#i guess i can see where people are coming from... but a lot of people who say this don't seem to be aro and/or ace

[annasellheim]

We're sitting at the table I'm glaring at them. These heroes ("The Big Three" as they are known in the industry) are questioning me? ME? They're questioning ME???

These motherfuckers made me come to the Cape Crusaders big, tacky mansion to justify my actions to them?

The thing that pisses me off the most about their reservations is the fact that what I do IS SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT than anything they could possibly do. These idiots just punch bad guys in the face and send them to prison, just so they can escape and start the cycle over from scratch.

I've already saved so many more lives than they ever will. I've made more of a positive impact on this planet than anyone will ever know.

Because my power is to stop disasters, and the most effective way to do that is to prevent them.

No one knows how many wars I've stopped before they began, how many diseases I found vaccines for before they became epidemics, how many cities and countries I've helped create infrastructure for so they could avoid being over run by natural disasters.

And my job is made even more difficult than it sounds because no one can truly fathom how bad things would be if I don't use my powers. I have to fight ppl tooth and nail to get it anything to happen because they don't know how bad it'll be if it's not acted on.

No one sees what I see. They don't feel what I feel. They'll never know the particular ache in my chest that somehow has has an entire narrative wrapped in it whenever a potential disaster hits me. An ache that is so powerful that it's made my knees buckle multiple times.

And the feeling doesn't dissipate until the disaster is fully prevented. It means that when I know something needs to be done, I have to make sure it's dealt with, or-

It's destroying me in a way. Doing so much, all the time, with no compensation or recognition.

The heroes at least know about my powers and know that I have nipped a bunch of really bad shit in the bud.

The villains thing has come up before and it's irritating. For years I thought it was because they were lazy and just were angling for help over shit that I didn't have time for, and in the big picture, didn't matter. Asking for even more help than I already provide.

I'm at my limit already.

But looking at these three at this table in this enormous, extravagant kitchen, it hits me how wrong I am.

These heroes don't have my powers. They can't foresee and stop disasters. For all they know, these clowns that rob banks and occasionally attack and murder people, could cause major disasters down the line. I'm not perfect, I can't stop all disasters. I have to sleep and eat and work a fucking day job.

I still feel residual aches from time to time for every disaster I've failed to stop.

They aren't trying to get more free work out of me, they're trying their best to figure out what villains can do major damage in the future.

They're scared.

"So, the way my powers work," I say while leaning back in my chair, "is that at some point, I know something will go from being an issue to a problem to a disaster. I can only intervene when I know it'll be disastrous, otherwise I can't use my powers, it's like they don't exist. Until something goes over the thresh hold of becoming a potential disaster, it's like I have no powers at all."

"How do you know when a disaster is going to happen? Is it like a vision?"

"It's more internal than that- it's like a feeling I guess...I'm not sure how to articulate it."

Huh, no one has ever bothered to ask me anything specific about my powers or the work I do. I don't have a lot of answers if they keep prodding.

"So, yeah, it's not that I'm neutral to villains, it's just all of the ones you guys been dealing with don't-" I yawned "- don't give me that feeling. I'll let you know if it changes."

I put my head in my hands. Fuck, I'm so tired. It's not like I can stop being a hero, I see the alternate world where I don't intervene, I feel it. But I'm so, so tired.

"Go take a nap."

My head shoots up, "What?"

The Masked Crusader (dumb ass name btw, just like his dumbass mansion) says it again, "Go take a nap. I'll make us all dinner. Go use my guest room and pass out for a bit.

Damn it, did I say I was tired out loud? Or was mind reading one of his superpowers? I can't remember, things have been so overwhelming recently, my memory is shot.

"No, the Masked Crusader can't read minds, that's me" Brainiac says.

Oh. Shit. Right.

"We just, we see you burning out, let us support you for once," chimed in the Singing Banshee.

This was not how I was expecting this conversation to go AT ALL.

Banshee continues, "You've got a lot of walls up, probably from years of running yourself into the ground saving thousands of people without any help. So, we're now going to help you."

"That's not a request by the way," the Masked Crusader says as he slides me a glass of water. "We're doing it whether you like it or not."

Shit, I hadn't even realized I was thirsty. Have I drank any water at all today?

And then *BOOM* I get hit with it- the feeling of an impending but preventable disaster. But it's different than any other disasters I "felt" before.

It's me... It's me, in the near future, collapsing and being unable to do anything about, well anything. I won't be able to stop future disasters, hell, I won't be able to function. And the only way to prevent it was to lean on these people.

This is a lot.

I chugged the rest of the water and wiped my mouth.

"Ok, thanks..." I whispered.

It's too much to think about right now. It's too much to feel right now. I'm not used to, I don't know, being taken care of. I don't know how to be supported.

I'll figure out a way to properly navigate this later. Right now I need to lay the hell down.

You're a superhero who specializes exclusively in stopping disasters. The other heroes just don't understand why you need to remain neutral to the villains…

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

hello! welcome to my new fic, i hope u like it! please let me know what y’all think, i have each chapter planned out but i’m not sure when i’ll update again. probably soon lmao 💋��‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪽🌟

chapter one:

leni knew the first time she saw paige again it would feel like a kick in the stomach but to say she felt winded was an understatement. the sight in front of her had her breath stuck in her throat, heart beating out of her chest and her head spinning, she had to rest on the wall to balance herself. it wasn’t out of character for paige to be here. it was frat party at the beginning of the semester. paige was almost guaranteed to be here. but leni would have betted her life that the blonde would’ve come with her friends not the red head, wearing barely any clothes that was latched onto her arm currently.

“you good babe?” leni’s girlfriend, riley asks from beside her. she reached out a hand to rest on lenis back but the curly haired girl shrugged her off, “im fine. just feeling hot. can you get me some water?” leni asks in hopes to have a moment alone with her thoughts to process what she just saw. paige with a girl that wasn’t her. her paige with a girl that looked nothing like her.

despite having a girlfriend herself, leni was far from a hypocrite. a year ago leni was bearing her heart, all but begging paige to turn thier friends with benefits deal into something more serious. they already spent evenings laid together in bed. weekends walking around target or studying together. off days lounging around each others apartments. they were only fucking each other too. what would a title change? apparently a lot to paige.

leni tried for days but paige could not be swayed, shaking her head and furrowing her brow each time leni brought up the idea of them being girlfriends.

“i just don’t do that kind of thing len.”

“what we have right now is good. why change it?”

