#he never learned how to do divorce so everyone is just stuck like this.

[bowenoke]

in scott's pov (ep7) he refers to scar as grian's husband. no one tells him this is not the case. this is because traffic!scott decides who is and is not married like some sort of contractually binding arbiter of love. to me anyways

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

🔎 chapter one: "love is short but forgetting is so long"

chapter two: “did the love affair maim you too?” -> chapter three

summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

word count: +4,5k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

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It's been a few crazy days for you. After what happened last time, it took you a few days to go back to the last flower cafe to write. You preferred writing in your studio at home. You had a comfy balcony with a lovely view of the Monaco sea. So you just took inspiration from it to write another chapter of your book. 

Seeing Charles confused you. You didn't know what to think or how to feel about it. You got scared you would see him again. But at the same time, you wanted to see him again. 

It felt confusing because you knew it wasn't right for you or the best to see him again, or wanting to or whatever. But even if he broke your psyche the way he did, you couldn't stop thinking about the what ifs. 

What if this time works? What if he was immature but he is worth it? What if this time is better? What if he feels the same way you do? What if he says he’s sorry? What if you forgive him?

All of those questions filled the fire to write. Writedown all of the what ifs as it was reality for your character. Maybe in this fictional life, you two have your happy ending.  

Your writing process was interrupted by your bestie phone call that you, of course, picked up. “Hey” you could hear the kids scream as if you were there.

“Are you coming to pick the kids up?” she asked, remembering you, you promised her to take them to have ice cream and for a walk. You facepalm. You forgot about it.

“Oh sorry, A. Yeah,of course. I’ll pick them up in 30 minutes. I’m sorry, i forgot” you apologised starting to walk towards your bedroom to get change. You still have your pajamas on. 

“It’s okay y/n. I knew you would probably forget that’s why I called. They will be ready when you get here. Thank you, i love you” you said i love you back and ended the call. 

You chose to wear a tracksuit, trainers and a coat. It was really cold this year in particular. But you loved it. You weren’t a fan of summer that much. You preferred snow and hot chocolate. Cuddling in bed to keep yourself warm. And playing cards near the chimney. You Loved autumn and winter, it made you feel special. 

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So today was the day, the day he probably would become officially single. Charles really hated the divorce process. It was a very painful one. He had, once again, broken another woman’s heart. He wasn't proud of it but he really wanted to do things the right way from now on. No more bullshit. No more feeling guilty of the past, tied to it as if he had to pay for everything. So 6 months ago he communicated it to Alex, it was really heavy on the heart scene. He felt like an actual monster. However, he started therapy. He was starting to understand himself more and learning to forgive himself for every decision he took that maybe wasn’t the best, but he didn't know better. He was young and about to become one of the most successful drivers in formula one. He thought he knew what he was doing to then realize he actually didn't at all. 

He started his day journaling. He tried to write something but all he could do was drawing your face. That image he couldn't stop seeing every time he closed his eyes. He felt scared about it but he let himself follow along. It was best to try to take you out of his mind in some way. Then after breakfast he decided to play some piano and record new parts of a new piece he was working on. He sent it to his producer and drove to Carlos' house to have lunch together. Lando was also there. They all chatted and enjoyed barbeque at Carlos’ beach house. 

And at that moment, talking in the living room, something changed. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I think she is a writer. I always see her on the balcony surrounded by multiple sheets of papers and a computer. Or maybe she is a translator or something I don't know but she is cute, you know? Maybe you can hit on her lando " Carlos commented while serving more wine to their cups.

“Do you follow her on instagram or something?” Lando asked for further information, apparently interested. Charles was zooming out thinking about you. 

“Oh no I don't, I don't even know her name but” Carlos opened his window curtains “yup, there she is” Carlos pointed to the balcony that was visible from there. Lando patted Charles' arm so the three of them could see through the window hoping the woman wouldn't notice them. 

“Oh my god” Charles almost fainted when he saw you there in your sherk pajamas drinking from an avengers cup (you didn't change that, though. You still are a geek for movies, superheroes, comics and books he guessed). Your balcony was quite close, the view was 4k. The guys who looked at Charles getting whiter, felt weirded out about his reaction.

“All right mate? I don't think she is that ugly, you know? I mean, she is fine as hell if you ask me and I'm not that into red hair” Lando said, checking on charles.

“Yeah, maybe she is too beautiful… now that he’s officially single” Carlos added.

Charles shook his head going back to the sofa.

“It’s y/N, carlos. y/n it’s your fucking neighbor. She was there all this time and i didnt fucking know. I don't know how I never bumped into her " Charles spitted with so much mixed feeling. Lando and Carlos looked at each other. Carlos closed the curtains before sitting along them.

“Mate, i didn't have a clue she could be y/N to be honest. I’ve never met her, "Carlos explained himself.

“Wait, who’s y/N? And why is she neighbors with you?” Lando was confused. For a moment he thought they were joking but Charles looked affected. He missed a part of Charles' story or something. The only woman he met was alexandra and she is officially out of his life.

“It’s his ex, like the one” Carlos explained to him but then Lando was even more confused. Charles noticed and with a sigh he explained the situation better in his opinion.

“y/n was my girlfriend during my f2 days. I left her for Alex but since that moment I regret it. It was like 10 years ago. "Lando's face expressed understanding with his mouth showing an ‘o’.

“So I guess I can't date her now, right?” Lando said, receiving a correcting punch on his arm by carlos. “Alright, alright” 

“I need to go guys, i got stuff to do” Charles said after a long silence and stood up ready to go. He Couldn't stay longer. He needed to breathe some air. He was scared. He actually hated feeling like that. Scared of what? Of her? Of himself? Of the truth? The truth that maybe he did indeed waste all of these years pretending to like his life when all he wanted to do was go back to her? Maybe. But the truth was too heavy to admit and process. 

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You were out with your nephews. It was a saturday afternoon, cold but the sun was shining bright. Between giggles you were walking with them to their favorite ice cream shop. 

Unfortunately, it was LEC ice cream. 

Benjamin and Renato were four years old, they were twins. And then there was Dante who was 6 years old. They were messy but today was a good day, they were chilling. They ran inside the ice cream shop all excited followed by you. You closed the door and they were already on the counter talking with the cashier. You smiled shyly. 

“good afternoon” you greeted her and she smiled back at you.

“Auntie, I want the chocolate one! It is always so yummy!” said Benjamin, excitedly grabbing your coat and pulling from it in desperation. He did a few little excited jumps as his twin. 

“No! Benjamin! I want the chocolate one!” Renato got mad at his brother. Their voices were so cute they made you giggle a bit. 

“It's alright boys, you both can get the chocolate one” you said, mediating between the siblings smiling at the cashier. She noted and went to look for them. “Dante, darling, which one do you want?” He was the shyest out of them all. He was so like your best friend, polite and collected. He looked at the flavour list on the wall. 

“I want the vanilla one, please” he talked directly to the cashier making you smile proudly.

“That’s my boy,” you said, congratulating him. Seeing him smile filled your heart full. You loved those three kids with your whole heart. You always get so emotional realising how fast they are growing. 

“Alright, gentlemen, here are your ice creams” the cashier said warmly and rounded the counter to give the ice cream to each one of them. You smiled watching the scene. They got shy but grabbed their ice creams anyway. 

“What do you say boys?” you looked at them gently. 

“Thank you very much” they said in unison, making the cashier smile widely. “go seat” you told them and they obeyed you. You got close to the cashier now in her seat on the counter. “How much is it?” you asked but before she could answer you, a voice, that fucking voice, interrupted.

“It’s on the house” you wanted to believe it was a dream and that it wasn’t real. But it was. It was charles. You turned to look at him a bit confused about the whole situation. He smiled at you again, the same way he did at the restaurant. You tried to play it cool, but you knew your smile and attitude were weird. 

“Oh, thank you. It wasn’t necessary” you said politely and he shook his head. 

“No problem, for real” he said and you half smiled in return. 

“Thank you” you say for both of them and went to sit with your boys at the sofa table they chose. You just didn't want to look at him that much nor you didn't know what to say. “Hey” you greeted them, and took some napkins from the table and cleaned the twins' faces full of chocolate. you smiled funny. Dante got closer to you while you were helping Benjamin clean his hands. 

“Auntie, is that the driver dad is a fan of?” he asked shyly close to you and really low so only you could hear him. 

“I think it is darling, would you like a picture with him?” you offer sweetly. He nods, smiling brightly. That made your heart race because you now have to talk to charles. You could hear him talking to his employees in a relaxed way. You could hear he came just to check in. 

You licked your lips nervously “i'll be right back, okay?” you tell the kids and stand up to walk right back to the counter. Your heart was racing. “Um, excuse me” you tried to capture his attention, and for sure you did. He looked at you immediately. His eyes found yours and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. “Sorry, but one of my nephews recognized you and I wanted to ask you if you could take a picture with him? Don't mean to bother you, of course,” you finally said. And you saw his face light up instantly. You were pretending you didn't know each other. You just played along without even mentioning it. You swallowed hard half smiling.

“Of course, no problem,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you” you said to him before getting to the kids.

“It's fine,” he assured you. 

You called Dante to come over and he came all shy. “Hey champ, is it good?” Charles was squatting to be on Dante's height. He talked really sweet to him. Dante stuck to you, intimidated to  have that awesome driver his dad loved so much. He nodded looking at him. “You wanna take a picture? I’ll be really happy to have one with you”  he said sweetly so Dante would loosen himself. He looked at me for aprovation. You just smiled and nodded at him excitedly. Dante then relaxed, nodding towards Charles in a huge smile. He gave him a hug and charles’ heart melted between the kid’s arms. 

They posed together and you took as many pictures as you could. And after cleaning Benjamin and Renato`s faces again, they also posed with charles. They started yapping with him and imitating car noises. They made you laugh for a bit. 

They got so excited, they gave Charles so many hugs. You played along so they can have a great moment to remember someday. You recorded some videos to send to your best friend agostina later, so she can have the memories. “My daddy loves you! He always screams to the tv ‘GOOO CHARLES GOOOO’ ” Dante commented imitating his dad in the funniest way making you laugh. “But he doesn't like Carlos that much, he prefers hamilton!”

“Oh wow, you are an expert in formula 1. Who’s your daddy?” Charles really engaged with your nephews. He even sat next to you so he could have a conversation with them. He got confused for a bit, he believed they were your children. But it didn't seem like that. 

“My dad is andrew and my mom is agostina, and she is auntie y/N” dante explained to charles the whole family dynamic in his way. You smiled nodding looking at Dante, then moved to see charles. He now understood the whole thing. You were their aunt. His heart melted for a moment. He didn't know what to say.

Benjamin asked you to grab him and you did. You sat him on your tights, and he was sleepy. You stroke his thin shiny hair gently as he pressed his head on your chest wanting to fall asleep. 

Charles looked at you with a half smile.

“I think it’s time to go home kids, mommy is waiting for you. It’s pizza night!” you told them funny and excited so they would get excited. Dante celebrated along with Renato doing a victory dance making you and Charles let out a laugh.

“Let me give you a ride, that baby wants to sleep,” Charles offered sweetly, looking at Benjamin in your chest. He was trying to play it cool but his heart was speeding faster than his car in any race. Looking at you like this, made him regret every single decision of his life. How could he leave you like that? He wanted to punch himself on the face because he was sure you hated him. So it was impossible to get a second chance nor that he believed he deserved it. 

