#how is it that i feel mentally worse after having 'great big fun' socially....

[magnusbae]

spending an entire evening being an extrovert results in a full on day or week of recovery no jokes

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[chloebeale]

i’m talking loud, not saying much

rating: G || words: 5.5k

bechloe week day two—bed sharing/one bed

read below or on ao3!

***

There is nothing—literally nothing—positive about this stupid new arrangement.

For the last few years, things have only seemed to go from bad to worse for Beca. First there was her deadbeat mother abandoning her, then her overzealous father ended up moving them from their quiet, comfortable hometown in favor of shacking up with Lady Tremaine—uh, Sheila, halfway across the damn country, and Beca’s life had effectively been thrown into a tailspin.

It is bad enough that she has to share a home with Sheila and her daughter, Juliet—unfortunately Beca’s age, unfortunately much taller, much prettier, much more popular than Beca—but to have to share a bedroom with her, too? God, that is...yeah, that is just the icing on this particularly terrible cake.

Now, she is expected to spend her free time with Juliet? When she really could’ve gotten their room to herself for the night?

Seriously, that is bordering on child abuse.

“I swear to God if you embarrass me…” Juliet mutters under her breath as they make their way up the winding path toward her friend’s obnoxiously large house, effectively breaking into Beca’s pity party of bitter thoughts. A long arm outstretches to drum a balled fist against the pristinely painted wood of the unfamiliar front door, and despite her sour mood over having to bring Beca along with her tonight, Juliet pushes a bright smile to her lips the second the sound of approaching footsteps begins to chime from the other side of the door.

Beca only rolls her eyes, thumbs looping through the straps of her backpack to hike it more comfortably into place.

Why she hadn’t protested more strongly before, she really does not know.

Beca usually loves Friday nights. Considering Juliet’s social status, she generally has Friday night plans, so Beca gets their shared room all to herself. It is just about the only time she ever has to unwind, in fact, but when her dad had made a big deal about how Beca needs to try to put herself out there and make some friends in Atlanta, and Sheila had suggested Juliet bring her along to Olivia’s sleepover tonight, no amount of groaning from either soon-to-be step-sister had been enough to shut their parents up.

“You’ll have so much fun, Bec! Sleepovers are great, you’ll really get to know all of the girls!” Her dad had stated much too enthusiastically while Beca had begrudgingly thrown items into her backpack.

“I hope you know I’m calling CPS later,” Beca had grumbled as she’d climbed without haste into the backseat of his car, earbuds quickly stuffed into her ears to drown out the sound of Juliet’s overly-peppy phone conversation radiating from the passenger seat.

That same pep—totally forced, Beca would argue; she has seen what a grumpy monster Juliet really is at home—returns effortlessly as the door swings open to reveal a beautiful brunette holding a bowl of what looks to be freshly popped popcorn in one hand and a brand new rose gold iPhone in the other.

“Jules!” Olivia greets pleasantly, though her expression falls slightly as her bright gaze shifts from Juliet’s dazzling smile and toward Beca’s tightened jaw. “Oh… You weren’t joking about bringing your sister.”

“Step-sister,” Beca grumbles quietly under her breath, gaze cast down toward her beat-up looking Vans. She can feel Juliet’s heated glare burning into the side of her head without even bothering to look up.

“Nope, not joking,” Juliet responds with a pop of the P, not-so-subtly shoving Beca out of the way to breeze into the house.

With a heavy sigh, Beca pushes away one last fleeting thought of turning and running away to sleep on the streets for the night, and forces herself to shuffle inside behind her.

“Guys, Jules is here!” Olivia announces as she leads the way through the entrance hallway and toward what Beca can only assume by the number of doors they pass is one of multiple living rooms. The other sleepover attendees erupt into a chorus of Juliet’s name, before Olivia continues, “And, uh…”

“Beca,” Juliet says through gritted teeth.

“Right, yeah,” Olivia nods, “her sister.”

Beca bites back the urge to correct her again—they are not sisters, they will never be sisters—and instead offers the room of expectant eyes a forced, tight-lipped smile, before she goes back to staring dutifully down toward her feet.

All anybody has to do is look around the room for half a second to see that Beca is entirely out of place among this particular group of people. They all sport full faces of makeup and wear their hair in neat, pretty styles, while Beca hides behind a layer of questionably thick eyeliner and limp tresses that have had nothing more than a comb pulled through them all day.

Unsurprisingly, none of the activities to commence now that they are all here—Juliet loves to be fashionably late—are of any interest whatsoever to Beca. She doesn’t care to call the boys they all think are sooo cute and promptly hang up when they answer, and when she refuses to pick dare on her second turn in Truth or Dare—she shrugged and said “pass” when asked if she’d ever ‘done anything with a boy’ after picking truth in the first round—they all seem to give up on halfheartedly trying to include her, so Beca shrugs and plugs her ears with her earbuds, and sits off to the side with her back to the couch, contentedly listening to music.

Beca can lose herself for hours in music. Among all of the huge, rapid changes in her life, especially in recent years, music has been her one constant. It is that one form of solace for Beca, so she doesn’t mind being left out, nor her presence being all but forgotten until she eventually has to answer nature’s call.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom,” Beca asks Juliet with a small tap on her shoulder, thumb sweeping over the pause button on her phone’s music player.

Clearly enraged to have been interrupted from her circle of friends, Juliet stares back at her with a face like thunder. “I don’t know. Go find it,” she scoffs, offering Beca nothing more than a shake of her head, before turning back to the talkative group.

Beca simply stares for a moment, before rolling her eyes hard enough that she can practically hear them rattling in her skull, then pushes herself lazily to her feet.

It is a big house—an obnoxiously big house, in fact—so it is probable that there is at least one bathroom on the ground floor, but Beca doesn’t feel like trying every door and potentially running into Olivia’s parents in one of the other living rooms, so she decides it is safer to check upstairs.

The first door she tries leads to an extravagantly decorated but empty bedroom, so Beca promptly steps back out and closes it behind her, before moving quickly onto the next. That one turns out to be another empty bedroom, too, so Beca hopes that it will be third time lucky, and meekly tries the next door.

This one is a bedroom, too, only this time, it is not quite empty, and Beca jumps slightly as she realizes she is intruding on someone’s personal space. “Oh, whoa. Sorry,” she says quickly, widened gaze landing on the sight of red curls and a nose buried deeply in a book.

“Hm?” The redhead questions, evidently too enthralled by her reading material to have even noticed Beca’s presence beforehand. Her eyes lift to land on the stranger in her room, though, and Beca finds herself slightly taken aback by just how intensely blue they are.

“Sorry,” Beca says again, her pale cheeks heating up with a splash of what she is positive is a very obvious shade of crimson. “I didn’t realize this was—I was looking for the bathroom.”

“Oh,” the other girl nods, neatly setting down her open book on the mattress before her. She offers Beca a friendly smile despite the intrusion. “That’s okay. The bathroom is two doors that way,” she says, pointing in the right direction.

Why Beca finds herself staring, she really does not know, but she catches herself after a short moment and quickly clears her throat. “Right, got it. Thanks.”

“Mhm,” the redhead smiles, bright eyes remaining on Beca. Beca is about to leave, though she notes the way the other girl seems to be studying her curiously, before piping up with, “Are you my sister’s friend? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, though realizes how bad that sounds and corrects herself quickly. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Or...I don’t know. My step-sister is friends with Olivia. She’s here for the sleepover, and my dad and her mom made her bring me.” As she speaks, Beca can hear just how ridiculously pathetic she sounds, and proceeds to mentally kick herself. “I guess I’m new to town or whatever.”

“Mm, that would explain why I haven’t seen you before,” the other girl nods, flattening her palms to the mattress to smoothly shift to her knees. “What’s your name? Or are you, like, peeing yourself and you have to leave right this second?”

“No,” Beca chuckles awkwardly, the bathroom almost forgotten about for a minute there. “No, it’s fine. I’m Beca,” she says. “My step-sister is friends with Olivia.”

“You said that already,” the redhead grins, to which Beca only mentally kicks herself again. “I’m Chloe, I’m actually Olivia’s step-sister, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Although she knows it is entirely possible for step-siblings to have healthy, good relationships, Beca can only assume judging from the scene before her that their situations may be somewhat similar. Chloe looks to be around their age, after all; surely she would be invited to the sleepover party going on in her home if she and Olivia were close, right?

“Mhm,” Chloe nods. “Which one is yours?”

Assuming Chloe is referring to which one is her step-sibling, Beca responds with an almost cautious, “Uh, Juliet Lyman.”

At that, Chloe immediately winces, and Beca cannot help the grin that breaks onto her lips in response.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says with an apologetic look. “That was super mean.”

“No, it’s okay,” Beca promises with another small chuckle, this one much less awkward sounding than the last. “She’s kind of a dick.”

While she still looks a little bashful, almost like she feels that she spoke—or winced—out of line, Chloe’s stiffened shoulders ease then, and she offers Beca a gentle nod of her head. “Mm, I guess that makes sense. None of Olivia’s friends are particularly nice.”

Like something of a vampire, Beca rarely enters a room without invitation, so it is almost surprising to her that she seems to shift slowly inside now, but Chloe doesn’t seem to be put off. If anything, she only sends Beca a friendlier smile, and nods as if to tell her it is okay.

“I guess you’re not having a ton of fun down there, huh?” Chloe says somewhat sympathetically, motioning toward the door for Beca to close it behind her.

“Uh, yeah, no, I guess you could say that,” Beca frowns, following Chloe’s silent instruction to close the door. Much too focused on the pretty redhead whose privacy she accidentally invaded, she hasn’t taken much time to really study the room, but her eyes do a quick visual sweep now, and she finds that, while still beautifully decorated much like the rest of the house, this particular bedroom feels much more comfortable, much more homey than anywhere else. So as not to seem like a total weirdo, however, she brings her gaze back toward Chloe, then drops it to the book flattened on the bed before her. “What are you reading?”

“It’s called Looking For Alaska,” Chloe explains with a brief motion toward the book. “It’s really good so far. I’m halfway through and I’m dying to see how it ends.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Beca nods. “Yeah. You should totally get back to that.”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t exactly enjoy being locked away in my room,” her nose wrinkles. “I actually kind of appreciate the company. There’s a bathroom right there, by the way,” she motions toward the adjoining ensuite, “if you still have to go.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Chloe flashes her another kind smile while Beca shuffles by the bed and toward the bathroom door, then disappears inside.

Unlike Chloe, who apparently appreciates awkward new company, Beca is definitely more of a lone wolf. She prefers her own space, and will generally engage in as little social interaction as possible, but she finds that she does not feel completely uncomfortable with Chloe. In fact, after being ignored for the last hour in a room full of people, she would go so far as to say she is actually kind of glad she walked in here.

Upon returning from the ensuite facilities, Beca wonders where to go from here. She wonders if it is weird to try to stick around, if she should begrudgingly go back downstairs and rejoin the party, but she finds that Chloe has pushed her book aside, and pats the mattress to invite Beca to sit.

“Are you sure?” Beca questions, though she makes her way toward the bed regardless.

“Totes,” Chloe nods. “I told you, I like the company, and you’re not having any fun down there, so.”

“True,” Beca agrees, shuffling over to plop neatly onto the end of the bed.

“Do you go to Barden?” Chloe asks conversationally, head tilted slightly and eyes trained curiously on Beca’s face. Again, she seems to be studying her, and Beca doesn’t quite understand why she is not more weirded out.

Beca frowns in response, though eventually nods her head. “Yeah, I do. I don’t really like it, though. My old school was...well, it was still high school. I guess I was just more comfortable there or whatever, though.”

“I get that,” Chloe says with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “We moved here halfway through freshman year, and I was super sad to leave my old school. It’s hard trying to fit into a new place where everybody already knows each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, a hard sigh escaping through her flared nostrils. “Tell me about it.” She pauses then, this time eyeing Chloe curiously in return. “Wait, but you, like, made friends since then, right? I mean, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, yeah, tons,” Chloe says with a nod of her head. “Just not Olivia’s friends. I’ve been here almost two years now.”

“So you’re a junior?” Beca asks, to which Chloe nods again. “Me too. It’s kinda weird I haven’t seen you around.”

“It is,” Chloe agrees, bright gaze still comfortably studying Beca. Eye contact has always been a difficult thing for Beca, but she finds that it is somehow easy to hold Chloe’s. “I definitely haven’t seen you at school, though. I feel like I would’ve remembered you.”

“Yeah?” Beca questions with an awkward laugh and a lift of her brow. “I’m not the most memorable of people.”

“I would’ve remembered you,” Chloe repeats, her curious expression smoothing into something of a somewhat knowing smile, under which Beca feels her cheeks rapidly beginning to heat up again. Chloe lifts a hand to motion toward Beca’s earbuds, the wire of which hangs limply down her chest. “What are you listening to?”

“Uh, I think it was David Guetta,” Beca responds with a scrunch of her nose. “I don’t remember, I turned it off before I came up here. I have Titanium stuck in my head, though, so it was probably that.”

“Titanium is awesome,” Chloe says with an approving smile as she scoots back to rest against the headboard with the pillows stacked up behind her. “Can we listen together?”

“Oh,” Beca glances toward the space beside Chloe. “Uh, sure. If you want.”

“I do,” Chloe nods, patting the empty spot for Beca to join her.

Shuffling to sit beside her, Beca arranges the spare pillows to make a backrest, then offers one of the wired buds out to Chloe, who takes it with a gracious smile, before slotting it into her ear. Beca does the same with the other, before hitting play on her phone screen. She had the volume up pretty loud before, but makes sure to turn it down a few notches as Titanium begins spilling through the buds in the place she’d left it off before.

“This was my audition song for the Bellas,” Chloe hums fondly, shoulders relaxing as she eases back more comfortably into her stacked pillows.

“The what?” Beca questions with a curious side glance.

“The Barden Bellas. It’s our school’s a cappella group. That’s actually where I met most of my friends.”

“A cappella,” Beca echoes, lips pulling inward in a failed attempt to bite back an amused smile. “Like...synchronized nerd singing?”

“It’s not nerd singing,” Chloe giggles, lightly swatting at Beca’s arm. “It’s fun. And all of the girls are super nice. We’re like a little family.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Beca chuckles, and finds that she has very comfortably slotted into this little space beside a person who was a total stranger to her only moments earlier. It is an odd feeling for her, but it is certainly not an unwelcome one. “So, you sing?”

“I do,” Chloe says proudly. “I love to sing. Do you?” Before Beca gets the chance to respond, Chloe sits a little further upright, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, you should totes audition for the Bellas!”

“Whoa, slow down,” Beca warns with another amused chuckle. “I’m not nerd singing with anybody. Besides, I don’t even sing.”

“That’s a lie,” Chloe says, “everybody sings. Whether you sing well or not is another story, but everybody sings.”

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “Not me.”

“I bet you do,” Chloe counters, motioning toward Beca’s phone where the current track is winding down to its end. “I bet when you’re alone, you turn up the volume and you belt out this song to your empty bedroom.”

“Shut up,” Beca grumbles with a fond roll of her eyes and a hint of amusement lacing her grumbly tone.

While Chloe giggles quietly, she relaxes back into the pillows again. “You would love the Bellas. You’d make a ton of friends, and it’s super easy to sing when everybody else around you is doing it,” she says, reaching down to tap on the back-skip button on Beca’s screen, effectively restarting the song. “Sing with me. This can be your audition, and if you’re good, I’ll tell the others.”

“Dude, no,” Beca frowns, shaking her head as the beginning of the song starts to filter through her one earbud again.

“You interrupted my reading time,” Chloe states with a lifted brow and a smug smirk painting itself onto her lips. “The least you could do is sing with me.”

“Sing with you? Right now? That’s so weird. You’re so weird,” Beca says, her brow lifting the same way as Chloe’s. Despite her protests, she can feel her resolve softening already. Like Chloe whose last name Beca doesn’t even know apparently just has some kind of weird, calming spell on her. It helps that, despite saying she doesn’t sing, she actually very much does—and she is pretty freaking good at it, too.

“Just the chorus,” Chloe presses, pushing herself upright again and pointing animatedly toward her phone. “Look, it’s coming up. Just sing it with me.”

Beca scowls in response, so Chloe sends her a bright, encouraging smile, and when Beca does not outright protest again, Chloe excitedly nods her head.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Beca’s jaw sets for a second, but she can feel herself preparing to start singing. She has a feeling Chloe knows she is going to, too.

