/17-year-old Charlie who is working on his ED, self-harm, and mental health, but bottom line is it’s a much more painful journey, and he’s probably more impacted by everything with Ben.

In terms of the wider friend group, probably the Paris Squad Charlie/Tao/Tara/Darcy/Aled-Isaac/Sahar unit still develops. Because Elle was really the one who connected the girls with the guys. So, at least Charlie would have that

But with wider popularity? Canonically he ends up Head Boy and is friendly with a lot of people. I’m thinking without joining the rugby team, expanding his social circle, and having Nick to build his confidence we’re seeing a more reserved version of Charlie. Maybe he’d just be like a prefect or something but not quite head boy?

So, by the end of high school you’ve got a recovering Charlie heading off to uni, but he’s carrying a lot of self-loathing and emotional scars that Nick chipped away at. 

Nick

It feels like in the shorter-term Nick’s situation would be better than Charlie’s – but longer term everything goes to shit.

Initially not much would change – he’d play rugby, he’d have his friends who he doesn’t actually like but is accepted by, he’s in a group where he can never be fully himself

Basically, Nick is ok but he’s not happy – and not even fully aware of how ‘not-happy’ he is

Harry would still have pushed Tara & Nick together at his birthday and Tara might still have come out to him. But without Nick’s sexuality crisis or talking about his openly gay “probably-my-best-friend-right-now” I don’t think they would have connected so quickly

And he never would have been at the orchestra practice to see her again and plan lunch together, milkshake dates etc. So that means no befriending Tara/Darcy and not connecting with the Paris Squad

Things with Imogen would have developed in a similar way: chances are peak peer-pressured Nick would still be bulldozed into going on their date, but without his relationship with Charlie to enable him to cancel, you’re looking at it being dragged out way longer - it’s a question of how many dates they go on before Nick calls things off

Yeah, he would have stopped before they actually became boyfriend/girlfriend, but it’s still a much stickier situation all round and one that leaves him more alienated

Then he’d still go on the Paris trip but probably ends up rooming with Harry and co. so much less fun all round  

On the friend’s front – he’d still have Sai/Otis-Omar/Christian, but in canon it seems like their friendship deepened when Nick got together with Charlie, and a line was drawn over who Nick’s true friends were?? Without that happening, their friendship likely stays more surface level and shallow

Similarly, I’m not seeing a Charlie-less version of Nick having the confidence to confront Stéphane and David

Coming out as bi, having Charlie to confide in about his feelings, and just generally being able to be more himself – all that contributed to Nick calling both of them out on their shit. Without those circumstances, you’ve got a more people-pleasing Nick who pushes his own feelings down, so nothing real gets addressed and both relationships remain toxic and distant.

Obviously the massive, massive question is when and how Nick has his “full-on gay crisis.” And that’s kind of impossible to say. It could still be at Truham over another guy, or might not be until after school (maybe at uni)

There are a hundred ways that could go – but I think the key thing is that without Charlie, the chances are Nick’s sexuality journey wouldn’t be nearly as positive or healthy. (Honestly, it’s often missed just how supportive and essential Charlie was through it all, and how wonderful it was that Nick got such a sweet first (only) boyfriend).

Also remember, Charlie is the only out guy at Truham – if Nick falls for someone else at school then they’re either straight or closeted, and Nick is hit with feelings that he has to deal with on his own

There’s no Charlie to make the first move, no Charlie to hold Nick while he’s breaking down, no Charlie to tell him it’s ok to figure things out, no Paris Squad to provide queer community, no Tara/Darcy to talk to. It’s Nick alone in his room with BuzzFeed quizzes and articles on conversion therapy

Luckily he does still have Sarah and he might confide in her at an earlier point than in canon, but in terms of actual friends to talk to? ☹

Again, as with Charlie, Nick would eventually be ok. He’d figure it out – but it would be a hell of a lot of lonelier, and he’d probably never come out or act on anything while still at Truham

If his sexuality crisis happened post-school (likely uni) …possibly that would be better?? Uni is less of a cesspool, he wouldn’t be as trapped with people like Harry, and could at least connect with LGBTQI+ groups on campus etc. But on the flipside, it’s a Nick whose had years more of repressing his true self so there would be more to untangle

Overall, whether he’s realised he’s bi or not, by the end of school you’re left with Nick who is doing fine enough and seems content, but is much less anchored in himself, represses important parts of who he is, and lacks a real, close community

Idk, what other people think. This is all assuming that Nick and Charlie don’t meet later during school (e.g., if Nick reached out to the collection of queer students at Truham during his bi crisis). 

But basically, all that long ramble was saying that a Nick and Charlie without each other is a very sad thing to think about, and they’re 100% a couple who make each other better, happier versions of themselves <3

(Also sorry this is a frankenstein combo of Netflix and comics heartstopper. basically it just takes everything across both universes into account. Plus Solitaire, This Winter, N&C etc. 

[lowkeyrobin]

just saw you wrote for heartstopper...

tao x elle till i die

anyhow idk if you'd do this ( tw by the way) but charlie comforting a friend who also deals with self harm? sorry to be depressing

take care of yourself!

-💿

OMG TAOELLE HAS MY HEART 💔💔💔 ; but yeah of course, take care of yourself too 💿, otherwise I'll beat you up or smthn idk ; also sorry if I got a little too deep w this. (basically the whole premise of this sh and mental health so please be wary. very much leaned into The Ghosts We Keep. the sh scene literally got my stomach twisting and turning I didn't go that far don't worry dhsjns) ; also this is a bit of a mix of a oneshot & preference. if you don't wanna hear about the sh, just scroll down some 👍 ; also I do write for mental health stuff so dw! just be wary when reading bc I don't wanna trigger anyone

CHARLIE SPRING ; comfort for both of us

summary ; you and Charlie both struggle w sh, but you don't know he does while he knows about your struggles

warnings ; language, talk about and depictions of self harm and mental health

word count ; 839

masterlist

You told Charlie about your struggles with mental health and self harm, unknowing to his own struggles with those topics. That poor boy was all about others before himself, something you knew was a bit of a problem.

You'd been friends with Charlie since 7th year, but were never close to Tao, Elle, or Isaac, or even Nick for that matter, considering you barely knew them and never had classes with them either.

You sit on the cold, hard tile in your bathroom, waiting for Charlie. You frantically texted him earlier once you realized what you'd done to yourself, and he quickly sent back a text that he was on his way over.

That was twenty minutes ago.

You knew you could count on Charlie, seemingly your only friend, but Christ, he walked so utterly slow.

It made you rethink all your choices before, and why you did it. Jesus, you were just being dramatic, nothing was that serious. Nothing is ever that serious for you to hurt yourself, you're just being dramatic about it now.

The feeling of pressing the razor blade to your skin wasn't even relieving, nor did it feel anywhere near good anymore. It hurt, really bad, all the way through, as you hoped your body would numb up but it never did. You were supposed to be clean.

But now your wrists are still dripping blood onto the tile below, creating fine, slightly transparent pools of crimson that'd stain the tile. You were too scared and in too much pain to do anything, just begging and waiting to hear your parents welcome him in and for him to open the door next to you.

Finally, you heard it. The door opening, your parents welcoming him with a bit of question as it was seven on a Saturday, then the footsteps walking down the hall, then the knock at the door. It was light and repetitive, like there was some super secret code and you couldn't let him in otherwise.

You lightly smile at that, and pull down on the door handle, cracking it open. You scoot over on the floor, not trying to sit in your blood. His eyes immediately widen as he pushes the door open, in response to the shock he quickly enters the room and shuts and locks the door behind him.

"This is definitely worse than what you said" He comments with concern.

Adrenaline is still streaming through your veins as you shrug. "Mostly just the blood. Help me, please"

He nods, helping you up to your feet so you could sit on the countertop next to the sink. Thank God freestanding sinks weren't trendy anymore, he couldn't bend down any longer, he needed you above him for this, it made everything much easier.

He quickly grabs a washcloth and soaks it in cold water, and wipes up all the blood off the floor while he instructs you to just hold the wounds over the sink so anything dripping out would go down the drain. They hurt immensely but you pull through without crying in front of him.

He sneaks into the hallway to grab the first aid kit and sets it down, looking for gauze. He hands you two lukewarm washcloths, clean ones, and rests them over your arms, soaking up any leftover blood in a comforting manner. He finds the gauze and some tiny scissors, and removes one washcloth, and gets to work on wrapping the gauze and then the bandage around it.

"Sorry for making you come over so late for this" You mumble.

He raises an eyebrow before he answers. "It's not that big of a deal"

You wanted to fight with him on that, but you were much too tired and it wasn't worth it anyways.

He wraps up your arms, and looks up at you, his hands gently holding yours. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You shrug, "I was clean. It just kinda happened, I guess"

after that, you're spending a lot more time together, going out to eat, adventures, doing fun things, etc

he introduces you to his friends as well because you seem very lonely in and out of school

always checking in on you

you eventually find out about his sh and you become sh buddies (name by you)

always comforting and reassuring each other

trauma bonding 🔛🔝

lots of movie nights where you guys just kinda chill out and find comfort in one another

Nick's totally fine w charlie going to you for help, as long as he's in the loop. he knows you two understand sh and your mental health better than he could for charlie

lots of words of affirmation and quality time

lots of just doing hobbies to get your minds off of things (he recommended this bc drumming helps him when he's upset)

lots of writing out and talking out your thoughts, no matter how dumb or cringe it sounds

you get matching I ❤️ hot moms shirts because why not

gifting yourselves to treats after simple tasks 💀 (me)

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Hello Rosie

I’ve realized that I spent a long time belaboring the accomplishments of other writers, but I don’t think I ever touched on Ariel Ladensohn. Responsible for the episodes Scrambled Eggs and Hello Rosie, she is credited for shows like Solar Opposites and Futurama, however she has only written a single episode for the Futurama reboot that I can find whereas she is a producer for the show otherwise. Meanwhile, she has minor, single episode writing credits for series like My Little Pony Friendship is magic in 2019 (A Horse Shoe-in), and Clifford the Big Red Dog. In fact, the most credit to her name is under Justin Roiland’s Solar Opposites where she started as a consistent script writer and eventually entered middle management as a story editor. She has a family history within show business through her mother Cybill Sheperd, a well-known celebrity and model of the previous generations. Based on Scrambled Eggs, I will say that episode feels like Justin Roiland fare, and I don’t expect much different from this episode.

Even the series seems self aware at times with Angel Dust proclaiming all of Charlie’s ideas thus so far being failures and Husk even pointing out that the more Charlie tries to do, the worse it gets for everyone else. Charlie lives in this place of protection because of Lucifer, supposedly. This idea that Lucifer is trying to protect her and it’s why she is never in danger during the exterminations isn’t one I’ve actually seen confirmed in the show in any way. It’s alluded to, but with how much of the show is unspoken and outright fabricated with deceit being framed in the last episode as “It’s a lie because otherwise nothing makes sense” when the world building as a whole doesn’t make any sense, I don’t trust the show. I don’t trust the show or writers to know what they are talking about and reluctant to give them any grace in that way. Seven episodes into an 8 episode series and all you’ve accomplished is confusing me. Has Charlie ever even been helpful? We still don’t know what progress is supposed to look like. And we are supposed to think Angel Dust in episode 4 sees Charlie as a friend he can protect while she’s still the Princess of Hell for one and, two, here we see him lamenting her meddling entirely. No one has faith in her but Vaggie, and even then, having faith in Charlie is her entire personality.

Side point, but Vaggie adding”In our room” didn’t sound or feel like she was sad. Rather, we just added that line for some reason? Am I supposed to get the vibe that Charlie and her are broken up in some way from the angel reveal? Or is this the dialogue stating out loud that it is their shared room and that they are in fact a couple because otherwise there is massive room for doubt due to how sanitized the lesbian relationship is in this series. I don’t know, I can’t tell, both can be true because there is so much and yet nothing at all in this series on every level.

If only the show actually showed that the Egg Bois were unreliable narrators at some point. Instead the few times we see them it is that they have difficulty following orders. Not that they actually are unreliable in everything.

So going back to this massive plot point of Angels only being harmed by Angelic weapons, like I said last post, this huge reveal fails to land or build any interest for numerous reasons. For one, Carmilla’s whole business is arms dealing with angelic weapons that Angels just leave behind. Like, a cornerstone of the lore of Hazbin is that angelic weapons are just dumped like litter into Hell every extermination, so one would think that if angelic weapons are the only thing capable or harming angels, Sera would have had a very tight rule about making sure all these weapons are returned to Heaven for their own safety. Even if you want to make the argument Adam and Lute don’t know this, Sera definitely would. And her entire hope for keeping Heaven safe is entirely negated because Adam’s goons are just supplying Hell with the only weapons that can kill angels every year. Second, as stated previously, Vaggie was injured by angelic weapons when Lute attacked her and carved out her eye. It makes no sense that she wouldn’t know the power of angelic weapons. Point three, Vaggie’s wings were torn off by Lute’s bare hands. I’m reminded of Dan Olsen’s video essay The Art of Editing and Suicide Squad where he talks about the use of the Unicorn plushy in the film and the way a narrative must reinforce an idea for these sort of plot points to be effective.

“Then, in the tower brawl, Captain Boomerang is wrestling with a tar monster who stabs him right in the heart. And for a second you go ‘oh no!’- but, Being a savvy and attentive viewer, you immediately go ‘ah wait, the unicorn!’ And you pat yourself in the back as Boomerang pulls out the knife stuck in a wad of money.”

This feels like the Suicide Squad Unicorn situation. There is so much going on and no one in the room was able to catch these contradictions in the production. By the narrative denaturing on such a foundational world building level, the weight of every reveal and plot point is about the equivalent of a paper ball. It fails to ground the world, abide by its own rules, and thus never succeeds as a show. It is a concept that never pounded out the impurities and results in a confusing waste of time.

Wait, did Charlie forget about Cannibalism Town? Episode one she made a point to declare it in the song and how everyone was bright and smiling. So it shows an understanding of what foreshadowing is as a concept, but because no one else remembers or knows anything about Cannibal Town, Ariel was forced to reintroduce the setting in such a way that feels like bad writing. My point is, Ariel is doing the best she can here, the issue lies with Medrano and how she drew attention to Cannibal Town when it wasn’t relevant but never reinforced the plot point. Again, the unicorn plush situation pops up. Because she failed to incorporate Cannibal Town throughout the series, we needed this whiplash redo of the setting to actually immerse the audience in a way that makes narrative sense. Ariel is doing the best she can and it should be noted that this was the best way to rush this plot point because Medrano did nothing she needed to do up to this moment. Cannibal Town needed to be explored a little every episode and incorporated in all of the plots for this to work. By just announcing it in the first episode to try and hint this was going to be important, and then go another 2 and a half hours of content with no reminders at all, Ariel’s only hope was making this a plot hole to try and smooth over the train wreck this whole aspect of the show turned into.

In fact, I just remembered Ariel did Scrambled Eggs, which would have been perfect to set up the reminder of Cannibal Town and its importance by focusing on Rosie. Instead, the episode focused on Zestial and having him and Alastor catch up when it very obviously should have been Rosie for this specific purpose. Was Kritzer more expensive than James? Why focus on this character so long when all he serves is as a vessel to Carmella confessing her involvement in the killing when Rosie is far more important a player? I’m not saying they should have cut him out entirely, but that time would have been better suited with giving Rosie more to do.