You doubted but he got a point. Walking ten blocks with a baby or two in your arms was not gonna be an easy task and your back will suffer a lot. You sighed. “Alright, thank you. It’s really nice of you” you gave in at his offer and he smiled widely. 

“Alright, let’s go home guys” Charles announced. The cashier was even more confused than the two of you were. Since when did Charles Leclerc engage so much with strangers and offer them a lift? They must not be strangers at all. They must know each other all too well. 

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Charles helped you get the kids in the car, or well, his Ferrari  that was parked one block away. Dante, all excited, wanted to touch every single thing the car had so you had to tell him to calm down and behave for a bit. You got in the passenger seat. 

Charles let you use his phone so you put your friend's address on it. He now knew where you lived and he was thinking of offering to drop you there after leaving the kids but at the same time he didn't want to be so invasive. 

Smelling your perfume was sending him on a spiral. You still had that effect on him. And he didn't know how to feel about it. You didn't look at him. You probably hate him, he thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. But then why did you let this happen? Because of the kids? It was ten blocks away. He stopped himself from keeping up his delusions for way too long he would believe them. He felt like a kid about this whole thing with you. Or the one you had. The life you had. You made him and his family so happy. Arthur still likes you, you always had a soft spot on his heart. And that made Charles feel miserable. 

The drive was silent. The kids fell asleep in like three blocks. You were so nervous you would throw up right then and there. You just looked out through the window. You didn't want to talk that much with him. You knew that would be dangerous. 

He knew it too. He knew all too well what you were trying to do and in a way he was thankful for it. But in another way, he just wanted to know everything about you, again. 

A million questions were playing again and again in your heads silently but agonizingly at the same time.

Ten minutes later, you were finally on your destination: your best friend’s, agostina, house. She was waiting at the porch of her house. When she saw the black ferrari stop by her sidewalk she frowned. She thought you were coming on foot with her three children. 

You looked at charles in a half smile, just praying your friend doesn't get mad at you for this insane idea. “Thank you for lifting us” you said shortly and he nodded. It was awkward. 

“Let me help you” Charles said and both of you got out of his car. 

When your friend first saw you, she looked confused, with a million question marks in her eyes. But then, when she saw Charles coming off the driving seat, her eyes almost fell out. I mean, she was relieved that it was him at some point but not so much out of concern for you. 

“Hey, A” Charles greeted her with a wave helping you wake the kids up. He remembers your friend, of course. He remembered everything about you. 

“Hey, charles. It’s been a long time” A said, grabbing Benjamin from your arms. Charles helped Dante and you grabbed Renato in your arms. Both baby twins were knocked out sleeping. Dante grabbed his mum's hand and waved to Charles in a goodbye. He closed his Ferrari door and waved to us. You just smiled. You were in the most uncomfortable situation of your life. You didn't have a good feeling about this. 

You felt it was the beginning of the end, for some odd reason you couldn't identify yet. 

“Bye charles!” Dante said happily and was still a bit sleepy. Agostina smiled at him but when she turned to look at you, her eyes were screaming “ARE YOU CRAZY GIRL?” and how could you blame her for it. You just put her kids into the car of a known stranger. 

Charles observed the situation with you and your friend from his car. The sunset sun made you glow. And your eyes were so shiny he got confused for a bit if he was actually dreaming. He made his horn sound and disappeared into the monaco streets pretty fast. 

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Cozy wrapped around blankets and pillows, your friend brought you a cup of hot chocolate. You decided it was to sleep overnight to gossip because Andrew, her husband, was out of town for work. The kids were sleeping in their rooms. The baby monitor in front of you two. You were laying on the living room couch with ambient music in the background playing from the tv above the chimney. 

“I can't believe you bumped into Charles, to be honest. It's been ten years, you have never seen him and out of nowhere you see him everywhere” your friend was as surprised as you were. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I feel really weird about it. I thought next time i would bump into him i would be dead but i’m still alive so far. He felt so different… Yet he felt the same. His perfume was the same. His eyes are the same, the way they shine and…” you sighed stopping yourself. You started crying. You didn't know what you were feeling. If you were supposed to feel happy or angry or sad. The stress level was at its peak. It was too much emotionally to handle. 

It hurts you to pretend you didn't know him, that you didn't want him or that he was once your everything and now he was a stranger. A stranger holding so many secrets of you. All of your life traumas and experiences, your virginity, your first ever love story (and the only one). It still hurts because it couldn't be easier. Why couldn't it be forever together as you dreamed? When you saw him you felt the same as that last day you watched him leave that motherfucking restaurant. 

Your friend hugged you understanding how hard this was for you. And how frustrating it must feel to finally be ready to move on and then he is back just like that. How unfair life could be, right? She felt so sorry for you. You deserved to be so happy yet here we are, still crying for that ficking stupid asshole. 

It felt like the beginning of the end.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Hey, Arthur, I'm officially and legally single again. Want to have dinner at my place?” Charles called his brother on his Ferrari the second he sat in the driver’s seat. He needed to talk to someone about what happened this afternoon. His anxiety had made a hole in his stomach and he almost threw up a couple of times. 

He felt guilty. Like he did something terrible lifting you and your nephews to your friend’s house.

“Bro!!! That’s amazing!! Ready to enjoy life? I’ll be there in 30 minutes, and order some steak. I’ll bring wine. Love you!!” he shouted into the phone making Charles put it a little far away from his ear so he won't be left deaf. He ended the call, so Charles couldn't say otherwise. He giggled a little to himself. He loved his family, but especially Arthur, he was his little brother, and also his best friend.  

After a few minutes, he was already wearing his comfy clothes and had ordered the stake his brother told him to. He had set the table and put some random playlist on spotify on shuffle. Now that he was home, the hole in his stomach was not as huge as it was during the day. His house was his safe place. Though, it still felt weird not having leo (his and alex’s puppy son) or alex around. He tried so hard to love her, he got used to having her around. The chemicals on his brain were adjusting still to his new life. He changed furniture and redecorated the whole house. He wanted to start again from zero. Rebuilt himself step by step and finally, the Charles he always wanted to be. 

The bell took him out of his thoughts announcing his brother had arrived. 

“Hey, Brody,” Arthur said excitedly, hugging his brother when the older one opened the door. Arthur was really proud of his brother. He knew how hard all of it was. And how hard he was with himself when it came to mistakes committed in the past.

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They sat on the couch in front of the tv with everything already tidy up and with their stomachs full. They talked about everything and anything but yet not about her. 

“I brought you something, wait a second” Arthur said and got up looking for his bed. Charles observed his brother a little tipsy by wine already. He didn't know what to expect from him. He was always a surprise box. “I know you saw her again, I don't know how you feel about it but I know we will eventually talk about her. But I think it will help you if you read her book. I think it’s a fictional story but the way she tells it… i think it can make you reflect on what happened.” he added coming back from his bag with a book in hand. After he sat again on the couch he handed it to charles. Charles listened and watched the book in front of him. He took it carefully.

“I saw her today, she was with her nephews. I also know where she lives now as well. It was at carlos’ house and he was talking about his neighbor being attractive so Lando could try and hit on her. So he opened the fucking curtains and there she was on her balcony. I almost choked and died. Then I saw her at LEC. and I gave her a lift to her friend’s house. "Charles started throwing up everything that happened that day. Arthur’s eyes were big as plates. He couldn't understand how his brother survived o all of that. I mean, he was happy. He loved y/n, but he knew damn too well it was probably a nightmare for his brother to go through all of that. 

“Oh my god, charles. And you also were announced to be single legally? How did you survive? I'm impressed. You’re strong dude” arthur commented half joking half serious. Charles laughed it out a bit shaking his head. 

“I don't know but all I know is that my heart almost stopped how fast it was beating,” Charles answered.

“That’s called anxiety,” Arthur pointed out.

“I know. I was scared. She looked even more beautiful than she ever did or that I remember” he grabbed the book in his hands more strongly. He took a deep breath. “Today was too much for me,” his brother agreed. 

After Arthur was gone, Charles sprinted to his bed. He had a headache. He wanted to pretend it was because of the two bottles of wine they drank. But he knew it was because of overthinking. He laid in bed. Book in his hands. He started analyzing the cover: It was light blue, her favorite color he remembered. A red scarf and autumn leaves falling down. Her name is printed on the corner of it. He brushed his thumb above it taking a moment.

Adjusting his glasses he flipped to the back cover of it and that’s where something changed inside him.

‘Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?’

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter three: coming soon.

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136

shout out: thank you to my girlies from the gc (ur the best i<3u all), specially Sonny for hyping and helping me sm with this!

author's note: here it is <3 i'm so excited about this series! Sorry if you don’t see that much French I know NOTHING of it so yeah :(

what do you think it's gonna happen next?

don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

[fruitcoops]

Clean Slate

Ah, the passage of time. If anyone has been here since the first phone call, you may be entitled to financial compensation (or an AARP membership). Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Reg?”

On the first ring, as always. “Hey.”

“…hi?”

“I was thinking about going back to Gryff for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Surprise, but pleasant surprise. Regulus shook his pan of sausage. “Yeah, sounds good. You always have a room here. Or were you staying with the cubs?”

“With you.” He stretched his neck from side-to-side. Tension bled out of his forehead and shoulders at the familiar roll of French on his tongue. “If that’s okay.”

“Always,” Sirius answered immediately, almost hasty. Regulus wasn’t sure they’d ever get past that. Ah, well. The damage was done.

The line remained quiet for a moment. Sausage sizzled, and he turned to the pile of green beans on the cutting board. Leo had taught him how to snap the ends off with his fingernails, and though he was better now about not chewing them to the quick, he still didn’t like the feeling of stuff stuck beneath them. Regulus had really only called to clarify plans.

“How—how are your friends?”

“Good.” Sirius liked to talk, even if he wasn’t very good at it. “Jax and Kris set up the living room last night.”

“Do they still have that stupid poster?”

Regulus snorted under his breath and carefully sliced the tip off another bean. “They tried to hang it in the window.”

Sirius groaned.

Regulus grinned. He supposed he could have a little mercy. “Don’t worry, it’s under my bed.”

“Somehow, that’s worse.”

“I can’t get rid of it. It’s their favorite possession. They have a thing for your long hair and the murder face. Jax is still waiting for the day you spontaneously get divorced and need a hot young college student to rebound.”

He wasn’t sure whether the gagging sound Sirius made was real or exaggerated. As long as he was in mild torment, Regulus was happy. A simple, ever-amusing perk of long-distance communication.

“I hope your classmates are less in tune with pop culture.”

“Hockey, yes. Pop culture, no.” Regulus eyed the pan, then added another knob of butter to be safe. There was nothing worse than a burnt vegetable. “And my classes are going well, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter that Sirius couldn’t see it; the message would certainly get through.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You always make faces.”

Regulus stuck his tongue out at the microwave above the stove.

“I can feel you doing it again.”

“That was a different one. I’m taking physics 3 this year and it’s making me want to eat a doorknob already.”

“You’re anemic enough that it would probably help.”

“I take my supplements!” Regulus argued, shaking his pan. “Not my fault we were force-fed protein in fucking sun-less Canada.”

“We had sun, you just never went outside,” Sirius countered, like it was some sort of argument. “I don’t have to take supplements.”