“i’m focused on basketball, i don’t need distractions.”

leni reached her breaking point, telling paige it was either they make it official or they never see each other again. she couldn’t continue in ‘will they, won’t they’ cycle. leni had caught feelings for paige. feelings so deep she wanted to shout it from the rooftops and it felt like her entire world crashed down when paige said it was best if they didn’t see each other again.

leni cried for days on end. buried under her duvet, waiting and wishing for paige to call or text and say she was wrong. to say she cared for leni they way leni cared for her. but no call or text came and eventually leni had to pick herself up and dust herself off. life doesn’t end when a blue eyed girl breaks your heart.

paige saw leni as soon as she walked in. of course she did. paige would spot leni in a sea of a thousand people. her bouncy curls, longer than the last time paige saw them, her brown skin, still showing the remnants of summer, her dark brown eyes, deep as ever as they flitted around the room. paige also saw the blonde girl next to leni, the way her hand touched her back, the way her lips pressed to lenis temple. paige wanted to punch that girl right in the face.

“where are you going?” camilla, paiges girlfriend asks as paige begins to walk away from her, “just to find a toilet. i won’t be long.” paige lies and she hurries off before camilla can say anything in response. paige wasn’t going to find a toilet. paige was going to find leni and she knew exactly where she would be.

“let me guess. you needed some fresh air.” hearing paiges voice made lenis hairs stand on end. she hadn’t heard that raspy drawl in so long she had forgotten what it sounded like. “you never did like parties.” paige says standing next to leni on the front porch. leni refused to look at paige, staring straight ahead, she focused on a street lamp in the distance that flickered. “i still don’t.” she says and in her head, her voice was strong and brave but her lips betrayed her and her words came out shaky and low.

“why are you here then?” paige asks, ever the curious girl. “i came with my g- a fri-” leni couldn’t bring herself to say the word girlfriend to paige. it was stuck in her throat threatening to choke her. “your girlfriend. you can say it len. you came with your girlfriend.”

“yeah. i did. i came with my girlfriend. looks like you did too. never knew red heads were your thing.” leni all but spits at paige, finally building the courage to look at her. and when she does, the past twelve months of healing and moving on completely unravel and leni feels as though she about to faint.

paige looks the same but simultaneously so different. her hair is still blonde but it’s shorter and a lot brighter, like she’s just had highlights. her skin looks smoother, in fact she’s glowing. leni was sure she’d grown a few inches too, paige was always taller than her but not this much taller. and as bad as leni was trying not to look, it was clear paige had been in the gym. the crop top she wore exposed her toned stomach and muscular arms and leni’s heart rate quickened as memories of those very arms being wrapped around her not so long ago flashed in her mind.

“are blondes your thing or just girls that look like me?” paige retorts and leni scoffs, “get your head out of your ass paige. girls that don’t treat me like i’m nothing is my thing.” paige feels limp as leni says that, did she really make leni think she was nothing?

paige had a difficult time with relationships. she branded herself as ‘not a relationship girl’, blaming her focus on basketball as the reason but paige knew that was bullshit. paige wanted nothing more than to have a girl in the stands cheering for her, to come home after practice and her bedroom not be empty but growing up all paige knew was turbulent relationships and broken homes and she vowed to never hurt someone the way she watched her parents hurt each other. and the only way she knew how to do that was to avoid relationships altogether.

“you weren’t nothing to me, len.” paige defends herself but it feels pointless, lenis feelings were written on her face, she always found it hard to mask her emotions and nothing had changed.

“i’m sorry. what i did wasn’t fair. i was stupid, so fucking stupid. letting you go-” leni couldn’t hear this. not here, not now. not ever actually. leni had gone through hell and back trying to get over paige, just ask her friends who had hugged her while she sobbed, forced her eat when she refused, literally picked her up off the floor multiple nights in a row after she drank enough wine to make her forget paige ever existed.

“paige, stop. this conversation is futile and one year too late.” leni holds her hand up to stop paige from saying anymore. to stop her from saying the words she was begging to hear last year.

“i’ve changed len. i promise. i tried so hard, i worked so hard to change for you. i want to show you that.”

“have you lost your fucking mind? i have a girlfriend paige and so do you. i’m happy. someone loves me, cares for me and it’s not a secret. it’s not behind closed doors. i’m someone’s girlfriend and they’re proud of that. and it’s fucked up of you to say all this stuff now, all this time later. i wasn’t enough for you and that ripped my fucking heart to pieces!”

“you were enough. you are enough. i was just blind and scared.”

leni was fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she didn’t want to cry in front of paige, give her the satisfaction of knowing she still affected leni.

paige couldn’t bare to see leni cry, the way her eyes glossed over and nose turned red, the way her lip quivered made paiges heart pang with guilt because after all, she was the reason leni was crying. “please don’t cry. i meant what i said. i really am sorry. and i know it’s complicated but i couldn’t not tell you this. i couldn’t not at least try it would feel like i’m robbing us of a chance.”

leni has averted her gaze again, there was something about holding eye contact with paige that felt like two hands around her neck squeezing every last breath out of her. it was suffocating and all consuming. when she was around paige, leni didn’t feel like she was in the same realm as everyone else, she felt transported to somewhere far away but she had to bring herself back down to earth before she did or said something she regretted.

“a year ago you looked me in my eyes and said it would be for the best if we never saw each other again and you were right paige. i shouldn’t have come to this stupid party and you shouldn’t have followed me out here. from now on, we go back to how it was before. you don’t know me. i don’t know you.”

“but i do know you len and you know me. so well.” paige does what she’s been dying to do since stepping outside with leni and she reaches out and touches her cheek. wiping a stray tear but her hand lingers and lenis eyes flutter closed at the feeling of paige. a feeling she’s craved for so long now, a feeling she’s dreamt about experiencing again.

paige has always felt a magnetic pull towards leni. the first time she met her, she was intrigued. she wanted to know more about the dark, curly haired girl. they sat for hours the first time they spoke then they ended up in paiges bed and paige got her wish of knowing more about leni. she knew leni so well it was as if she’d studied her. she knew what made her tick, how push her buttons, how to make her feel good. paige could read leni like a book, answering her questions before leni even asked them. that’s not what scared paige though. she knew she could control her feelings. what scared paige was the fact leni knew her in the same way. if paige bueckers was a book, leni had every word committed to memory.

leni placed her hand over paiges, still cupping her face, “paige, i can’t-” she begins to speak but paige cuts her off. “tell me you love her more than me. tell me what you have feels realer than what we had. tell me that and i’ll leave you alone.”

leni couldn’t say that. she couldn’t say any of it because it wasn’t true. she’s never loved anyone the way she loves paige and she doubts she ever will. but leni needed to protect herself. paige hurt her and leni couldn’t cope with that again and she had no reason to believe paige when she said she’d changed.

“don’t do that.” leni says looking at paige, her eyes as blue as ever, round and soft, pulling leni in. “don’t make this my decision. you walked away from me.”

“and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” paige says, eyes flicking down to lenis lips. she wanted to kiss her so bad. push her up against the wall, press her body into hers, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. she wanted their lips to be on each other’s, she wanted to taste lenis cherry lip balm, tongues moving in sync as they meshed into one being.