My nitpick of the episode is that Rosie’s voice and character bothers me and rips me out of any level of immersion I could have. The accent is noticeably fake to the point it is distracting and the dialogue and pacing is so paint by numbers Jewish mother stereotype that is actually feels too slow. If this makes sense, she isn’t delivering the lines fast enough for it not to feel like a blatant caricature. It’s a stereotype that feels like a stereotype because it hits just off the mark ever so slightly that it draws all the more attention to it. For a show with breakneck pacing, these scenes drag and it is due to the delivery entirely. And before someone does attempt to argue the actress, Leslie Kritzer, is in fact Jewish, yes, she is half Jewish on her father’s side with a Puerto Rican mother. Kritzer was raised Catholic and was not privy to the Jewish Mother character growing up, despite being ethnically half Jewish. That does matter.

The terrifying thing is how the whole negotiation scene with Rosie is so rushed. She says she likes Charlie’s moxie when all Charlie has done is have the prelude of a mental breakdown in front of her. She made it clear how everything is her fault, how everyone she cares for is in danger and pretty much doomed. The literal definition of Moxie is “Force of character or determination” when all Rosie has seen is Charlie actively caving under the weight of everything. That is, in fact, the opposite of moxie. Sure, we have seen her stand up to Sera and stand up for her beliefs, but Rosie has not. This is a common issue in Medrano’s writing where she fails to know which characters know what. They are ignorant when it is convenient and just as equally omnipotent when required. And, like I said, they also feel too slow. The delivery is just too slow and the scenes are too fast, too much happens when it makes no sense and everything just feels like a waste of time.

I just realized why this scene feels like such a waste of time: it lacks tension. The sequence where Rosie walks up to Alastor is such a wide shot, her asking about his plan bears no weight. This is genuinely some of the worst scene composition. This is an expensive shot with Charlie, Rosie and Alastor as well as the need to use filler background characters in the corner to make the space feel lived-in. But this whole issue would have been resolved by utilizing he exact scene direction that follows. Have Rosie close the distance between her and Alastor and have it cut to a 1/3rd body shot of the two. Have Charlie cut from the scene as neither are even acknowledging her in this moment and it shows how Alastor and Rosie see her as a child, ignoring her despite being the princess of Hell. Have Rosie’s approach be an over-shoulder closeup from Alastor’s side, and instead of cutting off Rosie’s face, have the characters get closer together as the camera zooms in. Make the connection between Alastor and Rosie stronger so her words feel slightly ominous when she says “Alastor has never done me wrong before”. Where you wonder if you can trust Rosie, or if maybe Rosie doesn’t really trust Alastor and is giving a subtle warning. The utter lack of nonverbal storytelling sucks all depth and nuance out of the episode.

Carmella is a top tier character in a woefully subpar story. She is everything its clear Medrano’s wishes Alastor was. She is intimidating and intelligent. It tips a bit too far into ludicrous levels of knowledge that, if thought about, feels like it is the writer cheating. And it is. This absolutely is cheating, because the characters who should know Vaggie is an angel, for example, don’t. Alastor, Charlie, and Lucifer are either totally ignorant of Vaggie being an angel or are playing stupid. The reason Carmella has made is that it benefits her to not draw attention to herself, but Alastor should be able to make the same level of inference on Vaggie and doesn’t. To say he does but says nothing makes no sense because he could have been playing puppet master this whole time by using Vaggie’s angel status to control her and/or Charlie in any number of ways. And if anyone would know about Vaggie, it should be Lucifer. And Lucifer should be distrusting of Vaggie at the least. So Carmella is a cool character, but if we really think about it, it’s obvious that she’s just OP to serve a purpose in the plot.

I love Carmella’s long hair design, but the hair just is down in a microsecond of a scene. It was a change in a single frame that went by faster than a blink. It needed to have more emphasis for the reason to be understood: Vaggie is making excuses. It doesn’t translate clearly that Carmella is trying to pull the “equal footing” trope because there was no weight to her letting her hair down. It needed to at least be given a second to focus, not even a verbal acknowledgment, but just have Carmella let down her hair and make eye contact for a second before beating Vaggie up further.

I feel the need to have a small personal rant here, I have ballroom experience, I am also a Latino. The scene and song were ideally set to have a partner-based dance influence. I mainly dance waltz, but I feel a tango was ideal for this sort of song. The beat is too slow for a salsa. There are many different types of Latin dances to choose from (cha cha, salsa, tango, samba). The lack of appropriate Latin influences for a Latina coded character who is also heavily inspired by dancers, and yet none of the proper dance influences were taken advantage of. This entire character concept was fumbled hard. On top of it all, by not selecting a coherent dance style, the fight-dance choreography doesn’t make use of each person’s different strengths. Carmella uses her legs as her weapons while Vaggie has her spear in her arms. So Vaggie mirroring Carmella does nothing to improve her understanding of combat.

Steven Universe focused its use of music to individual instruments. Garnet was a synth bass instrument which heavily influenced her entire character design. Synth Basses are the backbone for many contemporary music genres, especially hip-hop. And Garnet’s character design from being black-coded to her dance style being Waacking, a form of street dance associated with the gay disco clubs of 1970s LA, specifically credited to black choreographer Tyrone Proctor. This is how you utilize ethnic coding in an animated musical. Instead, Carmella is Latina-coded with a Spanish guitar as her musical motif, with very specific native latin American motifs to her movements like maracas and a jaguar with a ballet style dance. This is a cacophony of influence with no understanding of any of them being forced together in a Frankenstein amalgamation of disappointment. Especially the minor use of maracas in Carmella’s character as they are very unique and important to Mexican and Latin culture.

Charlie’s feelings about Vaggie comes off extremely selfish. Vaggie was an exorcist which is hinted at to be a human soul, which means her neglecting to tell Charlie she was an exorcist wasn’t a lie. She was a fallen soul by that point, just like any other person in Hell. She has a history like the rest of them, but her time in heaven would be just a relevant as her time alive, which the show has made clear doesn’t matter to anyone in the series. So having Charlie need this sort of pep talk shows why her hotel is a failure more than anything: she doesn’t really believe in anything she is saying. As a concept, sure, but in practice, her sense of redemption has never previously required confession. Only when she feels entitled to another person does it suddenly matter. She doesn’t care about who Angel Dust or Sir Pentious were before coming to the hotel. Them killing other sinners doesn’t affect her at all. It is only when it’s someone she feels personally entitled to, or a sense of ownership over, that suddenly someone’s past matters. And that’s hypocritical. In fact, it goes deeper still in how Charlie is only interested in who Vaggie was before and no one else, but that comes from a sense of owning Vaggie. Everyone else, Charlie rejects on a fundamental value. Angel Dust’s hypersexuality is uncomfortable for her and she wishes he wasn’t that way. Nifty’s sadistic weirdness is uncomfortable for her and she wants that to change too. Husk’s aloof alcoholism is also a problem for her. Even with the Cannibals, she demands them to change (tone it down) to fit her sensibilities even as she is asking them to possibly die for her. I have seen people claim that the whole criticism of Heaven is hypocricy, I’ve said before it isn’t. I’ll assert it again: Heaven isn’t the hypocrite, Charlie is.

The first thing I said upon finishing this episode was “I would have rather seen the episode of Angel, Pent, Nifty, and Husk resolving to stick together despite thinking they had been abandoned. The character drama and the conclusion of them really coming together would have been far more intimate and cathartic than seeing Charlie and Vaggie “make up” by talking with complete strangers.

3/10

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

On a scale from 1 to 10 how messed up is your version of Michael? (How much stuff he is post scoop or if scoop doesn't happen how messed up he is mental)

Poor thing is a definite 10

TW: brief mention of self harm

He doesn’t get scooped in my AU, but he’s got the trauma to make up for it.

William spoiled him with toys and video games, but he totally missed the memo that parents are supposed to spend time with their kids.

He was also harsh and had stupidly high expectations. Mike could build the parthenon, and William would find something wrong with it.

But he never considered it abuse, and it took him a long time to accept that it was. He had friends who’s fathers would beat them black and blue, William never did that.

His mom left when he was eight. She was young and never really wanted kids, but William insisted that it was just what they were supposed to do. She loved her sons, but she wasn’t happy being a mom. She was addicted to Valium pills and one day just up and left with a man she had an affair with, leaving little Mike sobbing in the drive way.

She tried to write letters to Mike and Evan, but William always intercepted them before the boys could see them, leaving Mike to believe his mom had truly abandoned him.

Mike loved Evan. He teared up when baby Evan first squeezed his finger in his little baby fist. But things soured as they got older. Mike was jealous of Evan, and angry at the world. But he never meant for it to end the way it did.

He fell into a severe depression after Evan’s death. He wasn’t even allowed to go to the funeral. He couldn’t eat or sleep as the guilt ate away at him. He took to cutting himself. Partly as a form of self punishment, and partly just to feel something.

William couldn’t even stand to look at him. His abuse became worse and worse, and Mike couldn’t even be mad because he felt like he deserved it.

He watched from afar as William slowly lost his mind.

He snuck into William’s basement office once and was nauseous at the sight of the broken bloody Fredbear animatronic wrapped in Evan’s blanket and surrounded by toys and rotting cake. William found him, and it was the first time he ever beat him.

When the missing children incident happened, Mike didn’t know what to think. Half of him couldn’t believe it. Sure his dad was creepy, and he’d hurt him, but he had a reason to hurt him, he didn’t have a reason to hurt innocent kids. The other half of him accepted the truth. His father was a monster.

The time William was taken into police custody was the most stressful time of his life.

Eventually William was released due to insufficient evidence, he came home acting chipper like nothing was wrong and even looking at him made Mike sick to his stomach.

One day, Henry was at the house for dinner, and Mike found the courage to call William out on his phony behavior directly. Something in William snapped. He grabbed a knife and started chasing Mike, swinging the knife like a mad man, screaming that he wanted him dead. Mike ran outside while Henry wrestled the knife away from William.

Henry brought Mike back to his house and tried to comfort him as he sobbed, “he tried to kill me. Why’d he try to kill me?”

William showed up a few hours later, demanding to have Mike back. Mike listened to William and Henry screaming at each other as he hid in the bathroom, quietly sobbing and trembling.

They found Charlie’s body the next morning, and William went missing. Mike blamed himself, and he believed Henry must too.

He had gotten back into contact with his mother during the time William was in custody. It was awkward. He was relieved she had actually tried to contact him, but he was still mad at her for leaving, and after years apart, things just weren’t the same.

But she did offer to let him stay with her, and since he felt like a burden to Henry, he accepted.

Henry took his own life shortly after Mike left. Once again,he blamed himself.

For years afterwards, he tried hiding from everything. Desperately avoiding all the news stations and true crime “detectives” that wanted to interview him. He was done with Freddy’s, but Freddy’s wasn’t done with him.

“ITS ME”

“SAVE THEM”

He had consistent nightmares and “hallucinations” of the animatronics. The thought he was going crazy, but it felt way too real to all be in his head.

He moved back to Hurricane, applied for the night guard position under a fake name, and witnessed the haunted Animatronics first hand.

The pizzeria shuts down soon after, due to a lack of business and a strong stench of rot. The building was barricaded and the animatronics were dismantled.

He eventually reached out to the families of the missing children, telling them that the ghost stories were true and explaining what he saw. They deserved to know the truth, right?

Most of them wanted absolutely nothing to do whith him, which he understood. But a few, more open minded people seemed interested. Older siblings of the kids who had died. Some didn’t actually believe him and wanted proof he wasn’t bullshitting, others were just desperate for answers and closure. They agreed to meet at the shut down restaurant.

It was immediately more dangerous than Michael thought it would be, because the animatronics seemed to have reassembled themselves. He wanted everyone to get the hell out, but now that they knew Mike was telling the truth, they needed to investigate and find out what really happened.

While snooping around they found a sealed off room that reeked of death. They opened it and unknowingly freed stringtrap, the killer, William Afton.

But he wasn’t William Afton anymore. Years of tortuous pain, starvation, and isolation, had reduced him to a feral zombi like creature. Michael doesn’t know which is worse.

Springtrap attacked the group and every time Michael would throw himself in front of them and try to sacrifice himself for the others. He wasn’t always successful in helping them, as one of the group got his arm torn of and eaten by springtrap.

Eventually the group decided “fuck this place,” and started a fire to destroy it for good. The escaped just intime to watch the building be engulfed with flame, with springtrap inside.

Killing his father didn’t bring him joy or anguish or anything that he had expected. He didn’t really feel anything.

Mike grew close to the group, especially Danny, the foster sister of Cassidy. She was very iffy about him at first obviously, they all were, but she knew that none of what happened was actually his fault. She admitted to Mike that when she first started to warm up to him, she felt like she was betraying Cassidy, but after seeing how selfless and brave he could be, she thinks that Cassidy would’ve liked him.

Over time, the two of them developed a romantic relationship, and decide to fuck off to the other side of the country. They didn’t want anything to do with Freddie’s ever again.

They had a son named Evan (Gregory), and around the time he was 4-5, Freddy’s started, unfortunately, making a comeback. Evan asked if he could go, but his parents vehemently refused. They were a bit overprotective but they were also right.

One day Evan goes to Freddy’s without his parents’ knowledge and becomes the target for a William Afton copy cat killer. He escapes unharmed but it was still massively traumatizing, for him and his parents.

In the end, Michael is trying to move on and recover, and in some ways he has. He’s much happier as an adult than he ever was as a kid/teen. But the past keeps popping up again and again, threatening to destroy the new life he’s built.

[beef-brisket]

Alastor looked between Lucifer and Adam before looking down.

Alastor: ...fine, what do you want to know?

Adam helped Alastor onto his bed. He gripped his side in pain. He's definitely got broken ribs. He nodded thanks to Adam before shifting his position slightly.

Lucifer: why you?

Alastor: Hell if I know-

Lucifer: you're going to have to answer better than that, Alastor.

Alastor: ...she said I had potential. When I was alive, I hunted and killed those who deserved it. Rapists, pedophiles, people that take advantage of those weaker...

Lucifer: you're an overlord, you became what you hated

Alastor: ha! My good man, I have always treated my contracts right. Husker was still a bit embarrassed about how I got his soul. It was fair. He could have ended up with mine if luck was on his side. But I have always been fair. Always. I don't prey on those weaker, they come to me.

Adam: and Lilith liked that because...?

Alastor: she didn't like it. She didn't care. She was interested in me because of my life. Punishing those who deserve it. While damning my afterlife in the process. Put the fate of others over my own. Of course, I wasn't fussed about what came after death. Heaven or Hell were never on my mind. I knew whatever happened, I wasn't going anywhere good. But that was fine. It was worth it.

Alastor coughed and dig his claws into his clothes over his side. His jacket was long gone at this point.

Alastor: she saw me as the law, in a way. Even though I'm here, I will still do things for the greater good. I will still punish those who deserve it.

Lucifer: and what about you? You're as much of a monster as any of them

((Tw: self harm))

Alastor: I punish myself to. I know I'm as bad- if not worse than a lot of the sinners I go after

Alastor slowly lifted his sleeve, showing deep wounds that have long since scared.

Lucifer: how did you manage that?

Alastor: angelic weapons aren't hard to get, your majesty. It's the only thing that inflicts enough pain and will leave a permanent scar. But that's off topic.

Lucifer: to make a pathetic long story, short. She picked you because you-

Alastor: punish. Yes. She believes only the worst of humanity should be down here. That most were judged too harshly... included you and her

Lucifer: us? We went against Heaven- they had banished us to Earth first, then Hell... we got a chance-

Alastor: Exactly. She thinks everyone should get a chance. Those who don't deserve to be down here should go somewhere else...

Adam: where?

Alastor: pft. She said there's only Heaven and Hell. And God is the only one to make another plain for them... and he's not going anything. Which frustrated her more

Lucifer: so... she thinks she belongs in Heaven...