“Well, you’re perfect and bulletproof, as everyone knows.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus angled his face at the dark phone screen when he pulled a face this time. It was a good one. Pity that Sirius couldn’t see it. He should’ve gone for FaceTime.

“Are you starting a fire?”

“I’m making dinner.”

“So…yes?”

“Not all of us have a home cook.”

“I can cook now.”

“Oh, you’ve been housebroken.” Regulus blew out a mouthful of steam as he tested a piece of sausage. “How thrilling for Lupin.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one. I learned that last week.”

He could feel Sirius shaking his head. “Knutty is formally banned from teaching you new slang.”

“You’ve never said ‘no’ to him in his entire career.” Regulus let the line hang silent for another half-minute as he turned the burner off and began scraping his dinner into a bowl. It still bore a faint orange tinge from last year’s finals-week spaghetti run. He fished a piece of pasta out of the water and popped it in his mouth, grimacing at the heat on his tongue. It was cooked well enough—at least, he was hungry enough to forgive a more al dente texture.

“By the way,” he started, as if his stomach wasn’t stuttering. “I think I’ll be back in time for family skate.”

The shuffling sounds on Sirius’ end came to an abrupt halt. “That’s nice,” came the faux-casual answer.

Anxiety made a valiant effort to claw up and silence his tongue. “I was thinking about going.”

“Well,” Sirius began, then paused. Regulus swallowed a few times to clear the block in his throat while Sirius pondered. “I—yeah, sounds good.”

“I want to.”

“Good.” Sirius’ relief was audible. “Okay, good. You can change your mind.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” Regulus ordered as he toed his slippers on and made his way to the apartment’s tiny coffee table. They’d get chairs at some point, but for now three pillows sat on the floor beside it.

“I’m never weird.”

“Boo, liar.”

“Freak.”

“I’m telling Lupin.”

“Do it. He likes me better. I can cook.”

“I’m—” Regulus caught himself at the last second and felt Sirius’ breath hitch on the other end of the line in anticipation. “—not joking, I actually want to go and play stupid ice fetch with your irritating friends, and nobody is making me feel pressured.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t sound so…” He wrinkled his nose and stuffed a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Smiley.”

“It’ll be good to have you home.”

“If you’re weird, I’m staying with Leo,” Regulus threatened. “For real, this time.”

“Right, because you love being around people who are engaged and anywhere near a holiday, or mistletoe, or the magic of Christmas—”

His loud groan silenced Sirius’ words, but not his laughter. “Get your laughs in now, before I whoop your ass on the ice.”

“Would love to see you try.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“Everyone else is going to underestimate you. I won’t be nice like that.”

“You’re never nice,” Regulus lied.

Sirius let him eat in peace until he was scraping the last bits of cheese from the bottom of the bowl. He heard the faint beeping of the dishwasher buttons in the background and glanced at his own sink, nearly overflowing with haphazard dishes from the first chaotic weeks of their senior year. The apartment was a pleasant change from living on campus, such as it was. Jax and Kris had offered to pay rent—tried to strongarm him, really—but a few withering looks had finally made them relent. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was his. Theirs.

The string lights lining the ceiling weren’t strictly allowed, but Regulus liked their gentle blue cast. The blanket Remus and Sirius had sent as a housewarming gift sat cozily on the back of their couch. Curtains from Jax’s mother let in just the right amount of light in the mornings.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

The sound of Sirius’ voice in his earbuds startled him. “Yeah,” Regulus said. “Yeah, sure.”

“Even for laundry.” Sirius tried for wry, and it made Regulus crack a small smile, but it was gentler than either of them intended. “Don’t shrink your clothes. Check the tags.”

Always do, he thought, but kept it down. “Good advice. No centipedes here, yet.”

Sirius’ laugh was a little weak. “You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Eugh, don’t say that.” Regulus blinked fast, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “Hey, this washer even has a ‘normal’ setting, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, wow. Lucky you.”

Picking up the phone on the first ring, always. For four years straight. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“We can come up in October, if you want.”

Of course Sirius had the academic calendar on-hand. “I’ll be gone that weekend with the guys. We didn’t want to be around all the new parents. They’re very damp.”

“And you melt when water touches you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Sirius let out a quiet breath. “See you at Christmas, Reg. Call me when you have flights.”

“Mhm.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do here,” he corrected.

“Fine.”

“Miss you.” The streetlights down the road were just starting to come on. “Say hi to Lupin for me.”

“He’s in the other room,” Sirius offered. “You can say it yourself.”

“I’ll talk to you both enough at Christmas.”

“Call any time. And let us know when you hear back about graduation tickets.”

What a terrifying thought to leave for the end of the call. “I’ll forward it to you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Okay. Bye.” And before he could second-guess himself—“I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Sirius answered. Regulus heard the truth under it. “And do your laundry.”

[kyotosummer]

WHY I CAN’T STAND STOLAS & CURRENT HB WRITING: HELLUVA ANALYSIS

I need you to first understand that if you are sexually attracted to Stolas - this isn’t about you. You have what you want. Let me fucking vent. Okay? Okay.

Here’s the thing, I have a bio dad that reminds me too much of Stolas: a bunch of siblings, family expectations, etc. The difference is that he got to marry his Blitz0, but lost all ambition to make an effort once he settled into his expected life, and lost her due to his lack of ambition. When he finally reunited with me, his daughter, after nearly a decade of vanishing, “oh, he’s just going through a rough time. He’ll come around,” “He loves you, he’s just falling on hard times right now,” etc., he ONLY had eyes for his Blitz0, every interaction with his daughter either felt like an obligation, a way to mentally check out, or a show off of “See, Ex-wife and Sister, I can interact with my kid!” It was never about the daughter he was actually with. When none of that worked, he turn into a sad, wet sac. So I was stuck with one parent who let things out in anger because she had ambitions and worked her ass off just to be lower-middle class on only her own power, and one who made everyone feel sorry for him because life didn’t turn out how how he expected. Because who cares about the kids, am I right? If they’re teenagers, they’re fully developed and the parents don’t need to bother with TEACHING them anything. They either need to be able to add to the family income or find things out on their own.

When Helluva Boss began, I thought this was going to be a show about broken people fixing themselves. As we began to learn about Blitz0’s past, I felt like Stolas’s journey was going to be about learning to connect with his kid, and maybe Blitz0 will help him and they can get closer together through that. With Blitz0, his journey seemed to be about learning to understand that he is a loving person and has done a lot of things to improve lives. Ghostfuckers really got me excited because I thought we were finally going in this direction.

To me, Stolas has not yet earned the right to live with Blitz0. Stolas hasn’t earned the right to feel sorry for himself yet. To me, Stolas will not earn that right until he sits the fuck down with Octavia and talks about their relationship on-screen with a vow to do ____ to spend more time with her and give her JUST EVEN A FEW HOURS OF UNDIVIDED, NON STELLA OR BLITZ0 RELATED ATTENTION FOR EVEN A FEW HOURS A WEEK, just SOME FUCKING EFFORT to fix the relationship. TEACH HER HOW TO USE THE FUCKING GRIMOIR, YOU ASS!

I don’t give a fuck about Stella. I would have APPRECIATED it if the show gave Stella a slightly more complex personality, considering that she was betrothed to a boy who didn’t want her for her entire life - meaning that through her teen years, where her hormones are all over the place and she’d have spent a lot of time trying to make herself pretty enough to satisfy her vanity, Stolas still wouldn’t have given her the time of day. But sure, let’s just make her an evil, manipulative bitch for the sake of simplifying the story. She’s hardly in the show, and giving that much complexity to side characters can make a production difficult to wrap up, so I really don’t care.

But this - I can’t stand this. To me, the episode that was “Mastermind” should not have existed. Blitz0 should not have been there at all. The Grimoire situation has long been handled, and he was now doing things legally. The show itself already established this - so WHY are we suddenly turning this into a punishment for Blitz0? Stolas could have easily faced the same punishment for just cheating on Stella with an Imp, or he could have gotten punished for giving up the book, even temporarily, but that punishment should NOT have been a trade for Blitz0’s life. This should have been about Stolas’s divorce, not whatever fucking circus performance THAT was.

I don’t like characters that evolve to become sad. I can’t stand it. If that does happen, then they should learn how to gather their strength and fight the sadness. Because it’s a FUCKING TV SHOW, NOT REAL FUCKING LIFE. USE FUCKING METAPHORS. I also don’t want this sadness to bleed into Blitz0, either. He’s actually made progress, don’t change the writing to have him go backwards in development.

We, the audience, have been shown so much about Blitz0’s life that none of the other characters have seen or understand, and I hate that too. If they don’t know, if they’re not about to find out too, then I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear about sad things and then watch a bunch of misunderstandings happen (FOR FUCKING MONTHS, BECAUSE EACH EP IS ONCE A FUCKING MONTH) because these characters just don’t know. I don’t like that it’s taking so long to resolve, because I can tell Blitz0 whump is coming, and the longer that drags out, the more I think it’s going to be so gratuitous that it won’t even be fun to watch. And shit, watch M&M have to be the ones to deal with it anyway.

And if we don’t get Blitz0 whump - if I had to sit through all of those sad images and start rooting for him, only to have him not have all of this get revealed to everyone in a cool fight scene gone wrong, instead it’s constantly just variations of people getting frustrated with him and it comes out in the quiet aftermath of the frustration , I’m going to lose my shit.

So yeah, TL;DR - I don’t like Stolas because his need to be the sad bird is actively hurting both Octavia and Blitz0’s development in my eyes.

[jamiesfootball]

After careful consideration and a lot of angry tags, I think I have pinpointed for me where Ted Lasso, especially season three, fails to succeed all the way at the themes it explores.

The narrative uses the deconstruction of toxic masculinity to paint their characters as being stronger for having let go of their preconceived notions of acceptable behavior - but the narrative also never lets their characters be weak or fragile without having toxic masculinity to blame. And there are a lot of situations in this show where you would expect someone to go ‘hey man, are you okay? Are you doing alright? because that was a shit thing that happened. it’s okay if you’re not okay.’

And it never does.

There’s an undercurrent in how scenes play out that suggests that the male characters should be strong enough to deal with hand they’ve been dealt. The narrative suggests that they’re the ones who need corrected. They can act better, but they can not be treated better themselves as a result. The male characters are allowed to express themselves, but they are not allowed to ask for anything back from the situation.

Which is why you can have a fight with your assistant coach, but when he comes back to apologize you don’t articulate how it made you feel. You don’t tell your friend how he hurt your feelings. You just accept it and move on.

The Diamond Dogs give advice on how to handle external problems with  emotional roots. They never discuss how they feel internally on its own merit.

The closest we got to a male character just having a bad one and expressing it without a clear source of external conflict? Jamie in the boot room. And that was played for laughs.

Which is why you could be in a deep depression over losing your career of twenty years and part of your mobility, I guess. But also maybe that’s a problem of you not being able to let go, and maybe you should apologize for not moving on sooner? We should pity Roy for getting so stuck in his own shit all the time. Not because the man has lived an incredibly stressful and emotionally isolated life in a high pressure environment for so long he doesn’t have the tools to deal with it, but because the narrative would like us to know if he just stopped getting in his own way all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Is your ex-wife seeing someone else, who happens to also be the person who was your marriage counselor? I don’t know man, relationships are hard. Don’t worry about how hard that must have shaken your trust in a profession that already made you feel skittish. Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and move on.