“a mistake you’ll have to live with. i care about myself too much to risk being destroyed by the whirlwind that comes along with you paige.” lenis voice breaks as she turns away from paige as much as she believed paige was the reason they never worked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she walking away from what she’s always wanted.

“leni please-” paiges voice also faltered as she tried to pull leni back but the girl was strong and determined, “goodbye, paige.”

leni had no time to ruminate over the conversation and just about managed to wipe her tear stained cheeks before riley appeared in front of her.

“there you are! i got your water. who were you talking to out there?”

“no one. no one at all. let’s go dance.” leni says, plastering the fakest of smiles on her face. she didn’t worry that riley would notice because riley rarely noticed anything.

leni spent the rest of the night knocking back drinks and willing herself to stop glancing at paige but it was near impossible. the six foot, one hundred and sixty pound girl was alluring to say the least and with her also staring back, leni was beginning to lose composure.

“kiss me.” leni asserts, grabbing on to rileys shirt collar, pulling her down. riley looks confused but she would never deny kissing her beautiful girlfriend so she presses their lips together, leni deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into rileys mouth but it’s not right. it doesn’t feel right. it’s not paige. and that makes leni feel sick. she’ll never kiss paige again and she’ll search for her in every girl but it’ll be pointless because no one could compare. no one could even come close.

now breathless from a phoney, drunken make out session that left nothing but the sour taste of beer in her mouth, leni pulls away from riley but her eyes immediately go to where paige was stood just minutes ago. but the athlete is gone. the only sign of her once being there was her girlfriend, now left holding two drinks. “i’m going to the bathroom.” leni mumbles and she slips away from riley, leaving her too, with a drink in each hand.

the multiple drinks leni had consumed in quick succession were catching up to her and her body swayed as she walked around the frat house looking for paige. she swung open random doors, bursting in on one too many explicit activities that she wish she never saw. “sorry, my bad.” she muttered quickly closing another door. she continued her search and by the time she reached the end of the hall, with no sign of paige, she actually needed to pee.

the bathroom was occupied but leni couldn’t wait, she knocked on the door over and over, “if you’re in there fucking, get out! i’m about to piss my pants!” she shouted over the music and she heard the lock click before the door slowly opened, “you never were very patient.” paige emerged from the bathroom and leni felt like this was fate. “i was looking for you.” she slurred, glancing up at paige. “you were?” leni nods, her eyes are glassy from intoxication, “i hate you for hurting me.” leni mutters but her actions do not resemble hate, they are needy and frantic as she pushes paige backwards into the bathroom, knocking the door closed with her foot.

“you hate me?” paige asks, hearing those words hurt but feeling lenis touch on her chest as she shoved her against the wall overrode any of that. “uh huh.” leni nods again, her hand now travelling down paiges chest and gripping her waist. “how much do you hate me?” paige tucks a piece of lenis hair behind her ear and leni leans into the touch, “so fucking much.” lenis breathing is ragged now as she pushes herself against paige, the craving she had for this woman was carnal and she doesn’t know how she managed to stay away from her for an entire year.

“you know im sorry. im different now len. hurting you is my biggest regret.” paige caresses lenis cheek, rubbing her thumb in small circles, she missed the feeling of her soft skin under her fingertips, “and this might just be mine.” leni says as she stands on her tiptoes to reach paige, crashing their lips together for the first time in over three hundred and sixty five days.

the kiss is sloppy and heated and influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol both girls had in their systems. paiges hands found lenis waist and she moaned into her mouth as her fingers explored every dip and curve on her body. leni felt like she was drowning and paige was air, she needed as much as she could get, nipping at paiges bottom lip before slipping her tongue into her mouth, saliva mixing to create the concoction that both girls missed so much.

“leni, are you in there?” there was a knock at the door and the voice of riley made leni jump away from paige, “it’s riley.” she whispered, eyes wide, “just be quiet.” paige whispered back. “leni?” rileys voice called out again and leni was violently brought back down to earth.

what the hell was she doing? in a frat house bathroom with her ex friend with benefits, kissing her when she had a girlfriend. when they both had girlfriends. this wasn’t leni. it wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t hurt someone. she wouldn’t allow herself to.

“no. this was a mistake. we’re drunk.” leni fixed her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down her tossled curls that paige had messed up, wiping the smudged lip liner from her cupids bow and re-adjusting her shirt that had been pulled down exposing the lace of her bra.

paige watched her silently, blue eyes several shades darker as they glared into the mirror at lenis reflection. leni caught her gaze and for a split second she considered listening to paige and staying silent but riley called out her name again, “im coming!” leni responded and without so much as a glance at paige she unlocked the bathroom door and closed it tight behind her. leaving paige alone and confused, wondering what the fuck just happened.

thank you for reading baddies!! let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for future updates. ILY 💋💋

tag list: @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Grass

Debut: Super Mario Bros. 2

Hey guys! Did you know that Super Mario Bros. 2 was originally a reskin of a game called Puck-Man, but they changed the name so people wouldn't vandalize the cabinets and make it say Q*bert? Anyway here's Grass

I hope you like Grass. I hope there are some ruminants among our readers who get so hyped upon seeing a depiction of grass. But I don't care about the grass itself. I care about what's underneath... Funny Vegetables! The kind to throw at a Shy Guy or a Tweeter! Let's look at each Vegetable's NES and SNES design, and discuss them!

Turnip is the most iconic of the These Vegetables. Not the most iconic vegetable, but the most iconic Mario Vegetable. It's the main one that gets referenced, reappears as of Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker, and is even part of Peach's Smash moveset! Where they make even more variants that I don't feel like getting into here for the sake of post length. I quite like Turnip's classic brow(s), though they would be removed, along with the mouth, in future iterations. Such is brand identity.

In Minion Quest and Bowser Jr.'s Journey, Shy Guys' main method of attack is throwing turnips! I like that a lot. It references their debut and is just a very whimsical thing!

I would expect to pull up a turnip from the ground, but lookie here! A couple of Fruits. It's unclear if these are pumpkins or bell peppers, and they come in red and green, which are both options for both fruits! Neither of the options, however, grow underground, so maybe they were playing hide-and-seek. It would explain their surprised expressions! They thought that was such a good hiding place, and it was! Also, I am not averse to calling these fruits vegetables. "Vegetable" is just a culinary term, referring to a part of a plant that we eat! Every fruit is a vegetable. Blueberry pie is a Vegetable Dessert. Words are fun!

Beet is the happiest vegetable we've seen so far! But oddly thin. I hope it's not malnourished! If it is, it's still optimistic, and that's commendable. Maybe it's happy because it was voted Most Likely To Be Pickled in the vegetable high school year book! (Cucumber was homeschooled)

Beet was so thin, and now Parsnip is so wide! It feels like their colors should have been swapped, maybe. But a Parsnip Muncher would delight in having so much more to munch here! A parsnip you could eat like an apple! I am not sure what Parsnip is thinking, with its very neutral expression. If I had a nickel for every time I couldn't tell what a parsnip was thinking, I'd be rich!