“I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose…” Beca starts through gritted teeth along with the song, though she softens some at the way Chloe’s eyes instantly light up all over again.

“Fire away, fire away,” Chloe chimes in, and Beca finds that she has to pause for a second, because even with the actual song filtering into one ear, she can hear how good Chloe sounds in the other. In fact, she can hear how good they both sound as they begin to effortlessly harmonize.

As the chorus ends, they both come to a stop, too, and Beca had not realized before, but it turns out that their eyes were trained on one another’s the entire time. She doesn’t quite register it until her gaze falls to Chloe’s excited smile—the same way she doesn’t register her own smile, though once she does, she quickly wipes it away.

“I knew you were lying,” Chloe says triumphantly. “I knew you could sing. And you sounded so good, too. You have to audition for the Bellas.”

In true Beca Mitchell fashion, Beca’s cheeks have heated up, though she hopes her frown will distract from the redness in her face. “What? Dude, I thought you said that was my audition.”

“So you want to join?” Chloe asks hopefully, to which Beca immediately pauses.

“I didn’t say that,” she eventually says, arms folding tightly across her middle.

“Well, I’m gonna tell the girls how good you are, and Aubrey—she’s our captain—will be on your case until you agree to join, so.”

“You’re so annoying,” Beca chuckles, sinking back against the pillows. “You’re really persistent, huh?”

“When I want something,” Chloe shrugs, trailing off to hum along quietly with the song.

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “And what do you want?”

“You,” Chloe says casually, and Beca’s mouth opens when that seems to be the end of Chloe’s response, though she pipes up again then, “to join the Bellas.”

“I—” Beca falters, and registers the way her heart rate has for some unknown reason increased slightly. She tells herself it is simply due to the impromptu duet—she may sing when she is alone, but she never does it in front of anybody, and certainly never with anybody—though she has an odd inkling that that is not solely the case. “I’ll think about it,” she grumbles, turning her focus to her phone screen.

Chloe grins brightly at that, clearly very pleased with herself. “Awes.”

For the next little while, they remain in their comfortable position side by side with their backs against the pillows, listening to Beca’s playlist and casually conversing. Much like she had found Chloe easy to be around right away, Beca finds that that same feeling only continues. In fact, it almost intensifies—it is not often that Beca Mitchell finds herself this comfortable with a new person, but she really is strangely comfortable with Chloe.

In fact, Beca doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until her phone screen lights up with a new text message notification, and she glances down with a frown when she sees who it is from.

Juliet where are you? i swear if you went home and told your dad we were leaving you out or whatever i’ll deny it and all of the girls will back me up

In response, Beca sucks in a deep sigh through her nostrils. “She’s so annoying,” she mutters, gaze flickering toward the much later time. She knows that she should probably leave, that she should go rejoin the party at which she was having absolutely no fun, but the thought of doing so is draining, and Beca sinks even further back into the pillows behind her. “God, I don’t wanna go back down there.”

“So don’t,” Chloe shrugs, glancing toward the open text message on Beca’s cracked phone screen.

“It’s, like, almost twelve,” Beca frowns, using one finger to lazily type out hanging with olivia’s step-sister in the chat bar. “You’re gonna wanna sleep, and I probably should, too.”

“You can sleep in here,” Chloe hums, stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes beneath her socks. The cartoon corgis adorning the fabric are pretty freaking adorable, though Beca totally won’t say so.

Instead, her brow crawls a little higher in response. “What, like in your bed?”

“You think I’m gonna make you sleep on the floor?” Chloe counters with a look of fond amusement.

“Uh, no,” Beca shakes her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s—dude, isn’t that weird?”

“You’re at a sleepover with a bunch of people you don’t even like, you were gonna be sharing a bed with at least one or two of them,” Chloe shrugs, then gently shakes her head. “It’s not weird, you can sleep in here.”

“Uh,” Beca pauses, thinking it over for a second. “Are you sure?”

“Totes,” Chloe nods, eyeing Beca for a moment. Her lips twist into something of an amused grin when she clearly notes her apprehension. “What, do you think I’m gonna try to make a move on you or something?”

Beca’s instant reaction is not the one she expects. She expects to splutter and for her tired eyes to shoot further open, but instead she only stares at Chloe with an arched brow. “I don’t know, are you?”

“What if I did?”

At that, Beca’s mouth hangs open slightly, the same way it had earlier. In response, Chloe only giggles brightly again, and Beca registers that there is something almost melodic about the sound. “I’m kidding,” she promises, amusement lacing her tone as she removes the earbud and begins to push herself up from the mattress. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Go grab your stuff and come back up here.”

Although Beca’s shoulders sag with something akin to relief, she doesn’t quite understand why a wave of disappointment washes over her, too. Does she want Chloe to make a move?

Does Chloe want to?

What even is a move, exactly?

Either way, Beca attempts a nonchalant shrug as she rises from the bed, a feeling of slight dread coursing through her at the idea of having to go back downstairs, even if only to grab her things.

It turns out, however, that the worry is needless, because nobody even entertains her with so much as a glance as she enters the large living room in pursuit of her belongings. Well, nobody but Juliet, and even then it is only for her to shoot Beca a quick glare before she goes back to talking to her friends.

Deciding that it might be a little weird to change for bed in Chloe’s room, Beca makes her way back up the stairs and toward the bathroom she hadn’t gotten to before. She momentarily holds her breath as she opens the door, worried about the idea of bumping into another peppy stranger, but it turns out to be the correct room, and Beca changes and washes up quickly, before making her way back to Chloe.

“Oh, whoa—” Beca’s response is much the same as last time, except this time she lifts a hand to quickly cover her eyes, the crimson color in her cheeks rising toward the tips of her ears.

“What?” Chloe questions, evidently entirely unperturbed despite Beca walking in on her in the process of pulling on her pajama top—under which she is not wearing a bra. “Oh… They’re just boobs.”

Beca practically chokes at that, blindly making her way into the room and shoving the door closed behind her. “Dude, I don’t need to see them.”

Chloe’s amused giggle rings through the air. “Sorry. In my defense, this is my room, and I figured you’d knock before you came in,” she says, taking a second or two to adjust her pajamas, before Beca hears her gliding toward the bed. “It’s safe for you to uncover your eyes.”

That considered, perhaps sharing a bed with Chloe for the night is not the most awkward thing anymore, so although cautiously, she lowers her hand from her face, lips pulled inward as she makes her way toward the bed. “I’m guessing that’s your side?” she asks, motioning toward the spot Chloe had taken before.

“Yep,” Chloe nods, peeling back the comforter to slip beneath it. “Sometimes I curl up in a ball in the middle, but I always at least start out on this side.”

Why the mental image is so cute to Beca, she opts not to question, and instead simply slides into the other side. “Cool. My bed’s a single, so I guess I don’t really have a side.”

“Single beds are super cozy,” Chloe hums, reaching behind herself to flatten the previously propped up pillows, before shuffling to make herself comfortable.

“They suck,” Beca frowns. “I’m actually kinda jealous of you with this. Your room is, like, bigger than my dad’s house, in fact.”

“Your dad’s house?” Chloe echoes, twisting onto her side once Beca has laid herself down, too. “It’s not your house?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Beca shrugs, automatically twisting her body to face Chloe.

In response, Chloe sends her a somewhat sympathetic smile, so Beca only shrugs once more. “How long have you been there?”

“Too long,” Beca grumbles, sticking one arm out of the comforter to rest her palm against the pillow by her head. Her cheek rests against the back of her hand, and Beca notes that she only feels more and more comfortable with Chloe by the second—and not just because of the ridiculously comfortable mattress. “About four months now.”

Chloe seems to consider for a moment, before eventually nodding her head. “You’ll start to feel better about it soon,” she promises in a softer voice, her hand reaching out to settle delicately over Beca’s for a short moment, before sliding it away.

It is interesting, the fact that her father has told her the same thing a million times, but that each time, Beca has only scoffed in response. For some reason, though, when it is Chloe telling her, Beca cannot help but believe her, and responds with a soft sigh, followed by a small smile of her own.

“I’m gonna turn out the light,” Chloe says, before commanding Alexa to do just that. Soon, the light in the previously bright room grows dimmer, until they are engulfed in a blanket of darkness—seriously, what a relief; Juliet makes them sleep with a night lamp on every night.

Considering it is still difficult, after four months of living there, for Beca to fall asleep in her bedroom, she expects it to be the same here. It is still something she considers unfamiliar territory, so Chloe’s room should be even more so, but as the room around her grows still, she finds that her eyes begin to grow quickly heavy. The soft sound of Chloe’s quiet breathing seems to help somehow, too.

“Beca,” she hears after a moment of silence, Chloe’s voice much softer than it was before.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for walking in here tonight,” Chloe continues, and soon Beca feels a hand laying across her own once more. Her natural instinct would normally be to pull away, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand why, she just...doesn't. “I really do appreciate the company.”

“Yeah?” Beca chuckles quietly, her own voice growing quieter with those telltale signs of tiredness. “It’s cool. I liked it, too.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, the tips of her fingers stroking feather lightly over the back of Beca’s hand. Again, Beca does not pull away. In fact, she actually kind of likes it. “I really hope you do join the Bellas. I kind of wanna keep you around.”

Although she is positive Chloe just wants someone to add to their singing group, something about the statement causes Beca’s heart to flutter slightly. Honestly, she is just not used to someone actually wanting her around—it is not like Juliet does, and she is pretty sure Sheila doesn’t, either—but it is particularly nice to her that Chloe wants her around specifically.

“Ditto,” she mumbles, her thumb instinctively rising to brush softly over the side of Chloe’s pinky finger.

There is a stillness to follow, a calmness that Beca is not altogether used to, but again, it is something she welcomes. Something she has been yearning for for months now, in fact. No, years.

Although she feels sleep beginning to instantly overtake her, and she really doesn’t want to break the comfortable silence, a nagging voice in Beca’s head instructs her to do so. The kind that causes her heart to race again, and Beca licks over her now dry lips as she wonders if she will actually do it or not.

“Chloe,” she murmurs quietly, a part of her hoping Chloe is one of those people who can fall asleep pretty much as soon as their head hits the pillow—but a stronger part of her hoping not. Either way, she continues in a quiet voice, “If you did wanna make a move, you can.”

There is another silence to follow, a short stretch in which Beca’s heart thunders and she wonders if perhaps Chloe is already out, before she feels soft fingers slotting through the gaps in her own, then registers her sleepy, whispered response, 

“I just did.”

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E116-119 (Dec. 15, 2020)

Hi! I missed the first three minutes or so and opened the stream to Brian giving an absolutely incoherent ...ad? for some jewel game? Six thousand jewels just for logging in? Some app in the app store and he’s literally been talking about this now for six minutes and I don’t know what he’s talking about. He finally wraps up, Laura brings the show to a close, and we’re all a little worse than we were before.

Ashley tries to get us back on track and Henry bays over her. Brian tries to ask the first question and breaks off into feigned sobs halfway through. This is chaos incarnate.

Tonight’s guests: Laura Bailey & Ashley Johnson.

How’s Yasha feeling right now about Molly? She and Jester both are desperately curious about whether there’s a spark of Molly left in Lucien that can be brought back. It’s not the same as when Yasha was controlled by Obann; this seems more like just the way this is now. They’d settle for even finding the good in him, like they did with Essek. Brian jokes that they can monitor his mental state if Matt’s Irish accent starts to slip a little bit.

Jester is a little wary about scrying on Lucien now since he’s able to see her back.  She’s interested to try again now that Fjord’s given her the necklace.

Ashley has to run and grab a replacement set of headphones from Brian after hers get “crunchy.” It’s pretty cute seeing them run around and smooch on another screen. Brian teases that he doesn’t have any more questions for Jester since Caduceus has been doing all the healing lately. Laura tells us indignantly that she had Heal prepared for Caduceus in that last big fight, but Fjord got to Cad first. Brian explains how this is the same as all the good jokes he always lines up for Talks but never tells. Ashley’s crunchiness continues and we go briefly to a technical difficulties screen while Brian hops up to fix it.

Dani pips in to get this show back on track. Save us, Dani!

Ashley hadn’t thought about the aspect of Lucien controlling his friends’ minds, but finds it really creepy. It’s a cool game dynamic, and it’s a little different because they’re there willingly, but it’s really weird.

Jester thinks that “the tarot cards know all. She wants to buy into it real hard.” If it doesn’t make sense now, it will later. Laura has an Idiot’s Guide to Tarot Reading.

They’re super interested in why Aeor is like it is. Were they more advanced than us? Did they evolve along a different line? Ashley loves sci-fi and is all about this, especially since she wasn’t there for Happy Fun Ball time & hasn’t been able to get caught up on some of the things she missed in between, so she’s using this as an erstwhile replacement. She can already tell there are some things from this campaign that will bother her the way the unopened box did from C1. She and Laura both seethe at the camera about having to leave the spider behind.

Cosplay of the Week! Harland3r on instagram with a gorgeous winged Pike with a shield & mace. It’s an incredible photo and the wings look great.

Travis distracts Laura by dancing like a Trex offscreen. That seems right for this episode.

Jester’s encouragement of Yasha pursuing Beau was important in a lot of ways, not least because Ashley considered herself as uninterested in D&D romance as Travis & was a little unsure of activating a romance among her friends. However, it felt really natural within the game and it was really helpful to have Jester’s in-game encouragement. Yasha’s grown a lot and is in a much more positive place and is ready to find out what’s possible. Laura: “Jester from the get-go has seen Yasha as this wonderful soul from the beginning, and has seen how sad Yasha’s been through everything, and to see the difference that she exhibits when talking about Beau is drastic and wonderful. Jester’s joy in life is helping others find joy.”

Ashley points out it’s also so fun to “yes-and” with Laura because you’re like a little kid being dragged along by the hand - you don’t know where it’s going, but you know it’s going to be fun along the way.

Ashley does have a sense of “thank goodness Marisha isn’t jumping right into this” so she can coax herself into it, but when she tried to figure out the poem she had a lot of drafts that didn’t survive. She intentionally crafted the letter to give Beau an out if she didn’t feel the same way. There’s a lot going on with Lucien right now and there’s constantly a running thought in the back of her head about “maybe Beau is not into this.” Even the last couple episodes with Jester & Fjord have had Ashley finally understand shipping.

Brian brings us to the moment “almost as romantic as the pre-season finale of the Bachelorette.” Jester was “goo” afterwards. Early on in the campaign, Jester was very forward with her flirtations with Fjord & he shut her down. And then he kissed her underwater and immediately went and slept with Avantika, and Jester automatically shut herself down, because she thought she was misunderstanding & would only be hurt by those emotions. She deliberately focused on just being there with her friends, making everyone healthy and happy. These last few episodes where Fjord was flirting back felt like “my teenage heart again, my first kiss, the boy I like actually likes me back!” and she was able to open back up.

Yasha definitely has some instrument plans for those bones. She doesn’t know if she’s going to add to her harp or create a new one.

Ashley and Laura cheer about Travis stepping out his comfort zone. Laura thinks it was really good that he was doing it with her, his real-life wife, to see if he likes that sort of stuff in his D&D campaign. “It was just so sweet. It was just so sweet.” Brian says he’s actually a really romantic dude & Dani is so glad he asked before the kiss. Brian: “It’s going to be so sad when he breaks your heart and goes back to the corpse of Avantika.” Laura: “It’s fine, Jester will be long dead by then anyway.”

Jester does believe the four-year time trade was worth it, but that the city leaves “a mark on your brain,” especially as in-depth as she saw it. “Jester’s always been reticent to talk about her age because she’s aware she’s perceived in a juvenile way by a lot of people, and she’s insecure about that. She grew up by herself without a lot of social interactions and is experienced in a lot of ways now and naive in others; she’s very aware of human emotion around her, but chooses to see it in a certain way.” Losing the time makes her wonder if she needs to grow up & become an adult about certain things now. Laura: “I think actually she’s closer to Fjord’s age now. Actually, I’m not sure about his age. I don’t know how old he is - I’ve never even asked Travis!” Brian: “I think he’s definitely fifteen.” Laura: “Travis, how old is Fjord?” Travis, off-screen: “Sixty-five,” but he’s had the Mask of Many Faces up this whole time. Later, he adds that he’s in his early 30s.