Your girlfriend can tell all your friends and coworkers how you’re too smothering. Yes, this is the ‘learn how to communicate better’ show, but that was on you, really. Good on you for apologizing for smothering her.

The women may have worrying relationships with people who love bomb them or turn out to be controlling, but Jane and Beard are just a bit weird. Don’t worry about it, Higgins.

You can take accountability for your actions, but if it was your email who was hacked - who cares? You apologized, and everyone is very proud of you. We won’t ever bring up how incredibly mortifying that must have been for you to realize, because something more mortifying happened to someone else.

You can show your emotions, but not the angry ones, not the bad ones - those you should get a hold on, no matter how warranted they are. The stronger you are, the more divorced from toxic masculinity you are, the less those things should matter.

Struggling with your abusive dad and how his relationship with you has literally scared you so badly that you keep looking over your shoulder, afraid he’ll be there? That is clearly the anger talking. This is definitely not a situation that calls for your pseudo-father figure to put his hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye, and say, “i’m really sorry to hear that, son, but you know we got your back. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to you while we’re here.” 

No no, this is a you problem and you can correct it by forgiving that man who hurt you. In fact, you thank him for motivating you. It was the anger that got you this far. It wasn’t getting up at 4am every morning for extra training. It wasn’t your mentor, the one invested all his time in helping you. It wasn’t the coach who gave you a second chance when you blew your whole life up to get away from that man. It wasn’t your own drive and passion and love for the sport that pushed you towards succeeding in a career you only had a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting. No, it was the anger that carried you. You should let that go. And hey - what if hypothetically speaking, he might try to be better too one day? You can’t hold it against him. You should let that go too.

Breakdowns and displays of crying are fine, but expecting people to care or show concern afterwards? The narrative doesn’t know her. The narrative will not validate that. We don’t see what happened after Wembley. We don’t see what happened when Isaac came back to the locker room after blowing up. What the show will validate, however, is moving on. Just be a goldfish, or forgive and forget. 

And finally-

Embrace your feelings, but not too hard - you can’t be trusted with them, actually.

Can you imagine that we actually got a scene of Roy telling Jamie that he was worried if either of them pursued Keeley it might ruin their friendship? Can you imagine? From the beginning they have butted heads. From the beginning, Roy has struggled to actually articulate his feelings, especially to the people they involve. And here is Roy doing exactly what the narrative has been teaching him to do - he voiced a feeling that was bothering him to the person who was involved in the problem. Unprompted. He did that on his own. After three seasons of being told that is what he should do when he has a problem, that should have been the moment of narrative reward. That would have been the audience’s release of tension: they’re still at odds, they’re still the same bull-headed people they’ve always been, but they’ve learned to talk about it. No matter what happens next, at least, they’ve gotten this far.

Instead the narrative rewarded him, and us, by having them fight it out in a back alley. Because they’re idiots, and they can’t be trusted to handle their feelings without someone else in the narrative (Keeley) setting them straight.

Yes, people backslide in real life all the time. But when the narrative backslides at the very end of the story - that’s just nihilism. That’s what this felt like - all that progress and promise that you can be better, and two of the people who struggled the most tripped at the finish line. The audience don’t even get to see them pick back up. I mean they’re fine now, I guess. They went for kebabs. I have to assume it worked out. I guess after that they found a way to be happy, but I would have preferred to see them find a way to be happy by way of their own actions. Not in a fanfic. Not by way of imagining how it went afterwards. Not by what’s implied in a montage. By the story actually showing me they could get there on their own.

And the worst part about all of this is that when the show gets it right? It fucking sings. The team coming together to repair Ola’s? That sings. Ted’s ‘ain’t nobody in this room alone’ speech? Wonderful. Trent telling Colin that ‘some people need time to adjust; it’s not fair, but they do’? So delicately wielded, so painful. Beard’s speech to Nate about stealing a loaf of meth? Chef’s kiss. Ted forgiving Rebecca when he learns why she brought him to coach Richmond? The tears in his eyes when he tells her ‘divorce is hard’?

The hug at Wembley.

That’s what I wanted, from start to finale. When the show knew how to wield its empathy, it wielded it like a knife, cutting into the deepest parts of your heart.

Which is why when it does mess up, it hurts so much worse. Because by season three, the show has sunk so far into the deconstruction of things that it’s forgotten that what it fixed were not the only problems those characters ever faced. The show zoomed in too close on the themes. It forgot that at its roots, the its biggest strength has been its empathy. And that to me is where the show failed.

[binbitch]

im so sorry but chris finding out will be eddie's breaking point, because how do you, really, trust your dad again once he brings some woman that looks identical to your mom, whom you have only just started to grieve properly, to your hose when he is in a relationship. and this is not me saying eddie is a bad parent because i dont think so, what i do think is that eddie is grieving in the most fucked up way possible and that leads to him doing things he wouldnt do otherwhise.

lets think back to the other two most dark moments of eddie what were his reactions.

his wife, who he had a complicated relationship with, just came back into his and chris life after a while she realizes that she has to learn to be a mother and then to be a wife so she asks for divorce. a day later she is hit by a car and dies IN EDDIES ARMS. later, his bestfriend gets crashed by a fucking fire truck, and LATER his son and his bestfriend get stuck in a tsunami. he react by letting out his anger, sadness, worries and everything else by JOINING AN ILLEGAL FIGHT CLUB. does that sound like the most sane guy ever?

he gets shot, never speaks about it until his son breaks down because he is afraid his dad will die, what does he do? he quits his job to get a desk job where he is not fullfilled. BUT he does go to therapy, there his therapist tries to talk to him about his army days where he saved a convoy of people. he is really struggling so he tries raching out to the people he saved and turns out everyone is dead, everyone he risked his life saving is now dead. what does he do? he shuts himself off and gets to a point where he is in such a bad place where he grabs a baseball bat and smashes his whole room while his son is outside his door begging him to listen to him. his son is so afraid that he call his bestfriend to help.

now that we have that already established, i do think chris is going to be taken away from eddie in some way or form. no i dont think his parents will come and take chris's custody but i do think the isolation that rg talked about for s8 eddie, could be him going to texas for a while to recconec with chris and to have some time to reasses his life.

[lirabuswavi]

Hi Lira! Good to see you here. Do you have any Ozpin Lives Au headcanons? And do you have any Oscar&Ozpin vol.4 headcanons?

Hey! I was pretty excited to see you on here too, if the spam liking your posts wasn't any indication, lol. And oh boy do I have a lot to say, I'm just gonna put it under the cut.

Okay. So. For Ozpin Lives AUs. There's so many ways to go about it. I'm a fan of Ozpin Lives but with Consequences of the Soul kind, because how else are you supposed to tie in our favourite farm boy? Whether this is some kind of half baked merge, or a kind of platonic soulmates, or just a Connection, Ozpin deserves a chance to actually parent the kid the universe randomly assigned to him.

I imagine he'd be very tactile, hands on shoulders, hair ruffles, holding hands, helping Oscar learn to fight, the whole nine yards.

And I imagine Oscar would, at some point, start to reciprocate. Initiating hugs, poking Ozpin, gently kicking Ozpin when Oscar thinks he's being stupid (Oscar should get to kick Ozpin in the shin at least once, he deserves it).

What's the point in being shy about physical contact when their very souls are intertwined?

Now in Haven, I feel like Qrow would be baffled by the presence of Oscar but more releived and focused on the fact that Ozpin's alive. Oscar has an easier time making friends with RNJR when he doesn't have their dead Headmaster in his head and constantly hovering over his shoulders. Though, I do think in contrast, Yang will be more aggressive with Ozpin since he's physically there and doesn't have Oscar as a kind of buffer between them.

In the Haven fight, Oscar would still be the one to fight Lionheart, because Ozpin will be very occupied with Hazel trying to beat his head in. I think there could be a sweet moment in there where Oscar covers for Ozpin there. Ozpin protests that this is his fight, but Oscar replies that they're supposed to be a team aren't they? And that means no one has to face anything alone! Hazel, of course, would get even more pissed off at what he sees as another child trying to fight Ozpin's battles so the moment is quickly broken up.

Now, when it comes to Jinn... it's hard to say. RWBYQ will definitely know that Ozpin's hiding things from them, but how would they get the Lamp's password without Oscar giving it to them? And without Oscar in Ozpin's head and vice versa, how would they even get there? I don't think it makes sense for them to get the Lamp's password, though I definitely think they'll be frosty with Ozpin because they know he's hiding things from them, they just can't tell how much.

Now the Apathy, however... oh boy. With all of Ozpin's repressed trauma I expect he'd be taken the fuck out. Could probably fit in a reveal in there, with the Apathy impacting Ozpin's ability to see the point of hiding his secrets since Salem's unkillable anyways, and they never did technically get a divorce and killing your spouse is frowned on though that hasn't stopped her yet and wow he's so useless at protecting people, all of his children have died, he's so sorry to Oscar for bringing him into this, he's just getting another one of his kids killed-.

Yeah. I. I really don't think Ozpin and the Apathy would get along.

(I know you asked for Ozpin Lives AU headcanons but you're getting an entire AU, whoops.)

Jaune definitely punches Ozpin in the face in Argus. No argument there. I do feel like Oscar would still go off on his own to go shopping and also have some time alone to reflect. What does he really want out of this? He's just another one of Ozpin's kids, how much does he really matter? He's not a Huntsman either, he's the youngest of everyone, just a kid, is he a burden? In the end, I feel like Oscar would come to the conclusion that he's not stuck here, but he wants to be here. He wants to do more, he wants to help, he wants to fight. It might have felt like he was just getting dragged along from his Aunt's farm but now... Now it's his choice. And he chooses to fight. He chooses to save lives. He chooses to stay. He chooses Ozpin.

Ozpin, meanwhile, is freaking the fuck out over where his kid went. Everyone's kind of shocked to see how much their perpetually in control Headmaster is panicking, meanwhile Ozpin's in the corner catastrophizing because oh no, what if he's been kidnapped what if he tried to go home but then got kidnapped what if there was a Grimm attack what if he's dead-.

Yeah. Panicking. Ozpin hugs the life out of Oscar when they see each other again (codependency says what) and doesn't even bother trying to play it off. Cue heartfelt speech of how though he may seem implaceable, he deeply cares for people. He cares for his friends, his students, his kids. He thought the best way to keep people safe, keep his friends safe, was to seem invincible, and the only way to do that was to keep everyone at arms length. But looking at everyone, they find strength in their closeness, and not letting people know how much they mean to him seems to only have been hurting them in the long run. Cue promises to do his best and to try to trust other people more. Oscar's still grounded for the heart attack he gave Ozpin (hey!).

The Cordovan issue is not automatically fixed. Ozpin lost his scroll and by extension his ID when Beacon fell. Cordovan thinks there's no way this burn scarred ragamuffin is the former Headmaster of Beacon Academy, fraud is a crime you know! They still steal an airship. Oscar gets to commit a felony. As a treat.

Now Atlas is... hmm, a toss up based on how you characterize Ironwood. I believe he has the potential to make the right decisions, to be a good person, but he also very much obviously has the capacity to make terrible decisions and be a bastard. Would having Ozpin there fix that? Fuck if I know! Still won't stop Salem from showing up.

Now, for funsies, I think Ozpin should be the one getting kidnapped by the Hound. Let him be a Damsel in Distress, it'll be fun. Oscar should get to go rescue his father figure, it'll be enriching. Bonding time in the evil whale!