Tomato is my favorite! It's SO happy! The biggest smile around! So happy to be a tomato! Maybe it's thinking about how everyone loves tomatoes and how versatile they are! Maybe it's happy because THIS fruit is never buried underground- this and the following vegetable only appear from the Dream Machine during the final boss battle against Wart. I guess Wart doesn't like tomatoes. So not everyone does... but phooey to him, because he's a Bad Guy! We goody two shoeses love Tomato!

Finally, last but not least, is a quite interesting vegetable! This one is a bit mysterious, a bit ambiguous. Ambiguous whether it's an onion or a garlic. Ambiguous whether it's wearing thick glasses, or it has wide, pupilless eyes. I'm going to claim this vegetable as non-binary, and also establish "onion/garlic" as a binary. And then all humans will become non-binary...! What I can be sure of is that this allium looks like a nerd. "According to my calculations, my presence serves to enhance the flavor of any culinary delight!" Ok, dork! I love you.

So these have been Vegetables! I hope you liked them! And I also hope you like them in real life, That's Health! This post was funded and approved by the FDA. Can I say that? What are they going to do about it? Sue me? Kill me? Hopefully neither!

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

-----

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Overwhelmed.

word count - 650.

You were stuck in your own little bubble.

As much as you enjoyed being there, and getting to meet so many new people and create friendships that would last a life time, you couldn’t help but miss home.

Even though your husband wasn’t far from your being, you missed home really freaking bad.

You missed your friends, your family, you missed Anne and Gemma and missed the home comforts.

You missed your blanket and you missed you comfort Teddy that shared the bed with you and Harry.

It was just so overwhelming.

You were sat down by the creek, fingers delicately playing with the water, your hair was in some french braids that GK had done for you this morning, and your bare feet were dipping in and out of the water.

This was the first time you had really felt like this, and you had no idea why it was only coming long now.

Coleen had walked up to the creek, thinking she was going to be having a nice swim to herself, when the sound of quiet sniffles drew her attention else where.

She placed her towel on the rock and looked up to see you sat there, feet dangling and tears rolling down your face.

She frowned and hesitantly approached you.

“(Y/N)?” She whispered as she came and sat down next to you. “— is everything okay, sweetheart?”

You jumped when you heard another voice from behind you.

And when you saw Coleen sit down next to you, you were quick to wipe away your tears and offered her a shaky smile. “Yeah, I’m all good.”

“Babe, you don’t have to lie to me.” She offered you a gentle smile and that was all it took for you to break down in her arms.

You leant your head against her collar bone and she brought you into her arms and rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

She had that motherly touch that you missed so deeply.

“Shh…it’s okay.” She consoled you. “— you want to tell me what’s the matter?”

You pulled away from her embrace and wiped at your eyes. “I’m just overwhelmed I guess.”

“I get it,” she nodded her head. “— it can be a lot, being surrounded by so many things that are uncommon to you, I’ve found it hard too and I bet if you asked anyone else they would say the exact same thing.”

You swallowed harshly. “I’m just missing home, and I know that’s selfish of me to say because everyone else is in the same boat as me, but I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

“And it’s okay to feel like that,” she brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face that had fell out of your braids. “— it proves that you human.”

You smiled at her softly. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “— anything.”

“Could you go and get Harry for me?”

Coleen smiled at you an understanding smile and nodded her head, standing up to her feet and disappearing back the way that she entered.

Not even five minutes later, Harry came running through the leaves, out of breath and hair slightly disheveled.

You let out a soft laugh. “— did you run?”

He sat down on the floor where Coleen was previously sat, and you didn’t hesitate to lay your head on his lap, and his hands instantly went to running up and down your spine.

“S’matter, baby?” He asked, pulling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Just overwhelmed,” you blinked. “— missing home, missing family, missing Paddy.”

Paddy was the name of the stuffed animal you slept with at home.

“Yeah?” He hummed. “— it’s okay to feel like that, I’m feeling it, I know for a fact Danny and Jane are feeling it.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Your not alone, Sunshine.”

@luvr4miya @thurhomish @shanice @lomlolivia @harryshouseo1 @gem1712 @ashleighsss

[not-xpr-art]

meaning time ladsssssss

(this is gonna be a bit less concise than my other one because my thoughts are ALL over the place with this piece... I'm also just really tired today but anyway)

ok so this is one where I had SUCH a vivid concept idea in my head (mainly inspired by the nothing but thieves song 'lover please stay'*) but I was finding it really hard to translate into an artwork... so let's see if I can explain it better with words lol?

ok so basically I wanted the disembodied hand of Len (surrounded by a halo) to be reaching out towards an unaware Tommy (which someone in the tags mentioned made them think he was reaching out to give him head pats or something which did make me giggle a bit lol) hanging above like the sword of damocles, a heavy, suffocating presence following Tommy throughout his life (and especially at the funeral)

(originally had it hovering at his shoulder but it looked weird idk... partly because foreshortening is NOT my strong point and fsr I refused to use a proper reference for Len's hand?????? can't explain it...)

the stark lines of the background were originally going to be more organic and soft looking... I think the lines feel more relevant, especially with the idea of Tommy being trapped in a life he never wanted (because of the sacrifice he made to save Len by leaving him)

(the silver bars perhaps like a cage, or a prison...)

and it is kinda funny that I did start with a very different colour palette (pale blue and gold), but blue and red seems to be my in9 colour scheme so here we go again pfft...

not a lot to say about the style of this one lol... again, planned to do something totally different (wanted to do art nouveau style) but it just ended up morphing into something else entirely lol. I guess maybe an interesting thing about how I painted is that I predominantly painted Tommy's skin tone in pinks/reds (I was aiming for a more realistic tone than I usually do) which is maybe why the pale blue and gold background didn't work hmm...

the string of fate between them has disconnected, but Tommy is still unable to let go as Len unravels from his life like a loose thread...

this episode just makes me feel so much lol I just really hope that emotion comes across in my artworks of them tbh...

*also just in case people aren't aware of some of the lyrics in the song that I felt were really relevant for these two, so here they are:

'So take from me what you want, what you need

Take from me whatever you want, whatever you need

But lover, please stay with me

...

And I can see you, I can feel you

Slipping through my hands'

i can feel you, slipping through my hands...

(yes, another bernie clifton's dressing room fanart lol)

(09/2024)

this piece went through like 5000 concept changes before i settled on 'sword of damocles meets red string of fate' lol...

[flowerspeakz]

Lmao I remember seeing images of vi as a pitfighter and thinking "noo spoilers 😭" (I didn't want to know ANYTHING about season 2 before watching it--get the best experience, yk?).

But like,,, Vi's pitfighter phase was so insignificant? Like actually so brushed over? I totally forgot about it because it had one stupid montage and that's it.