Alastor: she thinks you do, to. I assume you know she's with Archangel Michael?

Lucifer: yes. I've heard.

Alastor: she's using his power. She plans to transfer it to you- somehow. So you can become an angel again, and Michael will fall.

Lucifer: that's... that's not possible

Alastor: very possible... how do you think she's gotten as powerful as she has? And now that you Adam, have fallen. She's probably going to go through with her plan soon

Adam: why does it matter if I've fallen?

Alastor: she made a deal with you, didn't she? She'll stop her revolution against Heaven if she can have a spot up there, correct?

Lucifer looked to Adam, he didn't mention a deal.

Adam: uh... yeah, that's the jist of it

Alastor: When an angel makes a deal, you're using your angelic power... but because you're technically a winner, your power was borrowed. And I'm sure you didn't know this, but when you made that deal, you made Lilith your next in command. In a way. So when you "died"-

Adam: my power went to Lilith...

Alastor: exactly. She knew she'd be powerless up there, but she also knew your anger and hatred for Lucifer would come back and bite you. And she was right. You attacked Charlie. You killed her pet. A hellborn. You broke the contract. That made it possible for Lucifer to join the fight... so, good job, first man. You played right into her plan.

Lucifer: enough. Why did you attack Adam?

Alastor: she heard about the two of you. If Lucifer gave you any power, you would over power her. You could even rival Lucifer. Lucky you.

Adam: the fuck- how?

Alastor: you're technically a fallen Angel. But also a winner. With power gained from the Archangels. So technically-

Lucifer: he could be as powerful as me...

Alastor: bingo. And trust me. That really... annoys her. She's not your biggest fan, first man.

Adam: oh no! And here I am, her biggest hater!

Alastor: very funny. I have nothing against you... I know it doesn't seem that way... but I had to listen to her-

Adam: why didn't you make sure I was dead?

Alastor: ...I was hoping Lucifer would find you. I... don't want you dead, Adam. I may kill those who deserve it... but watching you these last few months... you're as broken as the rest of us... and, I'm sick and tired of being under her rule. So, I guess I owe you thanks, not that it matters.

Lucifer: ...why join my daughter, Alastor? Was this because of Lilith?

Alastor: partly. She did ask me to watch her. She knew you were having a rough time with her leaving. She didn't know about the hotel, not until after the failed extermination. But... I want to see my mother... I haven't killed since I've been here... I want to try redemption... but on my terms...

Lucifer: well then... help us, and we'll help you.

Alastor: ...I've got no choice, do I?

Lucifer: not really, and besides, I'm sure Vox would love to have some time alone with you, now that you're a lot weaker~

Alastor: fine! Fine... I'll help you

Lucifer: fantastic! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor! I'm sure you'll fit right in~

Moth!Adam having a nightmare! This takes place a few days after arriving in Hell.

@fanofstuff01 MOTH ADAM

---

Charlie: Hey, dad? Could you go get Adam up? He's going to miss out on the group activity!

Lucifer: Honey, if he isn't even going to put I the effort, he shouldn't be here!

Charlie: dad- please, he's only just got here. This is a big change for him. Can you just go wake him?

Lucifer reluctantly agreed and made his way to Adams bedroom. Charlie put him on a floor that had no other members, thinking it would help him get use to things.

Arriving at Adam's door, Lucifer smiled. He decided to take the opportunity to scare Adam. It was almost Halloween, after all.

Lucifer walked softly to the top of Adam's bed. He could see his antennas flicking about. Ljcifer stood by his head for a few minutes, waiting for the perfect opportunity to scare him.

Adam: mm- no, stop... don't leave... please don't leave...

Lucifer chuckled. It must have been some popr winner in Heaven Adam was talking about.

Adam: L-Lu... please stay- pick me, please... don't leave... p-please choose me-

Lucifer stopped laughing and stared at the man. Oh... it was Eden he was having a nightmare about. Shit. He backed away as Adam started to thrash, his wings unfurling.

Lucifer had no idea no idea what to do. The poor guy even started crying. He decided to wake him up. Lucifer couldn't watch Adam cry and grip his blankets. It hurt too much.

Lucifer: Adam... ADAM-!

Lucifer reached over to shake his shoulder but jumped and teleported out of reach of Adam and his wings when Adam suddenly shot up, breathing hard.

Lucifer wasn't too familiar with Moth demons, he only knew of Valentino, and even then, he hadn't had many interactions with him, so he wasn't too sure how good Adams' eye slight was.

Adam: Luci...?

Lucifers eyes widened at the nickname- and the way Adam said it. It reminded him of Eden. Adam sounded so desperate and hopeful. Hopeful that Lucifer was there with him, that his nightmare wasn't true.

Lucifer wasn't sure if he wanted to say anything, he hadn't noticed him yet. That was until he noticed Adam looking around the room, eyes landing on Lucifer.

He felt like he should say something. So he waves and smiles, but just as he's about to say something, he heard Adam choke out a sob and bury his head in his hands, his lower arms wrapped around his thin torso.

Adam: t-thats right... you hate me... why would you be here...?

Lucifers heart broke. He didn't hate Adam. He was an asshole sometimes and a bastard for attacking his daughter, but he didn't hate him. He felt like he should, but he couldn't.

After a few minutes of crying, Adam tried to find his phone. Lucifer could see it on the side table, so he made the phone float in front of his hand. Adam didn't notice the magic, but found his phone. He squinted until his eyes were met with the bright light.

Adam grounded when he saw the time. He was really late now.

Adam: ...fuck it... they don't want me there, anyway... s-should have j-just stayed d-dead

Lucifer stood in the corner of Adam's room for 20 minutes. All he did was hug his pillow and cry. He could tell Adam was tired, but he couldn't fall back asleep.

He never knew how depressed Adam was. But then again, he'd never a good conversation with Adam since he got here. Lucifer really took the opportunity to get as much payback as possible now that he had a contract with him.

He wonders if all of this started when he called him an unlovable piece of shit, that not even the scumiest angels wanted. He knew he overstepped, judging by the look on his face and the lack of response.

For the next week, Lucifer stood in Adams room before he went to sleep and before he woke up. It was always the same: Adam would cry himself to sleep, and he'd have a nightmare about being abandoned and wake up shaking, covered in tears in the morning.

As Lucifer was in his room this night, he was hoping it would be different. Adam was with Angel for most of the day and seemed to be happier. But as soon as Adam sat on the edge of his bed, he knew it wasn't going to be a good night. It was actually about to get a lot worse.

Adam started crying as soon as he closed and locked his door. Fiddling with something in his pocket. Lucifer could see him playing with something as he sat on the edge of the bed.

It wasn't until Adam sat up straight that Lucifer saw it was the angelic needle Nifty originally used to kill him. Where the fuck did he find that!?

Lucifer really didn't plan to get involved when it came to his night watching, but Adam pressed the blade against his scar from the original attack, and start to push in far enough for his dark red blood to start welling up and running down his chest.

Lucifer: NO-!

Lucifer jumped into action. Snapping the blade out of his hands and placing it in Lucifer's hands.

Adam instantly jumped and looked around. Lucifer could see the pain in his big, golden eyes.

Adam: L-Luci-fer... Luci... ?

Lucifer couldn't bring himself to say anything as Adam looked around. He covered his mouth as he felt a tear fall. Adams eyes locked him his. Shit.

Adam: ...please...? Luci?

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut.

Adam: Not even allowed to finish the job, huh...? I'm just g-giving them what they w-want...

He opened them slowly, and he heard the rustling of Adam's blankets.

That night was worse.

So much worse.

Lucifer has never seen Adam look so small even at his towering height of 11". Adam curled up, hugging a pillow as tightly as he can.

Adam cried to himself all night. He didn't fall asleep at all. Just cried and begged for Lucifer. For it all to end.

Lucifer finally learned how good Adams eye site was. Hed often looked directly at him but saw nothing.

All night, Lucifer just gripped the angelic blade and stood still all night, hoping Adam wouldn't hear his sobbing.

Dude my fucking heart 😭

Adam knew Lucifer was there, he had to be. Blades just don't evaporate out of your fucking hand.

Why couldn't he just let Adam die for good? Lucifer didn't even want him here, nobody did. Sure he started getting along well with Angel but big deal.

Other than height being a moth demon was fucking stupid. He could barely see! He even had to have the largest print enabled on his phone so he could see to use it.

Adam ran out of tears quickly, he was dehydrated from it and he wasn't exactly drinking water to put anything back.

Lucifer never wanted him, so why not just let Adam go? To torture him probably.

Oh look, Adam did still have some tears to cry.

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN **** 

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown. 

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W. 

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.” 

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.” 

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.” 

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.” 

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance. 

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.” 

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.” 

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long. 

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.” 

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.” 

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.” 

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered. 

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled. 

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.” 

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?” 

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street. 

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.” 

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.” 

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

[gomgeomeogmeogmy]

Hi :) my friend recommended me your Tumblr and I've asked stuff before so I thought maybe I should do it again

I really like the theme of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/33668362/chapters/83671462 and it hasnt been updated

TW: s3lfh@rm

I'd like to ask for headcanons about Todd dealing with depression and self harm (with Neil helping him cuz i luv anderperry)

I'm sorry if this triggers you, i wanted to see my favourite character dealing with similar struggles as me

Tysm anyways

Okay!! So, before I get into this, I do want to put a HUGE TW on this post, this post WILL mention self-harm and struggles with depression and anxiety.

I want to make it clear: I am by no means attempting to romanticize this topic, as someone who struggles with SH, that is the last thing I ever want to do. If I write something that seems like that, please do not hesitate to call me out.

Here we go! Last TW

Todd dealing with SH and depression/anxiety

Switching to Welton was extremely difficult for Todd, we know this

He felt the pressure of living up to his brothers standards, pleasing his parents, his teachers, and worrying about not fitting in

He always struggled with SH, since he was in grade school, so it was nothing new, but it definitely got a lot worse once he started at Welton

Meeting Neil, Charlie and all the others helped him feel more comfortable, but at the same point it kind of made it harder for him

He couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding in their dynamic, all of them having been friends for their previous years at Welton, a few even before that, and here he was trying to shove his way in

One night, Neil was out late at a play rehearsal and Todd had one of the worst anxiety attacks of his teen years

He wanted so desperately to go get Charlie or Knox, maybe even Meeks, but he couldn’t get himself to, he was so scared of what they would think about him, so he resorted to his usual coping mechanism, self harm

He didn’t want to, but it didn’t feel like he was in control, he didn’t feel like he had a choice

The next few days after that, he was really off, everyone noticed

He was talking even less than usual, walking behind the group instead of with them, wearing extra layers, always seemed to be making himself as small as he possibly could

What really worried them was the way he winced Every time someone touched his leg

Neil and Charlie were the first two who saw it

Charlie had gone to pat Todd’s leg after making a joke, but he quickly pulled his hand away when he saw the pained wince

He and Neil shared a quick, knowing look. Something was seriously wrong

Neil was cautious with Todd the rest of the day, keeping a close eye on him to notice every change in his behavior to see if he could figure out what was wrong

That night, when Todd got up to go to the restroom, Neil got a gut feeling that he needed to look through the trash

He felt weird about it, but he did it, and his heart suck to his feet when he saw the bloodied tissues. Him and charlie were right

Todd walked in right as Neil found them, both of them stopped and stared at each other

“Todd…?”

Todd broke down again, instantly hyperventilating and sobbing and apologizing profusely

Neil panicked, no doubt crying himself as he attempted to comfort his friend

He quickly pulled todd into a tight hug, carefully sitting both of them down on Neil’s bed as he shushed and comforted Todd

After about a half an hour, todd stopped crying, but he was still shaking and refusing to meet Neil’s eyes

(The rest of this will be in writing/story form)

“Todd, you know I’m not angry, right?”

Todd stayed silent, keeping his head down.

“I’m really not mad. I’m just- worried about you… we all are.”

Todd’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and afraid.

“The others know too?!”

“No no no! And-and they won’t know if you don’t want me to tell them, I promise, but you’ve been off for the last few days, we’ve all been worried sick about you, Todd.”

“I’m…im sorry, I don’t want to worry you guys-“

“Well, that’s part of what being a friend is. We love you Todd, I love you, we all just want you to be okay. Can… can I ask why?”

Todd went quiet again, the tension so thick you could slice it with a knife.

“I didn’t want to… I was just-I had an anxiety attack, and I didn’t want to annoy Charlie or Knox or any of the guys, I tried to stop myself but it didn’t feel like I was in control, I’m sor-“

“Todd, you don’t need to apologize. Look, I’ve been there before, okay? I’ve done the same thing, I know exactly what it feels like. I also know that Charlie, Knox and any of the others would never be annoyed if you came to them for help, shit, I think most of them would be flattered that you trusted them enough.”

Todd looked away again, obviously not believing a word Neil said. Neil sighed and grabbed Todd’s hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I know it’s hard, I know that better than anyone, but we love you, so much todd, all of us do, and we want you to be okay. You don’t have to ever tell us anything you don’t want to, but please, if you ever get the urge again can you just…come to one of us? Any of us, really. You don’t need to give details just-just talk to us, be with us, we care, and we’ll all help as much as we possibly can.”

Todd met Neil’s eyes, and Neil gave him a soft smile. Todd’s eyes grew glossy, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll try…”

Neil’s smile grew. He pulled Todd into a tight hug, and Todd couldn’t help but melt into the comforting touch.

“You’re so important to us Todd. Don’t ever think for a second that we don’t want you around, or that you’re annoying us. We love you so so so much. I love you, so much more than you know. Everyone here just wants you to be okay.”

“I…thank you, Neil.”

Back to HC style

The next day, Todd was already seeming a little better

Neil made sure to keep a close eye on him, but he acted like everything was normal, he knew it sucked to have the attention drawn to you when you weren’t feeling good, so he tried to avoid making that happen

The group was obviously thrilled that they had their Todd back, all of them talking to him and joking with him like they hadn’t seen him in days

Neil and Charlie looked at each other again, charlie giving him an “is everything okay?” Look, to which Neil simply nodded and grinned

Todd might not have been fantastic right now, but he was better than yesterday, and that’s all that really mattered

Please, if you ever have the urge to hurt yourself, reach out to someone you trust or find a way to distract yourself. I know what the feeling is like, I know it all too well, but I can also promise you that it is not worth it.

You are so important, and you do not deserve to be hurt.

If you need alternatives to self harming, please look at this list. It gives lots of good alternatives that are far better than harming yourself in anyway

You are loved, you are important, and you matter. <3

[you-can-wear-my-face]

Thomas Hewitt/Selectively Mute! Reader, part two

Part One

Summary: The Sheriff picks you up after you broke down on the side of the road. You know this can’t end well, but he makes you an offer you can’t refuse; use your nursing skills to heal the giant man he brings you to, and you can go free. Unfortunately for you, he obviously needs more than a nurse. (And how can you be sure he’ll really let you go when ‘Thomas’ is healed?)

C/W: Medical use of maggots, self-harm references. Also, please do not use anything here as medical advice. This is a slasher/reader fic, not a manual on first aid.

Note: As I said, I have no self control.

You wrote down an explanation for the maggots, trying not to let your shaking obscure your handwriting. Hoyt snatched it from you, obviously suspicious after your last note. The woman was glaring at you openly. Whatever points you’d briefly won with her were lost. Hoyt grunted. “Hmmph. They’ll eat the dead skin. Leave the good skin. That right?” You nodded. He grunted again, still skeptical. “Why can’t you just cut it off, huh? Ain’t like the boy hasn’t done it to his own—“

“Charlie Hewitt, you better not finish that sentence, ‘less you wanna see if I can still give you a good spanking.”