That's as far as I've got for Ozpin Lives AU (headcanons, I wrote so much, this was just supposed to be headcanons, ahhh-). Now for Oscar and Ozpin volume 4 headcanons!

In the show Oscar seems to spend most of the time ignoring Ozpin where he can, so it'd be up to Ozpin to fill the silence. I think Ozpin tells stories about people he once knew, about heroes. Teams at Beacon when he was a Headmaster, teams when he was a student, the people that were the basis for fairytales and ones that have been forgotten to time.

Oscar ignores the fact that he can picture the faces of every single person his hallucination talks about. Though the stories are nice.

But less nice stories would be the nightmares. Oscar definitely has nightmares of Beacon's Fall, Ozpin's death, past deaths as well. He has hardly gotten a single good night's rest since Ozpin showed up in his head.

I think more than just breathing exercises and talking Oscar through his panic, I think it'd be cool if Ozpin taught Oscar how Huntsmen check themselves for wounds. Adrenaline can numb pain, and Aura could be actively healing the wounds too, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. It's both educational and grounding, allowing Oscar to root himself in his body and not in the body of the person who he just remembered (lived) dying.

Ozpin tries to hide it but he feels very guilty for these nightmares. He knows they come from him.

Immediately after these nightmares is the most Oscar's willing to engage with Ozpin at the beginning, before Oscar accepts that this is happening, that it's real.

As you can see I have a lot of thoughts about this. Thank you for the ask! ✨️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜✨️

[bruhstation]

Any fun facts on your bigg city cast you would like to share?

Can you share how you wrote fortezza bigg city. Such as inspiration and resources you found?

of course! I have a lot to share too (copy pasting some of these from my google docs, haha!)

their nicknames are their boats' names. conveniently, some of them are quite fitting for their sailors.

example: "ten cents" because he always asks to borrow a dime from his coworkers (and seldom returns them), "top hat" because he never goes anywhere without it, "hercules" because it's derived from his real name, "zip" because its both his given name and has a plethora of meaning in the dictionary (he was named first, then his boat), "boomer" because of its literal meaning and because he started going by his boat's unceremoniously changed name, etc.

they all refer to their boats with "she/her" pronouns.

zip doesn't know big words and talks simply and concisely. he knows how to read, though slowly, but is still learning how to write. he reads many children's books that are easy to digest in both story and words, like pollyana, pinocchio, heidi, the wonderful wizard of oz, and various children's fables. he also likes doing word puzzles like crosswords and word searches from newspapers.

zorran knows how to forge other people's handwriting, making him an even more valuable asset to captain zero.

top hat's family runs a boutique. he dresses and acts like an upper class socialite, much to his parents' disapprovement.

the bridge cafe is a popular hangout place for bigg city port's sailors. the members of the star fleet and z-stacks meet each other here coincidentally. navies also stuck around the bridge cafe when they got stationed in bigg city port like bluenose and grampus, much to the annoyance of everyone.

captain zero and captain star got married in 1909, at age 25. they got divorced in 1931, at age 47.

the reason? captain got involved with criminals for money, basically lying about his job as a normal, well-adjusted businessman who’s probably involved with bigg city port’s mafia or other mercenaries, so captain star divorced him. both because he’s a patriotic navy at the time and because captain zero has created more than enough lies for captain star to handle. other people got dragged into the aftermath of their divorce and lies. also they're not beating the mid dad allegations

captain star and captain zero rarely show up in person. they're very careful of their public appearance.

the z-stacks are part of something bigger. zip doesn't know this.

johnny cuba has some blackmail on captain zero.

ten cents and zip are thomas' grandparents.

zorran is diesel's grandfather.

regarding the story, here are some (fun) facts I want to share.

themes of names, youth, and freedom will be prevalent.

fortezza bigg city is set in 1938. the narrator is captain star. the stories are excerpts from his diaries.

if you’ve been following me for a while and paid attention to casa tidmouth, I aim to make FBC the foil to CSTM. it’s similar but also different to casa tidmouth. both feature regular, unremarkable people who are just doing their jobs while juggling with their environmental threat and conflicting relationships with their loved ones. the difference is that CSTM has more of a mystery urban fantasy feeling to it (gold dust, sodor's 70s tech in the year 1999, lady’s patrons who are keeping secrets from their loved ones, etc) while FBC has more of a realistic background to it (interwar era, criminal backgrounds, the great depression, etc)

the titles of both works are italian. casa means home. fortezza means fortress.

a lot of literature I've read are inspirations for fortezza bigg city. demian, catcher in the rye, moby dick, the little prince, l'etranger, watership down are some of them. emil sinclair's character and his relationship with frau eva and franz kromer helped me write zip. you can say that ten cents is his max demian wait who said that.

many of t*tsuki f*jimoto's works are huge inspirations for fortezza bigg city, and my works as a whole. ch*insaw m*n, g*odbye eri, m*rmaid rhapsody, and f*re punch are some of it. the way he writes adolescents and their complex relationships with their parental figures became a great help to me. I also write from my personal experiences and thoughts, especially regarding the captains' relationships with their youngest members. (here's some panels from g*odbye eri that stuck with me)

h*useki no kuni is also an inspiration, but its effects are not as big as the one in casa tidmouth.

many clothing resources are taken from vintagedancer, old magazines, photos, leyendecker's works, and even my university's library. here are some of my favorites.

despite the way I've described captain star's relationship with TC and captain zero's relationship with zorran+zip and the overall setting of it, I want FBC to have a more hopeful feeling to it. I have a vision of making FBC some kind of crime comedy (it's hard to describe the genres of my stories)

I think that's all I have to say for now!

[wendytestabrat]

why i resonated with stan in “you’re getting old/ass burgers” (FROM THE VAULT [2020])

You’re Getting Old/Ass Burgers has always been one of my favorite South Park episodes because I feel like I’ve always connected to it on so many levels and related to Stan a lot. My favorite part is the end of part 2 (Ass Burgers) after Stan was so depressed and had been seeing shit for so long he came to the realization that he DIDN’T want things to go back to the way they were. He realized he was fine with his parents getting a divorce and Kyle ditching him to go fuck Cartman because it opened his life up to new possibilities of where it could go. In his words he’s all like “I’m gonna make a big left turn” or whatever. The ending is also frustrating tho bc everything ended up going back to normal anyways so we didn’t get to see how that would’ve played out, but we’re not gonna talk about that we’re just gonna talk about the beautiful speech Stan made. That part has always resonated with me so much bc I agree with Stan. I remember at a certain age I just got to a point where I realized that the key to staying happy and optimistic is to stay open-minded and keep trying new things. I think it’s rlly important in life to follow those child-like curiosities you have when you’re a kid, when you’re younger you’re excited about everything and want to know about the whole world and how everything works, and I think it’s good to continue that mindset into adulthood. For me personally, I get really depressed easily if I feel like I’m stuck in one place, following the same routine and doing the same shit over and over, like that’s the point when everything starts to turn to shit to me too. It’s good to add some excitement and spontaneity to your life, and I know it can be hard for a lot of people to get out of their comfort zones, trust me I get this sometimes I can be a stubborn bitch and I only wanna stay in the same lane doing the same thing over and over, but trying new things and embracing change is what builds character. Sometimes life can seem scary, especially when you’re young and you don’t have everything figured out, but the truth is life just gets easier the more and more you challenge yourself to get out of your comfort zone and try things, it makes you more fearless. The more you can gain knowledge and wisdom about different aspects of life the easier you have it figured out, and this all comes with allowing yourself to get excited about new things, expanding your interests and having an open-mind. And when I say trying something new it can be big or small. It can just simply be deciding to learn about something new each day, deciding to read a new book, watching a tv show or a movie you’ve never seen before, starting a new hobby, meeting new people (I know this one is a bad example bc everyone is social distancing LMAOO), for me I really love discovering new songs and listening to artists I haven’t heard before. I mean the risk that goes into trying something new is that maybe you won’t like it and sometimes we can have that mindset where we’re like “this is gonna suck” so we don’t even bother, but you never know until you try, and you can still have an opinion on something you don’t like too. (I can’t count how many times I’ve suffered watching something awful I could not care about but I did it anyways out of curiosity. Also NEVER form an opinion on something you know nothing about or shit on something you know nothing about or else you sound ignorant.) But open-mindedness and being able to adapt to change and trying new things is really the key to staying well-rounded and happy and fulfilled. Having a lot of interests also makes it a lot easier to be able to talk to a lot of different people about different things and make real fulfilling connections. So yeah to me, what Stan said was actually very wise and I agree with him because it’s kind of been my go-to philosophy on life.

update 2024: i’m starting to realize now that my constant need for stimulation and new experience is prob just my sociopathicness FFHJDJSJS bc i get bored of shit way quicker now than i did before

[annas-hair-donut]

Here's a little snippet from my upcoming Kristanna Valentine's Day fic!

She Holds a Candle (T)

Kristoff twists his hands on the steering wheel as he glares at the hearts and cupids sprinkled across the brightly colored Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works signs. He might have said they were cute if they weren’t specifically designed to take advantage of people who don’t know any better.

Kristoff knows better, though, and he knows that as soon as he walks in the door, at least one beautiful salesperson will descend upon him and try to convince him he should go home with more than he came in for. Maybe they even believe the lie that buying more saves money.

He rolls his eyes as he steps out of the truck. Unfortunately, he’d been there before, and since he got divorced a few years ago, he never had any intention of going back.

But Valentine’s Day is a few days away and his daughter Stephanie’s giant heart is broken. Apparently, the boy she liked didn't feel like it was enough just to turn her down; he had to tell everyone at school that her voice slipped into falsetto when she asked him to the dance.

Kristoff wants to clobber that asshole for making her feel ashamed of being who she is. Not to mention Kristoff had spent about $350 on new clothes for Christmas that she now won’t wear.

She came out as trans right around the time Kristoff's ex-wife left, but she’d only just started dressing like a girl the past couple of months. And now she’s back to wearing jeans and baggy t-shirts; no more flower hair clips and heart earrings. And she's barely spoken in days.

It’s not like Kristoff knows anything about raising a girl; it would have been nice if his ex-wife had stuck around to help Stephanie with those kinds of things. She should have been teaching her how to style her hair and paint her toenails. But Lisa's timing was the worst, and even though Stephanie never mentions it, he knows she misses having a mom.

One thing Kristoff did learn from Lisa was that Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works is the best place to get girly things that are more symbolic than useful. And that’s what Kristoff needs: a token to show Stephanie that she’ll always be his little girl.

And if it means wading through the sea of Oaken's sirens wearing green aprons, he’ll do it.

💕💕💕

A nauseating mix of scents assaults Kristoff’s nose as soon as he walks in, and a cheerful woman shouts, “Welcome in!”

Kristoff searches for the disembodied voice just so he can avoid it.

“We’re having a Valentine’s Day sale today! Buy three full-size body care items, get three free!”

Kristoff stares at her pink freckled face, with ginger hair tied into braids hanging loosely in front of her shoulders. Her blue-green eyes set his stomach in knots, which only tighten when she blinks.

It's worse when he looks down. Her apron is tied just in the right place to emphasize her figure, but it's the tiny sparkly rainbow that catches his attention.

Kristoff lifts his eyes quickly and she smiles sweetly. “Can I help you find something special today?”

How many people have gone home with bags of wasted products because she smiled at them like that?

“I’m good.”