Ashley has really enjoyed digging into Yasha’s more humorous side lately. It’s how she gets comfortable as a player, making it fun and light in a way that this year needs. “It’s also really funny to think that Yasha doesn’t know how Message works.”

Brian congratulates Laura & Ashley both on their game awards nominations. Brian vamps trying to get himself in as the presenter, but incidentally refers to Laura as his sister in the conversation and it’s super cute. “I would like to be the one to give the award to either my fiancee, or my sister!”

Fanart of the Week: @ethanmaldridge with an illustrated page from the Katzenprinz book. It’s just beautiful.

Jester’s polymorph gambit was terrifying, but the stakes got even higher when everyone else got stunned. She does lament choosing a bunny at the start. “Frickin’ Fjord’s armor!”

Yasha loves being polymorphed lately. She thinks it’s kinda funny, especially given her rigid upbringing with such defined roles.

Laura feels like Jester and Vex are weirdly two halves of herself. Brian: “You see the very bargainy, I’m gonna use my wit & smarts to negotiate situations. But at the same time, you’re very open to what people are thinking & feeling and navigating that. What you end up putting out (though it comes across as innocent and naive) is something pure because she truly believes it.” Laura thinks Yasha and Pike are the same way for Ashley, though Ashley feels a little closer to Yasha right now. Sometimes you just feel really exposed. Laura compares how much idealism she put into Jester to her character from Fruits Basket.

Since Yasha didn’t belong to either side in the war, she’s not hugely concerned by the fallout; she more wants to make sure her found family are okay and safe. Jester is the same way, Laura tells us. Jester doesn’t have any greater vision of the Empire & Dynasty interacting; she cares about the people, and it hasn’t been until the vision with the city that she kind of woke up and realized they have to really stop this now. It feels bigger than the Dynasty/Empire. Ashley: “It seems more of a thing for Beau and Caleb to care about.”

Really, up to now Jester was mostly concerned about getting Molly back, but now the stakes seem much higher. “We have to do this. We have to complete this, to beat them, to keep them from doing this.” Yasha is just going with the flow for now. There’s a lot coming at them and they are ready to find out what’s next.

And that’s that for tonight! Brian thanks the crew especially for working incredibly hard on switching everything to home-based streaming. He then gets stuck halfway spinning around in his chair and the last thing we hear is him idly wondering “What’s Fjord taste like?” which seems pretty on brand for tonight’s show. Is it Thursday yet?

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

[tenthgrove]

hi! could i request some platonic la squadra with a team member who's autistic and mainly stims by repeating short phrases (echolalia but idk how to phrase it) and has/had a hard time unmasking around them? feel free to take as many liberties as you need to, your writing is so fun to read! <33

La Squadra Says Autism Rights

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Platonic, SFW

(A/N: I just wanted to say a particular thank you to this requester because I've been itching to write autistic reader headcanons for months and this finally gave me the right prompt to do it. I definitely want to write more in the future.)

Formaggio- He might be neurotypical, but autism runs in his family (and his social circle as an adult) so he's learned a fair bit how best to interact with you people. He knows his loudness and teasing can be an issue for autistic people with sensory issues or trouble with sarcasm, so he'll drop it around you if that's the case. As far as he's concerned your vocal stim is a non-issue because 'some people just do that, it doesn't hurt anyone' and he doesn't comment on it unless you're using it to show happiness, in which case he always acts chuffed. He behaves sympathetically to your troubles with masking, and makes a point of acting laid-back so it's easy for you to turn down the pressure on yourself. To Formaggio, not being able to be yourself would be one of the worst fates imaginable, so he wants to do what he can to make it easier for you to let loose.

Illuso- You might expect Illuso's understanding to be low, but at this point with so much of the team being neurodivergent themselves Illuso doesn't bat an eyelid. Repeating short phrases is certainly a new one, but nothing he can't put up with. Sometimes, he might ask you what your murmurings mean, but he doesn't mean it in a judgy way. Now, as for your masking, you would be surprised how much he can relate. Illuso's self esteem is secretly down the gutter, and he often feels like the confident persona he puts on is secretly an act. When you tell him you feel like you're putting a show every day of your life, he feels you. The two of you have a lot of heartfelt conversations when you're alone, confessing how you really feel about yourselves away from the act you're performing. It's not something Illuso does often, be this honest even with a friend. But he can't help but find that it's... therapeutic.

Prosciutto- Like with anything a friend of his may be insecure about, Prosciutto very much looks at autism through the lens of identifying positives. This by no means says that he ignores your difficulties or tries to creative positives that aren't there, only that he takes note of your strengths no matter how much you try to deny them and makes sure you remember you have them. He doesn't try to 'fix' your echolalia because he knows it's better to work with an autistic person's traits than erase them, but he does teach you mental diversion techniques to help you tone the stim down when you need to (e.g. when you're trying to be stealthy). Regarding your masking, he can somewhat admire it as a useful skill to have- it's possible you could turn it into the skills of an excellent actor while under cover, but he also appreciates the impact this must be having on your self-esteem to have to hide yourself 24/7, so he wants to help you learn to cut it down. This, of course, is done through plenty of praise and reminding of your strengths. You are a wonderful addition to the team, even without your mask, and he won't let you think any less.

Pesci- When Pesci gets stressed it affects him a lot too. Sometimes he does things like fiddle with random items in his hands until they break or bounce his leg so hard the table shakes, which always get him strange looks. He appreciates the rationale of your stimming and would never judge you for it. If you're in a situation where you absolutely need to stop stimming, for instance if a team is visiting who isn't on good terms with La Squadra, he is a good bet for subtly and respectfully helping you be aware of when you're starting to do it so you can quickly stop. Just a gentle nudge to your arm when you start to whisper is all it takes. He also has a lot of empathy for the fact you has to mask, since he imagines it to be like a more extreme version of how he had to invent this whole 'tough guy' personality after he got involved in the gang. He found that really hard too, so he can imagine what it must be life to do that sort of thing your whole life. At least with him, you feel less of a pressure to put on an act.

Melone- There's a certain intellectual curiosity in Melone towards the various neurodivergent conditions, compounded by a strong personal empathy now he has so many friends who have them. He is saddened by the failure of the common consensus to understand such individuals, and wants to do what he can to help them appreciate their full, unique potentials. Melone is quick to recognise your behaviour as stimming, and hence understands that the stress of being called out on it would only make it worse. He is sympathetic to your plight with masking, and has a few ideas you could try if you want to start reducing it in safe circumstances. He has heard that one barrier to unmasking can be trouble identifying the 'true self' you have to go back to, so to remedy this he asks non-critical questions that help you explore your real, unmasked personality and be comfortable in it. Whenever you go off-script and talk to him as your true-self, he praises you for it and assures you that you are just as wonderful a person to him like this.

Ghiaccio- We arrive at the first member on the list who (in my headcanon) is autistic himself. Although the mangling of verbal speech is typically annoying to him, Ghiaccio would never become angry at someone who did it because of their neurodivergence. After all, if he didn't respect the effects of your autism, what reason do you have to return the favour? Ghiaccio makes a point of not hurrying you along when you start to repeat yourself as a stimming technique, and it goes a long way with helping you be calm around him. The masking however, is a different matter. He's not going to be angry at you per say, since he knows from experience the pressure you must be facing to put on an act this way, but he very much prefers it when people are their authentic selves around him. After all, he has enough issues knowing their true intentions as it is. He won't get angry, but he will gently encourage you to open up about him, even if it's something as little as stating what you really want point-blank when you're nervous too. He is very understanding about how hard this is, however.

Risotto- Another autistic individual himself, Risotto is also perfectly empathetic to your behaviour. As an adult, he doesn't really stim, rather just faze out entirely, but at the end of the day that still gets him a lot of strange looks so he can appreciate the range of feelings you may have about your own stim. What's really great about Risotto is that he learns pretty quickly how to differentiate between your happy-stims and your stress-stims, to an extent nobody else on the team is able to. He always seems very content to see you happy-stim, warmed by the knowledge that you are feeling good right now. As for your stress-stims, he is quick to help you escape from the situation if at all possible, and hold your hand comfortingly if not. And the whole masking thing? He understands painfully well. Risotto's masking game on-point, but it irks him greatly to keep it up, not to mention that he hates the paralysing anxiety that hits him whenever he tries to unmask. Even when he wants to, he can't always be himself in front of the team. He may not have a solution for you, but he at least has his full empathy.

Sorbet and Gelato- While Sorbet is, as far as he's aware, neurotypical, Gelato is very much autistic as well. He's also got ADHD to boot, so he's well versed in the neurodivergent experience. His stim is quite similar to yours, in that he makes quiet, high-pitched, almost chirp-like noises, so he sees your echolalia as something he has in common with you. Gelato doesn't really bother with masking any more, the only exception being people who could quite literally kill him if he offended them. Though he encourages you to let go and be yourself, consequences be damned, he of course completely understands the pressure to keep masking. Sorbet, despite being neurotypical, is at this point more surrounded by autistics than not. He's been married to Gelato for the best part of the decade, his closest friend is Risotto, and he's practically Ghiaccio's dad at this point. Adding one more neurodivergent to the mix is hardly a big step, and he is very well-versed in your behaviours and how to interact with them.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Might stop reading Worm.

Content warning: bugs/insects/arachnids and related horror, body horror mention, miscellaneous violence mention, sexual violence/assault mention

My thoughts on the first ten arcs of Worm. (contains spoilers)

So, I finally got around to reading Worm. It was kinda big when I was in high school, and I still know some people who are/were into it, so I thought it was time that I gave it a serious shot. I did actually try to read it in high school once, but I couldn’t get into it and stopped reading after the first chapter. I tried to be a little more persistent this time to give it a fair evaluation.

When I started reading Worm this time around, I kind of just breezed past the warning at the beginning (“This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers. Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass.”) I don’t consider myself someone who really gets triggered by media. I think it’s important to talk about stuff, including fucked-up stuff. It’s uncomfortable, but that discomfort is part of the point. I think it probably should bother you to read about terrible things, even fictional ones, given that those fictional atrocities almost always have real-world counterparts.

I think I vastly underestimated the amount of fucked-up-ness that is in Worm. When I read that warning, I thought, “Okay, this story’s probably dealing with some dark themes, and there might be some particular scenes that are really disturbing.” After reading the first ten arcs, though, I feel it’s more accurate to say that fucked-up-ness is Worm. It is the core of the story, and there is really very little else.

So it’s not that any particular thing that happened in the story triggered an immediate, strong, psychologically-damaging reaction in me, but as I continued reading, I began to notice that not only was I not enjoying myself, I was actually finding it subtly unpleasant. When I read about something bad happening, I get hit with a small dose of negative emotion. As it turns out, that adds up over time, especially when there aren’t any positive scenes to balance out the negative stuff. Without me even noticing for a long time, Worm was making me unhappy.

Here’s what I did like about Worm:

Impressive world-building - Wildbow is exceptional at inventing different locations, groups, and individual actors and thus creating a detailed ecosystem of capes and civilians.

Lots of characters, lots of superpowers - Directly related to the previous point, Worm contains a lot of characters...arguably too many characters. I generally prefer stories that focus on a smaller number of characters in order to give each character more room for development, but I appreciate Wildbow’s talent for coming up with vivid, if simplistic, characterizations. There are also some really interesting superpowers and interesting takes on common powers.

Inventive use of Taylor’s superpower - Taylor is always coming up with new uses for her power: having black widow spiders spin silk for her suit, using her bugs are a sixth sense to keep track of her enemies and environment, using venomous bugs to take hostages, covering her body in bugs as a disguise, coating her bugs’ stingers in capsaicin for extra punch, using human-shaped swarms to fake out her enemies...The list goes on and on, and I really appreciate how Wildbow took this oft-overlooked superpower to the next level.

Danny Hebert - The only character in the story who I can say I genuinely like. Danny Hebert is a union organizer whose pet project is getting the ferry up and running again so that there can be more interaction between the poorer and wealthier parts of Brockton Bay. I also loved the scene where he supports Taylor in the “mediation” with her bullies and their parents at school. Even if he was impotent, unable to protect her, I could tell he was on her side. His one screw-up is when he locks Taylor in the living room and tries to force her to talk to him, but it definitely makes sense with his character (a little bit of a pushover) and the story (Taylor was shutting him out and seemed to be putting herself in danger) that he would end up letting Taylor’s grandma convince him to take a forceful approach. Don’t get me wrong, locking up your kid is a horrible thing to do (I should know, my parents did it to me, and it fucked me up), but I still ended up feeling bad for him when Taylor just up and disappeared. She didn’t even call her dad to let him know that she was still alive after Leviathan! I mean, on the one hand, I do actually appreciate that she started making an effort to protect her father from the dangers of her cape life, something that I was kind of appalled to see that she never even considered before. But damn, did I feel bad for Danny.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

Way too much fucked-up shit happening - Name an atrocity, Worm’s probably got it. The plot is mostly just terrible thing after terrible thing and reveals of how terrible all of the characters are, with many terrible things that aren’t directly treated in the plot peppered in along the way.

Lots of capes, no heroes - This is one of those themes that sounds deep on paper but is really just cynical and fatalistic. Even if all the capes are corrupted by power (or by the toxic power dynamics between capes), what about civilians? Where’s the thoughtful therapist or the brave fire-fighter? Danny Hebert is one notable exception to the “Everyone is terrible” rule, but we don’t see all that much of him. Other than him, the only person I can think of who could possibly fit this “civilian hero” role is Aisha’s social worker, who I don’t think even has a name.

All superpowers are evil - This is arguably just a rephrasing of the previous point, but I think it’s important to mention. Worm contains so many superpowers, but it seems like they’re all being put to evil purposes. Panacea, the superheroine with healing powers (really just dominion over health and illness of the human body in general), makes some really despicable threats (e.g. giving someone cancer with a touch, or giving someone a disorder that will only manifest at an unknown time in the future, leaving them to anguish over their fate). Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently wrong with writing a character using this type of power for evil ends. There’s a lot of interesting stuff to explore there, and I actually love that Panacea is a character that acknowledges the burden of having a healing power, feeling unable to take any time for yourself while simultaneously growing to resent those you feel obligated to help. My issue is not with Panacea but with the fact that literally every superpower in the story is painted in a negative light. It just feels absurd to suggest that, for example, someone like Gallant couldn’t use his power (carefully and thoughtfully and with consent) to heal people with emotional trauma. Superpowers in Worm are only for violence and conflict and crime, and I just don’t understand that. Again, the rogues form a token exception, but we rarely actually see them, and one of the first rogues we meet, Canary, is immediately subject to harsh and unjust punishment and never heard from again.

A misguided focus on only certain types of crime/violence - Worm deals with gang violence, robberies, and general chaos-inducing terrorism. It focuses on crimes perpetuated by working-class individuals and small to medium size illicit groups. There’s some commentary on state-sanctioned violence in terms of the corruption of the Protectorate and Dragon’s worries of having to obey a despot should one take over the government, but it’s not exactly framed in a way that highlights the struggles of the average person; the focus is almost entirely on capes. Worm doesn’t discuss things like wage theft, illegal rent hikes, or, dare I say it, the inherent violence of capitalism, which, while less flashy, are important problems with far-reaching consequences. It’s weird, and honestly kind of unrealistic, that there’s not a single anarcho-communist cape. Whether you agree with that kind of politics or not, it’s still a glaring omission if the setting of the story is trying to emulate real life. Again, Danny Hebert’s role as a union organizer and interest in restoring the ferry and reintegrating the city pay token attention to some of these ideas, but the vast majority of the story is unconcerned with addressing the source of, or solutions to, poverty and crime in Brockton Bay and the wider world of Worm.

So those are my thoughts. There’s a part of me that still thinks, “But so many people like this so much! Maybe it’ll get better!” I have a really strong drive to understand why others like the things that they do, to be able to share in their appreciation. But from what I’ve seen in a couple memes I happened upon, things are getting worse, not better for the world of Worm. And even if things start to resolve at some point, I’m not sure it would be great for my mental health to continue reading up to that point.

The breaking point for me, if you’re curious, was when a main character was just casually revealed to be a serial rapist. That wasn’t even the point of the chapter, it was just kind of thrown out there as an extremely-not-fun fact. So I was still reeling from that reveal while also experiencing all of the atrocities said character was committing in the moment, and after that was when I realized, “Hey, maybe this is not the kind of content I should be reading.” It even took reading a few more chapters into Arc 11 for it to really sink in, but I had this weird revelation of like, I get to choose which fictional worlds I spend my time in, and the world of Worm isn’t one I relish.

If you do enjoy Worm, I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on what makes it appealing to you.

[soobrat]

*･༓☾ bloodshot // johnny ☽༓･*

chapter i // masterlist

*pairing* you x johnny + jungwoo

*chapter rating* mature

*warnings* gore (I'll put a marker up to where it starts and ends for the squeamish), explicit sexual content, mentions of slurs and sexism

*word count* 2.4k

*disclaimer(s)* I obviously don't think johnny or any other members would act this way. Please don't take anything I write seriously as it is just for fun. I in no way view idols differently and inappropriately in real life because of my smuts or any of their contents!

((TW: you “injure yourself” in this chapter but it’s not driven by any mental health circumstances))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Well, everyone thinks you're crazy now. You really didn't think kicking a toothpick under your toenail would catch this many headlines. Or maybe it was the reason you did it that has everyone's panties in a twist.

"Popular Streamer _____ Injures Herself After Altercation with Fellow Streamer jonssuh"

You had to prove your point. You had no desire to be cordial with that son of a bitch.

"Come on, ___. You love me, right?" Johnny taps on his cheek with his index finger. The gesture was seemingly in slow motion as your blood boiled. You wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face. You balled your fists tightly as the men- no, boys laughed at his joke. Or lack thereof.

"You're so overdramatic." Lucas rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. You felt triumphant as you felt the boys getting upset. Finally their smug acts were over. It was suffocating. You glared at the two massive men as they leaned on the kitchen island, glaring back at you.

"You actually hate Johnny?" You turn to see Mark on the sofa, pushing himself forward a little so he can see beyond the other men on the sofa. His face read of concern. Good. He should be concerned.

"That's what I've been trying to fucking tell everyone. My viewers, you guys, the commentary youtubers, your viewers, everyone! I'm not joking, I was never joking, I could sleep easy knowing I'd never see Johnny again." You turn your gaze back at Johnny who had that amused smirk back on his face.

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"And why is that?" You maneuver around the island to stand firmly in front of the human skyscraper. You felt your adrenaline pumping as the air grew more tense.

"Okay guys this is getting stupid. Stop before you do something dumb." Taeyong piped up, you could hear the annoyance in his voice. You stayed put, awaiting Johnny's response. He tilts his head upward and crosses his arms, feigning deep thought.

"Well I don't know, you always seem to be around me. And hm... I don't know... the fact that I did nothing to you." The venom in Johnny's voice made you shift in place with glee. It was very difficult to not smile. You were successfully getting under his skin.

Finally a man among your mutual streamer friends was the one someone made squirm for someone else's amusement. No more sexism and just flat out being a jerk for shock value. Or to just solely make you feel like shit while everyone else laughed. Now you were laughing while Johnny gritted his teeth.

"You see, you did do something and you know you did. Look it's just my personal opinion that you're a piece of dog shit." You finally let a smile stretch across your features as you let one of his signature lines rip.

"Ah, so that's what this is about?" Johnny scoffed, shifting his weight.

"Those are just jokes. You always take them way too seriously."

You feel the power dynamic shifting again. No, you weren't going to let him use this idiotic defense to gain his position back.

"If those are jokes then you're a shitty comedian." You walk closer to him, looking straight into his eyes as you over-enunciate each letter in your insult.

"Everyone else seems to like them." Johnny shrugs, keeping his composure. The dynamic was shifting once more. You snort at his reply.

"Who's "everyone"? The little boys in this room?" You hear the boys grumble in protest around you.

"Or your 12 year old fans who think saying the N word is a punchline. Very impressive audience, Kevin Hart." You chuckle. Johnny stayed quiet for a while nodding as he shifted back and forth. You could feel how no one was on your side, but you muscled forward, trying to ignore it.

"So you're telling me you hate me, because of some stupid jokes-"

You laugh loudly.

"Of course you take two steps back when you're backed into a corner."

"We're not stupid, ____. I get it, I'm a popular streamer and beef with me would get you some decent numbers. But keep it on stream, babe." He pats your shoulder and attempts to move past you.

"I would rather kick a toothpick under my toenail than be forced to coexist with you. I promise it's not a publicity stunt." You cross your arms tightly.

"Oh yeah?" Johnny's footsteps thunder past you as he reaches for a package of toothpicks. He brings them to the island, dumping them onto the countertop. Countless toothpicks clatter onto the granite, some spilling over onto the linoleum tiles. The guys groan and protest in the background, most notably, Taeyong.

"See- This is what the fuck I'm talking about, man. You guys are so fucking ridiculous."

(gore marker)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was the anger that Taeyong didn't understand why you loathed this man. It was the way Johnny's nostrils flared at you as he gestured to the toothpicks that egged you on. Your movements are theatrical as you take two fingers to lift a single toothpick from the countertop.

"No fucking way?!" Lucas cackled in disbelief. Everyone watched in awe as you saunter to the nearest wall, placing the toothpick under your right big toenail.

"____ cut it out! What the fuck?" Taeyong shot up from the couch, attempting to stop you but it was too late. The mixture of searing pain and screeches of disbelief and disgust overwhelmed your senses. The room spun as your eyesight faded in and out. You stumbled backwards but Taeyong caught you before you could fall. Your toe was burning hot while blood ran down from the wound in various directions. You didn't want to look at it. Taeyong scoops you up and quickly whisks you away to the bathroom.

The maddening discourse was just blurred background noise as Taeyong sat you on the toilet. Your vision was going blurry, hearing going in and out as Taeyong reprimanded you. You couldn't decipher a word he was saying.

"Could you shut up and take it out please." Hot tears poured down your cheeks. Taeyong paused, shutting the bathroom door. The decrease in volume brought you back down to earth. Unfortunately, this meant the pain was clear as well. You inhale sharply before exhaling shakily. Your foot shook violently as you finally saw the viscera. You whimpered worriedly, in disbelief at yourself. Your hands shook as well as you grabbed for something, anything. One hand landed on Taeyong's arm. The other tugged a towel off a bar, the poorly assembled bar coming down as well with a loud clang.

You began to sob, not knowing how to deal with the excruciating pain. You choked, looking away as Taeyong finally removed the toothpick. Your lips tremble as you attempt to stifle your sobs. You squeeze Taeyong's arm but your body never stops shaking.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you were serious."

"You still laughed." Your voice quivered. The words came out louder than you anticipated. Johnny probably heard that. Great.

You hiss loudly as Taeyong applies peroxide.

"You need to go to the hospital, this is worse than I thought."

"Yeah, whatever." You stay turned away from him and the wound. You hear him sigh.

You gave permission to Lucas to tell the story on his stream. You wanted people to know that you will not just sit pretty and giggle while a greasy man talks down to you. You do not associate with Johnny Suh. And now the world finally understood this fact.

Except, your plan backfired. People think you're insane. For good reason. The more days go by, the more idiotic you feel. Of course if backfired. Also, "jonssuh" was bigger than you. Of course people would side with him no matter what.

"People hate me now." You see the opportunity to steal Jisoo's knight, so quickly you do so.

"Checkmate." Jisoo utters as you realize your king is fucked from all directions.

"Fuck."

"You always take the bait so fast. Also, who cares if a bunch of racist white boys hate you. They're all probably 13 anyways." Jisoo starts to put the pieces away but you stop her.

"One more round. Also, that's what I said. But let's be real, they're not all 13. Full grown adults are calling me over-sensitive. Some of them are female as well. That shit hurts." You set up your side with a pout.

"Even so, their opinions still don't matter. They have horrible senses of humor. If "go make me a sandwich" makes them laugh, their opinion is no longer valid." You make you first move.

"I guess."

Even so, the comments and tweets still stuck in your brain. Some of the boys defend you over social media which made you feel a lot better. At the same time, however, it made you feel worse. Your mind flashes back to that night, the things the guys screamed were finally clear.

Mark was just repeating "oh my god" over and over while gagging. Lucas obnoxiously screamed "YOOO!". Typical. While Johnny... well he pressed both hands to either side of his head, repeating,

"You were serious?"

Yes you dipshit. How could he be so dense?

How are men this influential over you?

-

You wished Jungwoo streamed. He's so funny and sweet. Not to mention he would stick up for you with no hesitation when you were with the other streamers.

"I would've just slapped him as soon as he said you take his "jokes" too seriously."

"I know." You melted into Jungwoo as he traced shapes into your arm. Your cheek squished against his bare chest as his other hand smoothed over your hair. Your legs tangled together under the covers. Jungwoo kicks them away, muttering something about being hot. The motion causes his legs to brush firmly against your panty clad core. You whimper, digging your nails into the flesh of his bicep.

"Are you needy, princess?"

You nod sheepishly, humping lightly against his leg. He climbs on top of you, spreading your legs apart with his own. He grinds his bulge against your mound, sending shots of electricity up your legs. You look up into his dark eyes. His dark hair messy and half wet. His mouth hung open as he looked at your half naked figure with want.

You twitch, trying desperately to get as much friction as possible. His motions deepen as he grinds against you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thrusts get shorter, brushing perfectly against your hardened clit. Your lips brush against his, both breathing heavily. Your moans become audible as your legs quiver slightly.

He pulls away before freeing his newly erect penis. He jerks it a few times before pushing your panties aside and entering your sopping hole. Strangled noises escape your throat as he bottoms out. You use your legs to pull him even closer. You whimper loudly at how deep his tip burrowed into you.

His hips are poetic as they sway back and forth. His cock was warm and hard as a rock as it moved in and out of you. Your noses bump against each other as he bites your bottom lip. His moans whine and tempt as they twist into your ears. He bites the lobe of your left ear as his love noises increase in volume. You dig your heels into his ass as you let out shallow open-mouthed breaths.

Jungwoo slides his hands underneath your ass to give it a firm squeeze. While doing so he pushes himself even deeper than you imagined he could go. You curse and writhe, raking his back with your fingernails. You bite his shoulder, tears threatening to spill as your stomach tightens. Your wetness spread all over both of your upper thighs. His cock was nearly lost in a sea of your juices as it plummeted deep inside you.

Getting closer, you start bucking upwards. You chased your high feverishly, encouraged by the passion behind your hatred for Johnny Suh. You thought of him. You thought of him as you snapped your hips towards Jungwoo's. You grunt hungrily, thighs quaking as you blindly chased your high.

"I'm so fucking close-" You breathe out as you grind your hips up to meet his. He snaps his hips against yours, movements more erratic and moans more determined. Your pelvis feels hot, stomach tightly wound, and legs going increasingly numb as his cock barreling into you sends you over the edge. Your moans border on a scream as you tug at Jungwoo's hair.

You trail your nails down his neck and back as he continues to thrust sloppily. His hips snap violently a few more times as he ribbons sperm into you. Your chests heave against each other, skin searing hot to the touch.

"Is all that pent up frustration gone now?" He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he laughs. You just nod breathlessly. Your stomach flutters as he peppers soft kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

"I could tell that guy really pissed you off."

"Well it was more than just Johnny."

You were both silent for a moment.

“Taeyong too?” He lifts his head to look at you cautiously. You just nod wordlessly.

“It’s also the constant losing fight. I think it may be better to just separate myself from them completely.”

Jungwoo slides off of you, snuggling into your side.

“It must be really difficult.”

You pout slightly, tears pricking at your eyes. You were being such a baby.

“Yeah.”

“Especially with Taeyong not siding with you before the toothpick intervened. I honestly thought you and Taeyong would be an item.”

“Me too.” You chuckled, it seemed so stupid now.

“But he’s in a relationship now, with someone he knows I’ve hated for years now.” Saying it out loud, you couldn’t chuckle anymore.

“This is just a shitty situation, huh?” You force a smile, looking over at Jungwoo. He was far from smiling, however. It almost looked like he was going to cry for you.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, ___.” Jungwoo snuggled even closer to you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder again.

“Yeah, me too.” You replied numbly. You didn't know if you regretted Lucas telling his stream or... the entire thing.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　끝　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[pi-creates]

Top 5 Aasim Moments

Is anyone surprised that when CJ asked if people wanted to collaborate on a Top 5 post about a character that I’d choose my favourite pyro?

This was quite fun to talk about and I know everyone else who collaborated on this idea shared the sentiment. If you wanna check out some other lists:

@stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale talks about Louis @kaylee-wolf talks about James @taurusicorn2400 talks about Violet @akemi-rose578​ talks about Ruby

Though in all seriousness, Aasim is probably one of my favourite characters from the whole series, and I feel like even as a side-character he has some very good moments that reflect well on who he is as a person. And while most of what we see are only small details, I like what those little details could mean if they were expanded upon.

So yeah, here are my personal Top 5 Aasim Moments from the Final Season.

5. “Aasim was the third.”

“Aasim said you knew how to survive. He could just tell that the school would be safer with you there. I voted for you because I liked you, but his reason, it was better.” 

This is one of those things that I think sums up a lot about what kind of person Aasim is. He is thinking about the big picture and the long term consequences from a logical standpoint rather than a purely emotional one. Violet and Tenn have more emotional reasons for wanting Clementine and AJ to stay – and that is all fine and dandy, but I personally like the distinction that Tenn makes which implies that Aasim is trying to consider the future of everyone at the school. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been really nice to him or horrible, he sees Clementine and AJ as people they need to keep around if there’s some guy in the woods who has already taken some of the kids from the school before. It is simply a smarter move to keep the people who know how to survive close by when there may be an impending danger creeping around.

And I think it’s also really telling that he’s only known Clementine and AJ for a few days at the time of the vote, and he’s already gotten a read on their skills. It seems a little counter-intuitive given his sometimes awkward social abilities, but he’s clearly observant and using those observations to inform his decision making.

Plus on a personal level, I like that this shows Aasim as like a middle ground between Violet and Louis. Violet seems to vote in terms of Marlon deserving punishment, and therefore AJ did nothing wrong and shouldn’t receive any repercussions for his actions - whereas Louis just lost his friend and knows that AJ is a threat, and he’s voting from an emotional standpoint where he’s hurt and isn’t focusing on the future because of it.

I find both those mentalities realistic and in-character, but too extreme - Aasim is upset by the death of his friends, he acknowledges that Marlon had made some bad decisions, but he still votes for the pair to stay. He feels like the only character who is listening to the explanations and processing things clearly. 

Overall, I really like the way that Tenn tells us about this moment – I just wish that maybe this revelation came earlier in the plot so that we could potentially bring up the discussion with Aasim and thank him, or hear more of his thoughts overall.

4. Going hunting for rabbits

The only pure, one-on-one interaction you can have with Aasim. And I just wish there were more moments like this.

I like that Aasim will ask Clementine if she’s a good shot – and he will take her word for it and let her help without any undercurrent of doubt. And if you do well, he’s quick to say that it’s thanks to you that they’ll end up with more rabbits than expected today. 

It’s just nice, ya know? It’s an acknowledgement that we are making an effort and it is appreciated. 

And it once again gives you more insight into his priorities – he cares about the group and is hoping that Clem shares his mentality of prioritising the group’s wellbeing and survival first. That she is ok with putting the work in to make sure that they not only get through today, but tomorrow and the next.

Perhaps this is all down to personal preference – but in this series I really really like meeting characters with that mentality. There are too many groups that we meet who don’t have long-term plans, or their plan is essentially to make it up as they go along, take what they need and screw the consequences.

Forward thinking is a really good quality to have in the environment they’re all stuck in, and this scene cements that. I just wish there were more scenes where I could reciprocate having this mentality and potentially find a way to corroborate ideas on where the school is heading.

3. Standing up for Clementine and AJ during the Marlon drama

This is technically spread out between two parts – how Aasim deals with the twin revelation, and also how he deals with the aftermath of AJ shooting Marlon.

It is a very tense situation, emotions are running high, everyone has just learned some unhappy secrets, they are trying to process that Brody has just died, and a gun is being passed around like a hot potato and pointed everywhere. A lot of the kids are confused and unsure if what they’re hearing is truth or lie. 

And naturally, since Marlon doesn’t want the truth to come out like that, he isn’t trying to clear things up. If he doesn’t let Clem explain either and simply paints her as the threat and the liar then it is easier for him to gloss over the details. And in reality, no one wants to believe someone they trusted would hide something so heavy from them – and some people would rather continue to trust them because that feels better. That makes us feel like we haven’t been betrayed.