He turned his glare on her, mockingly parroting her words back at her before adding, “You don’t scare me, woman.” But you noticed he didn’t finish his sentence. He focused back on you. “Well? Just cut it off.” You shook your head, reaching for the pen and paper again. He held it out of your reach, mouth turned upward in a smirk. The woman slapped a hand to his chest, earning an aborted swear. “Mama, what the hell was—?”

She snatched the pen and paper, passing it to you. “You brought her here to fix Thomas. I ain’t gonna let you harass her while there’s something she can do to help him.”

He grumbled something to himself but pulled away to lean against the wall, picking at his teeth while you wrote. You hesitated a moment, then added a question at the bottom. You passed the note to the woman. She eyed it, then eyed you.

“Luda Mae,” she said, in answer to your scribbled question. “Charlie, go get the girl her maggots.”

“Mama—“

“Go on,” she said, “We got plenty of ‘em around here. You know where to look.” He sighed. “You’re getting too used to giving Tommy all the dirty jobs. Don’t think I ain’t seen it. Go. She ain’t a surgeon or a doctor, and she don’t wanna make it worse for him. She says maggots’ll help? Well we got maggots to spare. I’ll see what I can do about the rest of this list but...” She shook her head. “Ain’t likely to find much.”

You swallowed. It was just your luck that you’d end up in the backcountry of Texas, inside a home with an abundance of maggots and a complete lack of medical supplies—and with your life riding on your ability to heal the man in front of you.

It was almost funny, if you looked at it like that.

You nodded and shrugged, trying to convey acceptance without words. They—somehow—seemed to get it and left you to your devices, though Hoyt grumbled the whole time. Just before he shut and locked the door, he reminded you not to do anything stupid. You nodded, and he stepped outside. The door shut and the lock clicked, leaving you alone with your patient.

You exhaled slowly, a lot of the tension leaving you with their absence. You could almost pretend this was just another house call. You eyed the gash across his chest and swallowed. Almost.

Stepping close to the prone man, you pulled the blankets down to his waist to check for any additional injuries. Minor cuts and bruises littered his torso, and you shook your head. “What happened to you?” you murmured. You found no humor in the irony that you had no trouble talking when other people weren’t around. (As Thomas was unconscious, he didn’t trouble you either.)

Setting a hand on his abdomen, you pressed lightly to see if there was any internal damage—and if there was, both you and he were screwed, because there was no way for you to fix that. Thankfully, you couldn’t find any unusual swellings or broken ribs, and his bruises all seemed to be surface injuries. You pulled the blanket the rest of the way off, but his family had apparently decided to preserve his modesty; his trousers were still on, though they were stained with blood and dirt. “These definitely need to go, big guy,” you told him, “I’d like to change the sheets, too, but I can’t imagine we’ll be moving you, huh?”

If you were in a hospital, you’d have had orderlies and other nurses to help you muscle the big man onto a gurney or another bed, but even with Hoyt and Luda Mae, you didn’t imagine you’d be moving him anywhere anytime soon.

You scribbled down a few more items you would need—scissors, a bedpan or at least a bucket—then resumed your exam. The flesh around his injury was red and angry-looking, or blackened and starting to rot. His torso was covered in coarse hair, and you added a razor to your list...then noted that the skin around his injury needed to be shaved, when you realized they probably weren’t going to give you anything like a weapon. Soap and water went on the list, as well as clean rags.

You pressed the underside of your wrist to his forehead. You hoped Luda Mae could find acetaminophen, or something similar, because his fever needed to be taken care of first and foremost. He was burning up, and that could kill him faster than anything else.

You hurriedly added latex gloves and a face mask to the list, but you were certain they had nothing like that around. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though. You raised your hands, putting your fingers to his pulse-point and checking your watch to take his pulse, only to jump when a huge, hot hand engulfed your wrist. Your eyes met his, and your breath caught. Pure rage stared back at you, and your heart-rate skyrocketed once again. His hand squeezed, and the strength in his grip was terrifying. He sat up and seemed to loom, despite his obviously pained hunch. You licked your lips nervously, trying to calm yourself. He was likely delirious, and you’d seen the kind of damage even small women could inflict in a fit of delirium—you didn’t want to find out what this man might be capable of when he wasn’t in his right mind. It was hard to find your words, but you managed to say, “Thomas?”

That caused his eyes to widen a fraction, the anger evaporating into surprise. Exhaling hard, you smiled in relief. “H-hey there, big guy. Your family—“ You swallowed. “Found. They found me, Thomas.” You kept saying his name, hoping it would ground him. “Looks like you’re hurt, but I’m gonna take care of you, okay? I’m a nurse. I’m here to fix you up.” His other hand reached up to cover his face, and your brows furrowed. “Is there something wrong? Are you breathing okay?”

He just stared at you, one huge hand spanning the lower half of his face. Then you remembered the deformities you’d caught sight of, and your stomach twisted. Was he...hiding them? “Your mama said you had trouble talking. Is that true, Thomas?” He didn’t respond. You licked your lips again, nervous. His hand flexed on your wrist. “Okay. Um. I have a few questions for you. Can you nod for me?”

For a long minute, he didn’t respond, and you were starting to worry he really was delirious, but he gave you a slow nod, and you smiled. “Good. Good! Okay. Nod for me again if you’re hurt anywhere besides your chest.” He shook his head. “Does your head hurt?” He shook his head again. “Good. I see you’re covering your face. Are you having trouble breathing?” Another head shake. “Good. You’re doing really good for me, Thomas. Thank you for answering my questions. I’m going to explain what I’m doing, but I need you to give me back my hand, okay?” He exhaled hard, the sound almost like a growl. Nevertheless, he loosened his grip, and you smiled at him. “Thank you, Thomas. I’m just taking your pulse. So, I’m going to put my fingers on your neck and count your heartbeats. Is that okay?”

He eyed you, then gave a subtle nod. You pressed your fingers to his neck and felt his throat flex against your fingers as he swallowed. You checked your watch, counting his heartbeats as the seconds ticked down. When you were finished, you smiled at him and said, “Good. Your pulse is just fine. Now we’re going to see about getting that fever down, okay?”

He exhaled, watching you warily, but exhaustion seemed to get the better of him. He laid back down, head resting on the limp pillow, but he never took his hand off his face. The door opened behind you, and you turned, happy to see Luda Mae. “Did you find acetaminophen?”

She handed you a basket. “I emptied the medicine cabinet. Look in there, see if you can find—Thomas?” She went to him immediately and started fussing over him. He didn’t seem to react to her, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t worry about her. She’s here to help. Hoyt found her.” She leaned close to Thomas, and you could hear faint whispering, but you couldn’t understand what she was actually saying. It didn’t matter—you were too busy sorting through the medicine bottles.

You grinned, finding a bottle of penicillin and a bottle of ibuprofen. Their expiration dates were long past, but digging deeper didn’t net you anything helpful.

“T-thank you,” you said, belatedly, You struggled to read the label, but it was too faded and worn. You eventually gave up and measured out what seemed like too many pills, hoping to counteract the pills’ age-induced ineffectiveness. You stepped alongside the bed and took Thomas’ free hand. You turned it palm-up, and passed off your handful of pills. He watched you intently the whole time, looking from your hand—resting lightly on the underside of his fingers—and back to your face, searching your features. You smiled for him, trying not to get nervous under his gaze. “W-water?” you asked, unable to get the full sentence out.

He just pulled his hand free of yours and sat up, turning his big body away to hide his face while he swallowed the pills dry. “Oh.” You looked to Luda Mae, and seeing the hard expression on her face, you tensed immediately. Swallowing hard, you gave her your list. She skimmed it, pausing to eye you.

“What do you need a face mask for, girl?”

Her tone was harsh, angry, and you had no idea why. You took the pen and paper, scribbling out an explanation. “It’s for you,” she said flatly, “You’re worried about getting your germs on him?” You nodded. She shook her head. “Ain’t got nothing like that ‘round here.”

A handkerchief? you wrote.

She cocked her head, then nodded. “Yeah. I can probably find something like that.”

“Gloves?” you asked.

“Nothing like you’re asking for—we got leather workman’s gloves. Would that work?” You shook your head, vowing to wash your hands especially thoroughly. “I’ve already got water heating up. I’ll bring up some soap when that’s ready. Hoyt’s not gonna let you have scissors—that just to cut the guaze?”

You glanced at Thomas, then at Luda Mae. Since he seemed lucid, you turned to address him directly. “Thomas, listen, there’s mud and blood on your trousers. Your injury is already infected. We need to try to keep things clean so the infection doesn’t come back once we get it all bandaged up. Do you think you can take off your pants on your own? Or do you need help?”

His eyes went wide, and he lunged for the blanket—but you saw the moment the pain hit him. His features paled and his hand fell away from his face, grasping at nothing. He never uttered a sound, though, and he still managed to snatch the blanket, pulling it up to his ribcage. He lay back against the pillow, breathing rough and glaring at you when he remembered to cover his face again.

You pressed both hands to your mouth, appalled that he’d hurt himself. Luda Mae just sighed, shaking her head like she’d expected that. “Shoulda pulled them off while he was sleeping,” she said to you. Now you stared at her, equally horrified. “Thomas Brown Hewitt, you behave yourself and let her do her job, you hear?”

He didn’t respond, didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken at all—he just continued to glare at you. Wringing your hands, you were having trouble finding your words again, but you shook your head when Luda Mae tried to tug the blanket out of his grip. You caught her hand, shaking your head when she looked at you.

You weren’t going to force him to strip. He was conscious, apparently not delirious despite the fever. You were going to get him to cooperate with you. You just needed to find your words.

Exhaling slowly, you shooed her away from the bed and leaned down to meet Thomas’ gaze. “Thomas, I’m a nurse. I want to make you feel better. Sometimes, I might ask you to do something uncomfortable or even painful, but I’m not going to hurt you. Promise. Now, your ma can find a fresh pair of pants for you to wear, and I won’t look while you put them on or while you take these off. Would that be okay?”

Thomas searched your face. You had no idea what he was looking for or what he found, but eventually, he exhaled audibly—not quite a sigh or a snort, but something between the two—and gave you a subtle nod. You smiled, patting his hand. “Thank you, Thomas.” He stared at your hand on his, brows furrowed as if he was trying to understand something. You hesitated, then said, “You know, you don’t have to cover your face like that.” His gaze snapped back to your face, glaring again. You swallowed when he growled at you, and you held up your hands. “Okay. If you don’t want me to see, that’s okay too. Your ma is going to get me a handkerchief for my face, so I don’t germs on your injury. Would you like one too? So you don’t have to hold your hand over your face?”

He gave a firm nod. Luda Mae shook her head, but there was a grim smile on her face. “I’ll get you what you asked for, but I suggest you start explaining the maggots to him before Charlie gets back.”

Hearing that, Thomas grabbed your forearm, his grip almost painfully tight. You met his gaze, and his demand for an explanation was clear enough, even without words. Your heart jolted, but you laid your hand overtop his, smiling nervously as you tried to find the right words to explain to him.

[fakesurprise]

"Sometimes I get Garfield," is how I explain some Mondays.

The hotel manager is weeping and gnashing his teeth.

Over a thousand chickens have been removed from the hotel.

(The kitchen no longer has a mouse problem, which confused Jay who never thinks of things as problems.)

"Hundreds of chickens! From where? Why?!" the manager shrieked to the police, who were careful to avoid asking if Jay was at the hotel.

The insurance company would, most likely.

I'm on my third coffee when one of the officers walks over.

"Charlie?"

"Charlie, yes." I crack a grin into the silence. "Apparently the fact that people are allowed dogs and cats and animals that do serious harm or have major upkeep in cities but not chickens is an issue. Like how HOAs try and make sure no one can be self-sufficient. Which I'd honestly never given enough thought to.

"A certain individual learned about that, so brought everyone chickens. Which was at least confined to the hotel?"

The officer pales, her eyes wide as she nods.

I'm not even surprised.

It's not that I'm blasé.

I just know how much worse it could have been, and all my relief is tied up in the lack of giant chickens, or eggs hatching into other creatures.

"You don't get used to things like this," I offer. "But sometimes you understand a bit more about why they happen."

She nods, heading back to talk to another witness. Never asking for my name or contact information. Definitely going to go places.

Hopefully not too many that involve meeting Jay again.

I text the wandering magician. 'Hotel manager is a cracking a bit. Might need some magic to help him a little bit.'

And then I slip out of the hotel to see how many chickens are in our vehicle.

I haven't see Jay in almost twenty minutes, and I have no idea if that's a good sign or not.

[botheredbuck]

tw// self harm, suicide, alcoholism

I was just reading your hcs (love them!!) and re the self harm one, idk if you've watched Ben prior to Max's portrayal but I'm p sure there were a couple of times that Charlie! and Joshua! Ben used to scratch/pinch his arm when he got agitated or reminded of Stella, in an imitation of what she did to him.

They've explicitly had Ben harming himself in various ways incl. alcohol and riling up homophobes so they attack him; and even telling people he didn't want to be alive in a couple of situations!! (after Paul and in reference to his grief when Kathy "died") and it's all very Yikes...

As with most mh things on ee it was fleeting and Ben never got a proper mh storyline to address any of his issues lol, but yeah

(tw self harm, homophobia mention (+homophobic violence, ref to paul), alcoholism)

ahhhh thank u for being patient with this ive been rubbish at answering asks lately lmao, but yess!!! so i haven't watched a huge amount of not-max ben because i kinda really got into ee with ballum, like i watched bits of harry!ben but not enough to really remember much? but i know from other peeps and fanfic that it was definitely a thing, like you say, after stella but like a lot of things with ee, they're not great at continuity so it's kinda been left a little

but i do think the one thing they have had consistent with max!ben at least is the getting drunk/aggravating people and i think at least to some extent that comes kinda because of paul? like we saw him do it on pauls anniversary a while ago (i think it was pre ballum? idk it was a couple years back) and he even referenced paul and stuff so i think to some extent that kinda goes back to that (or has been worse because of that) because he kinda thinks he deserves it? like because paul didn't make it out then then maybe ben deserves this hurt, this attacking, this hate towards him

i really wish they'd deal with both of ballums trauma more explicitly tbh, and i think with ben especially there is so much scope, because ig there's less background to build up if that makes sense? like because ben's a legacy character and he's been played out on screen for the characters whole life, people who have been watching a while will have seen a lot of what ben's been through and so will understand if there comes a reaction to it (as apposed to callum where a lot of his trauma comes from his childhood and from the army, neither of which have played out on screen - idk if this makes sense?) i think they both deserve a deeper exploration of their backstories and mh, and i think it's something that max and tony would both do beautifully

thank u for your ask and for ur patience!!!

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Episode 8 Review

The usual spoilers

Alright, this episode was pretty good in the beginning with some stuff here and there I didn’t like, but that ending... that ending leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Normally I start with the bad first, then the good, but I feel I should do chronological order for this one since most of the good is before the bad.

For starters, I enjoyed the very beginning with Chris at his dad’s funeral. For once, seeing an aspect of Vic’s childhood was interesting. You feel pretty bad for Chris because of the rough childhood he had, and you feel bad because he became his father. It’s good that he’s definitely changed tho. He pissed me off (and I’m sure everyone else off) last season, and to see him get emotional all those years before is definitely something. Seeing him grow now is rewarding.

I do really like how both of Vic’s parents see her bridge and are amazed by it. Idk why, but I always find it incredibly satisfying in a story when all the characters understand something/everything. I’m sure we all do, but clarification in a story has always brought me a satisfaction comparable to that of watching those satisfying video complications on YouTube.