Why did she even become a pitfighter? Ik that it's her coping with her life falling apart, by why pitfighting? And also where's the pitfighting happening? And why is that vander replacement there? What??? Can they not like continue the insane worldbuilding they had from before please?

ffs I'm tired of people claiming that people critiquing arcane have no media literacy and want to be spoon fed. Be so fr the first season of arcane is so so SO GOOD because the reasoning behind characters' decisions were explained/shown before the decision was made. (silco choosing that kid to be the first human shimmer weapon because that kid fucked up his recon mission on vi/powder/mylo/claggor so badly, powder wanting to prove that she isn't a jinx because mylo keeps dissing her about it, marcus being a mess of a dirty cop because his family's safety is in silco's hands, etc, etc)

Characters are not real people. Sure, a real person can make decisions out of left field. Yeah, real people have microexpressions that can tell you a lot about what they're thining. But a character's motivations and how they think should be clear to the audience (generally, ofc there's exceptions im not stupid yo).

Yeah, I know why each character did what they did in s2, but not in the way I did in s1. Not in a way that matters.

I mean, I totally forgot that Mel and Jayce were in a relationship in s1. Where did that go?? I guess people are so obsessed with jayvik that they were probably celebrating that the writers forgor about that important character/plot point. You're telling me not a single character has ANY curiosity??? Jayce sees that Mel is a mage and doesn't, yk, insist on getting the full story??? And vice versa??? Even if they implied that that conversation happens off-screen that's not enough. Seeing how these two very close characters express these very traumatic events to each other would be such a good look into their internal mindscapes and how they view the crazy shit that just happened to them. But nooo. We can't explore their relationship together because jayce needs to be obsessed with viktor.

GOD I want a bi character in a show to come out of a same-sex relationship and end up in a "straight" relationship just to watch the internet fucking implode. Every bi/plurisexual person deserves a smooch on the forehead and a little voice that tells them 'love who you love, nothing could make you less queer than you are. yeah, people sure do think otherwise but fuck them ong holy shit'

omggg dont even get me started on caitvi... can we not get a healthy wlw relationship that isn't rooted in codependency and general toxicity?? "people just cant let lesbians have anything can they," i've heard people say in response to people criticising the caitvi sex scene... NO! I want sapphics to know that they can have healthy, non-abusive relationships where you, yk, actually talk to your partner and ARENT just the dirt under their nails. tf.

[swrkn]

can you maybe do some wooin in a relationship hcs pretty please, thank youuuu! ur writing ate <3

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Wooin x g/n reader

Genre ; fluff , sfw

Author note ; thank you so much and sorry for the late reply i didn’t log on tumblr for a few days, i also tried a new style for my headcanons so please don’t hesitate to tell me which one you like more ! My request are open !

𖣔 First of all, i see Wooin with someone who has to match his vibe, so you know someone who likes to goes out and maybe a little freaky.

𖣔Wooin has a knack for making sarcastic comments or teasing you about the smallest things, like how you pronounce a word or the way you hold your chopsticks. He finds your annoyed expressions way too entertaining.

𖣔He has a bad habit of stealing random items like your phone or snacks and holding them just out of reach until you chase him for it. It’s all in good fun, though—he always gives them back with a smug grin.

𖣔Wooin will playfully mock you about it—like mimicking a character from your favorite show or pretending to be clueless about it. But secretly, he loves seeing how passionate you are and might even look into it himself just to understand you better.

𖣔 Wooin is the type of guy who will act like he doesn't care about you even tho he clearly does. He'd try to maintain his calm, aloof demeanor but his actions would totally betray how much he cares about you.

𖣔 You don’t know about the drugs with sangho choi, as it could be too dangerous for you.

𖣔 He definitely stalks you.

𖣔 Even if your not in a relationship with him, Wooin would casually barge into your place without warning, acting like it's completely normal.

𖣔 Wooin would be the type to casually ask you to paint his nails, and it would come with his signature mix of nonchalance and lowkey affection. He’d drop the request in the middle of a conversation, like, “Hey, you should paint my nails,” as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He’s not shy about it, but he pretends it’s purely practical.

𖣔 Wooin gives off the vibe of someone who’s not into pda, but that doesn’t mean he’s not affectionate in his own way, he just show it in private.

𖣔 Does he get jealous ? Yeahh. Does he show it ? Noo.

𖣔 Wooin’s personality was a little weird in the start of your relationship, he would leave you constantly questioning where you stand with him, and it’s probably intentional on his part.

𖣔 I kinda see him as the type of guy who yaps a lot about you with his close one, so hyuk definitely knows about you, and maybe even joker.

𖣔 You see those people who always send cats videos saying “us” ? Well i think he would send you those stupid videos like this just to annoy you.

𖣔 Your friends definitely don’t like him, and always warn you about him. Why ? He’s a walking red flag but i guess you just can’t see it.( me too )

𖣔 He looks like he has a baby face, so i think those days when he barges into your house, you guys would just do nightcare and stuff like this while watching movies.

𖣔 Speaking of movies, i just know he loves horror movies, so during those nights when your watching movies, he would scare you for almost the whole movie, because “your face looks funny when your scared”

𖣔 When he sees you sleeping, he takes pictures of yours and can annoy you with those for days. He would also draws things on your face, and he would say nothing even if you go out like that.

𖣔 I don’t think he would see any problem with you wearing revealing clothes, i can’t say why but he gives this vibes.

✵

[deadqueerboys]

Dt with Famous!Reader?? sfw and nsfw

Fr? Okay‼️ I made it gn! Reader

I wrote a lot wtf

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Dream

He was out of hand. You always seemed so far from him. He thought he would never even talk to you. You were his famous crush. The one he talks about to his friends and the one he loves to talk about when drunk. He knows practically everything about you, your favorite color, your complete name, and your birthday.

Dream was actually a little bit obsessed with you for a while, but he would never guess you were his fan too. In his last drunk night, he got himself up to text you and see if you would answer, which you did. He was so crazy when he woke up with your text on his notifications.

He's better writing than talking. It was easy for him to make you interested enough to have a date with him. Sure, you got a flight and came over as fast as possible. He did the food, and he didn't want to go out and be recognized. Dream was so sweet while doing the dinner. Even for a house full of boys, it smelled good, and it's properly cleaned. Or maybe Dream just made it for you.

"Here it is.." Dream smiles and puts the food on the table. Two candles were in the middle of you, it was perfect and cute, he made sure to make a food you would enjoy. He even called his mom to make sure he was doing everything right. At some point, he puts his hand on yours, and he smiles. It got him dumbfounded.

Dream couldn't wait to have you, and he knew a relationship with you wouldn't last long, you have too much work and he had to enjoy this one night thing or else there wouldn't be any more "one more night". He got up from the table, offering his hand to you. When you both got up, he stayed in silence before kissing you.