But Aasim doesn’t do that. He wants to hear the story, and he makes sure he shuts Marlon down in his attempts to stop Clementine from explaining herself. Keep in mind, this is also at a time when Marlon has the gun, and is threatening to shoot Clem if she doesn’t shut up. To speak up at all in this moment is dangerous, especially when you are siding against the person with the gun.

I know that the main point of this scene is to appeal to either Louis or Violet – but we shouldn’t forget that we didn’t need to appeal to Aasim for him to stand up for you in his own way. He does that for himself because it’s the right thing to do – you let people explain themselves when something happens. He might not get in the middle of the fight like Louis or Violet, but I still appreciate that he picks up that something is wrong and gives Clem the opportunity to speak up.

Yet of course, we know what happens at the end of that episode regardless of how we play this final scene. 

Marlon gets shot. AJ doesn’t understand why everyone is angry. Violet pulls her cleaver out and tells Clem and AJ to go inside, while pretty much everyone else is stuck somewhere between wanting to punch someone and bursting into tears.

While everyone is stuck in this limbo of anger and sadness, Clem leads AJ back towards the dorms. And Mitch isn’t pleased in the slightest and pulls his little knife on the duo. And this is the second time in this whole drama that Aasim steps in to deescalate. 

If you choose the silent option [...] or let the timer run out on this choice, Aasim will tell Mitch off, telling him to stop and that what he is doing isn’t helping.

It’s a little thing, but if people have seen me comment on argumentative scenes in these game, I don’t like when characters don’t know how to deescalate. So having a character blatantly point out how fighting fire with fire sometimes just causes a bigger fire and burns everyone – yeah, I appreciate that. Any character who deescalates is a good thing in this series.

2. Watching out for his friends on the boat

Imagine being on that boat, being scared and hearing your friends in clear distress, when suddenly someone appears to break you out – and instead of simply saying “great, get me the hell outta here”, Aasim and Omar wait for Clem to attend to Louis/Violet first.

They know that the highest priority at that moment isn’t them, it’s their friend who has received more direct attention from Lilly.

But then of course things get worse and Clem gets caught too. And Regardless of who is captured, the first thing Clementine hears when trying to find an escape is Aasim asking her if she’s alright. Thanks for checking in, Aasim, that’s a good friend move there.

And that’s his whole thing with the boat – he is watching out for everyone else there. He watches out for Clem who just got there, and in the escape from the boat he is either being the shoulder for Omar to lean on, or he beelines over to Louis to support him after his ordeals from being captured.

He just... aaah, he’s being a good friend and trying to help. It isn’t self-preservation that drives his actions, it’s the preservation of the group as a whole. After everything that happened on that boat, I don’t think we could blame the characters if they wanted to hightail it out of there without thinking. Aasim doesn’t forget about his friends in spite of how scared he tells us he is. How can I see this and not think he’s just an incredible friend to have in the apocalypse?

1. Protecting Willy from the raiders

This is another point with two parts.

The first part is obvious – Mitch has just been stabbed in the throat, and Willy is prepared to run out there into the thick of things. It is only Aasim being quick to grab a hold of him that stops the boy from meeting a similar fate.

And it’s awful to think about – Mitch was a friend to both of them, they’re both probably shocked, hurting, and they don’t have the time to do anything about it. They can’t save him, it’s too late, and they can’t mourn him or do anything. Somehow, Aasim can at least keep his head clear enough to stop Willy from getting himself hurt too. And I can’t help but feel how bad that must hurt emotionally too, to be forced to hold everything back because you have to prioritise everything else over your friend who is dying.

Yet they don’t break. They keep moving. It takes a lot of inner strength to not crumble, and these two manage.

But then there is the second part to this point – and hear me out, we’re entering speculation territory.

The raid continues, and the kids carry on with their plan and fall-back to the admin building. They set off their traps, end up stuck up stairs, and Abel decides to throw a molotov towards them. In the next moment Clem and AJ go into the headmaster’s office, and Aasim and Willy turn and move somewhere down the hallway.

We don’t see either of them again until Clem is outside and given the choice to save Louis or Violet. And when we do see them, it’s seeing Aasim unconscious in the back of the cart, and then Willy suddenly appears behind Clem as he exits the admin building.

…

How?

Aasim and Willy were together when we last saw them, and yet somehow Aasim got caught and Willy stayed in the admin building somewhere?

It doesn’t make sense to me. Aasim had been shown as the one who would be less likely to get caught out of the pair. And surely if they managed to get Aasim they should have been able to more easily get Willy too, right? So why didn’t they?

The most logical answer I can come up is that Aasim got caught while attempting to keep Willy hidden from the other raiders. Whether he was playing distraction and got caught in that task, or if he simply didn’t have time to hide/run after Willy got somewhere safe, in either case I feel like that’s a huge risk to take to save someone else. 

But he does that, and I think it’s an incredibly selfless move to make. And I really do believe he will do that - I believe he cares enough to go the extra mile to keep his friends safe.

And I want the details. I love everything that is implied in these moments, but I want those details solidified.

That is the thing about me adoring Aasim as a character - there’s less concrete information to latch onto, but what is there is good. 

Are there any other things I missed that you guys love? Let me know - always happy to talk about the pyro.

[writeyouin]

Rodimus X Techbug – Guardian Prime (COMMISSION)

Description – When a new Autobot joins the Lost Light, Rodimus seeks to become their mentor. However, when he learns of Techbug’s difficult past, he might find the task harder than he expected.

A/N – Hey @ask-tf-techbug​, I hope this is what you had in mind. If you want anything editing, just say the word and I’ll do it ASAP. In the meantime, thank you very much for the commission.

WARNINGS – Smut. NSFW. Mentions of abuse.

RATING – M

WORD COUNT – 2173

Rodimus walked with a spring in his step, eager to meet Techbug, the newest recruit to the Lost Light. Ultra Magnus had warned Rodimus of Techbug’s past. Originally an Autobot who had been captured at the start of the war, he had been forced into the Decepticon ranks. Techbug had been controlled through abuse, manipulation, and torture; it had turned him into one of the Decepticons’ most ruthless killers, Silentdeath. Now that the war was over and Techbug was free to start his life anew. He had been sent to the Lost Light to receive therapy from Rung, who specialised in treating PTSD, among other things.

Although Rodimus knew of the infamous Silentdeath, it didn’t taint his opinion of Techbug; after all, Drift had once been a Decepticon, and he’d managed to turn his life around. With the right mentor, Techbug would be just fine, and Rodimus was determined to be that mentor, if only to prove to Ultra Magnus that he could be responsible when he wanted to be; besides, how hard could it really be, being a mentor?

Finally, Rodimus reached Techbug’s new hab-suite, whereupon he rapped a playful tune on the door.

“Hey Techbug,” Rodimus greeted with a wink once the door was opened, “I’m Rodimus, the co-captain of the Lost Light. Nice to meet ya.”

Rodimus didn’t let his surprise at Techbug’s appearance show. He wasn’t small enough to be a mini-bot, yet he couldn’t have been taller that fifteen feet, only coming up to Rodimus’ chassis. He also had a similar appearance to Earthen cats, with a white tipped tail that sharply contrasted his orange colour scheme, and cat audials to match; it was rare to find bots that were shaped after organic creatures. Moreover, Rodimus couldn’t help feeling that Techbug was slender, more like a femme than a mech. To be perfectly candid, Rodimus found Techbug cute.

“Hi…” He whispered quietly in response, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know Rodimus; what he would give to be more comfortable with strangers like most other bots were.

“So,” Rodimus beamed, ignoring the tension. “You want a tour of my ship? It’ll help you get more acquainted.”

Techbug gave a small nod and left his hab-suite, following closely behind Rodimus, who slipped easily into the role of charismatic tour-guide.

They were about three-quarters of the way through the tour when something Rodimus said piqued Techbug’s interest.

“This is one of three labs that we have aboard the ship. As you can see, uh- Techbug?” Rodimus looked behind him, sure that the bot had been there a minute ago.

“Look at this, it’s all brand new,” Techbug marvelled, zooming around the lab. “Is that a GR-91 Centrifuge? I haven’t seen one in real life before. The Cons’ never let me into their labs and they only had old ones anyway. Do you know how fast this could separate particles? It could- Uh… I mean… Sorry for getting so over-excited… I’ll- I’ll be quiet now.”

Rodimus grinned cockily, “Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s cool to see you so excited. You like this lab? Then take it. Nobody else uses it anyway. Brainstorm and Perceptor each have one, so you may as well get this one if you want it.”

“Primus,” Techbug’s tail piece twitched in anticipation, “All of this for me, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.”

‘Oh, but it is,’ Silentdeath, Techbug’s alternate personality growled maliciously inside his processor. ‘It’s a very big deal, right Techie? What have you done to deserve this? Nothing! You’ve done nothing for this, betrayer.’

“Be quiet,” Techbug hissed.

“What was that?” Rodimus asked, having missed Techbug’s warning.

‘Ooh, he’s listening to our private conversation. We don’t want that now, do we. You should stare him down. One look from our outlier ability and the only time he’ll speak is with Primus in the Afterspark.’

“Stop,” Techbug whispered.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Rodimus placed a soothing hand on Techbug’s shoulder-plate. “Med-bay isn’t far from here, I could take you to see Ratchet.”

‘HE WANTS TO TAKE YOU TO MED-BAY! You remember what happens in med-bay, right? They’ll recode you again, and they’ll make sure it hurts. I can’t wait to hear your pathetic screams when they tear you apart and put you back together again. Such sweet agony.’

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Techbug pushed Rodimus, making him stumble backwards.

Before Rodimus could protest, Techbug fixed him with a hard glare, feeling his outlier ability rising up from within, burning quickly through his already low energon supply. With the ability to freeze or kill an enemy with a look, Techbug had been one of the Decepticons’ best weapons. With a full fuel tank, he could have frozen up to three mechs, as it was however, Techbug only managed to freeze Rodimus in time before a warning flashed on his visor: ENERGON LEVEL CRITICAL. SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL ENGAGED.

Techbug passed out and Rodimus was stuck, aware of everything yet unable to help. Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for Rodimus to be released from the effects of the outlier ability, allowing him to move freely once again.

He vented the excess air from his systems, eyeing up Techbug tiredly, “Something tells me that you’re going to be a bit of a handful… I’m really glad you left your swords back at the hab-suite.”

“I’m sorry,” Techbug murmured, unable to look Rodimus in the optics. The two were in the med-bay, where Rodimus had carried him after his energon burnout. “I didn’t mean to freeze you up like that… I was- He made me do it.”

“He? You mean Silentdeath?” Rodimus asked, feeling sorry for yet another bot whose mentality had been damaged in the war.

Techbug looked uncomfortable at the mention of his Decepticon name.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. We’ve all made mistakes, y’know, except for me, ‘cos Primus broke the mould, I was far too perfect even for him.”

Techbug snickered and Rodimus shot imaginary finger guns at him, “And the bot does know how to laugh. Good for you buddy. Anyway, is there anything you wanna do next? I’m okay staying here for a while if you want, but now that you’re energised, I was thinking we could do something fun. What do you say?”

Going against his social anxiety, Techbug nodded, “Something fun sounds good, Captain.”

After a few weeks aboard the Lost Light, Techbug started to come out of his shell. Silentdeath was quieter than he had ever been before. Techbug hadn’t used his outlier ability since he’d frozen Rodimus. With Rung’s help during therapy, he was even confronting some of his worst memories which he had always shut away in an attempt to forget; it wasn’t easy, and it usually left Techbug feeling a little worse for wear, but in the long run, he knew it would be helpful. Best of all, Techbug had even been making friends among the crew. He still gravitated towards Rodimus, but who wouldn’t? Rodimus was charming, funny, handsome, had a great aft-

Techbug blushed, snapping his eyes away from Rodimus’ aft which he had blatantly been staring at as Rodimus went to buy the next round of high-grade energon for them.

“Seems like you have a little crush,” Dogfight smirked, taking a seat next to Techbug and wrapping his arm chummily around him. “The name’s Dogfight.”

“T-Techbug,” Techbug whispered his name quietly, going ridged at Dogfight’s uninvited touch.

“Yeah. I know all about you. Been watching you for a while. You’ve got a few admirers yourself, by the way. I should know, I’m one of them. That’s actually why I’m here. I was thinking that maybe you could ditch Hot-Wheels over there,” He gestured to Rodimus. “-and come spend some time with me. Maybe even see where the night leads, if you catch my drift.”

Dogfight stroked the inside of Techbug’s thighs sensuously, leading his way up to his interface panel. Supressed memories of Techbug’s past surfaced, hitting him like a freight train. He remembered how the Decepticons had used him for sex. They had called him names, debased him, forced their way into his interface panel, made him their slave in the berth as well as away from it. Techbug felt like he might purge his tanks if he didn’t escape Dogfight’s touch.

Once again, he concentrated on his outlier ability, though this time he was in full control of it as he froze Dogfight in place and extricated himself from his hold. On a full energon supply, Techbug was not weakened by the use of his outlier, however it did not stop him from feeling nauseous as he ran back to his hab-suite, trying desperately to forgot Dogfight’s unwanted advance.

As soon as Rodimus saw Dogfight frozen in space where Techbug had once been, he abandoned the high-grade energon he’d just bought. He rushed out of Swerve’s and immediately transformed, driving speedily towards Techbug’s hab-suite.

“Techbug,” Rodimus called, banging on the door, worried that he might be too late to stop one of Techbug’s episodes. “It’s me, Rodimus. Are you in there?”

As he was left waiting, Rodimus seriously considered using his override code to unlock the door, but before he could do so, Techbug opened it, wiping coolant from his optics.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rodimus. You should just go, I’ll be alright.”

“You’re clearly not fine. What happened back there? I just looked up and you were gone. You should at least talk about whatever it is. Was it something to do with Dogfight? Did you have another accident? Was it Silentdeath again?” Rodimus rushed through the list of possibilities, speaking faster with each question.

Finally, Techbug relented and let Rodimus in, if only to stop the persistent questions.

“I- I just- I got spooked and I couldn’t be there anymore. I only wanted to be with you tonight anyway.”

“Me?” Rodimus pointed dumbly at himself. “Why? Were you feeling shy or something?”

Feeling simultaneously vulnerable, frustrated, and like he needed some attention, Techbug threw his arms around Rodimus’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Thankfully, Rodimus didn’t question the action as he returned the kiss, pressing his mouth hungrily against Techbug’s as if they couldn’t get close enough.

Up till now Rodimus had ignored any lingering romantic ideas of Techbug, worried that by being a mentor, he would only pressure his ward. Since Techbug had initiated the kiss however, Rodimus saw no reason to reject the advance.

Rodimus yelped as Techbug’s nimble fingers tugged at his neck cables. He broke off the kiss, staring uncertainly at Techbug. “Are you sure?” He asked, alluding to the prospect of interfacing.

“Yes,” Techbug vented air out of his vents eagerly. He had never interfaced because he wanted to before, it was always because he had to; this was new and exciting and he could already feel his spike straining to be free of his interface panel.

Rodimus reached tentatively for Techbug’s aft, massaging it gently as he made his way to the berth, falling against it rather than laying on top of it. Techbug’s interface panel slid open, his spike rubbing against Rodimus’ inner thigh.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” Rodimus joked.

Techbug’s face-plates flushed red and his cat-like tail lashed impatiently from side to side, “I want to see yours too. I want to ride you like a hover-bike.”

Rodimus’ engines revved, “Looks like you already found the ignition.” He lifted Techbug up, letting him wrap his legs around his waist. “Now all that’s left is to get on.”

He inserted his spike into Techbug’s valve, moaning at how good it felt. Although he had planned to take it slow for their first time, Rodimus was surprised as Techbug forced himself down on Rodimus’ spike.

“I’m not that delicate,” Techbug whispered huskily.

Taking the hint, Rodimus gripped Techbug’s hips and pulled him onto the berth, so that Techbug was on top; most bots assumed that Rodimus liked to be on top but in truth he found it nice to be submissive on occasion.

Techbug began gyrating on Rodimus’ spike, growling with lust every time it pressed against his anterior node. He was desperate. He needed this attention. He basked in the warmth of Rodimus’ presence. Rodimus however, sought to toy with Techbug, reaching low to rub at his spike.

Techbug bit his lip to keep from crying out as Rodimus jacked him off. It wasn’t long before tips of transfluid beaded the top of Techbug’s spike.

“Delicious,” Rodimus purred, looking Techbug in the optics as he gathered the trans-fluid off his spike and licked it off his servo.

“Primus!” Techbug squeaked, feeling his overload building up. “I- I-” Techbug never got to finish his sentiment as Rodimus overloaded with a loud moan, followed closely by him.

He was going to tell Rodimus that he loved him, but at that moment, the words didn’t matter, and by the look on Rodimus’ face, he thought that Rodimus might know already anyway.

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa

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

Chapter 9

The Griefcast Record

Keanu got out of the taxi at Whistledown Studios and headed in. Cariad and the recoding team greeted him and they got set up with teas, biscuits and a box of tissues on the table

“God, it’s just like a therapist’s room!” he joked

“Best to be prepared! They might be for me anyhow” she laughed.

Before we start though, can I just spend a moment being a fangirl and just say how amazing it is for me to meet you. There are so many films of yours I love – and my kids adore Duke Caboom!”

“ahh yes, Canada’s Greatest Stuntman” he boomed - “that was a fun role”

“and so perfectly cast right?”

“Yeah yeah I guess. I’m glad they picked me from the roster of Canadians they had lined up!”

“Ok, so thanks for letting me just gush for a moment! Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!”

“First tell me the story of how we managed to get you as a guest.”

“Ok so right, so errm my friend Kerry is the link. I was filming in Cornwall this past year and uh, after we wrapped I was so charmed by the place that I decided to stay and rent a place for a couple of months down there. Kerry was my landlady and one day I came across her walking along the beach, tears streaming down her face and she was listening to your show which she highly recommended to me. I admit it took a bit of persuading to listen, given the crying thing!, but she told me it was more reassuring and uplifting than upsetting. Anyway, so sorry, this is turning into a shaggy dog tale!, so I did give it a go, really loved it

“Oh thank you”

“So then one day we were discussing an episode about baby loss, something we had in common and had talked about before and she said I should do the show. Now THAT took a lot more thought and persuasion, but she said it would do me good and there would be the angle of the man’s perspective and being someone with a public profile going through loss and you know yada, yada yada so here I am, finally!

“That’s amazing and thank you so much to Kerry for listening to the show and for your persuasive talents in getting this lovely man here today. So Keanu, as you know we always start with this question. Who are we remembering today?”

“Today we’re remembering my daughter Ava who was stillborn 23 years ago this year.”

“Ok so would you mind telling me a little bit about what happened.”

“So, ahh, it was in the spring of 1999. The Matrix had just come out and my life was pretty full on. My girlfriend Jennifer became pregnant around that time. It was unplanned and I’ll be honest, I wasn’t super happy about it at first, but she wanted to keep the baby and I said I’d support her, you know, and as time went on I was more excited than worried about becoming a dad.”

“And how was the pregnancy? How far along was Jennifer when Ava died?”

“Everything seemed fine, she, Ava was growing and developing normally. Jen was healthy. Then I was away filming, a god awful project as well! And, Um, ahh, give me a minute” Keanu cleared his throat and took a drink of water.

“I swore I wouldn’t do this” he said gesturing at himself tearing up, his voice cracking slightly “but sometimes, the memories can be, uhhh, very powerful, very vivid”

“Yes you can be taken right back like it just happened can’t you, however long ago - you know I’m 20 plus years out now and still very occasionally I can be catapulted back there. So, everything looked good but you were away, filming - and I’m sure it can’t have been an awful film”

Keanu snorted

“I assure you it was!, yes anyway, Jen went for a last check up at a little over 8 months and uh, there was no heartbeat. Ava had died and so I flew home and she had to, you know, give birth in a maternity unit, hearing all the other babies being born - I mean they have to do it there because you still might need, you know, that expertise and they tried to keep us private but those places they get busy and she had to go through all that with those sounds sometimes breaking through”

“Yes I hear that that is a common experience here in the UK too and one that SANDS, the still birth charity is trying to address. It’s interesting your choice of words: “she went through that”, presumably you were there so didn’t you go through it too?”

“Yeah, yeah - I guess, I just meant that it was worse, more traumatic mentally for her and obviously physically too”

“Sure sure, but awful for both of you nonetheless”

“Indeed, it was” Keanu paused a moment as though something important had just occurred to him “and she was beautiful too you know”

“awwwww” Cariad moaned sympathetically

“she was beautiful, perfect and warm, just silent, still”

Keanu looked up at Cariad, his eyes filled with tears once more and they both just sat for a moment, taking in the pain of his loss. Eventually, Cariad started the conversation again.

“And did you both hold her? Did the hospital staff help you, you know, to say goodbye to her?”

Yeah yeah, we did hold her. They left us be for a good amount of time, they took prints of her hands and feet and a photograph. You know they were supportive in that way, especially as we knew already, you know, that she had died, they were prepared. I don’t think we were, I mean I don’t think you can prepare for that, right? Your brain won’t let you, not really.”

“Yeah yeah, we talk about that a lot on the show, there are people who say it’s better when someone dies of an illness so you know it’s coming whereas with a sudden death you suffer more shock but I still think there’s a degree of shock you experience even when you have some warning.

“Yeah yeah and it’s so stupid, we’re all just so dumb because death is coming man, to us all but we just don’t want to think about it!” He chuckled

“So are you someone who thinks about death a lot?”

“Yeah yeah it’s always there in the back of my mind, spurring me on to do things, make that film, write that script, build that bike!”

“And do you think that’s because of losing Ava?”

“I don’t know, no not really, well maybe a little but that’s come more with getting older I think - I didn’t really have that reaction at the time”

“So what was your reaction, how did you grieve for Ava?”

Another chuckle came from Keanu.

“A more appropriate question might be how didn’t I grieve for her, at the time I mean!”

“Oh?”

“Hee hee you’re like a therapist, leaving the gaps for me to fill!”

“Some of my critics say I interrupt too much and start talking about me so…..”

“We’ll that’s not very nice is it? And also not true!”

“Thanks - Comes with the territory I guess, so please, go on, fill the gap”

“What was the question again?”

“It was about how you did or didn’t grieve for Ava after her birth?”

“Mmmm well we buried her, in the new year, she was born on Christmas Eve, which is uhhh, another tricky thing about it”

“Oh that’s awful, death on high days and holidays just adds another layer right?”

“Yeah yeah. They do - so um after that I went to Georgia to shoot a movie!”

“So you threw yourself into work then?”

“Yup, my trusty friend in times of crisis. In fact I did, let me see, 1, 2, 3, yes 3 movies in the next year and then started training for the Matrix 2 and 3 so I guess the answer is I put my feelings in a tightly locked metaphorical box and didn’t open it for quite some time!”

“And was there intrusion from the press , I guess this is pre the days of the internet being so developed and social media but how was that side of it?”

“Yeah there was some, you know photographers with long lenses at the cemetery”

“God! I can’t imagine”

“Yeah pretty low, right but in a way because of the taboo of stillbirth, people, you know interviewers and stuff, didn’t ask me about it. I mean I would sometimes say “no personal questions” but at other times that hasn’t stopped people.”

“Oh like what?”

“I’m thinking of when River, River Phoenix died, even if I said I wouldn’t answer anything personal they would still ask how I felt, did I miss him. I mean, fuck! Oh sorry I can swear right?”

“Swear away, sure, and god, fuck yeah, that deserved it. I mean obviously that’s a bit of a contradiction coming from me given we’re here and I’m making you talk about private things but”

“But I agreed, that’s the deal here, it’s not the deal to segue from “how was it jumping onto a moving bus to “how do you feel about your best friend dying!”

“Absolutely. So you said you dealt with it, but much later? What about Jennifer, how did she cope?”

“Umm, I don’t know - I mean what’s normal in that situation? She cried, she wailed like a wounded animal. Her mum moved in. I was away and not there to support her like I should have been. We weren’t really a couple either by then. We were going to co-parent but not as a romantic couple you know so it was complicated. To be honest I think a little bit of her died right then - and then she died herself the following April so you know, what you see before you is the last man standing of that family unit that might have been.”

“Woo that’s tough. You’ve really been through the mill as it were.”

“Yeah, yeah but you know I AM still standing. I’m lucky.”

“And how did Jennifer die?”

“Car wreck”

“I’m so sorry”

“Thanks, me too”

“So how is that, being the only one left? Some people talk about losing key people as losing their witness.”

“Yes! That’s it, exactly. Now it’s just me here to remember Ava, to remember her coming in and out of this world”

Yeah yeah that’s hard. So you said you dealt with it later? How did that come about?”

“Midlife crisis I guess - when I turned 40, I had a bit of a meltdown, you know, wondering about my goals, what I had or hadn’t achieved. I basically “ran away” alone to Paris on my 40th birthday, to escape any awful surprise party! And you know, I quietly fell apart in a vat of wine! When I went home my friend Janey was just like “Keanu, it’s time, time for therapy!”

“Ahhh it’s great isn’t it, big fans of that on the show!”

“Yeah I guess, I mean, ahhh I wasn’t that comfortable taking the lid off but yeah it did me a favour and helped sort my shit out. And a lot of the guilt and pain of losing Ava was gone through belatedly during that process”

“And why did you feel guilty?”

“Mmmm well I think I started to think I was a curse - my sister had been sick with leukemia, Ava had died, Jen had died, River, others as well and I felt guilty for that stupid film I was working on when it happened! So yeah, there were lots of rocks to lift up, inspect what lay beneath and deal with my emotions.”

“Well you seem like you have your shit sorted now”

“I’m a work in progress!”

“So now you’re, 23 years on, how do you remember Ava and Jen now.”

“Well it’s hard to forget the day for Ava what with it being Christmas Eve. I sometimes visit their graves - after dark if I can to avoid being hounded”

“What has the world come to when a person can’t be left in peace to visit a loved one’s resting place”

“Yeah it’s fucked up right?”

“Precisely.”

“And what else? , well I do have one little thing that my friend Alex who’s an artist, made for me. It was because of something she said she did to remember her lost loved ones. She would get a Christmas ornament that in some way represented the person and hang it on her tree at Christmas. So she made this beautiful little stained glass bird to hang up on my tree or in the house if I don’t have a tree which sometimes happens. So, uh, Ava’s name in Latin would mean bird or bird like so that’s why she did that, yes so I always think of her then and you know I would think about where she would be at a given point like when my friends kids have started school again after summer break I would think “oh Ava would be starting you know kindergarten or elementary school etc.”

“And do your family share in that?”

“Yeah, yeah - especially my mom. She has no grandchildren so yeah she remembers and we’ll have a moment sometimes yeah but it can be lonely, not having the other parent there who shares the same loss.”

“Yes I’m sure it is. Grief can be very lonely sometimes. Well, Keanu I really can’t thank you enough for coming on my little podcast and sharing your experience of baby loss and loss in the public spotlight with us today. Thank you so much for telling us about your beautiful baby girl Ava and her mum Jen.”

“Thanks for having me - I know this might sound weird, but it’s been a pleasure talking with you and remembering them today so, thank you and thanks to Kerry who suggested it. She said it would be good for my soul and she, as always, was right!”

@fortheloveoffanfic @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @paperplanesandwallflowers @patric9

[interstellix]

november; epilepsy awareness month

since november is epilepsy awareness month, I’ve been considering dropping something like this for a while now, though hesitated since I wasn’t sure how many it would reach out to. however, not too long ago, I got the request of writing about it and explain what it is like to live with the condition (thank you anon :’)) and i figured that, really, there’s no harm in doing it. so, i decided to put this out there and hope that this reaches out to as many people as possible. admittedly, this ended up longer than planned but if you still decide to read it, thank you, big kudos to you :)

before actually going on, i may add that epilepsy, like most conditions, is something that varies from person to person so part of this is written based on my own experience with it - if a fellow epileptic wants me to add something, or feels like there’s something to correct, please do let me know.

i'm writing this purely to let people know about at least some of the pain with epilepsy, because it's not just having seizures. it's also worrying your family and friends, having to adjust your lifestyle to it (which i’ll come to a lil bit later), medicination, the side-effects of medicination, the fear of forgetting medication, the side-effects of forgetting taking medication even just a single day, possible anxiety or depression, embarrassment, hospital visits, tests, not being able to do certain things you want to do, people joking about it and making fun of you, scary and random body jerks, fear of waking up in an ambulance, fear of waking up with serious injuries or fear of not waking up at all - all of these are things that come with epilepsy and it's more of a pain than, to be honest, non-epileptics can imagine.

all that said, to those who have heard about epilepsy (or not at all) but don’t know what it actually means, is a neurological disorder; the activity in your brain becomes abnormal and uneven which mostly leads to seizures but also various sensations or loss of awareness. so it’s not constantly on-going and only actually happens when something triggers the brain to have that abnormal activity. it can happen to anyone, and when i say anyone, i mean anyone can have seizures, it’s just that it doesn’t automatically always mean that you have epilepsy (basically, epilepsy -> seizure; seizure -> not always epilepsy).

again, the condition is different from epileptic to epileptic, meaning that the triggers for seizures can vary a lot and depending on what kind of epilepsy it concerns. my own main triggers are flashing lights (also called photosensitive epilepsy) and lack of sleep but it can also be stress, skipping meals, overeating caffeine/alcohol/drugs/medicine, head trauma (aka head injury), brain damage (for example a tumor or stroke), etc.

symptoms for seizures can also vary. i’ve noticed that a lot of people think it’s always going unconscious and violently shaking/jerking, but it can also be staring blankly at nothing for a short amount of time, losing awareness, have rapid twitches in arms and/or legs, body stiffening, muscles going limp, and on and on.

honestly, one particular thing i feel like people need to know is that epileptics are just as human as others. aside from the condition itself, it socially and emotionally feels like shit when we’re treated differently. what i’ve, personally, often seen epilepsy being treated as contagious, a disease, mental disorder/illness or psychological disorder is in reality a neurological disorder. for the love of god, please take that into mind when you meet someone with epilepsy (especially if it’s your first time) because, while there’s nothing wrong with any of those, it’s really not fun when people treat you like it. we’re still human, and more human than those who think otherwise. on top of that, most epileptics are able to live just like anyone else, sometimes perhaps on the cost of adjusting your lifestyle to it, but by the end of the day many of us can live the same way as anyone else.

adding to that, if someone actually opens up to you about their epilepsy, tbh i hope you’re feeling grateful. for some, it’s not always an easy topic to talk about it so when they actually do let you on about it, you should know that it’s because they’re putting their trust in you.

something else i want to bring up is the do’s and don’t’s if you see someone have a seizure. it can be scary, understandable and this might sound ridiculous, but stay calm, for the sake of yourself, the person who’s having the seizure and people in your surroundings. this one got quite lengthy, so i’ll put it under the divider. thank you for making it this far, seriously, but it’d be great if you continued since this, no joke, can save a life.

time the seizure: most seizures end within a few minutes but if it’s still going on after five minutes, call an ambulance, whether you know if they have a history of seizures or not (what goes that, you can also check if the person is wearing some kind of epilepsy i.d)

surroundings (brief mention of blood): basically, bring the person away from harmful objects. to bring up my own personal examples, i have, during two different seizures, hit my head against a table (literally broke the entire thing) and against a shelf. while the first one miraciously didn’t give me more than a bump, the latter caused a jack and i ended up bleeding from my head. keep in mind though, that the objects don’t always have to be harmful for the head, but any part of the person’s body. obviously (i hope), bring them out from water if that’s where the seizure started.

turn the person to lay on their side: while they’re still unconscious, don’t let them lay on their back as this can block the airway. instead, put something soft under their head and loosen anything tight that might be around their neck.

don’t put anything in their mouth: for the love of god, just don’t. be it food or a cloth or something of that kind. a lot of people do especially the latter to prevent the person to bite their tongues off or swallow it (no, you don’t) but this just increases the risk of blocking their airway or making them choke on it. yet again my own personal example, this happened during my first seizure and i ended up having a cardiac arrest (how the hell i’m still alive, i still don’t know).

don’t restrain or hold their body: aside from turning them to lay on the side, don’t restrain their body, for example holding onto the parts that are jerking. this can also cause injuries or make it more aggressive.

stay with them: not only during but also after the seizure, stay with them. seizures are really, really exhausting both the brain activity and since the muscles in their body stiffen during the seizure. it can also cause one hell of a confusion/dizziness and stress so stay with them and calmly explain what happened as well as where you are. if you called for medical help, please, try to wait until they’ve arrived.

don’t give them cpr during the seizure: just don’t, it’ll only make it worse. you can, however, do it after the seizure in case the person doesn’t wake up and has stopped breathing.

also, if you’re an angel like @astronomlns and warn an epileptic for something that might include flashing/rapid lights, i love you and hope you’re having a good day :D

[friendofthecrows]

Posting a way more in-depth description of my alters than any of you want or need because why not

Keiko: friendliest, nicest, cutest, acts the youngest. Used to front a lot when we were hanging out with friends. Still essentially like the rest of us in that she has the same personality disorders (pointing this out because you wouldn’t guess she has ASPD but we all do. No, none of us are “more of a psychopath” or evil vs good or whatever compared to one another). She just seems more able to feel/express the positive spectrum of emotions, she hasn’t repressed it or detached herself from it as much. She/her pronouns. Aroace. Current fave thing: either MLP or stimboards

Miyuki: calm, collected, responsible, acts like a gatekeeper of the system a lot as in she’s the only one we can actually trust to moderate the rules objectively. Also has pulled people out or put people in control before. Less “control panel” access than say Jokul or I though, but probably only due to lack of practice. THE most sane one (idk how that works either) and the one with the least emotional turmoil. Used to wonder if 1. She was capable of caring about people and 2. If she actually felt any emotions at all. The answer is yes she does, she just Bottles Them Up Completely. We are taking it in faith that she feels stuff because the body cried once while she was in control. Pronouns: she/her. Sexuality: ???? when it comes to romance, but definitely ace. Current fave thing: tea, specifically a nice warming oolong like Da Hong Pao.

Yahto: (me!) people are suggesting ways to describe me and it is mean. For most of my knowledge of my own existence as a separate alter, I’ve kind of assigned myself the role of protector. I was very functional as well! Confident (bordering on insufferably arrogant), and with the level of detachment from my emotions I had at the time as well as my complete lack of fear, perfectly suited to deal with a wide variety of situations. Only if we were okay with other people thinking we’re weird because I used to have a worse filter than I have now. I experienced fear for the first time 3.5 years ago right alongside the strongest emotions I’ve ever felt and my mental health has been spiraling downwards ever since :) Also I am literally the most stubborn person you will ever meet. He/him pronouns. Anything having to do with orientation is a big question mark right now, I just know I’m probably not interested in men. I HAVE dated women but tbh I’m no longer sure if I’m even interested in them. Current fave thing: yahto.exe stopped working 38 hours of being awake ago. Uh,,,,idk sorry How about reading fzanfic to pass the time fnafic fanfic

Jezebeth (Jez): (headspace bestie! Great at writing horror poems!) Does Not Care About People but also surprisingly extremely chill. When she’s enthusiastic about something, she’s REALLY ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT IT but otherwise mostly just stays quiet and has a nice time Observing. People either find her really fun to be around or creepy. No in between. She went through a phase where she thought it was funny to creep people out by saying really messed up things so that probably didn’t help. Actually, DURING said phase, she single-handedly made and maintained the best in-school friendship we ever had for 4 years. Literally none of us talked to her except for Jez. She just had endless “creepy” conversation topics and Robin thought it was *amazing. * She/her pronouns, I have no idea sexuality wise simply because she does not talk about that kind of thing. Current fave thing: inking pens :)

Jokul: (sworn enemy, tried to kill myself once to take him down with us) Perfectly reasonable person realistically. Nothing particularly wrong with him. I just Do Not Like Him. Especially since for as long as I can remember, we’ve made it a game to torment each other. You see, we both hate boredom more than anything else, or at least we did when we were even younger and more naive and we’re not actually malicious, and yet foolishly prided ourselves on not being nice and also our ability to manipulate people. No, little kid me was probably not actually an expert on manipulation, we just thought we were at the time. This all resulted in us taking our boredom, pent up malice, and desire to prove we were better than one another on each other. Such a great idea (sarcastic). We did in fact get better at emotionally wounding people after years of practice, and predictably (if we had any foresight on this matter at all) it backfired! I did in fact turn this skill against the one person I cared about in an effort to push them away during one of my breakdowns and it resulted in 6 suicide attempts, not including my own. Jokul has been trying to manipulate me positively since (both of us have been ordered to be nice to each other by Miyuki because we were causing too many problems) and it has Not Worked. If he was a separate person, I would skin him. The only person I’ve hated so much. We’ve been on relatively good terms lately. Been capable of having casual conversations. Things are okay, I guess. His personality is entirely fake, so I don’t know how to describe it except for how he acts when we’re trying to hurt each other, which might be him dropping his mask or it might be a whole different act just for that. Pronouns: He/him. Sexuality: He can change it at will? I think default is aroace though? Current fave thing: *Jokul imitation* “My purple silk dress I wear when I’m meeting people and am desperate for them to worship my beauty. I look so irresistibly elegant in it, it makes everyone like me automatically.” His actual answer is Death Note (cringe) (I’ve been yelled at for calling Death Note cringe)

Gracelynn: (headspace ex-bestie) Everyone thinks she’s the nicest person ever and super loyal and so on. She is to other people but apparently not to me anymore. Still finds it difficult to empathize with people and care about them, but apparently decided to be nice anyways. Like she doesn’t get the fuss about friends but she’s here for them anyways. Spends as much time daydreaming as possible these days, used to front A TON a few years ago. Extremely shy and full of social anxiety and anxiety in general. Goes nonverbal in a plethora of social situations. Freakishly good memory. Has way less memory gaps than I do and I have no idea why. She/her pronouns, probably aroace Current fave thing: brace yourself for no surprises, a tie between horseback riding and the Chronicles of Amber.

Ryo: (the alter of many names: Ryo, Rachel, Ry, Rei, R) The newest. Noticed a new voice and behavior that did not match any of ours a while after the events of 3.5 years ago. Might be coincidence, might not be, I don’t care. Kind of down to earth and practical and normal compared to the rest of us. Despite him being here for years now I don’t know that much about him partially because I don’t care and haven’t been paying attention, and partially because system communication hasn’t been that great (I’ve also been getting way more memory gaps! Whole days lost! Isn’t that great? (sarcastic)). Pronouns: varies, any are fine. (Despite us, in general, identifying as gender fluid so we don’t have to explain, Ryo is the only ACTUALLY gender fluid alter in our system) Aroace. Current fave thing: He said sleep, he wants us to go to sleep. (refuses to answer the fun question genuinely) Well Ryo, you have just failed my vibe check. Your reward is uh,,,AT LEAST 13 more hours of being awake. Yayyy

(I did colors here but the all green theme will stay in other posts <3 Really if I had to describe our auras it would be different shades of blue anyways.)

[notbigondoors]

{out of equations} I am a little afraid that I’m being misunderstood because of how it appears I am running my blogs. The truth is, I am a shy, derpy potato, and I suspect I’m just coming across in a much different way than I wish to. Below is my attempt to clear some of that up, so that hopefully anyone whom I’ve inadvertently made to feel like I am ignoring them or don’t want to write with them can feel better. Thank you for reading, if you do, and otherwise I hope everyone is having a lovely day. =)

I don’t know if this is actually a thing or not, but it occurs to me that I may be giving people the wrong idea about my blogs. It’s been so for a while that I keep getting compliments on my writing/portrayals, but then so many of my mutuals never interact with me and eventually unfollow, or start threads and drop them after a few replies. Now, people are entitled to lurk, change their minds, become disinterested, lose muse for a thread, and/or decide they don’t like writing with me or feel that my writing doesn’t measure up to theirs once they start. That’s perfectly okay! I’m not mad, I’m not calling anybody out, that’s absolutely okay! Right now, I’m talking to any of my mutuals who feel intimidated by me, feel I don’t want to write with them because I haven’t reached out to them first, or feel like I’m basically telling them they’re not good enough to write with me because I haven’t started something with them. I want to take the time to say how wrong all of that is and to give you an idea of how I really run my blogs.

First of all, real life has not been easy for me lately, as I’m sure it hasn’t been for everyone, given various things going on in the world. Between what’s in the news lately, the pandemic, and a chronic illness of mine coming out of remission after 20-ish years, I am definitely not at my best. I am on many medications for my chronic illness that come with a shopping list of side effects that make me feel physically horrible on a daily basis, but also they cause brain fog. I’m legitimately having trouble remembering things, which means that starter I told you I’d write you and then never did? Yeah, I don’t hate you, and it’s not that I don’t want to write with you, I just have honestly forgotten I even said I would do it. Combine that with my Tumblr notifications not working properly and a large influx of new writers and interactions lately due to WandaVision, and I am really honestly forgetting what I’ve said to whom on here. Side effects of my meds also include insomnia (which I already had, so it’s gotten worse... yay?) which means I’m not getting enough sleep and that’s compounding everything else that’s already making it hard for me to keep everything straight.

In addition to that, I have very bad anxiety, of the kind that interferes with my ability to do everyday things. Social anxiety is a huge facet of my generalized anxiety disorder. Simply put, I am introverted, shy, and terrified of talking to new people, even online. Even messaging with people I know can sometimes drain me mentally. It is not that I dislike you, or that I don’t want to talk to you, or that you are bothering me. None of those are true. I just am not good socially. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do, and I feel so intimidated, especially with so much amazing talent on here. I would like to think that I am a nice and approachable person, but I rarely ever reach out to people. Liking a starter call almost gives me a panic attack. Sometimes I sit and stare at one for an hour, really wanting to do it, but then I think... well I’d have to put my url since all my active rp blogs right now are sides. Would they get mad that I’m not just hitting like? Is that already too complicated and they’d just ignore me? Yeah, they probably wouldn’t want to write with me anyway. Aaaaand I close Tumblr and never like the post, heh.

I see talented writers on here all the time, I read their really great, funny, interesting, harrowing, or exciting threads and think... I wish I could write threads like those. But I just lack the social skills to get involved. My anxiety tells me things that aren’t true all the time, like that I’m extraneous, people have their groups and I should leave them to have fun in peace because I’d only be bothering them. It is not my intention to always make others do all of the work by waiting for them to reach out, or hoping they write that first starter instead of me, or waiting for that indisputable starter call that finally makes me feel comfortable enough that yes, they want to rp with someone like me... it’s just unfortunately where I’m at mentally right now.

Time is also an issue. I work full-time online as a teacher for a university, I have about 160 students, and I have students all around the world in all different time zones, so my job is pretty much 24/7. I am constantly answering student emails, grading assignments, dealing with technical site issues, etc. Sometimes I really want to interact with new writers on here, but I don’t bother because I am afraid that my activity level won’t be what they want or expect. That’s a big reason why I haven’t been expanding my roleplaying to Discord or joining large rpg groups. I can’t guarantee activity. Sometimes I will be very active, sometimes I won’t be active at all... and I won’t always know ahead of time. 

Anyway, this is a lot of rambling and I’m sorry for that, but I wanted to clear up any notion that I am aloof, that I am super selective and that’s why I’m not rping with you, or that if I seem to be ignoring you, I am. SO. NOT. TRUE. It’s a combination of my being too afraid to reach out, having health issues that make me very forgetful at times, and feeling like I have to hold back because of scheduling issues or a lack of free time. So... yeah. That’s that. If you’ve gotten this far in reading this post, you are sweet and precious and a wonderful human being. Thank you for taking the time to do so. If I said I would write you a starter and never did, please remind me. I am 99.9% sure the reason is that I just plum forgot. If I appear to have dropped a thread you really loved, please remind me about it. I may not have even seen your reply with Tumblr’s crappy notifications not showing up for me. And if you want to rp with me, I don’t bite, I’m not intimidating, yes I want you to reply to that open starter, yes I want you to randomly tag me in a starter or drop something into my ask box, I am honestly just a scared potato who really cannot Social™ well.

Wanda, Vision, and Pietro are most active right now. Please bother them. I have a leafling OC who is very adorable and versatile, I promise you. Please bother him. I also rp Gizmo. Please bother him.

Bother whoever you like, ask me questions about them, answer open starters (literally any of my blogs you can just search for “open starter” and they’ll all come up), and send in memes.

~ Silence, a.k.a. Si, a.k.a. Shy Derpy Potato, out. (^-^)/

[thompsborn]

It’s easy to be someone else in college.

Peter finds this out during his first week at MIT. No one knows him there—other than Ned, of course, but that’s different. It’s not like high school, where everyone in his grade watched the live new report covering his uncle’s death, where they all saw as the camera swept across the crime scene and, for just a moment, sitting in the back of an ambulance, they could see fourteen year old Peter Parker, shivering under the blanket draped over his shoulders, blood staining his fingers and his clothes and dotting his neck and face from the—the spray, caused by the bullet ripping through. Even if no one approached him about it directly, it was something that weighed him down at Midtown. Everyone saw him at his lowest.

At MIT, all anyone knows is what Peter tells them. They only see Peter Parker—the kid from New York, who has an internship locked into place at Stark Industries the second he graduates and likes to wear sweatshirts that are a bit too big on him. Eighteen and giggly and, as far as they’re concerned, untouched by the traumas of life. Pure, bubbly, and bright.

He isn’t a super social person, per se—as in, he can hold a conversation with some kind of ease, but he’s not that great at making new friends. Which is why it feels odd and exhilarating when he meets Harley, and they just—they click.

It’s like falling into place when they’re together. Peter feels unrestrained and able to make all the stupid little jokes that pop up in his brain and Harley laughs at each and every one. Most of the time, he claims to be laughing at just how bad of a joke it is, but Peter doesn’t mind—he knows his sense of humor is a little odd and as long as it makes someone laugh, that’s alright.

Falling into place—platonically, easily—doesn’t take very long to change into just falling. In like, in what might be love, Peter isn’t sure just yet. All he knows is that he starts saying whatever he can think of just to hear Harley laugh again.

(Ned isn’t helpful in the slightest when this happens. He just laughs, has to drop his head to rest it against his textbook while his shoulders shake and Peter would be annoyed if he didn’t just feel fond of the familiarity.)

The shift is gradual in a way that feels like nature chose to do it, like it was always meant to happen and they were only along for the inevitable ride. Peter soon learns that he quite likes holding hands, and he likes when they curl into each other on the sofa while a movie plays—knees to shins and wrists to elbows and it looks uncomfortable, according to Ned, but it feels like trees twisting their roots together, like they mould into one another—and he especially learns that kissing is a lot of fun. Like, a lot.

But he also learns that Harley is from a small, conservative town in Tennessee. He learns that he has a mother that has to work two jobs just to pay the bills and put the food on the table. He learns about Harley’s little sister and her knack for filmmaking and the way her grin can brighten the room. He learns about Harley’s father leaving and—eventually, learns that he isn’t the only one with connections to Stark Industries, learns that Harley knows Tony, too, and that he had requested Tony not talk about him to anyone, which explains why this is news to Peter. Harley snorts when Peter tells him about his own father/son relationship with Tony and it feels even more like fate, somehow.

Peter learns to love not only Harley, but all the aspects about his life—the chronic depression, the insomnia, the way he chortles at immature jokes and smothers his giggles in the sleeve of his sweatshirts when he knows he shouldn’t laugh at something. Peter learns to love how Harley likes his coffee and how he sometimes starfishes across the bed and always ends up stealing the pillows—which is fine, because Peter is a blanket hog, so it evens out. Every little thing about Harley, Peter learns to love.

But it’s easy to be someone else in college.

Peter realizes this when Harley comes with him to New York for the beginning of summer, and it clicks in his head—Harley doesn’t know him.

Or, he does, but not all of him. He knows Peter’s college self, the one that doesn’t show his trauma and isn’t stared at in the halls because everyone else knows them, too. He knows the Peter that lives in a dorm and goes back home every other weekend to visit family. He knows only the good parts—the stuff that Peter puts on display and doesn’t try to hide.

And Peter never meant to keep it a secret, no, but it never seemed to come up. Peter tried so hard to only think about the relevant stuff during the school year—didn’t allow himselt to dwell on the bad things, didn’t even allow himself to think about Spider-Man and how he had to go from daily patrols to only on the weekends he was in New York. He focused on college and fun and Harley and nothing else.

“So,” Harley says, holding Peter’s hand and swinging their arms back and forth happily. They’re trailing down the sidewalk in Queens, and Harley only knows that they’re headed for where Peter used to live—before college, before deciding to spend his summer in the Tower with Mr. Stark for training and internship stuff. “Should I know anything in advance?”

Peter cocks his head to the side. “What?”