"Well, I'm Anna! Let me know if you have any questions."

He thumbs his nose as he walks around her, not even bothering with the basket she offers him.

💕💕💕

Special thank you to @livseses for their help with this! 💕

[scythemichaelfaraday]

I am once again realizing that engaging with anything JTHM related while actively struggling with many mental illnesses is in fact bad for my health.

Under the cut: a love letter to JTHM with a side of divorce papers. Also an apology to anyone in the community who I've hurt directly or indirectly.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I found a space for JTHM in my life when I really needed it to find me. It helped me find my best friend, my spouse, and many cool people who have made all sorts of impacts on my life.

It helped me feel seen when I was struggling with coming to terms with the "darker" and "scarier" symptoms (homicidal ideation, delusions, paranoia) of my disorders. It helped me feel like I wasn't alone in my despair and my anger and angst.

It helped me process when I lost my sister to suicide. It helped me explicitly write out my darkest fantasies of violently killing the people who kept my sister from coming home from the morgue. It helped me take out all of my pain and trauma out on a single individual that already was hurting so deeply, so why not hurt him more. But as time has gone on, I've realized that I have distanced myself farther and farther from the source. I've created a Johnny of my own- one different but cut from the same cloth of Jhonen's. It became unclear to me where I started and Johnny began. I integrated so much of myself into my version of how I wrote and drew Johnny that it started to seem more like a mirror than a self-portrait.

I cut my hair like him. I wore similar clothes. I acted in a similar manner. I imagined myself looking like him when people perceived me, despite being... 5'1", filipino, and not-at-all thin.

I had a dilemma, I wanted to be him, but I also wanted him to be more like me.

I styled his hair to be more like mine: less spiky, more soft, rounded, full with my current (constantly changing hair color) to match. I gave him my glasses. I put him in my clothes. I gave him undiagnosed chronic pain, then MCTD, then fibromyalgia. I gave him a cane. I gave him self harm scars in the exact same places mine are. I later gave him my "sexuality" (both in terms of orientation and otherwise) and my gender identity. He has my Bipolar, BPD, PTSD, ADHD, ED, Anxiety, etc. And finally, I gave him my partner, or at least the characters that my partner also furnished for themself.

At this point in my journey of mental health, I can say that I've turned Johnny into quite the projection. Even before I met my current partner, I gave him a spouse and kids, things that I vehemently denied wanting, but secretly desired to be stable enough to have. Well... less so the kids.

I wanted him to recover in the same way that I wanted and still want to. Not to be "fixed." There is no fixing mental illness, just treating it and learning how to live with it. Fucking up and fixing along the way. Just like I gave him those other things, I inserted a support system into his life; I gave him a family; I gave him a purpose outside of the one that Jhonen made him for and... it felt freeing but it also felt scandalous. Sacrilegious. Forbidden.

I was so afraid that people would see the Johnny I "created" and shun him and by extension, me. "He's out of character. He would never say that. This is who he is. This is who he is only allowed to be."

As someone with Borderline, I internalized the outcry of OOC as an attack against my constantly fractured sense of identity and kept myself stuck in the ways I always were. I believed that in order to stay within the community/fandom, I would have to stay as sick and as disordered as possible or else I'd be an outsider someone who just "doesn't get it." Someone who "doesn't get Johnny."

And maybe I do, maybe I don't. Maybe there really isn't "getting" Johnny in the same way for everyone, but this isn't about that.

On the opposite hand, when I became more secure in my recovery (or at least during a phase of it) I was more defensive of my depictions. That other people were talking about me behind my back, that I was pariah of sorts that dared to think differently. I thought: these people want to stay stuck, they want Johnny to stay stuck. They engage in these things that are so sickening and awful. Why can't they be like me and just hurt themselves?!

Then, someone's response to it made me realize that I was no better no different than them. What gave me the right to judge people for how they coped with their trauma and disorders? My cutting, my vent art, and interaction with the same exact media was just the same as them engaging in a community that while I still wouldn't become a part of, I have newfound respect for. We are all just trying to fucking cope with our awful lives and experiences and I had and have NO RIGHT to judge them for it.

So to be crystal clear without naming names: I am sorry for what I've said about people who engage with the TCC. I am sorry for what I've said regarding people liking Jimmy. I have not sent anon hate or any hate to people who like Jimmy, but I have made comments such as "liking X is like you being the Jimmy" and thus have contributed to the fandom's hostility towards people who like Jimmy. It is through these people that I've discovered that there is a lot more nuance than I can personally appreciate for the character. I may not like him still, but I do respect and admire anyone who can find comfort in him or otherwise.

Since then, it's been a journey of accepting that from the start, I have engaged with the community from a standpoint of mental illness. Much like someone forms a trauma bond with a friend or acquaintance, I trauma-bonded with JTHM and have been "married" to it for 7 (heh heh) long, complicated years. It's been my personality, my identity, my story, my thoughts, my everything. I didn't lose myself in JTHM, because I never knew who I was, and I still don't. But remaining married to it has severely impeded my ability to learn who I am.

I did character analysis after character analysis. I combed through every last page, read every last note Jhonen wrote, turned the book over and over to read the hidden messages in the borders. I tried to parse who Johnny is, who he wants to be, his likes, dislikes, his dreams, nightmares, fears, everything. I asked him everything about himself, but I didn't once turn those questions towards myself directly.

I want to learn who Zzy is. What Zzy wants. What Zzy likes, dislikes, fears, aspires to, everything. And with this final step towards freedom from JTHM, I think that I am ready to learn who they are. Or at least, try. I want to try for them.

This doesn't mean that I will be leaving behind the Johnny I've built, but rather that I will work towards making him something of my own rather than the extension of something that was never mine to begin with. I love the world and story I've built with him too much.

So thank you, JTHM, thank you Jhonen, for giving me some serious pain food to chew on. My monster's teeth have been continually sharpened and worn down all these years thanks to your help, but I think I can take it from here. I will never forget the awesome people you've connected me with, the experiences you've granted me, and the relief you've offered.

However, we also have not been good to or for each other. I made you into everything about me. I forced you into every corner of my life. You convinced me to abandon all hope of wellness and manipulated me into the temptation to stay with you even when I knew it'd be better to distance ourselves. You kept me from discovering myself in some of my most formative years. These are things that will take a while to recover from. And these are things that cause me to tell you that we are done.

This isn't goodbye forever, but this is sayonara for now.

[sorcerous-caress]

hope this isn't weird to ask but how long have you been writing and how old are you? did you ever take any courses related to writing or have you been improving through writing as a hobby?

Hey it's not weird at all, I'll happily answer!

I'm 20 years old, and I have been writing non-continuously since I was 12.

My first fic was written with colon punctuation for spoken dialogue instead of quotation marks bc I didn't know what those were at the time. For example:

Bob: nice weather we're having today (he said with a smile)

Bob2: I signed the divorce papers, they're on the counter. (Sighing at the other's stubbornness)

I posted it on wattpad.

Afterwards, I never wrote anything else, but I learned about Ao3 and kept enganging in fandom spaces. At 14, I joined roleplaying group chats, which made me think and write faster to keep the rp going. Eventually, it became one on one rp with another person where we would take our chat history log, freshen it up a bit, then post it as a fic.

By 16, I joined a fandom server with a semi serious writing subcategory in it. People more experienced and much older than me would beta for other's story. It's where I picked up the habit to write drafts in google docs so I can easily share the link for a beta reader to add suggestions to.

I still haven't written another fic by then, not by myself, at least. I got very insecure at the time about my writing and lack of knowledge. Mind you, I joined the server, not knowing what punctuation was. It took several beta readers adding punctuation for me until it finally clicked that I should use it.

It felt like I was an outcast in a way? Sure, everyone treated me just as nicely as others there, but I noticed the little things that added up over time. Like how no one would react or talk about the stories I post, but if someone else shares theirs, then the entire server gushes over it. Or how one time I reacted to my own story with an emoji, only for someone else to mention how it's me who clicked it and I shouldn't do that. It was a very unhealthy environment for a 16-year-old surrounded by 30-20 years old, but I stuck to it because I wanted to improve my writing.

Even if I was ignored, they'd still beta for me as a chance to offer "constructive criticism." Artists can be very petty when a low skilled person joins them.

My skills improved, and I posted my second fic! It was nothing remarkable, but it felt like the first stone into the stairway of improvement, yk? I loved that fic, it was my crowning jewel.

But as a result, I started to hate writing. It was a struggle, I'd spend hours on two sentences while others on the server were bragging about their 50k fics. I hated my own inability to perform better, to write better.

I got sick of reading my own writing from the number of times I'd rewrite it in an attempt to format it better. I couldn't even bare look at other's writing or read fanfics on AO3 because I'd always compare their writing to mine. Break their style down and analyse it in an attempt to spot what I'm doing wrong.

I left the server eventually, abruptly too. It was for the better.

I swore off of writing.

For two years, that was true. I gradually came to reading fanfics again, but just looking at a blank document was enough to get me nauses.

By 18, Aot happened, and the boom in x reader fanfics.

Everything I've written up to this point has been ships. Not once did I consider the idea of an x reader. For a while, I used to scoff at it and label it as cringe, as if the ship fanfics I was reading wasn't cringe either. Elitism, I tell you.

I saw these request blogs and how posting on tumblr seemed less intimidating than AO3. How intimate it felt to have an anon talk to you about your own fic that you wrote for them, to have people discussing your writing and stories with you! And they ask for more!

Sign me tf up.

I started my first writing blog, and I didn't know shit. I learned as I went. The new formatting, the tumblr tag system, creating a masterlist.

How important presentation is in here.

In AO3, your fic has the same chance of being read as any other one. Only your description is there to judge it by. But on tumblr? The shiny bookcover was almost as important as the material inside. In here, you have to market your own fic, present it with a lovely bow on top, add a pretty eyecatching header, and all the right trending tags.

Luckily, it clicked easy for me. I used free domian paintings from past centuries to make my covers, and they stood out amongst the anime cover galore. It was a little pretentious, I admit, but I also was a little pretentious, so it's alright.

I played my cards right, answered requests enthusiastically, and delivered fics at a fast rate. Paid attention to what styles worked best and what genres attracted more attention. At that point, it was a numbers game for me. Play marketing right, and you'll win at capitalism.

It felt very degrading and dirty.

My personal style fazed out, and my fics had a sanitised safe for mass consume feel to it. It was written to appeal to you rather than written out of any real love or passion.

It was soulless garbage.

Not to mention at the time I still used the same unhealthy and needlessly convoluted writing method I learned from that server. Yes I cut ties with them but I still didn't have any other alternative writing method to use.

What's that? Just write however I want? Are you crazy? What like my 12y old self wrote on wattpad? My 18y old self would rather die than actually be true to themselves.

I was extremely insecure and afraid of being labelled as "cringe" I completely ereased any stray stains of personality that managed to trickle their way down into my writing. Not once did I write for myself during that time, and not once did I actually enjoy a single piece I made.

I hated all of them, I couldn't bear to even read the fics I wrote. But I still made more and more to appease the requesters, still forced myself to sit and write each morning for hours on end.

A tight timeline, an exhausting production and no friends or hobbies to fall back into and relax. It was a fucking nightmare.

What ircked me the most was how people would just keep requesting more without a thank you or even a fuck you afterwards. It's like it's a fast food drive-through and I should be grateful for any attention I get.