It was awkward. He probably hadn't kissed anyone in a while, so you had to be gentle. You pushed him to the couch. It was big and comfortable, just like Dream's lap. You had to make the risky moves, and he seems happy to obey. He was full of energy for you, electricity and lust on his eyes as he took your clothes off. He loves to trace your body with his finger, kissing your nipples and grabbing your boobs with his hands. They seem so small on his big veiny hands.

George

He wasn't happy about you two meetings, it was just for an event and it should be fast, but it wasn't. Two hours after the start of this stupid stand, he didn't want to see anyone else. George has a low social battery, even being kind to his fans. He was being rude with you and with his friends. And in his opinion, you're the worst. You're more famous than him, more pretty and more lovely with people. He wasn't used to see someone so good around him and it was driving him crazy.

George was so pissed he would come over to you with a fake smile and ask you for a picture. It was a challenge. Dream was in the corner filming everything. But, he couldn't deny, when he got closer to you, his legs started to shake. He didn't know why he was feeling like this. It just made the situation more awkward. He couldn't believe in how good you smell. He closed his eyes for a second and enjoyed it. How can someone smell this good after hugging a bunch of teenagers?

"You're.. pretty." George whispers like an annoying teenager. He was lost on his own mind, after the pic he stayed around you, at this time he was smirking and being cocky. He even leaned against your table and stared at you with happiness and a little flirty. In some minutes, he was already back to his normal. He went in your direction with a bracelet one of his fans gave him. "You know, some people might say we look good together." He looks at you up and down. "You can have this thing, I'm not really into bracelets or clocks." With a shrug, he leans a little bit closer, spining the thing with his fingers.

You didn't waist time after understanding that he wants you, you followed him into the public bathroom where he pushed you against the wall and kissed you, his hands on your hips as he thrust his hips a little. George was somehow needy, his free hand grabbing your neck and pining you there. He was ready to lose his sense of comum, he was almost fucking in a public bathroom where all of his fans could easily see him! But he didn't, instead, he pushed you away and smiled at you. "See you at the end of the event, my house. I can drive you."

Sapnap

Sapnap wouldn't waste time. He loves to have a famous partner, even with him being famous himself. He enjoys showing up on your videos, recording for you, and even editing for you if that's what you want. He's happy to make videos with you, posting pictures when you guys are at hotels and some of them with you half naked. He's so needy that he is almost pathetic. He likes blowjobs, handjobs and kisses on his dickhead. Loves receiving pleasure in the middle of a stream. Sit on his lap, move around, palm him through the clothes, and go under his desk.

He's the type of guy who wants you all for himself. If he sees some of your fans flirting with you, he will go crazy. He's not afraid of anything, so he would happily kiss you roughly in front of anyone who tries to ask you out. It's an extreme option, but that's how he likes it. He's a simp for public things, grabbing your ass in public and caressing your neck with his hand until he's almost holding it with a rough gasp.

Doesn't mind if you're more famous than him. He doesn't care. He just wants you to never leave him. If you promise him loyalty, he will stay with you forever. His fans can be a little toxic with you, talking about the way you dress or act, but he doesn't care. You're perfect for him. He loves your lazy side and how good you look by the morning when you wake up.

"Would you still love me if I wasn't famous?" Sapnap asks, for the fourth time of the day, currently cuddling with you. He was the big spoon at this time, his arms wrapped around you kindly. He wanted to hear your answer one more time, knowing damn well you would answer how he likes it. When you say yes, for the fourth time, he smiles and kisses your neck. "I would love you too." He smiles and finally relaxes and lays his head on the pillow, he would quickly fall asleep like this.

[a-dragons-explanations]

I'm sorry you're going through this, genuinely. It sounds like you've had a really hard time with all of this, and I can see where the temptation to lash out comes from. I'm sorry you've been struggling with these feelings so much - it can be a lot to deal with, I'm well familiar with that.

I'd like to try to help, so I'm going to go ahead and try - please, if you don't want the help and feel like I'm overstepping, feel free to ignore the rest of the post. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into anything, I just want to offer some guiding questions and a little analysis in case it would help you, because sometimes an outside perspective can really help unravel these things.

So:

I'm not going to tell you that you are otherkin - that's something only you can decide - but I can say that what you're describing very, very much aligns with what many, many nonhumans experience, so I've seen a lot of people work through these feelings. I'm not surprised that the otherkin community has become a bit of a mirror for you, even if it's one that feels threatening. As they say, after all, wanting to be nonhuman is one of the most telltale signs of being nonhuman.

I guess the core question, if you want to finally hash out your feelings on this one way or another, is: why are you so afraid of calling yourself a fox? Or at least, why are you so determined that that can't be the case? And whatever the answer to that question is: is that really, when you dig into it, a solid reason, or are you just flinching from something that feels scary but isn't a real threat?

The best guess I have, to facilitate that outside-perspective analysis, is pulling from this quote -

"being told to accept myself hurts, because it implies that there is something to accept; or a prospect of getting closer to the concept of being something else. yet i can’t FIND it. i would jump at the first glimpse of that opportunity, as i have been trying to, but i can’t understand it."

I may be wrong here - I have a very limited view of what's going on inside your head, after all, and if I'm misunderstanding you please correct me - but it sounds to me like what's stalling you out is either a) the internalized feeling that this can't be real, that these feelings aren't "enough" to make you really nonhuman, and/or b) that you're afraid that since you'll never be able to be physically nonhuman, identifying yourself that way is just going to hurt you more.

Both of those are completely reasonable fears, and ones many, many people have faced before you. Again - it's a weird thing, and for years I was dealing with the "this is crazy, this can't be real" doubt periodically.

One answer to this would be to try to walk away and ignore it. Admittedly that's an answer that doesn't work well for a lot of people, but it is an option. But it seems like you've tried that, and you keep finding yourself coming back. It sounds like you have some very strong conflicting feelings about this - and maybe like you've determined (for whatever reason) that you can't be nonhuman, even though you want to be, so your brain is (consciously or unconsciously) doing the "if I can't have it, no one can" move and lashing out at people who are embodying a thing you want but feel like you can't have.

That's a very normal instinct. It's - maybe a little ironically - the Fox & Grapes fable, right? If you want something and can't have it, it's often easiest to decide it was never really desirable (or possible) in the first place, so that the loss doesn't hurt as much. But then there are people right there who are having it, proving that it is possible and desirable and preventing you from cutting yourself off from the loss - so your brain perceives them as a threat, a source of pain, and wants to lash out.

But the pain isn't coming from the people who are living their lives, and it's not fair to lash out at them. You know that already, I can tell from the way you're talking about this at this point. Whatever the right answer is for you, whether you're nonhuman or not - if it is wrong for you, then just because it's wrong for you doesn't make it wrong for everyone.