“Like, ways to act, ways to not act, stuff I should or shouldn’t say. The whole parent approval preparation guide, you know?”

“Oh. Uh—”

And it’s right there—the chance to open up his chest a little bit, to give Harley a peak into his past. But Peter is—a coward, sometimes.

He shakes his head. “No. You’ll be great.”

Harley meets May and it isn’t until about halfway through the night that he seems to realize that— “You’re not Peter’s mom.”

“No, I’m not,” May says simply. “I’m his Aunt.”

She leaves it at that, and Peter hopes it slides over quickly, but Harley seems confused and curious throughout the rest of the visit. Still, he smiles at May, ducks his head in a parting nod and wins her over with all his charm before they leave, and he waits until they’ve started walking around the block while waiting for Happy to pick them up to say, “I thought you said you were gonna show me where you lived.”

“I did,” Peter tells him. Hopes he drops it.

He doesn’t. “Then I’m confused.”

Peter purses his lips, squints up at the sky and keeps walking. “Why are you confused?”

“That was your aunt,” Harley says, almost slow and matter of fact, as if he’s forgotten that, yes, Peter knows who it was. But, to make matters worse, he then asks, “Where’re your parents?”

The laugh that bubbles up from Peter’s chest is rough and a little bland, bitter tasting. He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Harley stops walking, tugs on Peter’s hand until he stops, too. “Yes, I do. I want to know.”

“Trust me—” Peter keeps walking. “You don’t.”

“Why are you trying to make that decision for me?” Harley questions, almost—frustrated.

Peter huffs. “Why are you pushing at something I very clearly do not want to talk about?”

“Because I—” Harley waves his other hand through the air, as if scrabbling for his words, trying to pluck them from the space in front of him. “I’ve told you everything—everything about me, you know? You know—all of it, and I don’t want to act entitled or like I deserve to know everything about you or—but it definitely feels like... like, a red flag, or something, the fact that you’re not even mentioning your parents. If you have a bad relationship with them or something, or just—whatever—just, tell me that so I know not to talk about it.”

And Peter—he understands what Harley means. He understands how unsettling it must be to realize that you’ve opened up your heart and soul to someone who doesn’t seem keen on doing the same. But, Peter has—baggage, a lot of it, and maybe he never mentioned any of the shit he’s carrying at MIT because maybe he just wants to prolong the change, wants to have Harley look at him without seeing everything that’s gone wrong in his life—just a little longer.

But that isn’t fair to Harley, really. Because that baggage and that heaviness? That’s part of Peter, as much as he wishes it wasn’t.

“Fine,” Peter murmurs, and he pulls his hand back, away from Harley’s—not because he wants to let go, but now he feels a little bit like a fraud and isn’t sure if Harley will wants to keep holding hands after he finds out all his secrets.

A car pulls up to the curb before either of them can say anything else, and Peter wastes no time, doesn’t look at Harley or at Happy as he clambers into the backseat and says, “We’re going to see my parents on the way back to the tower, if that’s alright with you, Hap.”

Harley looks conflicted and wary as he climbs into the backseat as well, watches as Happy instantly whips around to look at Peter with wide, somber eyes. “Kid...?”

“Harley wants to meet them,” Peter says, swallowing roughly. “Haven’t seen ‘em in a while anyway, so—might as well, right?”

There’s a whirlwind of unreadable emotions in Happy’s eyes as he glances to Harley, looks back to Peter, and then nods, just once, the action kind of curt and firm. “Alright,” he says, tone soft. “We’ll stop there first. No biggie.”

All this does is make Harley nervous, almost afraid of whatever they’re going to walk into, but Happy is already shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb, and Peter is looking adamantly out of the window with hunched shoulders and arms tucked against his chest, and Harley’s tongue is twisted, stuck in the back of his throat. He stays silent, just looks down at his lap and ponders what’s gonna happen, wonders how far the drive is.

About fifteen minutes later, the car comes to a stop. Happy puts it in park. “We’re here.”

Harley steels himself, mentally prepares himself for whatever it is that’s making Peter act so broody and quiet, looks up and—

Feels his heart drop to his stomach.

Maple Grove Cemetery.

Peter clears his throat, pushes the door open and steps out of the car with almost silent footsteps, rounds the car and pulls open Harley’s door—doesn’t look at Harley, doesn’t look up at all, just holds the door open and says, “C’mon. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

Feeling speechless and—and suffocated by his own thundering, raging hesrt beat, Harley just nods and unbuckles himself with shaky hands. He steps out of the car and can’t stop looking st the word cemetery, like staring will make it change from a graveyard and into a nice, cliché looking family home in the suburbs.

It doesn’t change. Peter closes the door behind Harley and silently leads the way—into the cemetery, clearly has the route memorized if the way he moves with ease and zero hesitation is telling anything. Harley just follows after him, struggling to catch his breath with the dread weighing down his lungs, and comes to a stop when Peter eventually freezes in front of a line of headstones, faces them with—empty eyes.

Harley parts his lips to suck in a harsh breath and turns his head, finds the names and—

Mary Teresa Parker

Richard Laurence Parker

Benjamin Franklin Parker

—there’s three.

Aunt May—just Aunt May, no partner in the apartment with her. Peter, telling Harley that it’s where he lived before college. Never mentioning his parents, or family, or—anyone, other than Tony, eventually. Father figure, Tony.

Because Peter’s dad is dead. His parents are dead. Ben—an Uncle, Harley guesses—gone.

“I’m—such an asshole,” Harley breathes, that weight growing tendfold in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill, queasy, nauseous. “I can’t believe I—Christ, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

Peter chuckles, the sound dry and—not MIT Peter Parker, but actual him. The real Peter, with the heaviness and the loss and all of the bad things. The Peter with the trauma and the pain and the deadpan rasp to his voice as he shakes his head and murmurs, “You’re not an asshole, Harley. You just didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have to know,” Harley says, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “You didn’t want to tell me, and—and it’s your right, not wanting to tell me, and I pushed when it wasn’t my business and—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted you to know,” Peter says, his tone a little... vacant of his usual conviction. “I want you to know, really, I do, but—but it was so nice, not having everyone look at me differently because of what I’ve been through, y’know? By the time we met, I just—I never even thought about talking about it because I was trying so hard to keep all of that—all of the—the bad stuff, away from college. Away from me, for a bit. Just give myself room to breathe.” He laughs, an empty sort of sound, scrubs a hand over his features and looks down at where the toes of his shoes are sinking slightly into the damp grass. “Selfish of me, I guess.”

Harley wants to reassure, wants to insist that Peter isn’t selfish for wanting to have a break from his trauma. He wants to reach over and hold him and find a way to make it better.

He doesn’t know how.

He wishes, more than anything, that he did.

“Y’know,” Peter continues, either not noticing or blatantly ignoring the way Harley is looking at him with wide, watery eyes. “It’s actually my fault, the three of them dying. I caused it, and it’s—shitty, just living, for people that are dead because of you. Existing for them. It’s hard.”

“I don’t—” Harley stops, swallows roughly. “I don’t know the story, but you—I can guarantee that it isn’t—it isn’t your fault, Peter.”

The laugh is more of a sob now. “It is,” Peter says, shaking his hear and bringing up a shaking hand to wipe the tear off his cheek. “My parents, they were—they left a business trip early to come home a few days sooner because I was sick. They were on that plane to get to me, and it went down, and—and Ben, he was just trying to be a dad when he never asked to be one, you know? And I was such a shitty kid, Harley, I—I lashed out at him, I blamed him, and I ran off. And he came after me, because he was—he was so good at being a dad, even if he didn’t realize it, and it—the mugger just—and I heard the gunshot, and I looked over and he was—he was on the ground and I couldn’t stop the bleeding and he was—before the ambulance even got there, he was already—”

“Hey,” Harley interrupte, voice a croak as he reaches over and envelopes Peter in his arms. Peter cries, wails in an anguish that Harley has never heard before. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, Peter, and they—I bet on everything I’ve got that they loved you more than anything, alright? And they wouldn’t want you to blame yourself like this. They’d want you to be happy.”

Peter sniffles, presses his nose to the side of Harley’s neck. “You didn’t know them.”

“No,” Harley agrees. “But I know you. There’s no such thing as not loving you, Peter Parker.”

-

(It’s easy to be someone else in college. But you don’t always have to be.)

[mikemoon]

( choi yeonjun, cis man ) have you seen MICHAEL “MIKE” MOON ? i heard HE is a COMPUTER SCIENCE MAJOR at SAN VERTO COLLEGE and an EMPLOYEE at HALL OF FILM. they’re 22 years old and they’ve been living in san verto for 6 YEARS. they tend to be CARE-FREE & ADVENTUROUS, but rumor has it they can also be GRUMPY & CLUMSY. [ tally, 25, gmt+4, she/her ] @foolsstarters​

tw // mentions of depression, cheating, divorce, underage drinking and smoking

michael moon, born myungjun moon –– choi yeonjun fc

birthday: september 9, 1998 - 22 yrs old ; virgo

cis man, he/him, bisexual

born and raised in philadelphia, pennsylvania

mike grew up being an only child, and always around the company of his mother in their house. his father was always traveling back and forth from south korea to the states for work. his parents have met at work on one of his father’s trips to the states, and they fell in love. his mother being american-born, she couldn’t really leave philadelphia. she loved it there. so they decided to keep it a long distance relationship.

sometime during those fleeting meetings, she had gotten pregnant with michael. and of course, his father spoiled them both, giving them everything they wanted. he never left them to fend for themselves. when the boy was born, his father named him myungjun, and his mother decided to name him michael for his english name. the nicknames jun, mike, and sometimes junnie were often heard whenever his parents or childhood friends called him.

up until mike was five years old in 2004, he’s lived with his mother, while his father was leaving and coming back for a week or two. but that year, he’s finally moved to the states and stayed with them for longer nights. he even finally married michael’s mother. of course, he still disappeared for a few days or weeks on end for work.

but that was also the year michael’s mother found out that her husband was with another woman. michael has never seen his mother break down like that before. sadly, the young boy was peering into the room when the fight happened and witnessed everything. his mother made her partner choose between the two women, and he eventually told her that he was going to divorce his first wife for her, and appeared to have gone through with his promise. because after that incident, he’s been around more often.

by early 2015, when michael had just turned 16, his mother had gotten a teaching job in ashdown academy, which resulted in their move to san verto, california. meaning, new school and new friends for mike. meanwhile, his dad was still traveling a lot for business and coming back whenever he could.

michael has grown up as a cheerful and energetic child. his friends at any school he went to would tell you how much of a great friend he is, how trustworthy and caring he is. it was so easy for him to make friends anywhere. he was the type of friend who would smile at you and listen to you talk on and on about whatever you liked, and the type who would cheer you on with anything you want to achieve. he wanted everyone to feel included and loved.

so it wasn’t that hard for him to get along with new people once he moved to town. he was a very social person. 

he was also the type of teenager who was out there doing things he wasn’t supposed to. he missed his old friends and his old home, but he wanted to have fun with all the new kids he was befriending. that simply resulted in him going to house parties as an underaged teen to ‘have fun’. his mother didn’t approve of him coming home very late at night, clearly smelling like smoke and alcohol. 

internally he was a depressed mess. of course, no one is completely happy as they grow up. his family was a mess, even if it appeared as fine to everyone else. his family life affected him so much while growing up. mike sometimes could disappear for a few days in his room, and it was always during some of his bad spells.

what made it worse was the day he found out the truth.

it was 2017 when michael walked into his father’s office in their house, looking for him to ask him about something. and instead of finding the man, he found a stack of papers poking from underneath his father’s laptop. upon closer look, they appeared to be divorce papers. michael’s heart sunk, thinking his parents were breaking it off.

michael is a curious kid, he couldn’t help but close the door and read the papers. but what he saw wasn’t his mother’s name, it was another woman. his heart raced, as he put things back where they were and immediately left the room. michael had found out one of his father’s many secrets. he never divorced his first wife all those years ago. he lied and somehow stayed with both women without suspicion... well, until now. clearly the other woman was breaking it off for a reason. 

michael couldn’t help his curiosity. he came back to the room later that night and snapped as many pictures as he could of evidence he could find. he even found his father’s phone (which was easy to figure out the password of) and found a plethora of pictures of the man with a different family, different kids and a different partner. he airdropped the pictures to himself to avoid leaving any traces behind and quickly left again.

a quick search on facebook, and he managed to find the first wife. it was easy with the name and pictures he had. if anything, michael prided himself on being a good internet detective... or stalker. he spent everyday trying to find the rest of the family on the internet. he found the woman’s young daughter on instagram and twitter, along with her older son’s accounts as well. it felt weird. it was a constant “now what?” for michael. he’s found them. what was he going to do now? he couldn’t just message them and tell them everything. and he couldn’t break his mother’s heart by letting her know.

except he had to let her know. he could never live with the fact that he knew his father was betraying her this entire time. and so michael told her everything, and after comforting her all night when she broke down yet again, she immediately ended things and asked for a divorce. now it was just michael and his mother, all alone. and for once, having to get by on their own.

thankfully they were safe, with his mother’s amazing money management skills, and the job she got at the academy, they managed to live their regular lives despite the heavy feeling of a broken family looming around them. the two just wanted to be happy again.

michael spent the next few years trying to lead a normal life. his mental health had gotten worse after everything he’s found out. he went to college, and he continued trying to do well in school. he really wasn’t the best when it came to grades, but he was trying his best.

and truthfully, he couldn’t help but make a few spare accounts on some social medias to follow his father’s other family.

but he eventually decided to just let it go, assuming they definitely knew about his mother and himself, which would explain the first divorce. so he decided to put it in the past and move on.

his mother has moved on as well. she found herself someone who actually cares about her so much (mike’s stupid ass has done a secret background check to make sure this dude wasn’t another cheater lmaoo) and now mike isn’t an only child anymore. it’s been 2 years since his little sister yuna was born, and he loves her so much. he still isn’t used to the idea of a new fatherly figure in his life, but he’s.... getting there. 

little dumb hcs

mike majors in computer science at san verto college, with a concentration in game development and design

hes a lil gamer boy,,, u KNOW he’s that annoying dude with a gamer chair that has a sound system in it khjkh

he posted a few videos on youtube but rly just ditched the channel after like a month. he still posts whenever he feels like it tho and it’s usually just.... messy gaming videos or opinions no one asked for

his dad’s dumb ass still doesn’t know it was mike who exposed him to his mother. he thinks she found the divorce papers on her own. therefore.... mike still gets money from his dad on a monthly basis and gets to keep the car he bought him for his 18th birthday lmaooooo a win 

you probably heard me say this before but.... theres a hc that mike is allergic to eggs. simply bc the idea of him shopping in the vegan section is funny to me 

this boy has a love for frogs ? idk where the obsession came from but you bet you’re gonna see a cute lil frog sticker on everything he owns. he doodles them on everything too ? it’s a habit at this point. he also knows random little facts about them and tells them to anyone who didnt ask for them 

. embarrassing but.. this dude... omg.... a big sana stan.... he has a photocard collection.... he went to a twice concert like 5 times.... dont be surprised if you see a feel special sana photocard in his phonecase.... im embarrassed of him 

he also has a hyunjin mcdonalds hashbrown photocard framed that a friend gave to him for christmas bc.. it’s a rare card,,, and you can see it on a table by the door when you walk into his apartment 😭

mike also has a habit of buying things he doesn’t need ?? he has a plushie collection that has been growing since he was young, and now is getting bigger with the rise of squishmallows

there’s this random hc where he drunk bought a cardboard cutout of john cena ,,,, don’t ask,,, it’s currently guarding his room back at his mom’s house djfhdj

can you tell mike is my most embarrassing , most chaotic character,, 

also he moved out after graduating school and when he started to attend college,,,, gimme some roomies pls

connection ideas ??

michael’s childhood friends; could’ve gone to the same school back in philly before he moved away ?? 

friends he made when he moved to town?? mike is very social and was... kinda popular in school, i’d say. he made friends with basically anyone he found interesting

michael’s ex; they could’ve ended on a bad note, or even on a good one and ended up being friends. im really up for plotting anything.

michael’s best friend; PLEASE i love wholesome best friend plots. it doesn’t matter if they met in san verto or philly

roomies pls !!! i would love it if he could have some roommates who have to deal with his very . peculiar decorating habits 

co workers ?? customers ? regulars ? he works at hall of film ! 

like this to plot or hmu !