But I never said a word. I never complained because complaining drives away people and engagement. No, I needed to keep my happy chill imagine and never show any emotion or talk about my struggles in real life or writing.

Instead of realising I hated my writing because of its lack of essence and soul, I convinced myself instead that it's because my skill level is still too low.

So I searched online. I found writing courses I couldn't afford, and neither could I ask my family for money for anything at the time because of personal reasons.

So I put on my pirate hat.

Apparently, people don't bother uploading the scam writing tips courses to pirate websites. That's fair.

Instead, I pirated books from famous authors talking about writing. Read them and tried to apply their methods, ignored my own preferences, and wrote to fit their subjective standards of what good writing is.

I signed up for free trials courses that didn't require a credit card and copied every single file into my hard drive before the trail ended.

I had so much material to study. I watched youtube videos about writing. I really really tried everything I could.

But I still loathed every fucking word I put down on these pages.

And I hated how a general advice in writing was to "follow your heart" what is that supposed to mean? I can't do that. Others do not like my heart, It has been proven many times before so how about you just give me some useful advice instead you useless wrinkled piece of shit book?

.

..

...

You can't force or fake creativity.

You can fake an elegant writing style, you can copy interesting lines from famous books and apply them to your own writing, you can include every trendy word in all the right places.

But you can't fake creativity.

I wished I was 12 again. Writing fics on wattpad, where my style was worse than garbage, and yet I loved it. People loved it.

Because it was garbage with a soul, a garbage that had empty chocolate milk bottles and spilt sprinkles. A garbage that showed personality and where my priorities were. With kids' fingerprints in colourful paint and a toddler's fridge artpiece.

A garbage that mirrored my love for the art.

And I ruined it. I traded it all for stupid punctuation that I didn't even care for.

I was happy.

Like every other probome in my life, I ran away.

I hit my breaking point. The requests were never ending, the studying and writing books were getting more and more pretentious and contradicting themselves. I barely had time to eat, I don't talk to people or go outside.

I do not have the time for anything, I missed having friends.

I left the blog. I stopped writing, it was too anxiety inducing.

I got into videogames again, I enjoyed the text heavy ones. I chose to ignore what that implied.

They were so...beautiful.

And fun!

I made some friends, I was happy for a while.

Then, one of my favourite characters in my video game mentioned missing their parents, how hard the funeral was.

It hit home.

I'm not writing, I convinced myself with a lie, I'm just gonna put down my thoughts on them...in a google document.

See just around 1k words, easy peasy. I AM NOT WRITING. It doesn't count.

But I did write it. Not with any calculated formula or method. I wrote my thoughts like how I hear them in my head and what I felt, what I imagined the character would feel.

Then, I added some dialogue, trimmed the corners, and sprinkled in euphemism.

It was simple and bare, vulnerable.

I posted it. It never got much traction.

But I was happy, I liked it, even loved it and kept rereading it.

I was 19.

I nervously showed it to my friend. They mentioned how much they can't stand reading books or fics because the words overwhelm them courtesy of their ADHD.

But they managed to read mine. Very smoothly.

Because my style, my own personal style that is set to my preference, makes me write in small paragraphs and straightforward. I never linger on details or focus on one thing for too long, I always give breaks and seperate events from each other.

And it clicked for this one person who struggled with reading, a style that will get criticism in any serious writing circle for being too simple or childish.

They liked it.

I hate needless convolution.

I just turned 20 years old, I asked for Baldur's Gate 3 early access as my birthday gift.

I received it, I played it.

I fell in love with its writing.

Then I made this blog, and I promised myself not to follow rabbits into any holes again. To reject the requests I don't want, to write because I love to, because I find it interesting or fun.

To never feel obligated to any thing or person. Only write if I want to, only post it if I want to. And if I don't want to? Then I simply won't.

And yes this blog gets much less attention than my first one but the people in here, the anons and my readers, they interact much more with me and my writing. It feels much better to have a handful of people genuinely excited and curious about your stories than a hundred people who would only leave likes and leave.

I have never touched a writing course or a helpful book since then. I block every writing tips blog, I see. I hate each and every single post about writing tricks and immediately skip past it.

I don't care if I improve anymore. I don't care if people don't read my stuff. I do not care if my style degenerates so much and reverts back to wattpad. All I care about is the fact I love writing and I enjoy it, I plan to keep it this way.

-

It's also funny that I'm writing in English since I when I first started writing at 12 it was in Arabic. My first fic? In Arabic.

And I was willing to go down that road yk. Keep true to my heritage and culture, write in my own beautiful language.

But. I wrote about queer topics and stories. Homophobia is still a massive thing in our society. My story was more infamous and taboo than famous and beloved.

I had so many people coming to my dms to "educate" me about religion and sin. How what I'm doing is wrong and the message I'm spreading is haram.

It was funny at first especially when it was the quran that made me want to write in the first place. Because it's actually a collection of poems! It just loses its rhythm when translated to English. It was so beautifully written, I'd listen to it always as a kid.

But then those dms became unbearable and I decided to learn english to join the western fandoms instead. A 12y old just deciding to fuck it and learn a whole new language to write gay fics.

A lot of my struggles in writing at 12-17 was because I was still learning English at the time.

This was fun. Thank you so much for asking this, anon! I had the chance to reminisce about the past.

I made so many mistakes. But I'd rather having made them and reached this point of content with myself than not having made them at all.

[holiciouspursuitofenvy]

It took me a really long fucking time to acknowledge why i can't handle boundaries/end up being manipulative as fuck to real and sometimes online people.

EVERYBODY FEELS LIKE I HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS WITH! I truly did not understand stand that consciously, i only ever chalked it up to social anxiety. No matter how many times i told myself i wish there was a class on how to talk to people and what people will judge you on.

I grew up with parents who would be gone from home long periods of time (due to their jobs bc we were poor and childhood divorce). And when they came home would either fight eachother or their children (me and my siblings). Belittling us for little things we did or want which oftentimes was extremely normal kid stuff. And because i was the youngest, i was an honorary child of the eldest teenage sister who obviously was a bad mother but also actively bullied me for years.

Not to mention parents who would constantly tell me don't trust anyone, everyone is judging you and out to get you. So they sheltered you home minimizing play time or hanging out with other kids. I actively remember being a kid and trying to set up healthy boundaries like "hey mom, it really hurta me when you yell at me for crying when i get shots or needles, I'm trying my best." And her going "fuck off, you're just sensitive and you need to get over it by now." Or my dad actively triggering me when he does his angry sound tell so i asked him to please do it less and he angrily calls me a child in a long drawn out paragraph and huffs away.

I was/sometimes still am stuck in a toxic cycle of needing to learn how to set up boundaries for myself and telling people, namely my family, to fuck off if they don't. I used to have a hero complex where i would help people at the expense of myself to often but then i said fuck that and now I've made my over defensiveness even more obvious.

But i also couldn't acknowledge this extends to EVERYTHING. In real life when someone says you did a bad thing suddenly it feels like a volcano of the most angry emotions stir inside of me BECAUSE I AM FURIOUS.

I'M FURIOUS that no one acknowledges how hard it was to walk on eggshells all the time. How I'd need to pat myself on the back every time i completed a social interaction successfully or comb through every detail of them to find something to improve on. I never felt i was progressing to normal but that i was stuck incompetent forever.

I get told a lot that I'm very mysterious and never tell anyone anything and this is why. I HAVE MAJOR TRUST ISSUES. This is where the hyper-independence, the closed offness, the combative nature against people i trust especially comes in. Why I'm always surprised people who don't see me everyday or run to me anytime the see me say I'm their friend. I'm sure i came off super cold when i asked them why but i was genuinely surprised. Because being teased, bullied, and dismissed by everyone close to me growing up fucked up my view of people and relationships.

I don't mean for any of this to come off as an excuse but as an explanation. And me trying to reach people who've gone through the same things i have but kept getting back into the cycle of needing to defend yourself by all means possible to people who just said "please stop, i don't like this," or any other variation of you have done something wrong. Especially if you went over the line online and someone said "hey thwt way too over familiar, don't talk to strangers like that." because yea STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET ARE NOT YOUR THERAPIST OR PUNCHING BAGS.

I really need people to understand this isn't from entitlement, it's subconscious mistrust in everyone you meet bc subconsciously i believed everyone was out for me. Someone i needed to defend against before or after they talk to me. No matter how nice and gentle it comes doesn't matter. Everyone has to be lying and think it's the biggest deal in the world actually or this is a greater sign of you being awful all along. Like everone did that to everyone elae. And if anyone just casually calls this narcissism I'm hitting you with a 2x4. Those posts never resonated with me. They felt dismissive for me personally.

I AM ALWAYS IN A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE VICTORIAN ENGLAND TEA PARTY WITH A BAD REPUTATION. Or better yet I'm always walking on eggshells with people.

Coming from someone who knows they're mentally fucked up but not knowing exactly how for all your life but especially in the past 5+ years of not going to therapy except when it was closeby and free a couple times but never being truly open with them because you learned vulnerability equals dismissal and pain 99% of the time.

So yeah, i highly recommend looking back on your childhood and examining when you were dismissed or had your boundaries broken. Then work on active trust with people and be open to more people because not processing my trauma but trying to steamroll being a functional persom also fucked me up.

[lostonehero]

Immortal Micheal

William is a sad little meow meow

Henry sighs, walking down the displays. "It was past midnight. They all were awake and skulking their enclosures. They enjoyed the gifts and everything the morning patrons left. Among the items were little dolls, drawings, and old toys. He bowed the best he could to his daughter, who he could hear giggling just out of sight. He knows it's her.

"Now careful everyone inspectors are coming tomorrow that means, no hiding toys in your bodies especially you Lizzie"

Henry chuckles at the "It wasn't me." On the sound speaker

.

He pauses in front of the golden fredbear. "I haven't found the last one yet, Evan. I don't know if Micheal was stuck, too." He sighs as gental static brushes past his ears. "I'll keep looking as much as these old bones allow. Also, stop giving your father little toys. I don't care that he makes you new toys it's dangerous."

Henry stops again, looking back. "Yeah, well, if he made everyone something, then I wouldn't say anything..." He waves but doesn't take the wind up toy he knows William made his son and the tiny ballerina he made Lizze.

He stops and sits on the bench in front of the spring lock animotronic

"Henry."

"William."

"Oh, what do deserve this visit for?" William huffs.

"Inspectors coming again." Henry hums.

"Ah, so I'm staying underground."

"You've learned from last time, have you?"

"My bones are mine, Henry." William sighs. "Is it the odor?"

"No, I'm planning on opening up night attractions. You're getting too comfortable with the children alone, William."

"They still torment me enough."

Henry raises his brow. "You're turning a toy car into a train for the boy in foxy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." William sneers, pacing his enclosure like a lion.

"Don't throw a tantrum, William. You've adopted these kids just as much as I have." Henry hides his smile as William slams on the glass.

"I am the one who took those kids from their families, and I am the one who stuffed them in the suits. How dare you even insinuate I could care for my trophies, my victims."

"Your speech is less convincing than before William. You're growing soft." Henry laughs again. "By the way, Clara is still around and moved back to London."

"Never understood how you could marry her."

William gives a annoyed look. "It was arranged."

Henry stops and frowns. "Didn't know that."

"I never said it."

Henry sighs. "And you didn't divorce in the States?"

"Kids had to be 18 all of them, probably why we had more than Micheal." William walks back to the center. "Granted, none of them made it to 18, so I'm still in that contract."

"You're dead."

"I think she put a clause in there for that."

"That's disturbing considering you being you."

"Gee thanks Henry "

.....

William stops his pacing, staring at his old friend. “Clara was like that. She didn’t like any of the children, Michael especially. The others she tolerated.”

"She could dress Lizzie up like a doll probably helped in her favor of not being treated like Micheal. Evan was her baby." He tapped on the glass seemingly connecting something in his mind. Henry can see he never did grow out of the mindless tapping habit when he was in deep thought.

“Michael was the annoying one. The mistake." William spits out like it doesn't taste quite right.

"Well, I mean, he wasn't a mistake he was planned..." William frowns or what looks like a frown. "Henry, why did I consider him a mistake he was planned early so we wouldn't have to be married long." He pauses.

A loud slam against the glass pulked henry from mulling those words."Leave, I have to think," William huffs

....

Another night, another conversation

"Clara wasn't a good person." William speaks quietly. "The arrangement was about money."

Henry raises his brow, but let's William continue.

"They wanted to pawn her off, and I was single, and my family needed the money. The asylum would be a black mark on the family." William fidgets with the broken toys. "I know I didn't want that a relationship, and my parents fixed that. I mean we had a good thing us together but I don't know why Clara kept trying to poison me against you. I guess she was the one to suggest to make you hurt like we did.... like I did. Clara just had a broken.... toy..." He doesn't say anything after that.

Henry tries to push, and it only makes William lash out. The conversation died with that.

....

It takes a week. Henry has his laptop on his lap, scrolling through and looking at his nieces and nephews.

"I apologize." A quiet rough voice rouses Henry from his browsing.

Henry looks up, adjusting his glasses. "For what, William?"

"Charlie." He looks defeated. "I turned to the bottle for support then to Clara, and Clara didn't like you having a doll she couldn't have."

Henry swallows.

William continues. "I never understood how she worded things, I thought she was slow, hence the arranged marriage. I realize now that her words were deliberate."

Henry goes to speak before William Continues. "I am guilty of all of these crimes, but I... I just left the bodies."

"William, the dead bodies didn't just get up and move." Henry pauses and swallows. "The kids talk about...."

"A pretty ballerina who said they were going to get help." William growls, slamming his fist against the wall. "I take the blame for the murders." He sounds defeated

.....

Henry and William don't talk for a month after that they just spend time next to each other. Henry can see the kid spirits out of the corner of his eyes. They are getting braver moving from the animotronics. He swore he saw his old friend how he was sitting on the shoulder of springtrap, but he was gone when he blinked. Henry is quiet checking his emails. He gives a small huff and furrows his brows.

"I know that look." William breaks the silence."Of course you do." Henry mutters. "My old eyes are playing tricks on me.""How so?""It says Micheal Afton is applying for the night guard position." Henry frowns. "Same birthday.... these have to be fake creditentals."William presses his face into the glass, unable to see what Henry is looking at, but curiosity has grabbed him. "Micheal? You said he was dead." Quieter. "I lead him to his death."

"William, we talked about that, Micheal was 19 he was old enough to make his own decisions." Henry sighs, clicking through the application. "We should require a photograph with these applications... no, wait, that's illegal."

William laughs softly. Even in the rusted body and rough sound, his laugh is still soft. Henry shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. He's dead, and you're on deaths door.

"Henry, I was always better at the hiring." William chuckles he was in a surprisingly good mood like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"I'm fine at this, Willy." He bites his tongue at that old nickname. "William, I can handle this, I'll just accept and lead him here. If he's a fake, then I can spot him."

"What if he's not? Do the interview at night." William places his hand against the glass. "Lizzie and Evan agree."

Henry shakes his head. "Can't labor laws, Will-iam." He bites back the nickname again. He was getting too comfortable, and when did his children start talking to him again. "The museum isn't open at night yet, so it has to be during operation hours."

"Henry..." A plea from William seems out of place when staring at him.

"Out of the question, William." He rubs his temples at the static. "Let me do this myself." He doesn't leave room for an argument as he takes his cane and hobbles out of the museum.

[renee-writer]

We talk about genetics.

We talk about environment and learned behavior.

We talk about generational sin.

Essentially, we talk about how it’s very common to struggle with the same issues those in our family have struggled with.

Whatever framework you are using to discuss this, it’s clear- these things seem to be easily passed down.

In some cases, being like our family might be a great thing. Family’s can be influential in such a positive way.

Other times, it’s the exact opposite.

People grow up around addiction, unhealthy marriages and divorce and often find themselves in the same place.

Some live their lives in unhealthy and destructive ways because it’s what they know.

Some treat other people in the same horrible way they were treated.

Many people feel like there is a “ceiling” on their life because their family said so, so they never go after their dreams.

We can feel so “stuck” because of what we’ve seen and been taught.

Yet, somehow, there are these people who emerge as the “firsts.”

The cycle-breakers.

The ones who recognize what is unhealthy, and commit to breaking themselves free from it.

They choose a career path everyone else rolls their eyes at.

They fight for their marriage and vow to never quit, even if quitting is all they know.

They decide to treat their body well and take good care of it.

They pursue their faith even though no one else in their family cares about it or thinks they should.

Through their own hard work, and a lot of God’s grace, they do life differently.

Even if their family doesn’t understand.

Even if they get mocked or even isolated.

Even if people intentionally try to knock them down.

They decide they will be different.

And that is exactly what the Lord has called them to.

Something new, something different, something no one else has done before.

God breaks the chains of generational baggage off of them.

He calls them to be the “firsts”.

So friend, if you are sitting in a place where you feel conflicted because you know there is more to your life than this...

I hope you know God has instilled in you the courage to do something different.

He has more in store for you.

And also for the generations to come.

Because when you break the cycle, it’s not just for you.

It changes things for those to come after you.

It changes your legacy.

So listen to that voice inside.

The one calling you not to be complacent.

Follow His voice and know that He can tear down any ceiling that’s ever been placed on top of you.

It’s time to break the cycle, and move into freedom.

~Kelli Bachara, The Unraveling Blog

[quietbluejay]

Angel Exterminatus Take 2 #13

so is this number unlucky for me, Perturabo, the universe, or something else entirely?

this time: soul stone drugs, spooky math, and uh, people being silly?

and it cracks

yep soul stones are drugs so they immediately start going around smashing them to get more hits the iron warriors slowly edge away

TemplarWarden: Wait, Soul Stones were a thing at this point? Enough for the eldar to decide 'let's post them up helplessly on some statues'? But also, disturbing vibes to the whole thing, neat touch Bluejay: don't ask too many questions about the logistics of this don't ask why an entire world that died to slaanesh's birth somehow had soul stones TemplarWarden: At least I know why I'm always so confused about the time frame.

meanwhile, sharrowkyn and wayland are watching and going wtf

sharrowkyn doesn't blame the iron warriors for leaving them lol so there's 146 iron hands hidden around here also thamatica is in baby jail (stuck on the sisypheum being watched by the apothecary)

sharrowkyn and wayland talk about the iron hands' "flesh is weak" thing wayland: is this really the time? sharrowkyn: perhaps not

im trying to come up with a funny joke but all i got is forbidden romance and that's boring kroeger POV, he really really wants to charge at full speed but is able to be a mature adult and restrain this impulse you know what given how space marines usually are that's an incredible act of temperance yet more descriptions oho Harkor managed to pick up on the Iron Hands' comms

you know there's a surprisingly high amount of space marines who have and remember all their childhood prejudices

yes this is happening

did you guys forget about perturabo or...

like bruh who even remembers this stuff especially given how divorced they are from olympian culture it did make sense with the ultramarines but these guys?

also the fact that Perturabo physically pulled all the armour off of Harkor and put Berossus in a dreadnought and you guys are just going to kill all his triarchs and hope he doesn't do another decimation on your ass? i'd respect them more if they were also planning on killing perturabo

TemplarWarden: Perturabo doesn't seen like the Primarch who let's his Legion brush soldiers with any citizens to learn from them either. Ah you see, they can just be the one not killed Look. They're space marines in the horus heresy. They are physically unable to be more than average intelligence. Even Guilliman needed the obvious pointed out.

back to Perturabo POV tbh, he's in awe of the place and thinks it looks appropriate for the resting place of a god though, he reminds himself, there never was a god meanwhile their eldar guide looks extremely unwell oh back to the salamanders apothecary dude the captain's wound vanishing was kind of a miracle and he can't find an explanation at all tarsa thinks it might be the iron heart, the archeotech relic that's sorta keeping the captain alive

heh tarsa decides to take the captain out of stasis despite the fact that Tyro will be furius with him when he gets back

"you have to stop the angel exterminatus" oooo~

return to perturabo and yes he is fortifying inside the tomb fulgrim meanwhile is very jittery and wants to keep going

just about all the emperor's children are similar okay, time to go in for real this time

TemplarWarden: My dude Bluejay: oh trust me, it's gonna get worse TemplarWarden: Once again, Pertuabo makes everything worse for himself.

into the darkness so turns out it's a labyrinth inside luckily for everyone, perturabo is good at labyrinths back to our rg/ih duo

they are observing the fortifications

"have you considered simply not getting hit"

so time to report back Tyro has GARUDO BEST BIRB with him, and wants to know if they can take them lol lmao

their eldar guide is going to show them a backdoor hey remember Cassander? his story isn't over yay more suffering

he and Navarra (the other Imperial Fist) are the only ones of the terata left who retain their human intelligence

once again feeling the death guard in this chilis tonight when you hold up your endurance as your ultimate virtue what does it do to you when you can't endure TemplarWarden: Well we know the answer to this from the Einsteinium and from End and Death, "that's a skill issue"

oh it's time for more fabius experimentation cassander espies some iron warriors bodies

Cassander is also welcoming the pain as his penance for killing that one guy

and now, over to Toramino who is sulking he doesn't like Harkor "but even a fool of a noble is better than peon scum like Kroeger"

oh noes he is being forced into fratricide however

back to perturabo

stand back, liberal arts majors! he's going to do…non-Euclidean math!

im rolling my eyes so hard

non-euclidean math is NOT that hard to understand also leonardo da vinci secretly did non-euclidean math??? okay

Checkerheart: Lovecraft has done irreparable damage to writers' understanding of spheres

you heard it here first folks

TemplarWarden: What is this timeline, Assassin's Creed? TemplarWarden: Also, Mortarion and Perturabo 'it's not magic bro, it's just weird maths' Bluejay: in this case it's trying to depict actual math as magic mortarion at least is just severely deluded

there's a lot to unpack here also to summarize it's with every step perturabo feels the sentience at the heart of the world starting to defrost

TemplarWarden: I mean ignoring the silliness, I do kinda like how it's written. 'Gelid' word choices are peak

Bluejay: oh yeah i was gonna point that one out for lore when he gets here gelid is far from the worst choice

at any point perturabo could have just stopped but i feel like im repeating myself but then the story is also doing that soooo they stop at a branching between 4 identical tunnels fulgrim: why have we stopped?? perturabo: eldar. which path vohra: uhhh that one perturabo: WRONG and snaps vohra's neck

TemplarWarden: I mean, very very much trying to hammer home the 'tragedy' of his incredibly blatant flaws He could have just stopped, but his personality etc etc. Though coming across as an idiot might be accidentally consequence.

next time: bloodshed