This verges into questioning advice at this point, but if I may go that far, because I really do think that this lashing-out seems to be stemming from your own confusion and pain regarding your own wanting-to-be-an-animal feelings: I won't tell you to "accept yourself," because you've already determined that's not helpful advice for you, and that's completely fair. Instead, I'll offer a question that might be a more useful framework to look at this through: regardless of whether you are currently a fox or not, would you be happier calling yourself a fox, viewing yourself as a fox, living life influenced by and embracing foxness?

Don't knee-jerk react - pause and imagine it. Say the words out loud to yourself. Think about how you feel when people call you a fox, how it feels to look at a picture of a fox and go "that's me".

And, if the answer is that yes, it's an overall happy imagining - is that not a good enough reason to do it? It's a good enough reason for plenty of us. It's a good enough reason for me. If it's a happy imagining, I'd personally encourage you to let yourself chase that happiness. If it ends up not fitting right, you can always discard it later.

And to address that second potential fear - yes, sometimes it does hurt that we can't physically become what we long to be. It does. But, as gently as I can say this, it sounds like that's already hurting you, despite your efforts to push those feelings down. It doesn't seem to me like you're succeeding in getting away from it. It's a very natural instinct, but that doesn't mean it works, especially long-term. And, much like gender dysphoria, the answer to soothing species dysphoria is often doing things to make you feel closer to what you want to be, rather than trying to push it away and insist to yourself that you can never have it.

All of this, of course, is just my thoughts as an outside perspective - an obviously somewhat biased perspective, for that matter, given that I happen to be nonhuman myself. Ultimately, to come full circle here, I don't know your experiences as well as you do - you're the only one who can ultimately decide what to do with those experiences and what framework to parse them through. I'm not trying to push you to start identifying as otherkin here, I promise; I'm just trying to offer a way of looking at it that you might not have considered, and some compassion in the face of the agonies.

And... be gentle with yourself. You've lashed out and likely hurt people, and that was wrong of you, yes. You clearly understand that. I hope you'll think twice before doing it again in the future. But you're also hurting yourself, and as you say, you've been trying to get people to snap back at you - I don't know if you realize this, but this is a form of self-harm you've been doing. You don't need to punish yourself for the feelings you're having. Be gentle with yourself. You deserve that much.

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[bayetea]

there are many things about hazel's povs that have an intensely de-racialized vibe to them (read: divorced from the black girl experience) but I think any black person will tell you that the most obvious sign is the complete lack of attention paid to her hair

like firstly:

she's from the 1930s her hair was definitely getting permed and straightened (it was not acceptable to just wear your natural hair out back then. optics + cultural assimilation/you'll be hard pressed to find photos of black american girls with unstraightened hair in that time period unless they're from like..... harlem)

I do believe that marie was straightening it for her For A Time but then she became more neglectful and stopped so hazel had to do it herself. I'm almost positive that hazel wouldn't have even been permitted to set foot in her school building without straightening it because that's just how much of an expectation it was

ok she comes back from the dead. what's she doing to her hair now bc it's not just gonna be cutesy effortless curls falling over her shoulder no matter what the length is

how does she feel about living in a time period where natural black hair is more accepted (read: more, absolutely not fully)

there are no black people around her At All. in fact she's around a lot of white people on the argo (+nico) so that would probably be giving her some intense feelings of double consciousness (look this term up if you don't know what it means) and that would inform how she feels about her hair

theoretically she ought to be wearing her hair in braids for simplicity's sake but I think it's more likely that she would cling to what she knows (perming/straightening) because it's not easy for a 14 year old girl (PSA hazel is 14.5 in hoo not 13 btw 👍) to go from assimilating to deeply-ingrained white hair beauty standards to just proudly wearing a distinctly black hairstyle all by herself

mind you black women and girls can do whatever they want with their hair and straightening/perming it does not always/have to come from a place of self-hatred or whatever but in this particular case back then straightening one's hair was political And a survival tactic. it was as normal as brushing your teeth. it was enforced through dominant cultural messagings about the Absolute Necessity of conforming to white conventions of beauty. if you don't understand then think of it similarly to how you'd think of 1930s women needing to be perpetually dolled up and modestly dressed in order to be considered "good women" and anyways I'm just saying that this would be a lot to unpack for a 14 year old girl so hazel's probably just continuing to do this impractical thing (straightening her hair all the time) like 60% out of habit and 20% out of shame and 20% she doesn't know what else to do

something something about a missed potential character arc regarding all of this and in general there's so little mind paid to race in hazel's povs which is just ridiculous to me because a black girl from the jim crow era should have at least a few feelings about where she fits into modern society even if that society is camp jupiter. rick demonstrates his capacity to talk about how his characters feel about their race most notably in the kane chronicles so I don't think was too much to ask for. see this quote from an early son of neptune chapter:

^ like....... hazel's feelings of out-of-place-ness are There in the text and important to take note of when understanding her character (note that she's been there for like a year already and she still feels like she doesn't belong) but the emphasis is always put on her Being from a different time or Being undead and is never put on her out-of-place-ness regarding her race as a black girl from segregation times who is literally so out-of-place in this weird post-racial camp jupiter society. it feels like such an obvious thing to consider so its glaring absence really bugs me when I reread her povs and it bugs me when her hair is never talked about by extension because It Matters

you might be thinking "well she had a lot going on and she's not a superficial person maybe she just didn't care what was going on with her hair" and my response is simply that Black girls don't get to "not care" about their hair it is not the same thing as a white person going to school with bedhead it's not the same thing At All (if you aren't black then chances are you've never actually seen what untouched black hair looks like in the morning), especially when it's been beaten into your head for your entire life that your hair is ugly and you have to "do something to it" for it to be acceptable (and again...... she's from the 1930s so that feeling is magnified like 50x over). remember that perpetually dolled up modest 1930s woman I mentioned previously. picture her time traveling to camp jupiter of all places in 2010 and struggling to drop all of her makeup/hairstyling routines and internalized misogyny and conceptualizations of what women are "supposed" to be. this is the kind of fascinating character exploration that we really missed out on with hazel (and tbh regardless of her race she was never believably written as someone from the 1930s. I don't think rick even really tried to be honest)

you might also be wondering "how was rick supposed to know/attempt to portray any of that" and then my second answer is that If you're going to write a character who is not the same race as you then you should do some research and we have the internet now so research has never been easier 👍 this would be especially important to do if that person is a poc from the jim crow era I think! (he could have at least googled black hair 1930s)

anyways what I choose to believe (this is pure fanfiction) is that during hazel's first year at camp jupiter (remember that she was there for about a year before son started) nico would have helped her figure something out after observing her distress over her hair c: like they both secretly watched youtube videos on black hairstyles circa 2010 and then they got attacked by monsters for using a laptop (neither of them know how to use a laptop but he's trying his best for her) but then after killing them he helped her do her hair as something she likes that is easy to maintain <3 (I could also see reyna doing this because she surely knows a thing or two from her spa days)

[1495-gauge]

there's that fucked up three-eyed thing that lives in the woods. whose turn is it to chase it off again??