How Bing is alive still... I have no idea. Maybe because he was sitting and that helped slow down the blood flow? Honestly, I really wanted them to get information out of him, then have him die. Look, there is a part of me that feels bad for him and sorry for him, but his actions are way less forgivable than Charlie’s. If you ask me, despite him talking with Vic (and hell, maybe at this point he does feel bad for what he did, although that is hard to believe because he did genuinely enjoy raping people, and rape is one of those actions it’s very hard to find really any redemption in once you commit it), I don’t see anyone forgiving his ass, and they shouldn’t. I also think Bing has always been a ticking time bomb. Who knows, if Charlie hadn’t come into their lives, he could’ve hurt Vic if she came off as “too nice” to him. We see what he did to his mom, despite her loving him and being the only good person in his life. He interprets love as something darker, and while it’s horrible that he thinks that way, and I understand what his childhood did to his mind, he has the knowledge that it’s wrong to do it (I mean, he has to subdue people with the gas, and he clearly sees his victims are unwilling) and he should stop it, yet he doesn’t. Charlie actually believes that what he’s doing is right, and there is a part of you that can see that in some regards, he is right, keeping kids away from harmful parents. What good comes out of rape? The only good that comes out of it is the benefit to himself for getting his sick pleasures. He does it all because he can and likes it, no other purpose. He could’ve gotten help, he could’ve tried to keep that all in and express it in a safe environment, he could’ve restrained himself from doing these things... yet he didn’t. If he had just killed the parents and strictly did nothing of a particularly cruel nature, you could understand Bing more and respect his character. But since he didn’t... it makes things harder. Is it respectable that he admitted he’s wrong? Yes. Should he be forgiven? Well... not really, at least imo. If Bing has any redeeming qualities, there are very few. Since he is kept alive, I hope he’s either rotting in prison or kept in a place where he can maybe get help that he needs. I think most importantly, I’m more than a little annoyed at this whole, “Yeah, we’ll write the rapist more sympathetically before we do the main antagonist, who’s actions are questionable and one could understand his intent. He doesn’t rape anybody and finds the act repulsive and kills rapists... but he’s less sympathetic just because he’s the main bad guy 😀.” Yeah, okay writers...

Moving on from the only truly bad thing in the episode before the ending, everything else seemed to be fine. I’m concerned with Maggie and Tabitha’s relationship, I really hope they’ll be okay. Tabitha was badass getting the respect and recognition she deserves for the work she does. Even though she made the stupid decision of going into that church by herself and possibly getting killed, I do love the balls she has, I just hope she doesn’t get herself killed by being stupid. Her and Maggie are a great couple and I love them. I feel bad for Vic and I hate that she feels so low about herself. I did like her talking with her dad. The confrontation with Millie was interesting, and I’m curious to see what’s in store with that. Based on the “next time” preview at the end of the episode, we finally make it to Christmasland, and I’m very interested (but also a little anxious) about what’s gonna happen next.

Now, the ending... this damn ending...

First of all, when Maggie was confronting Wayne, why didn’t she grab his ornament? Maggie is not a stupid character. Did she get hit by the car last season and not make smarter decisions on how to avoid it (ex, maybe getting in between two other cars)? Sure, but we’ll cut her slack, it was a very in the moment thing. This? I mean... they were anticipating this. You mean to tell me she couldn’t have thought of trying to get that ornament out of his hand and taking it away from him? She tricked the Hourglass for Christ’s sakes. It looks like from the preview she’s collecting their ornaments, but still, especially in that moment, she would’ve grabbed his. It might’ve made Wayne have a strength over his old self... what’s weird is in the book, he’s holding onto both sides of himself throughout his entire journey, in this they’re making it seem as though he has no control anymore. Which leads me to my next point...

Where is Craig in all of this? What, so his efforts didn’t do dick? What was the point in having him the last two episodes? I believe in the book, Wayne’s grandma (aka Linda McQueen), is helping him in a spirit form, and also by him “thinking backwards.” Craig was helping him by reminding him of Vic and staying by him. It would’ve made so much more sense for Craig to be by his side still (or hell, in the car if he can’t leave it and telling Wayne to “remember the plan”), Wayne “puts” the ornament on the tree (or Maggie takes it off after he puts it on), and Craig stays by him. Nope, let’s make his character useless. Who knows if he’ll return next episode, I’m hoping he will, but even if he does, it’s still annoying that his character has done little to nothing at this point when there was so much potential, and it seems to be almost too late. I’m glad Wayne didn’t eat Maggie or Lou like I feared (Lou did get a nip I suppose, which was a little unneeded if you ask me). I was hoping for more potential from Craig, guess we’ll have to see if there will be...

Another point: WHY THE HELL IS THIS CAR TOO OVERPOWERED? Seriously, it makes no sense. You can make Charlie’s abilities as op as you want so long as it’s not ridiculous, I could see that. But the car? That’s his total weakness. It can be stronger than the average car, but if lighting it on fire deals with it, explosions would. That is beyond lazy writing.

Now, the worst part: Chris’s death. Of course, let’s kill a character when he just seemed to redeem himself (but the character that rapes people and can’t really be redeemed, we’re gonna keep him alive, maybe he’ll get a redemption arch 🙂). Once again, writers, why are you making the most stupid choices? While his death wasn’t as stupid as his death in the book where officers shoot him down when he’s trying to protect Vic from one (this is all under Tabitha’s command, let’s just say she’s not that great of a cop in the book or with Maggie, I enjoy her character changes for the show), his death, the way I see it, is still insulting and pointless. Realistically, they could’ve kept him alive, what is the point of not? Also, I know that bike is heavy, but why wouldn’t Vic get up and kick some ass? Of course, her bike would act up just as the Wraith is coming towards her (what is the point of that too?). I really think Chris’s death was just for shock value and filler, and to make Charlie look like an even worse villain (because they reeeeally want to drill this point home, if the way his backstory is presented in the show wasn’t proof enough, which is stupid because we UNDERSTAND WRITERS. It’s you guys that don’t understand that Charlie is established as the villain through being the antagonist and his conflicting actions). While I’m glad they didn’t kill an even more important character (ex, Maggie or Lou or Vic), it’s still stupid to waste all that character development on Chris just for him to go out anyways, all for shock value filler and to make Charlie worse. Again, not saying he’s a saint, not saying it’s out of the realm of possibility for him to want to get revenge on Vic this way, but still, isn’t he already getting revenge on her through Wayne (plus, to him it’s poetic justice that he’s “saving” him from her). There’s really no point to Chris’s death. This reminded me heavily of TWD when they would pull that shock value filler crap with killing characters, and making a villain look worse than needed (an example is what they did with Negan in the show by writing him as even more evil and less redeemable than he is in the comics). I genuinely hope they don’t pull more of this.

All in all, this episode had it’s good moments I enjoyed, but there was definitely some stupidity and bad moments I despised. Let’s hope these last two episodes where shit gets more serious will be better. I’m hoping this show does not turn to crap through a series of stupid decisions, much like TWD did. I will be sorely disappointed at AMC...

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 31: Jon

Fortunately for Jon’s nerves, Halloween week means Research is inundated with statements, mostly false ones, so the first week following Tim’s ill-advised adventure means they’re all helping out with disproving piles of utter nonsense, which in turn means none of his assistants putting themselves in harm’s way. They do get a live statement midway through the week, in the form of the exterminator who handled Jane Prentiss’ body, but as there’s nothing to really investigate regarding his statement, that’s harmless enough. Tim insists on sitting in on the statement, and against his better judgment, Jon agrees.

It’s probably a mistake, though, as over the course of the following week Tim begins having frequent headaches. They seem to pass quickly, at least at first, but they get progressively worse. Martin adds a box of ginger tea to their stash; Sasha keeps a giant bottle of paracetamol at her desk; Jon tries to reduce Tim’s workload as much as possible. Tim only accepts the first two. It worries Jon how hard Tim is throwing himself into the research, regardless of how much the others tell him he doesn’t have to make up for lost time. Even Jon Prime expresses concern, in a careful, hesitant way.

Martin Prime, on the other hand, is a lot less careful and a lot more blunt, telling Tim not to be a self-sacrificing idiot and to stop tearing himself apart trying to draw attention away from the others, because it won’t help anyone if he gets hurt, or worse. Tim laughs, but the look on his face and especially on Jon Prime’s face makes Jon hold onto Tim extra tightly that night.

In the long run, and even in the short run, it doesn’t help. Three weeks into November, Martin finds Tim crumpled in a ball on the floor in the depths of the shelves, clutching his temples and barely conscious. The mental image of Martin, pale and frightened, cradling Tim in his arms like an infant and striding across the Archives as if he weighs nothing isn’t going to leave Jon in a hurry. The doctor at the clinic can’t find any obvious cause for the headaches, but he recommends Tim go home and rest and Jon is only too happy to sign off on that.

He makes him stay home the next morning, too. Tim doesn’t argue, which tells Jon he probably really isn’t feeling all that great. He does promise to get rest, not strain his eyes, and definitely not go off on any unauthorized field trips—all of which Martin is very emphatic about. (Jon’s never actually seen Martin in full mother bear mode, and he decides it’s best for his sanity not to admit that he finds it weirdly attractive.) Martin makes him a cup of tea before they leave and reports, when he comes back to join Jon, that Tim’s fallen back asleep again.

The morning is fairly straightforward. Sasha and Martin work on their usual research work; Jon has a stack of statements to record. Mostly these days he only does the ones that are going to end up on the Discredited shelf, the ones he can record on his laptop, tending to leave the real ones for Jon Prime. Still, there are literally thousands of statements in the Archives, and Jon is prepared to bet even money that no more than ten percent of them are actually real. While that’s still probably enough to sustain both him and Jon Prime for the rest of their natural lives, even if they never get another live statement in, he does still have to record the others. He’d grumble about him and his stupid ideas if he didn’t now have seventeen months’ worth of examples of ideas far stupider than suggesting to his boss that he make audio recordings of the statements in the Archives, and not just his own.

Jon powers through about a dozen statements, narrating them into his laptop and supplementing with his team’s research. He’s just finishing a scathing indictment of a would-be writer who claims to have stayed in a cottage with a haunted lamp when the door cracks open and Martin pops his head in. He catches Jon’s eye and smiles, then waits until Jon signs off the recording before speaking. “Hey. Lunch?”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll do a couple more of these first.” Jon gestures to the rapidly-diminishing stack on the right side of his desk. “I’m on a roll.”

“Better than being on a sesame-seed bun. I’m going to call and check on Tim while I’m at it, unless you’d rather?”

“Go ahead. Ask him if he wants us to bring anything home tonight.” Jon offers Martin a smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Martin smiles back, his cheeks turning faintly pink. He nods and withdraws from Jon’s office.

Jon finishes two more digital statements and then pulls over the next one and begins to dictate it. Even before he gets done with the introduction, however, he can feel the static on his tongue and stops. Playback confirms his suspicion—this is a real one. Somehow, they missed it.

He skims the file. He remembers this one now—a claim of a still-living mummy in a tomb containing ancient dice and nothing else. Sasha, who, in her own words, “went through an Egyptology phase like every other girl in the nineties”, wrote out a list of every reason she could think of that the description of the tomb didn’t make sense. Even Tim’s charm wasn’t enough to get any help from the Egyptian government, and since all the names were fake except the statement giver’s, all Martin has been able to find out is that she’s currently training to be a teacher. Even with everything they know, it seems…unrealistic.

But as he flips a page over, it dislodges a sticky note from the back of the folder. Jon catches it as it flutters through the air. It’s Tim’s handwriting, and it glitters faintly, which makes Jon frown—not because he objects to glitter ink (although if they use it on anything official he doesn’t want to imagine what Elias will have to say), but because Tim’s only been using these pens for a couple of weeks, since he traded Charlie one of his old fountain pens for the pack. Which means Tim went back and added something recently.

Jon studies the note. The first words are scratched out, but the rest is easily legible: I think this one is real.

For a moment, Jon considers leaving the statement for Jon Prime to read, but he finds he can’t. Now that he’s started speaking it aloud, he has to finished. Damn it. With a sigh, he sets up the tape recorder, then checks to make sure his secondary recorder has a tape in it. He depresses the RECORD button on both and picks up the paper again.

“Statement of Donna Gwynne, regarding an unlicensed archaeological dig near the Red Sea in Egypt,” he begins.

He always sinks into the statements, at least when they’re real—which is good, because once he finishes, it’s hard for him to keep his contempt for Ms. Gwynne out of his voice as he dictates the results, such as they are, on the follow-up. Certainly he has no qualms admitting that he’s somewhat satisfied the woman is being forced into a job she’s stated repeatedly she hates the idea of.

“I feel anyone who brings me a statement about mummies deserves everything they get,” he concludes. “I’m just glad she doesn’t live in London. End recording.”

He presses the STOP button on both recorders, then hesitates. He started recording secondary back-up tapes after Michael’s visit, partly out of growing paranoia and partly so that he would have a record in case anything happened, and he’s never really stopped. He needs to let the others know about it, he just…hasn’t yet.

Sighing, he pops out the official tape and labels it, then sets it with the file before drawing the second recorder towards himself and pressing RECORD.

“Supplemental,” he says. “I’m…worried about Tim. His headaches have grown so severe over the last week that I actually had to make him stay home today. I’m sure they have something to do with these statements, with the research and all of it, but I don’t know how to prove it. And I don’t know why he’s looking into statements we’ve theoretically finished the research on. I’m…grateful, of course, that he spotted that this one was probably real, although I wish he’d left the note in a more obvious place, but I don’t know why he was even looking, let alone how he figured it out. There’s no supplemental research, no notes other than the single sticky note he put in the back. I can’t quite make out the first word, as it’s been heavily scratched out, except that it starts with a V or a W. The next two are also scratched out, but it’s a little easier to make out: The End, with a question mark. He wasn’t sure, but—of course, it’s fairly obvious. What else would mummies be? And there’s a parallel to—”

The door to his office opens abruptly, and a voice that does not belong to one of his assistants says, “Excuse me, do you have a moment?”

Jon almost topples his chair over backwards, despite the fact that the small part of his brain hanging onto rationality points out that an entity of fear likely wouldn’t be so (relatively) polite about interrupting him. A second later, the rest of his brain catches onto the magenta-tipped brown asymmetrical pixie cut, the string of black stars dangling from one ear, and the expression that manages to be somehow disdainful, sheepish, and concerned all at the same time.

“Miss King—uh—how did you get in here?” he manages, hoping he doesn’t sound like she almost gave him a heart attack.

“Sasha let me in.” Melanie King steps fully into his office and lets the door close behind her. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Sorry?” Jon tries to look nonchalant as he shuffles Ms. Gwynne’s statement to the bottom of the stack.

“You look like hell,” Melanie tells him.

“It’s been a rough few months.” Jon feels his old prickliness rising up in him, feels the need to puff up and bluster, but then he stops, collects himself, and really looks at Melanie. There’s a slump to her shoulders, a weariness in her bearing, and dark circles like bruises under her eyes, which look…well, haunted. “And if I look like hell, you must be in a far lower circle than I am. Are you all right?”

Melanie seems surprised that he asked, which, fair enough. “Fine. I—um—I actually need your help.”

Dread creeps up Jon’s spine, but all he says is, “Interesting.”

“All right, can you not be an arsehole about it?” Melanie snaps, visibly bristling. “I just need access to your library.”

“So talk to Diana. She runs the place,” Jon points out.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly have the academic credentials you guys demand, so apparently I need someone to vouch for me,” Melanie says. Jon sighs in annoyance, not at Melanie or her tone, but at the generations of stuffy, upper-class white men who equate university degrees with value. “And you’re basically the closest thing I have to a friend here.”

Jon can’t help but laugh at that. “We’ve spoken once, and we ended up screaming at each other—”

“Yes! And that’s more than I have with anyone else here.” Melanie tugs at her hair in frustration, hard enough that Jon’s afraid she might actually yank it out of her scalp by the roots. “Also, uh, Georgie actually has some nice things to say about you. That came as a surprise. You didn’t even tell me you knew her.”

It surprises Jon, too, enough that he blurts out the honest truth without thinking. “It was a long time ago—before she started doing What the Ghost. I didn’t think she would have anything nice to say about me, to be honest. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Melanie hums skeptically at him. Jon almost tells her everything, but catches himself. “Look, what exactly do you need from us, anyway? Can’t your showbiz friends help you?”

“No,” Melanie snaps. “I’m, uh—most of them won’t talk to me anymore.”

“What happened? Did word get round you’d talked to us ‘credulous idiots’?”

“Not exactly. In my business, your reputation is all that you have. The industry is full of skeptics pretending to be believers pretending to be skeptics.”

Jon almost snipes at her that the word she wants is charlatans, but one look at her expression and his heart isn’t in it anymore. He thinks about the Primes’ description of her as an Archival assistant, the “painting” from Martin Prime’s statement about his journey back in time, the slightly wistful look in Jon Prime’s eye when he talked about her resignation. And then he looks at her now, determined and angry and despairing all at once, and he resolves, then and there, not to ever let her get to that point.

He’s the closest thing she has to a friend? Fair enough. They’re going to get closer to that even if he has to do all the work himself.

“And none of them are helpful,” he guesses.

Melanie starts to bristle at him, then sighs heavily. “Look, Ghost Hunt UK split up. I mean, not formally, but, you know, Pete was always a flake, and the others just…drifted away.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, as gently as he can. “I did notice you weren’t updating anymore.” It’s a bit of a white lie—the Primes told him that—but she doesn’t need to know, not now.

Melanie continues, rambling a bit about her attempts to get a new crew together, then her solo expeditions ending in disaster. Jon can’t help the noise of shock and concern that slips out of his throat when she mentions getting arrested; she evidently takes it as interest and gives him the whole story. “After that…”

“Your reputation went with it,” Jon concludes.

Melanie looks away. The set of her jaw suggests she’s trying to hang onto her resentment, but also trying not to cry. “Yes,” she says tightly. “Look, I have leads that I really need to follow up on, and as far as my colleagues are concerned these days, I’m the ghost.”

Jon nods. “All right. Come on, then.”

Melanie looks back at him, obviously startled. “What?”

“Come on,” Jon repeats. “I’ll take you up to the library and vouch for you. If all else fails, I can claim we’re borrowing you as an adjunct for a few weeks or something. U-unless you’d rather wait?”

“Oh,” Melanie says, sounding taken aback. “No, the sooner the better. I—just expected a bit more of a fight, to be honest.”

“Yes, well, I know what it’s like to be itching to follow up on a lead and have your every effort frustrated. And I believe I owe you for being…dismissive of you before.” Jon suddenly realizes he hasn’t turned off his tape recorder. “Uh, end supplemental.” He presses the STOP button and stows the recorder in his desk, then gestures for Melanie to head out of the office.

Martin is just hanging his jacket on the back of his chair when they emerge; he looks up and offers Jon a slight smile, which freezes when he sees Melanie. “Uh…heading to lunch?”

“Eventually, but I’m going to see if I can convince Diana to let Miss King here use the library,” Jon tells him. “Unless you’d rather.”

Martin laughs nervously. “That would have the opposite effect, trust me. Besides, I, uh, talked to Tim.”

Jon bites back the hot words he wants to unleash in Diana’s direction. “How is he?”

“Fine, he says, and I believe him, but he asked if I would—” Martin hesitates for no more than a split second, then flicks a finger very quickly in the direction of the trapdoor “—run something down for him?”

In other words, Tim has a question he thinks the Primes can answer. Jon nods slowly. “All right. Just be…cautious. I don’t want a repeat of last month’s incident.”

Martin shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. No incidents. Nope. I’ll be back up before you get back from lunch.”

“Right.” Jon offers Martin a warm smile, which Martin returns, before leading Melanie over to the stairs.

Melanie, for a wonder, stays silent until they’re back up on the main floor, then says, “Does ‘last month’s incident’ have anything to do with all those scars he’s got?”

Jon bristles at the implied criticism of Martin’s appearance. “Those are months old. Did you not see the worms when you were here last time? We had an…infestation. It came to a head a couple weeks after your last visit. He was badly injured.” His voice shakes slightly as he says it. Even close to seven months later, he still has trouble sometimes shaking the memories of the black terror of that night.

“I’m sorry.” Melanie actually seems to mean it. “He seems all right now, though.”

“As I said, it was some time ago and he’s had time to heal. Last month’s incident was…it didn’t leave physical scars, but one of my other assistants looked into something he oughtn’t have.” Jon pauses. They’re just rounding the landing towards the first floor—the library actually spans the entire height of the building, save the basement, but for reasons he’s never understood the only way in or out is in the middle—and it’s deserted this time of day. Sound has a way of carrying, but they should be safe enough here if he speaks honestly, as long as he keeps his voice down. “He ran into your Sarah Baldwin.”

Melanie stiffens, but when she speaks, she manages to sound derisive. “You were just looking into my statement?”

“I contacted you when we initially did the research,” Jon reminds her. She grunts, either in acknowledgment or impatience. “This was a completely unrelated incident. I told you, I owe you for being dismissive before. You were right.”

“I wish I was recording this.”

“All right, no need to be—” Jon checks his temper. “Look. She’s dangerous. Or at least she belongs to something dangerous. You were extremely lucky to walk away in one piece.”

Something in Melanie’s face shifts. “Related to…whatever was at the CMH?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think they’re separate, but…there were things we know now that we didn’t know then. We may have to revisit your case.”

“Just so you don’t ask me more questions. I’m still having nightmares about it.” Melanie shoots him a glare. “You’re in them now, too, so thanks for that.”

Jon winces. “Ah…yes. I didn’t know about that at the time, either. I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“What?”

“Look, do you want to do the library today, or come back to the Archives and interrogate me? I can explain more, but it’s not something I want to do on the stairwell,” Jon says impatiently. Elias Bouchard’s office is on the first floor as well, and the last thing he wants is Elias actually listening to this conversation.

Melanie stares at him for a minute, then sighs. “Library. The less I have to talk to you, the better.”

Which is fair enough, Jon supposes. “All right, then. This way.”

Rosie’s office, door open, is just at the top of the stairs; from the way she peers over her computer monitor at them, Jon guesses she at least heard their voices, if not what they were actually saying. Melanie glances over her shoulder as they pass. “Why is she staring at us?”

“That’s Rosie.” Just about anyone who has reason to pass her door calls her “Nosy Rosie”, actually, but Jon isn’t going to mention that in earshot; despite all appearances, he’s not a complete arse. “She’s Elias Bouchard’s personal assistant. It…behooves her to keep her finger on the Institute’s pulse, I suppose.”

“She’s a snoop, in other words.”

Jon can’t help a small, humorless chuckle. “Aren’t we all.”

Between the door to Elias’s office and the library, at the end of the corridor, there’s a room with an incredibly solid door, firmly shut. It’s one of only two interior doors original to the Institute, the other being the library’s, and as such it’s windowless. It’s also unlabeled. Melanie eyeballs it. “What’s in there?”

“Artifact Storage.”

“So…what, haunted dolls, cursed music boxes, weapons belonging to serial killers…”

Jon stops and shoots Melanie a look. She shrugs, completely unrepentant. “All right, so I’m curious. Sue me. Not like I’m going to ask to go in.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t let you,” Jon tells her firmly. “It’s not a museum. It’s more of a…science lab, I suppose. They keep artifacts in there, yes, but they also study them, attempt to replicate their effects or discover why they do things.”

“Hmm.” Melanie studies the door for a second. Jon’s about a step away from grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her away when she falls into step with him. “You go in there a lot, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.” Jon leads Melanie to the end of the hall and the ornate double doors of the library, then pushes one open and ushers her inside.

Melanie’s jaw drops, which is the usual reaction among employees seeing it for the first time, from what Jon’s been told and what little he’s experienced. Three stories high, with balconies ringing the upper two, it’s near floor-to-ceiling shelves, every one packed with books. Tables and chairs litter the ground floor, and here and there on the upper levels are smaller rooms for private study. A bored-looking junior clerk sits behind a curved, ornate wooden desk with her back to the dizzying drop, filing her nails; elsewhere, other library assistants sort, stack, and shelve books from carts and precarious stacks.

“I always thought it looked like the library from Beauty and the Beast,” Jon admits in a low voice. From the startled look Melanie shoots him, she was thinking the same thing. “Come on. I’ll try and track down Diana.”

“What can I do for you?”

Jon and Melanie both jump at the boisterous, barely-contained voice from behind them. Whirling around, Jon takes a deep, steadying breath. “Diana. I…didn’t see you there.”

“That’s unusual.” Diana smiles—almost leers—down at Jon. In height and in breadth, she can give Martin a run for his money, and she towers over the two of them. Melanie nips smartly behind Jon, and he throws her a look. “What can I do for you? New assistant?”

“Ah—no. Diana Caxton, Melanie King.”

“The ghost hunter?” Diana raises one impeccably sculpted eyebrow almost into her hairline.

“Y-yes,” Melanie manages to choke out.

Jon takes a half-step back so he isn’t looking up Diana’s nose. “Miss King needs to use the library for some research. I know she’s not the…usual student type, but I’m willing to vouch for her seriousness, as well as her right to be here. I’m certain she will treat the books with the respect and care they deserve. And the subject matter, of course.”

Diana’s eyebrow raises higher. “You’re not going to put this in your show, are you?”

She says this at a normal volume, and a number of nearby heads snap towards them. Jon fights the instinctive urge to shrink into himself and hide. Melanie, on the other hand, folds her arms over her chest and manages to meet Diana’s eyes. “No, ma’am. I just need to follow up on some leads to make sure I’m informed enough on my end to go places safely.”

She’s lying. Jon knows intuitively she’s lying, but he keeps his face carefully blank. Diana studies Melanie from her great height, then finally nods. “Have to run it by Mr. Bouchard first, but I’m sure he’ll agree. I’ll have a ninety-day pass set up for you at the front desk. Come by tomorrow morning and we’ll get you started.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Jon,” Diana says as Jon starts to turn away and lead Melanie back to the front. “Do tell Martin hello, will you? I hope he brightens your Archives as much as he brightened our library. We miss his smiling face up here. Tell him he’s welcome any time.”

“I—of course,” Jon says, not sure what else to say.

Melanie waits until they hit the landing to ask in an undertone, “Is Martin the one who said—?”

“Yes,” Jon says shortly. He’s going to have a talk with Martin about his self-esteem issues, not that he can really be throwing stones. But Diana seemed to genuinely mean it.

He bids Melanie farewell at the front door, then ducks into the canteen to grab a sandwich before heading down to the Archives again. Sasha’s there, making herself a cup of tea. She looks up and smiles when she sees Jon, but her expression turns puzzled. “Hi. I thought you’d be at lunch with Martin or something.”

“He’s…running something down for Tim,” Jon says carefully. Worry churns at his gut.

Before Sasha can respond, though, the trapdoor opens and Martin comes out. His face is pale and he looks shaken, which doesn’t help Jon’s worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I don’t know.” Martin carefully shuts the door and comes back over. “Tell you later.”

They don’t say anything else about it. Not then. But at the end of the day when they lock up the Archives, Sasha loops one arm through Jon’s and the other through Martin’s. “Mind if I invite myself over?”

“Yes, we can’t stand you and we’re thoroughly glad to get rid of you at the end of the day,” Jon deadpans, eliciting a tiny smile out of her. “Thank God you don’t live with us or we’d be constantly miserable. Oh—Martin, I forgot to ask, did Tim want us to bring anything home?”

“He said he’d put in an order at that takeaway place for us to pick up on the way.” Martin’s voice is unusually soft, and it makes Jon’s worry compound.

Tim looks a lot better when they get in the door, white boxes in hand. He greets them with a smile, which vanishes instantly when he sees Martin. “Oh, God, what? What happened? What is it?”

Martin shrugs out of his jacket. “Well, I asked them.”

“And?” Tim prompts, voice full of dread.

Martin sighs. “And they didn’t know.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“They didn’t know. Had no idea what I was talking about. I’ve never seen Jon Prime look that confused.” Martin reaches for Sasha’s jacket, but she takes his instead and hangs them both up. “They were considering coming over tonight, but Martin Prime thought you might want to talk to us first.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…probably not a bad idea.” Tim runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“Let’s eat. Then you can explain,” Sasha suggests.

Dinner is largely silent, except for the scrape of fork on plate. Jon does explain the purpose of Melanie’s visit to the others, and Martin frowns slightly when he repeats Diana’s words, but doesn’t say anything. Once they’ve all eaten and cleaned up, they head back into the living room to talk.

Tim sits on the edge of the loveseat, elbows resting on his thighs and hands clasped beneath his chin. “Where do we start?”

Sasha nudges Martin’s ankle with her foot. “What were you asking the Primes about?”

“Tim told me to ask them about ‘the color of fears’,” Martin replies. “They didn’t know what I meant. I didn’t know what I meant, except…” He looks up at Tim. “Except I think it has to do with your headaches.”

“It does,” Tim confirms. He takes a deep breath. “It’s…something I’ve been noticing lately. Since the Trophy Room, really. When I was there…when Daniel Rawlings looked me in the eye? His eyes were glowing. Like there was a light inside them. Right proper spooky. And when I got back to the Archives that day…I thought you’d put special bulbs in or something, at first, but I blinked and it went away. Then I was talking to you, Jon, and your eyes were glowing, too.”

“My what?” Jon touches the corner of his eye gingerly, like he can feel the luminescence.

Tim manages a small grin. “It’s not…it went away when I blinked, too, and I thought I was just imagining things. But it’s been getting…worse. Random flashes at first, but when the exterminator came in…he glowed for a second, too. After I sat in on that, it started getting stronger.”

“Hence the headaches,” Jon says. “Tim, why didn’t you—”

“I wasn’t sure. And…well, I wanted to experiment a bit. Because, see, here’s the thing. Rawlings’ eyes—when they glowed, they were this deep indigo, but the Archives, and your eyes and Sasha’s—and Martin’s lips once or twice—they glowed green. The exterminator was kind of green, too, but it was kind of a greenish-yellow, really, and the next day I—” Tim flushes and looks up at Martin. “I was watching you, and—your scars started glowing. Same color as the exterminator did, but your mouth was still the darker green, it’s how I could tell they were different colors. So…I started thinking, maybe that meant something?”

“Oh, God,” Martin says softly. “The marks.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” Tim says. “I—I’ve been sort of trying with some of the statements. It’s hard to see with them, really, because everything in the Archives glows green just about, and if I try too hard I get the headaches. But sometimes I could…pick out different colors in them, kind of. Sort of. Mostly. I-I thought maybe if I could look at them and see the fears’ marks…”

“You’d know which ones were real,” Jon completes. Tim nods. “You still shouldn’t have done that without telling us.”

“I know. Especially…well, I thought I could handle it. I’ve been getting better at only seeing them when I try to, and I thought I’d—give it a shot. I walked back into the shelves yesterday and just…let loose with my eyes. I tried to See what was on the couple of shelves nearest.” Tim sighs heavily. “But it was—it was overwhelming. There was just so much. It was like—like standing in the middle of a room made out of mirrors, and someone was shining all sorts of different colored lasers at them, and they were just bouncing off and refracting and amplifying and going everywhere. Like I was drowning in color, or like it was screaming at me. I can’t really explain it, but it was too much and, well, that’s when you found me.”

Martin exhales heavily. “Christ, Tim, that scared the hell out of me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried that without warning you all. I-I really didn’t think it would be that bad.”

Jon bites his lip. “Is that how you knew—that statement, Ms. Gwynne’s, about the mummy?”

Sasha frowns. “The one that reads like the plot of a knockoff of a Brendan Fraser film?”

“Yes. I went to record it today and—it came out distorted. I didn’t see the note until after I realized it didn’t work on the laptop, but…Tim thought it might be real.”

Tim nods. “Yeah. I looked back over some of them. Started off with the ones we knew were real, and then I started looking at a couple that we weren’t sure of. That one…I wasn’t sure, but I think it’s the End?”

“Makes sense. Mummies. Death,” Martin murmurs.

“It was white. I mean—when I looked at it hard enough, it glowed white. Or at least I think it did,” Tim says. “Made the green kind of…pale, anyway. The other ones we’ve marked as being Terminus statements were the same color. But the problem is that the green of the Eye is so strong, it’s hard to really be sure what other colors there are, except if I’m looking at a person who’s been marked. That’s why I was asking about the color of fears. I-I was kind of hoping the Primes would be able to confirm what I’m thinking, but—”

“But they had no idea,” Martin completes. “Which means that, unless I just explained it very badly, Jon Prime can’t see those colors. Can’t see the marks.”

Jon rubs his temples. “I suppose it’s good to know that I don’t have to consider that, but…why? Why can you see the marks when the rest of us can’t?”

Sasha gets a faraway look in her eyes, and there’s a faint sound of static as she says, “Because that’s what’s important to Tim. Knowing when danger is coming, what danger is coming. You said yourself, Tim, you’re going to help and you’re going to do whatever you can to protect us. The Eye gave you the ability to Know what entities are around, or have got hold of someone or something, because it knows you’ll lean into that and use it for good as long as you can, up until it’s got a tight enough hold on you that you can’t get away, even if you want to.” She blinks hard, and the static fades as she puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh—oh, God, sorry, I—”

“It’s fine.” Tim manages a smile for her, but there’s a look of distress in his eyes. “It’s good to know.”

Jon’s distressed, too. “Tim you should have told us. Jon Prime’s been working with us on control, if we’d known you had powers already we’d have—he should be helping you, too. You can’t—” He takes a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t keep this sort of thing to yourself anymore.”

Tim reaches over and squeezes Jon’s hand. “I promise. No more unauthorized research, of any kind. I won’t even check books out of the library without telling you what I’m after first.”

“I appreciate that.” Jon smiles and squeezes Tim’s hand back. “Now then. Someone get a notebook and pen. We need to write down as much of this as we can.”

[eleventybiillion]

Dating

Remember when I said I was gonna get real personal? Yeah, it's happening right the fuck now. I signed up for a dating site. A few weeks ago. I may have been really drunk when I did it and my status with my ex was, uh. Questionable. I also may be really drunk right now as I write this. Which just means no filter, so have fun.

So now I'm dating. For real. That kind of dating you're supposed to do in your early 20s when you're not still dating that One Guy you've had an on-and-off thing with since your freshman year of high school. And I wish I could say I'm enjoying it, but the truth is, it's flaring up some of the worst anxieties I have about myself and the pain I've experienced from past relationships.

Since I was maybe 12, I've been putting myself down, relying on self-deprecating humor to brand myself as "the funny one" in all my friend groups because I felt that was the only thing I had to offer. And even then, I often felt so painfully unfunny that I just wanted to remove myself from everyone around me because I had no redeemable qualities.

This view of myself carried over into every aspect of my life. Especially relationships. It was a big deal when I decided to open up and be vulnerable to someone. Because I'd carried this notion that I wasn't worthy of anyone's time, affection, attention, or love for a significant chunk of my life.

The first person I ever opened up to completely was my ex, Duncan. We met in middle school, started dating in high school, and ended up in an on-and-off thing for almost ten years. He was (and still is) my best friend. But things happened, we broke up, and he ended up killing my trust in him by sleeping with someone shortly after we broke up. Mind you, we had broken up with the notion we might get back together in the future, once we learned to better ourselves to better our relationship. We had also been together for a seven-year stretch. He insisted we stay apart but kept me close as an emotional crutch. Maybe I'm crazy for getting so upset, but I was. I was devastated. This was the guy I fell in love with in high school and stayed with through my mid-20s. We went through so much together and all of that felt absolutely negated the second I got the text saying "yes, I'm fucking her, is that what you want to hear?" I don't remember ever saying this, but he told me that I said, "As long as she's in your life, I won't be."

Then there was Josh. I met him online and I developed feelings that I hadn't felt for a long time. It was one of those friendships that was easy and fun. I was into him. And, surprising to me, he was into me. We'd flirted with the idea of meeting in person. I naively thought that this might be a real thing. But later on, after receiving some upsetting news, he began to spiral downwards into alcohol and apathy. I tried to be there for him, but was always met with hostility. Finally, after months of a painful balancing act of offering support and giving him space, I asked if he wanted me to leave him alone. The response I got was, "Bye." I haven't spoken to him since. I don't know where or how he is, but he often crosses my mind and I worry. I cared so much for him and I worry that he's no longer here, and that I may have been able to prevent that if I had just handled things differently.

The last person I tried to be as real as possible with was Brooke. Again, another person I met online. I'm not afraid to say that I honestly fell in love with her. She was my best friend and we shared everything with each other. I felt comfortable enough with her to detail some of the worst parts of myself. My struggles with bipolar disorder and depression, my suicidal thoughts, my horrific bouts of self-harm. She listened with sympathy, and I had that same recurring thought that I now despise. "This might be a real thing." When I confessed my feelings for her, I was met with silence. Months later (I'm not even kidding. It was fucking months later), she acknowledged these feelings, and made sure to drill into me that she valued our friendship. But she did so in a way that made me hopeful that it might become something more. Like she was perpetually on that cusp of something more.

But later on, she made sure to tell me all about her new best friend. And how they just clicked and everything was perfect and she was so much fun and they had so much fun together. I'm not ashamed to admit that this ignited some jealous feelings in me. What did this new girl have that I didn't? Why was she dropping me in favor of someone else? Several times, she often called me by this new girl's name. And when I would get upset, she made me feel guilty. Like I was overreacting. And for a long time, I believed I was.

It wasn't until I showed some of our conversations to my two best friends, just to get their advice on what the fuck I was supposed to say to her, that they simply said, "Yeah, she's literally emotionally abusing you." I was completely blind to it. Here I was, totally in love with this girl, willing to put up with everything she said and did to me, simply because there was always this glimmer of hope that we might get together and we might be happy.

It took those two friends (Quinn and Charlie, I credit y'all for getting me out of this toxic relationship) to make me realize all the little things she did to keep me on her hook. Acknowledging my feelings but refusing to give a definitive answer about her own. Making me feel guilty about getting upset about her treatment of me. Getting mad at me for having sex with men (even though she never mentioned this when I told her about said men) and saying she was in agony hearing me talk about them. Ignoring me for days or even weeks when I called her out on the things she did that hurt me, then coming back to our conversations like nothing ever happened. Buying me gifts to "make amends" and repair the damages she caused.

Finally, I cut ties. I couldn't deal with her anymore. A year and a half later, having no contact with her, I found out that she began spreading rumors that I would threaten to hurt and/or kill myself if I felt I wasn't getting enough attention from her. Anyone who knows me knows I would never do that. And here she was, using such an intimate and secret piece of myself to paint me as this kind of person. I had let her in to some of the most painful and vulnerable parts of myself and she used it against me. I refuse to ever forgive her for that.

Remember that thing I told Duncan? About me not being in his life as long as that other girl was? Well. Three years after we had been broken up, that other girl was no longer in his life. He called me up out of the blue, and said he was sorry for everything he had done. I was still his best friend, I always had been and I always would be. So he was back in my life. And we were friends. Until we had crossed that threshold into more than friends. Whenever we would visit each other, we would end up sleeping together. It was safe, comfortable, familiar. But there was always that gnawing in the back of my brain that told me what we were doing was wrong. We weren't together, but we were acting like we were. I'd never felt so conflicted in my life, and haven't since.

Finally, I had to have the difficult discussion about our boundaries. I'll never deny that he is probably the person that knows me better than anyone. He is my best friend. But the romantic feelings? They were gone. When I told him, he said he felt relieved. And I was relieved to be able to keep him in my life while simultaneously moving on.

And so now I'm dating. After a few mediocre dates, I found a guy that I'm afraid to admit I actually really like. But those self-defense mechanisms I established in my early teen years stayed strong. Why would anyone actually be interested in me? I better put myself down before he notices these flaws himself.

And worse, those scars from my past relationships seemed to bleed all over again. Who else is he talking to? (Thanks, Duncan.) Is everything going to change overnight? (Thanks, Josh.) What deep, intimate personal detail is he going to take advantage of? (Thanks, Brooke.)

I don't want to be that person. Jealous and anxious and guarded. What's worse, I don't want to get hurt again, which means I feel I can't actually open myself up to the good things that could come from this relationship. He's so thoughtful and sweet and considerate, and yet here I am, wondering what's really going on in his head. Like I can't take anything at face value. There has to be more.

I'd like to break out of this cycle. Where my lack of self worth feeds into these distrustful and suspicious feelings that cause me to put up walls to the point that people feel the need to give up on me because I won't let them get close which directly reinforces my low self worth. I'm terrified to let him in because I'd been so badly burned in the past.

I'm not sure how to end this (extremely long) post other than to say that I'm cautiously optimistic that maybe I can let him in. That I can let him get past the barriers I built around my heart because of those that hurt me in the past. I feel like it's going to take a lot of work on my part, but I'm afraid to admit that it might actually be worth all the effort. As if I didn't learn anything from the past, or maybe I want to believe that this time will be different, but I think this could be a real thing.

[joyful-soul-collector]

About Me

I was tagged by @theswordofpens! I started a new post for this cuz the other one was getting hella long with reblogs lol. Anyway, let’s get on to the questions!

How tall are you?

5′7 or 170.18cm

What color and style is your hair?

That is a debated topic actually. My hair is dyed bright blue, but the natural parts of it people can never decide if it’s black or dark brown. In the summer sun, it’s dark brown, but it’s not always summer and I’m inside 90% of the time, so it looks black very often. So really depends on the lighting of the situation. Though people tend to focus more on the fact that my hair is blue rather than what color the natural parts are lol. My hair is a pretty basic short haircut, short on the sides, little longer on top, a bit of bangs that get in my eyes sometimes. 

What color are your eyes?

Again, debated topic, and for the same reason as my hair. Sometimes dark brown, sometimes black, depends on the light. 

Do you wear glasses?

Yep! They’re red on the inside and black on the outside. 

Do you wear braces?

Yeah, my family was finally able to get me braces a while ago! I guess most kids get them when they’re younger, before their teeth have the chance to get worse, and they only have to have them on for a year or so? But we were only able to get them when I entered sophomore year of high school, so I have to have them for three years since my teeth had gotten so bad. They’re a lot better now, and hopefully I’ll be able to get them off before I go to community college 😅

What’s your fashion sense?

Does fandom nerd count as a category of fashion? I wear a lot of shirts with references to tv shows. All of my shirts have some sort of graphic on it, and I also have a couple zip-up hoodies that are tv show references. I also wear bright red sneakers every day, big bright red headphones that I wear every day, and a wallet chain that I wear every day. So all of that, combined with bright blue hair, seems to make for a... noticeable person haha. 

What is your full name?

Marko Polo

(Nice try, I’m not saying personal stuff on here haha)

Where were you born?

Not gonna say exactly where, but in the more southern part of California. 

Where are you from and where do you live now?

Alright, so technically I’m from a few different places. I was born in southern CA and lived there til I was 8, then we moved to super north-western WA where I lived until I was almost 13, and then we moved to central PA, where we celebrated my 13th birthday like a week after arriving. I’ve lived here in PA ever since, so that’s five years here in a couple months. 

What school do you go to?

A High School

What kind of student are you?

I’m an alright student? I struggle with school, especially with all the moving I’ve had to do. Different schools have different expectations and vary in a lot of ways. I also have ADHD (more inattentive, less hyperactive) and Anxiety, which has not exactly been a help haha. I’ve always needed tutors and extensions and my 504 Plan, but if I have those I can often get good grades!

Do you like school?

School is meh. It’s stressful and exhausting, which is frustrating because I have other stuff I want do outside school, but I can’t do half of it because I have hw and chores and any other random things that need to get done. But my school is very high quality compared to most public schools! We have so many resources and amazing classes, and I love attending there, but unfortunately the people are not my favorite. Most of them are rich kids who have never attended anything other than really fancy schools, so they often take what they have for granted. I’ve heard kids say “our school is trash” while sitting in our Forensic Science class, in front of a school issued computer that we get to take home every day. It bothers me to NO END how some of these people act, but oh well. 

Favorite subject?

English! English has always been my favorite subject, I love stories. 

Favorite TV shows?

Ohhhhhhh man here we go (in no particular order): Firefly, Dollhouse, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Demon Slayer, Legend of Korra, My Hero Academia, Sense8, Sherlock, Death Note, Lovesick, One Punch Man, Series of Unfortunate Events, The Good Place, Galavant, Parks and Rec, The Office, iZombie, Kill la Kill, Community, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, The Umbrella Academy, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Naruto, Batman The Animated Series, Travelers, Sex Education, Cells at Work, Death Parade, The Promised Neverland, RWBY

Tbh there might be more but those are the ones I could find haha. If you haven’t seen these, watch em, pretend this is a rec list, and then come and yell at me about how good they are. 

Favorite movies?

Again, here we go (in no particular order): The Iron Giant, 10 Cloverfield Lane, Cabin in the Woods, any and all MCU movies (but especially Spider-Man), Into The Spider-Verse, Scott Pilgrim vs The World, anything Bo Burnham, anything John Mulaney, James Acaster: Repertoire, The Prestige, The Usual Suspects, Planet of the Apes, Lars and the Real Girl, Her, Newsies, Baby Driver, Serenity, Liar Liar, Crazy Stupid Love, Bandersnatch, ARQ, Cloverfield, A Silent Voice, Klaus, How To Train Your Dragon, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog

There are definitely more, I just couldn’t think of them haha. Again, watch these, and then come and freak out with me about how they’re amazing. 

Favorite books?

Let’s do this one last time (in no particular order, of course): Ready Player One, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Harry Potter, the Gone series, Saga, Sweet Tooth, Chew, Nimona, The Tea Dragon Society, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Lumberjanes, Invincible, Runaways, Calvin and Hobbes, Prince and the Dressmaker, Here, Plutona, Sculptor, Invincible, The Sword, Ultimate Spider-Man, Holes, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, The Giver

There are definitely, 100% more books that I haven’t listed, again, I can’t think of them rn. Also, if you don’t recognize half of these titles, you probably don’t read comics/graphic novels. You should be reading those. Read them and then come and rant about how good they are so I get to tell you I told you so. 

Favorite past time?

Writing! Watching tv! Reading! Spacing out so much people have to say my name ten times before I come hurtling back to earth! Talking to friends!

Do you have any regrets?

Yeah, I wish I’d stood up for myself when I was younger. I was bullied for a really long time, and even though it’s been a couple years since the last I was bullied, it’s still really hard for me to tell people what I want and and don’t want. I think I’m a little better than I used to be though, which is good!

What’s your dream job?

Author definitely, but I doubt I’ll be able to do that for a real job. Tbh I just want a job that I can do in my sleep. Repetitive, pays well, not too exhausting, that way I have energy and time to do my writing and all the things I want to do at home. 

Would you like to be married?

I think so. I want to have a person I can live my life with, who I want to care for and who wants to care for me. If I’m not married I’d like an S.O. or even just a really good friend to live with. I think I’d get sad living by myself haha. 

Do you want kids?

I want to be a foster parent! I’ve loved helping people my whole life, and I think this is one of the best ways that I can help someone going through a rough time. I don’t want biological kids though tbh, not really for any one reason, just for a bunch of little ones. 

How many?

Dunno man. I wanna help as many kids as I can. 

Do you like shopping?

I do! However I don’t do it often because I have no money. I do like walking around stores and looking a cool stuff though, especially nerdy stores like Hot Topic or Boxed Lunch or any book/comic shop. 

What countries have you visited?

Canada, usually to visit family, once to see Niagara Falls! Never been anywhere else though, but I have a whole list of places I wanna see

Scariest nightmare you’ve ever had?

TW: SELF HARM/DEATH

Oof, see my dreams are always nightmares, and my nightmares are always hella terrifying. Often they’re of my worst fears: family telling me they hate me, finding the body of someone in my family, old bullies coming back, but in my worst one I found my little sister cutting herself in an old warehouse. I don’t actually remember much of what happened after I woke up, it was so bad I disassociated for the whole day. But luckily, I don’t dream often. 

Do you have any enemies?

No? Maybe? I have people I hate, my old bullies mainly, but I’m not around them anymore so it’s not like I spend time hating them. 

Do you have any self doubts?

Yeah I have this hilariously fun thing where I think everyone is just pretending to like me because they can’t pick up the courage to stop hanging out with me. Or that if I talk about what’s making me sad/stressed out then I’m being a burden on other people or being dramatic. Slowly working over that but it’s still hard. 

Do you have any significant others?

Nope

Do you believe in miracles?

Depends. I don’t believe in fate or the idea that something higher up is pulling strings. But I think crazy cool stuff can happen. But that’s just luck and coincidence. For me, miracles are the positive ends of luck and coincidence. 

How are you?

Meeeeehhhhh. School sucks, my sisters stress me out, and my parents are breathing down my neck about fifty different things. But I have a couple good friends and my writing and good stories to read and watch, so it’s not all bad :]

Tag ten tumblrs (tag last ten people in my notifications): @tracle0 @humblesavant @holystudenthologramy @federluftmask @phahbiyah @topazastral @dragon-s-bane @cassius-mortemer @saiko-tsuki @writing-another-star

[starryjyrus]

What Jyrus Means Too Me and Why I’ll Never Be Fully Won Over By Tyrus:

!!TW OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AND DISCUSSION OF MENTAL HEALTH!!

The Summer of 2017 was by far the best Summer I’ve ever had, it’s kind of a shame it was followed by the worst Summer I’ve ever had..

Anyway, back at that time I had been really into SmurfVlogs (still am, I’ve been watching him since about 2015-16 I’d say) anyway, everyone had been mourning the loss of Girl Meets World and he had announced on his channel that Disney planned on making a show similar to GMW and that the pilot had been released on YouTube, I became hella curious especially when I had heard the rumor that there was a possibility of a gay main character and that there was supposedly going to be a gay love triangle between Cyrus/Andi/Jonah, this definitely peaked my interest considering Disney, outside of Good Luck Charlie and a few other cameo like characters/relationships spotted in different movies/series, like Finding Dory, hadn’t really had that. And a MAIN character? Possibly TWO main characters being LGBT? I obviously had to watch. I of course heard other things that made the series look good, ie the Teenage Pregnancy storyline, the diversity in casting and more, but this is what sold me. Thus started my obsession.

Anyway, I watched the show. I watched the first episode on YouTube and continued watching after that, I remember the break in between the middle of season 1 that was only like two weeks, I remember seeing missing scenes in the show that wasn’t in the original promo (their was a shot of the coming out scene in the season one promo, if it wasn’t obvious to some episode 1 of season 2, or at least the first half, was originally the episode 13 of season 1) and I remember the speculation around that and the reasoning as to why they had cut that scene out.

I was in love with it. The whole storyline was just so pure and the relationship between Jonah and Cyrus was the single best thing I’ve ever witnessed. I made a fan account on Insta for it, a Tumblr, edits and so much more. The whole community was so beautiful and it was so much fun and wholesome. I’d watch the show and remember how amazing the world could be, how something like the ‘friendom’ could exist haha. I was getting older and I know it seemed weird (I was going into my Sophomore year, possibly just ending my Freshman year of school when I started watching) to be so invested in a CHILDS show but I couldn’t help it. It was an escape from reality. A place with positivity and happiness which at that time I desperately needed.

I made some of my best memories of my life during that time of the show premiering and during the hiatus. And the majority was because of things in relation to Jyrus. I’ll never forget those times and what being connected into a fandom like that was like.

The friends, the edits, the Insta live-streams from casts, it was insane too see how happy they got from it all and how much of a new experience it was. Other things like the Asher ‘be you’ memes and Josh on here with his ‘persongoingfast’ tumblr made it great as well. Even if I’m not a big fan of Josh as a person now, due to reasons, (mainly with him seemingly making fun of or mocking Jyrus and stuff like that, considering I used to really look up to him and be a big fan to see belittle something I cared so deeply about hurt me on a level l cannot describe) him being so interactive then was still an amazing thing and helped make things so much more fun at that time, so thank you @joshua-rush for that. Sincerely.

Everything was so beautiful during that..until it lwasn’t.

My mental health got really bad due to some losses and such in my family around November of 2017 and I had to be hospitalized in a mental health facility for a few weeks. It was extremely scary but I found comfort in the place, mainly due to some fellow people inside that watched Andi Mack, relating to them and being able to talk about the show with people who actually watched it? It was incredible. No one up to that point (aside from my mom who I forced to watch with me) watched the show and could talk with me about it.

I got out and the support and concern I get from friends online was overwhelming, so many people cared about me while I was gone and worried about me. No one ever really did that, at least my friends didn’t, I remember opening my phone for the first time on the way back home when we stopped at a McDonalds and the amount of messages put me into tears. There were people online who I’ve never met and we only really knew each other through a ship and a show genuinely CARED about me? It was breathtaking. I have much more friends now that would be concerned and care about me, but at that time irl I really didn’t. And the fact so many did was unbelievable.

Everything slowly but surely was getting better and worse in some areas, my overall depression state was getting better, due to medication and such, but I had relapses a few times in bad areas like self harming as well. It was pretty back and forth for a while.

Then, the worst thing that could’ve happened, happened. A quick backstory is that I don’t live with my mom, I haven’t since 7th grade and instead have lived with my Great Aunt and Great Uncle. I was always very close to them for my entire life, especially my Great Uncle, he was for a long time the most important person in my life, he was like a father too me. Hell, he WAS my father for the majority of my life. And last year on July 11th, he had unfortunately passed away.

This was absolutely devastating and considering I already was struggling with mental health and depression in the first place..ya can probably guess the spiral that ensured.

For a while I was doing okay, and then one day I broke, it had been around the time of Cyrus confirming he no longer had a crush on Jonah and when everyone started to switch from Jyrus to Tyrus and Jyrus shipper hatred became pretty popular. People were sending a specific Jyrus shipper anons of saying they wished they’d die just because they shipped Jyrus, you couldn’t go on YouTube comment sections on videos about Jyrus because you had people shitting on it everywhere, people started commenting under Jyrus edits on Instagram about how Tyrus was better and how gross it was to ship Jyrus, I got DMs of people genuinely upset because I didn’t like Tyrus, I had friends leave the sites due to the bullying they were receiving, we had some Tyrus account going around saying Jyrus shippers were ped*philes, It was insane. Now, I of course was NO saint and I know I’ve done and said some messed up shit too and if I ever hurt anyone I am deeply sorry for that, it was not my intention. And I know Jyrus shippers are not all saints either but this was just out of control. Especially whenever it was hurting a lot of people who were innocent and making them feel wrong about something as little as shipping something.

And I had a mental breakdown. I had just lost the most important person in my life and now the place that I considered my safe haven was crumbling before my eyes and all I could do was watch. It was too much. I had people saying they wanted shippers like me dead, and finally I just couldn’t handle it and completely had a melt down. If you are already having thoughts like these and you have people reinforcing what you already thought and not making you feel like you belong, well, anywhere, it really does get too you.

I of course, came out alright. Thank you to the Tumblr creator that called the police that night for a lot of that.

I’m sorry this is so long but I’ve been holding this in for so long so please bare with me.

Anyway, I am doing much better now and I’m thankful to be here still. I’m learning to fight against the haters rather then take shit and bottle things up like I used too. I still have a lot of issues but since that awful night, I haven’t had any plans of suicide or many thoughts of it.

I’m going into my last year of high school and soon I’ll be a legal adult. It’s been such a ride to get here and honestly I never thought I would but I finally think I’m getting past all of the shit in my past and am moving on.

My main reason to make this post and to be so open about everything here was to try to explain a lot of why I’m always going to be for Jyrus and not so much for Tyrus. I have other issues then the fans when it comes to Tyrus, but it has always been a main one when it comes to me not wanting to ship it.

When I look at Jyrus, despite them being pure and amazing on their own, I see some of my last good memories, I see the best time of my life, I see a point where I felt the best and where everything was going really right too me, I see long lasting friends, I see beautiful edits, I see a community, I see love, I see loyalty and so much more.

But when I look at Tyrus, all I see is the bad memories I have associated with them and the shippers, in a lot of ways, Tyrus has been a huge source of my personal pain in life, I know it seems silly and it probably is, but I have such an emotional dependence on Jyrus and Tyrus messed me up in a lot of ways in regards to that. I lost the majority of my safe haven when they emerged as more then just a crack ship. All I see when I look at them is sadness and that’s all I’m probably going ever going to see.

I tried in numerous areas to get fully on board with the ship but I just can’t. I have no love for it in a way I do for Jyrus. It’s not a terrible ship, I know that, but throughout everything that has happened even if it had no flaws I don’t think I’d ever ship it a lot.

I know everyone has their own version of things and reasons why they ship what they ship or don’t ship what they ship or like some shippers but hate others, this is just my personal story on the matter and I hope it clears up some of why I act the way I do online sometimes and why I’m so defensive of the ship and shippers.

Sorry this was so weird, I just needed to get this off of my chest cause I’ve had it in there for so long and I needed to talk about it.

[royaliity]

Did I just spot LOGAN LERMAN around town? Oh no wait, it was just CHARLES “CHARLIE” HATCHAWAY. Rumor has it that he is the TWENTY-FOUR year old child of CONSTANCE HATCHAWAY from THE HAUNTED MANSION. I’ve also heard that they’re PROTECTIVE and TROUBLED, and have ONE half-sibling.

TW: Murder, Implied Suicide, Blood, Self-Harm, Depression... (it’s just all sad)

history points:

Charles Winchester Hatchaway was born into a life of luxury to Constance’s second Husband, Frank Banks and was the first child she ever had as well as the only son.

However, this didn’t mean that his childhood was sunshine and rainbows. In fact, it damaged him so severely that it had a lasting impact on his adulthood and relationships.

He didn’t know very much about his actual father, he was gone before he even reached the age of two or even his second father (her third husband), he really only knew of the fourth and even that didn’t last a while. Not long enough.

None the less, from a very young age, Constance had been rather harsh on her son and expected above and beyond from him. His stepfather had accepted this because he too, wanted his stepson to grow up to be a good man.

Though, he did often sneak Charlie chocolates and teach him how to catch and hit a baseball. Because of this, he often found safety in his stepfather and thought of him positively.

He learned piano, practicing day and night until he was practically an expert at a very young age. He also practiced heavily in his studies, knowing that he had to do well in school if he ever wanted to succeed.

Charlie was never a very outgoing boy because of this and was rather isolated in everything he did.

It was even more so the case when he came home with a terrific grade on his paper, only to watch his stepfather be murdered with an ax in front of him in his parent’s bedroom. He was still a child when it happened.

His mother told him that he had been trying to hurt her and that it had to be done. Scared, stunned, and in grief, Charlie believed her. He had just been so little. He helped her cover up the murder and said it was a stranger that came into their house.

But as he grew and his mother married another, giving birth to a little girl, Charlie became-- wary. In this bright and shining little one’s face, he saw something innocent and pure. Finally, a friend. And he wanted to protect her. He would protect her.

There wasn’t much of a connection between his newest stepfather and himself but he still wanted to try. He would create songs on the piano and attempt to impress regardless, though, for some reason, he kept telling himself not to get too attached.

Time passed and the nightmares got so much worse. He had done the research on his previous fathers and every one of them was mysteriously murdered. Charlie knew what was going on, he had to, but there was nothing he could do but try to stop it from happening again. He was the son of a murderer and it haunted him.

Then-- it happened again when he was sixteen. He knew exactly who had done it. He would have told the world and threatened his mother he would do so, but she threatened his sister and he was forced to be quiet and endure the abuse.

But then, Charlotte, (being as smart as she was), found out. Charlie watched helplessly as she was trapped in her room, unable to come out. He had tried day and night to try to get the door open. Reasoning with his mother, kicking the door, lockpicking. Everything.

He had been the one to find her in the kitchen. It broke him. He had tried everything to revive her but nothing worked. His sister was gone.

He would follow. Without another word to his mother, who pulled at him and struggled with him to help her-- he locked himself in his room and he never came out again.

Now he remains the rest of his days as a ghost in the attic of the mansion along with his mother and little sister.

personality points:

Charlie is definitely depressed™ but he will write you beautiful poetry and music to play on the piano.

A gentle soul, could literally never harm a fly. The only time you could even really get him angry or protective is hurting his little sister.

Has big long vertical scars on the inside of his wrists that never went away. He figured it was because of how he died.

Fascinated with poetry (specifically Edgar Allan Poe) and the stars at night. He’s often seen gazing off the balcony.

In his lighter times, he did like to throw a baseball around the mansion and scare new guests.

Other times, he liked to sit beside live people he found attractive and daydream about what could have been. He likes to think he would have made a good father.

Was often times the ghost that played the piano in the mansion. Guests would randomly hear someone playing and it was almost always Charlie.

Prone to panic attacks that carried over even after death. He gets triggered very easily and isolates himself when they happen.

Very distant and likes to keep to himself, but once you break through his shell, one sees just how soft and gentle he really is.

Absolutely loves animals and wishes he could have had one of his own in life. If there’s anything he treats with the utmost respect, it’s animals.

Sensitive about blood. It sends him either into shock or panic. He doesn’t really know what to do in those cases, even if it’s just a little blood. He doesn’t know why.

wanted connections:

A Mortal Friend - Someone he can finally be friends with and helps him understand the mortal world just a little bit better. He may have been wary to trust them in the beginning but now he enjoys being around them.

Macabre Delights - This person enjoys the darkness as he much as he does and delights in just talking poetry and sitting there in the comfort of the dark with him. They may talk a lot about their lives.

Bright Side - This person brings out the light in Charlie. They make him feel happy like no one else had before. Maybe they make his life (or afterlife) a lot better than it ever was.

Intuned with Ghosts - A mortal who’s sensitive to ghosts that he tells information to. He feels comfortable around them and will reveal information to them about the afterlife.

Ghost Pals - Anyone from the mansion that managed to get him to talk and be social!