[uncanny-tranny]

A big argument against asexuality and aromaticism is the idea that you can be too young to know. I remember people being so put out by the idea of somebody under eighteen identifying as aro or ace, and they made it known how they thought it was bad.

However... I really don't agree with that outlook. I knew something was up with me when my friends were developing a "normal" identity in the eyes of amatonormativity, and I was under eighteen. Mind you, I didn't have words to express how I felt, so I was in a perpetual state of feeling pressure to be "one of the normals." It made my life miserable because I was being dishonest to myself and cloaking who I was behind a layer of shame.

My point is that... when you know, you tend to know. Sure, your identity might change, but is that more important than making sure you are comfortable in yourself? Would you rather feel the way I did at my age hearing about my allo friends? Because it was unbearable, and I don't wish that on anybody.

[flock-of-cassowaries]

As a person diagnosed with a disease that causes brain inflammation, whose diagnosis was significantly delayed by a neurologist failing to pass along important MRI results - yes, this was infuriating.

I nevertheless ship Hannigram, for reasons I struggle to succinctly explain.

(I would say “brainworms”, but I now get a monitoring MRI every year, and my last scan was clear. Presumably, someone would’ve mentioned it if there were literal worms in there.)

More on both the medical angle, and the “why TF do I ship this??” angle, below the cut.

What it felt like to find out important test results were not shared with me:

It was a horrible gut punch. In my case, there was no malice - only negligence - but the result was that I had been walking around for ten years gaslighting myself that the worsening symptoms I was experiencing couldn’t possibly be what I originally thought they were.

I was mad, but also just devastated. It really shook my core sense of safety in the world.

It took me about a year to even start to kind of feel normal again, despite the fact that I was getting really good medical care in the wake of the error being detected.

Details of what’s portrayed in this episode that are just dumb (aka ✨pedantry✨):

My experience of actual medical testing and care around inflammatory autoimmune brain conditions makes me even more irritated by this plot line.

First off, the MRI scene. Like, perhaps it’s different in the states, but in Canada, MRI departments operate 24/7. I’ve had scans scheduled at 3am.

They will definitely set up an emergency scan for you if you have an emergent condition (I only waited four days for the scan that ultimately got me diagnosed), but there’s no way that they could just do an “off the books” unofficial scan with no one around, as is portrayed in the show.

Also, neurologists don’t perform the MRI. Radiologists do it, and then they send it to the neurologist to interpret.

Most importantly, you CANNOT move your head during a scan. There’s actually a little cushion in there that fits tightly around your head to stabilize it so you don’t accidentally move it, but they also will tell you to stay very still. One radiologist warned me to “breathe gently”.

In the show, you can see the plastic frame where the stabilizing cushion should be, but in the name of a cool shot, they’ve removed it, and Will Graham is just bobbing his fucking head like he’s in Night At The Roxbury.

I was so irritated I made a gif.

That scan would be unusable.

Also, the fact that Hannibal is able to correctly guess the exact condition Will has makes no sense. So many things could mimic those same symptoms.

To conclusive determine that what I had was MS, the following tests were done (within the context of the taxpayer-funded Canadian medical system):

1. Standard blood panel and urinalysis to rule out common infections

2. MRI

3. MRI with contrast fluid

4. Spinal tap

5. Seventeen additional blood tests

And they did all that despite the fact that I had a first degree-relative already diagnosed with the same disease.

Some people have suggested Hannibal made the diagnosis based on smell, but that is anatomically nonsensical. The brain is wrapped in a pretty thick membrane; aseptic brain inflammation would be not off-gassing from the skin or mouth like a stomach cancer, or arsenic poisoning.

Finally, the ease with which Hannibal is able to talk Dr. Dipshit into committing gross and easily-detectable medical malpractice makes no goddamn sense. It is perhaps the baldest example of the cynicism of the show’s writing - as I argued in another post, it portrays a world in which almost everyone is despicable.

If we rule out the possibility of literal brainworms, how the f*^% did I end up shipping these two?

As for how I ended up shipping Hannigram anyway - I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that as a former right-wing true believer, I am an expert at creatively misreading media.

When almost all of popular art has the theme “your beliefs are bad, and you should feel bad”, you learn to preemptively kill the author (death the author?) so that you can extract enjoyment from a work of art without reexamining your odious beliefs.

( See: Republican politicians using lefty protest songs at rallies. )

I’m no longer a conservative - I excised those brainworms about a decade ago, thank god - but the willingness to just arbitrarily toss out parts of a story that don’t suit remains strong in me.

Season 2 of Hannibal is quite good, and Season 3 (while objectively bonkers and very poorly paced) has some great character moments. Hannibal as a character becomes a lot more complex as he unravels.

This unraveling makes him a fascinating figure onto which to project some of my worst psychological tendencies - specifically, my tendency towards splitting (where I see the people close to me as either all good, or all bad, and for that perception can change in an instant). So that’s really interesting to explore.

It’s also probably a deliberate misreading of the text on my part, but there are quite a few parts in s2 and s3 where Hannibal can be read as straight-up delusional; and while I am sensitive to the fact that people with delusional disorders are far, far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators, I am also endlessly fascinated by the trope of “character looks back on his life, and sees a series of horrible sins he’s committed, whose damage to others cannot be undone; and struggles with how to cope with that.”

So in that context, giving Hannibal a deus-ex-machina of high-dose risperidone creates some fascinating narrative possibilities.

(This is probably something I enjoy writing because I spent 15 years being an obnoxious apologist for horrible right-wing politicians.)

I also just like the idea of Will taking it upon himself to kill this guy once and for all, and then not being able to bring himself to do it, and instead just keeping him captive and constantly wrestling with the question of whether he’s just being pragmatic about keeping everyone in the vicinity safe from his pet serial killer, or if he’s actually doing what he’s doing to passive-aggressively punish Hannibal.

There’s just so much there, thematically, that I love to play with.

hannibal lecter SLANDER rant [spoilers for 1x10]

WHATTTT WHAT WHAT. Hannibal Lecter…Oooh… this just confused me so bad guys and when I finish the whole series and this whole rant turns out to be wrong I’ll admit it but how can you still sit there and ship hannigram!!!!! after this!!!!! it made me so mad that a LICENSED RADIOLOGIST sat there and lied to Will’s face ABOUT HIS OWN RESULTS because Hannibal asked him or whatever the fuck, I don’t know how close him and the doctor are yet or what their relationship is BUT???? LIKE???? He’s actively subjecting him to hallucinatory torture and the pain that comes with it, HALF. OF. HIS. BRAIN. IS. INFLAMED. HE CAN LITTERALY DIE FROM IT + brain damage, seizures, and worsen his already worse mental health. I HATE THIS GUY!!!! My hate train will start from here and continue on until he can prove me wrong

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently