#i was a MESS when i was younger (middle-high school and even into early 20s)

[thenorthblues]

@cvpidpirates asked: [ Mun Communication Preferences ]

🐣 Is there anything you're new at, just now learning, or practicing when it comes to RP?

Frankly, boundaries. I've actually only been back in the RPC for about a year or so now? But before that, I had been in it for the better part of 10+ years, at least on tumblr, and on many other sites even before that. And growing up in that environment really gave me a skewed sense of not just my boundaries but other people's as well. I was a huuuuge people pleaser and my mood would swing wildly (due to what I now know were panic attacks/RSD/depression)

And while it's not an excuse, I was going through life with the vague idea that I had adhd (diagnosed very young surprisingly but nothing was really done about it until the last decade), undiagnosed severe anxiety and depression, and so on. So all that mixed with what I could confidently say is chronically online behavior really led me down some bad paths both for myself and the people I called friends. None of it intential, but shit happens, and the effect still remained.

THANKFULLY I've been to therapy, gotten medicated, and matured greatly since!! And taking time away from social media like that was a huge help. Its why I always highly encourage putting yourself first, taking breaks, blocking when you need to, and making your space comfortable for you. Or stepping away altogether.

Since coming back, I have learned what triggers me, when to step away, and when to cut people loose! I still don't like conflict, but I'm far less likely to upset myself trying to please others or lash out due to my own anxiety. I like to think I've grown from my 'young and dumb' days lol.

Hope this makes sense!

[bethcartoonist]

The Gilligan Family

The future family of Numbuh 5 and Numbuh 2 (Going Clockwise: Abigail, Hoagie, Hogarth III, Homer and Jodie)

Hogarth Pennywhistle Gilligan III

Hoagie and Abby’s eldest son. A teenager whose presence is mostly seen through the shambles of mess and food he leaves around the house. When he is around, he can usually be heard complaining.

- 14 years old

- He’s always either at the mall or at school, so he’s not often home. Even when he is around, his face is always hidden

- Named for his grandfather. To carry on his spirit

- Was given his mother’s hat when he was younger. He doesn’t wear it anymore but keeps it hanging on his room door.

- Despite being a teenager, he’s still quite civil to his brother and is pretty harmless. Sector V still keeps him (or at least his room) under surveillance though.

Homer Thomas Gilligan (Numbuh 7)

The Writing Operative and 2x4 technology officer of the current Sector V. Loyal, hardworking and a little awkward, Homer often acts as a support to the team in many ways. Whether in battle, missions or off duty, he’s a capable presence who always comes through for them.

- 10 years old

- His middle name, Thomas, is a nod to his uncle.

- His code number is a reference to Cree Summer’s (voice of Numbuh 5) comment that if she was in the KND, she’d pick 7 as her number.

- He is said to be a great storyteller and does the daily logs for Sector V, hence his role as Writing Operative. He often puts his own twist on it of course, dabbling in a few writing genres

- He wishes to invent more original 2x4 technology items instead of following existing blueprints, but his inventions always end up exploding. The only successful thing he made is Roku’s signature weapon.

Jodie Gilligan

Hoagie and Abby’s daughter. Hogarth III and Homer’s little sister. A very cheery and giggly baby.

- 11 months old

- Her name is Hebrew in origin, an allusion to the Gilligans’ Jewish heritage

- She is very attracted to candy, despite not being old enough to eat it yet (her teeth haven’t come in). Can get EXTREMELY aggravated if she finds candy and someone takes it from her

- Shows quite good mobility for a baby, being able to quickly sneak up on people and climb on high-ish surfaces

- Is probably the only one that happily laughs at her father’s jokes

Abigail Gilligan née Lincoln

Part-time Teacher at McClintock High School and Full-Time mom, Abi still manages to find a way to maintain her laid-back cool attitude through it all. When she’s not grading papers, or getting gum out of her kids’ hair, she often spends her time reading or painting.

- 38 years old

- Secretly still a KND member with the rest of Sector V.

- Was in Wally’s band as the keyboardist in their high school days

- Often goes to ice cream parlours, soda fountains and candy stores with Hoagie on dates to sample the flavours.

- Splits the house duties with Hoagie. As she tells the kids: “Your dad cooks, I do the taxes and whoever loses at thumb wrestling has to clean.”

Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr

A pilot at the airport, he opted to work on short-haul flights so he wouldn’t be away from his family so much. Fun-loving and jovial, he dotes on his wife and tries to be a cool dad to his kids (despite the bad jokes he keeps telling)

- 37 years old

- Secretly still a KND member with the rest of Sector V.

- Is close with his son Homer. They usually spend time building stuff in the garage together. Both are still trying to figure out why Homer’s inventions always end up exploding

- His penchant for telling his bad jokes has only gotten worse over the years, but he says that he now has a right as a dad to say them.

- Only started dating Abby in their early 20s and got married a few years later

[bi-dazai]

okay while we're on the subject of eating healthy and exercising, I want to vent/talk about weight loss. This is gonna be a rly controversial, very personal and extremely long post but I do want to make a point. I'm not going to discuss every fucking nuance of haes or my EDs. But for clarity, know that my eds are complicated and were mostly osfeds - minor anorexia osfed in high school and bed osfed when I was 18-19. after i realised how fat i was the minor anorexia came back and over the pandemic it became full scale anorexia nervosa.

I'm 5'3. The healthy weight range I should be in is in the high 40s-low 50s. I went up to TWICE that by the time I was just nineteen years old. It wasn't fun being fat. I consumed as much fat acceptance, fat activism content as I could, I pretended I was confident and happy even when I was fat. But I wasn't. Because people don't just get obese accidentally. A little overweight, yes. But obese? No. You get obese from depression, from giving up. You don't want to move so you don't. You're sad all the time, and the body positivity circles say eat comfort food, whatever and as much as it makes you feel better!! Do you know what that is? That's encouragement of BED. Do not say that. Because I did that. I ate sugar and junk food, I was still depressed.

I was reading these posts that were claiming fat people shouldn't be weighed at the doctor, that your weight shouldn't count, that BMI is incorrect and doesn't matter, etc etc. There were posts saying that they got "perfect bloodwork" (what even is that? I knew that was wrong, I've had chronic iron deficiency for a decade!) even though they were fat, so they had to be healthy, right? I got shown pictures of obese ballerinas and obese weightlifters blah blah blah. And I grew and grew, and I got to almost 85kg on the fast track to 100kg before reality smacked me in the face and I realised I was shortening my lifespan by decades.

Here's what it was like being obese!

- joint pain, constantly

- could barely walk anywhere without feeling out of breath

- couldn't find any fashionable, good quality clothes (plus size stores either carry unfashionable clothing, or fashionable but cheap quality clothing. I don't like to waste money on cheap clothes)

- more acne than I'd had in years

- oily skin

- more difficulty feeling "full"

- JOINT FUCKING PAIN

- rashes from skin rubbing against skin!

- even larger chest, making me MORE dysphoric

- back pain!!

- snoring - this is not just embarrassing. This is potentially deadly.

- DYSPHORIA

- KNEES. JOINT PAIN.

- DYSPHORIA

this was just things I felt physically, noticeably! The things that my fat was doing on the inside was even worse. Fat isn't just this layer of packing peanuts that appears on top of you. It coats your organs. It gets everywhere. It makes your entire body run worse.

Fat also makes it much more likely for you to not just GET cancer, but it it also makes it harder to FIGHT cancer. Being obese makes almost every single goddamn sickness on the planet worse because when you have THAT MUCH fat tissue the hormones and shit it secretes fucks EVERYTHING up.

Yes there are obese bodybuilders. Yes there are obese ballerinas. Let's talk about those two.

There are plenty of drs and dieticians who have pointed out the obvious - if an obese person was really, actually eating healthily and exercising every day, they would not stay obese forever. Its not magic, it's thermodynamics. CICO done right works for everyone. If you are eating healthy, appropriate portions for weight loss at your TDEE and exercising it would literally be IMPOSSIBLE for you not to lose weight!! Even more the heavier you are because when you exercise you carry around a lot more weight.

Obese weightlifters are still obese. They are not proof you can be obese and healthy. They are still going to die younger if they do not lose weight.

Let's talk about fat ballerinas. The only ones I've seen are trainee ballerinas, not professional ones. And their performance looks impressive at first, until you look closer. You notice their balance is never quite perfect, their control can be amazing and the best ever but they'll still be off. Why? Because fat moves around with your movement, and it displaces your balance and your line of movement. It's simply not possible to do something like ballet dancing as a fat person without risking major injury as well. En pointe is already stupid dangerous for the skinniest ballerina. Going en pointe at anything above 60kg is going to get progressively suckier the heavier you go. And god help your ankles because falling down will always end in a major injury.

I'm so fucking done with "fat acceptance". I'm tired of "body positivity" being a movement about obese middle-upper class white women and not about scars and disabilities etc like it was focused on in the start. I have no problems with Health at Every Size - every person should feel happy to workout, to eat healthy. I have no problem raising issue with people bullying others for their weight as well. That's wrong. But pretending that it's Healthy at Every Size is a fucking lie, and it's one that could've sentenced me to an early death. Healthy at Every Size said I was condemned to joint pain and oily skin and depression and exhaustion for the rest of my life based on cherrypicked sentences from studies that didn't agree with them. That "95% of diets fail" sentence in particular drives me up the wall. You don't need a diet to lose weight, you need healthy CICO, you need to eat below your TDEE, you need to eat healthy, and you need to exercise. All you have to do at first is go on a 10-20 minute walk, whatever pace you like, a few times a week.

You can BE fit, you CAN lose weight! You are not sentenced to having joint pain and an increased risk for cancer and a less effective COVID vaccine for life. You can change your body in incredibly ways. You have no idea what you are capable of.

There's this myth that weight loss takes keto and shakes and diet pills and crash diets etc. It doesn't. All it is is making sure you eat less than your TDEE, eating HEALTHY calories, and getting your heartrate up by exercising at least 175 minutes a week.

The human body is not meant to be obese. There's no such thing as a set point weight. There's CICO, there's nutrition, there's making sure your muscles dont atrophy. Weight loss and fitness isn't some magic thing that youre just born able to do. I was lazy throughout my entire teens. I thought fitness was something the popular girls did. It's not. It's for everyone. and everyone, especially in places with an obesity epidemic such as the US, UK, and Australia, should make use of it. It's a good thing. Walking is one of the best things you can do for your body, and it's incredibly rewarding in every way. Eating healthy and not eating until you feel like you're going to burst is rewarding in every way. And it's not like you can't ever have junk food again, you just have to limit it to a treat, a once or twice per week thing. And honestly, it makes it much more enjoyable that way.

Now I want to talk a little about my anorexia. My weight loss journey came to anorexia. This is because it was an eating disorder I'd had for a long time. I did not see a trainer or dietician, and I consciously decided to push myself too far. I consciously decide to eat less and exercise more when I am starving. This is not something that just happens because someone is eating at 1200cals. It happens because you have an eating disorder which you are born with. Saying people who eat 1200cals of healthy food a day and exercise right are "anorexic" is so fucking insulting to everyone involved. It's ableist and ignorant. 1200cals is also a pretty generous amount for anorexic ppl to eat. That's close to a binge in ED standards, so that should give you a reference for how offbase saying 1200cals is "anorexic" is.

My anorexia is healthy habits pushed into eating disorder territory. I eat healthy, yes, but I don't eat enough. I exercise, yes, but I often push myself too far when I'm already lacking energy. The advice I give people for health is correct, and I'm never going to go around saying "eat less than 1200cals" as weightloss advice. Eat less, sure, but there's a limit. Calorie counting is a good thing to do, tracking your macros and nutrients is good. But I do it too much.

I know what's healthy, a lot of ppl with restrictive and purgative EDs do. People with EDs can give some awesome health advice, we just can't follow it because we have a mental disorder. Believe it or not people with EDs discussing their EDs are not "pro-ana", pointing out that anorexia and people with anorexia are real and not some boogeyman you use to justify not losing weight and eating healthy is not pro-ana. Anorexia existing is not pro-ana and anorexics being anorexic has nothing to do with fatphobia.

this post is a rambling mess but i rly had to get some stuff clear on how I feel abt this stuff because it's getting concerning how much unhealthy shit, and then straight up ableist shit, that the fat acceptance crowd spews out.

A little exercise won't kill you, eating healthy won't kill you. You are not sentenced to ugly plus size fashion and joint pain and being out of breath for the rest of your life. Leave the Healthy at Every Size death cult and join the Health at Every Size movement. Let the doctor take your weight (it IS medically necessary). acknowledge that you are obese and it is affecting your health. It's scary but it can be the start of a new, healthy beginning. It was for me.

Losing 15kg has been the best thing in my life. Sure, the anorexia is there enjoying it for one reason. But the reason I truly enjoy it is because I've discovered what a healthier body feels like. I've discovered the joys of exercise, I've discovered the joys of eating healthy. I can fit nice clothes now. And I'm still overweight! I'm 66kg, that's 4kg away from the barest minimum acceptable healthy bmi. But I feel so so much better. I look better. I have a jawline! Good skin! Energy! It didn't fix me but it sure made me a hell of a lot better.

Please please try and eat healthy, eat an appropriate amount, go for walks. It's so so good, and if you do it right you WILL lose weight. You'll live past 50. You'll get to explore the world in a way you couldn't when going up stairs had you out of breath. You'll fit into that nice skirt you've been looking at. Your skin will clear up. You'll have energy and your mental health will improve.

It's so so fucking worth it to put effort into your health, like I cannot emphasise this enough. Please do it, I wish I could tell myself this when I was binging on junk because the FA crowd told me it was valid to comfort eat until I hurt.

[babybottlepop96]

Home Again Chapter 1

Jean x Marco

Summary: Jeana and Marco have been friends since the tender ages of 5 and 7. They grow together and fall in love.... then Jean disappears.

Warnings: This story will contains mentions of past rape and abuse. The violence parts will probably be descriptive, but the rape will not be. There will be eventual smut further along into the story. 

~20 Years Ago~

"Jean, honey, this is mommy's new boss, Mr. Bott. He is the man who is going to help us, so I need you to be on your best behavior, okay?" The small five year old with ash blonde hair, dark brown undercut and honey golden eyes nodded his head as he stared at the tall dark haired man with dark chocolate eyes.

"Nice to meet you Master Jean." The man smiled down at the boy with a warm smile. "This is my son, Marco, he just turned seven a few months ago. Heard you enjoy dinosaurs and superheroes?" Jean nodded as he stared at the boy just two years older than himself with wide eyes, mapping out all the freckles along his tanned skin, milk chocolate eyes staring back into his own with a smile that could make the grumpiest of men relax. "Marco has a boatload of dinosaur and superhero toys, Marco, why don't you show Jean your room?" Marco smiled, grabbing Jean's hand and dragging him up the giant spiral staircase to the second floor.

Once inside the room, Jean's jaw dropped, the size of Marco's bedroom was bigger than his whole house combined. The ceiling was high with detailed trim along the edges, painted in a dark brown and a pale maroon shade of red. The bed was bigger than what any seven year old should have, a giant flat screen tv was mounted onto the wall across from the bed and games, movies and toys filled the rest of the room. "Do you want to play a video game? I have Spyro the dragon, Crash Bandicoot, Mario Kart?" The freckles kid asked, naming off games while setting up one of the many gaming consoles he owned.

"I… ummm.." Jean stood there nervously, rocking on his feet while twiddling his tiny thumbs. "I've never played a video game before." He looked up to see Marco smiling at him.

"That's okay! I'll teach you! We can start with Mario Kart, it's a multiplayer game, so I'll be able to teach you!" He smiled proudly as if he just won first place at the spelling bee.

"Oh, okay! Thank you!" Jean grabbed the controller Marco handed out to him with shaky hands. The two sat down on the squishy blue and purple bean bag chairs and started a game, Marco showing him how to pick his character, how to move and control the kart and how to throw the special abilities gained when hitting the boxes with the question marks.

"So, Jean, what's your favorite color?"

"Purple." Jean spoke as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing on the screen, still having a bit of trouble with the turns.

"Cool! Mines red!" Marco spoke as he gestures to the room around them. 

"Favorite food?" Jean asked, stealing a glance at the older kid next to him, he couldn't help but smile, Marco's smile was infectious.

"Spaghetti! Well, all kinds of pasta! Penne, ravioli, ricotta-"

"I thought ricotta was a cheese?" Jean questioned, he wasn't actually sure himself, he just knew that cheese was a luxury in his home, never having enough money most of the time for really fancy things like cheeses.

"Oh, yeah! It is!" Marco giggled, "I just really like ricotta cheese." Jean giggled too, this kid was alright. "You're my new best friend, Jean."

~8 Years Later~

"Will you just shut up, Yeager?" A thirteen year old Jean Kirstein, as calmly as he could, spoke with his fist balled up at his sides as he walked out of the middle school building.

"Come on, Kirstein, didn't your poor piss excuse for a mother teach you it isn't nice to tell people to shut up?" Eren, the school bully, asshole and dick, in Jean's opinion, insulted. That's when Jean's resolve faded into nothing and landed a swift punch to the tanned, unblemished skin, a crunch was heard throughout the whole parking lot. Eren fell to the ground but quickly regained his strength and landed a kick to Jean's guy. The wind was knocked from Jean's lungs, but his anger was dominant. He lunged for the bastard who insulted his mother, the only parent he ever knew who worked her ass off to make sure he survived, to give the douche-nozzle a good pounding, but warm, strong arms held him back before hos fist could collide with it's intended target.

"Jean." A warm voice whispered in his ear, Marco. He relaxed in the freckles arms but he was still livid. "Let's go." Then, he was dragged off to the black Chevy Impala.

"Is that your boyfriend Horse Face? Man, I knew you were fruity but seriously? You could do better!" Jean almost got out Marco's grip, but the taller, older teen had his grip firm and all but threw the teen into the back seat.

"Jean-" 

"No, don't start Marco! He taunted me about how I have to live my life, insulted my mother, then insulted you! He deserved to get his lights punched out!" Jean yelled, unshed tears forming in the corners of his Carmel eyes, threatening to spill any second. Marco just simply drew the younger into his arms and the driver drove towards Bott Manor. "He… he doesn't have to be so mean! I never did anything to him!" 

When they finally pulled into the Manor, Marco led Jean to his room, the same room they first became friends in eight years ago. The stuffed animals and small toys are now replaced with books, CDs and even more games and movies. Marco sat them down on the bed and neither spoke for a few minutes. "He was right, ya know." Marco finally spoke and Jean looked at him like he had four heads. "You could do better than me, if we were together."

"Marco Bott, you stop right there! No one could ever replace you! You are literally the best person alive! If I had the balls to kiss you I would!" Jean and Marco's eyes widened and Jean turned into a blushing, flustered mess. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I.. I don't know why I said tha-", but Jean couldn't finish, Marco's lips pressed firmly against his in a gentle yet passionate kiss that spoke thousands of words and so many feelings. 

"I love you Jean." Marco whispered as they pulled apart, foreheads still touching as both tried to regain their breath and slow their hearts. Jean cupped Marco's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"I love you too, Marco."

~2 Years Later~

Jean Kirstein, fifteen year old freshman at Trost High, walked through the park on his way home after work. He hates his job, hates working behind the counter at the local Taco Bell, hates that Eren works there too in the kitchen as a prep cook, hates dealing with annoying ass customers with snarky attitudes complaining that their crunch wrap supreme doesn't have enough sour cream. Well sorry, Karen, I don't make the fucking food nor do I determine how much sour cream goes on it. Today was a particularly bad day, Eren called off claiming he was sick when Jean really knew he was out with his "boyfriend" leaving him to prepare food and take orders. Then someone took a dump on the men's bathroom floor, didn't even try to aim for the fucking toilet! Just took a shot right there in the middle of the goddamn floor which he had to clean up himself while his manager bitched about him not doing his job at the counter. All Jean wanted to do was go home, talk to his boyfriend for a little before he eventually went to bed and got up early the next day for school.

It was a simple request that he wished for while the clock ticked by slowly. Jean was so into his own head, he never heard the footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late. A wet cloth covered his nose and mouth, his eyes widened for a second before the world faded to black.

-------------

"We have to find him!" Marco shouted at his father who was looking at him with a solemn expression. Marco paced back and forth in front of his father's desk, hands taking through his u kept hair. He has barely slept a wink since Jean vanished three days ago, his mind wondering about all the worst scenarios it could think of.

"We are trying, son, but we have no evidence of anything taking place. No struggle, no personal belongings, nothing to suggest anything has even happened."

"But Jean couldn't have just vanished into thin air! He wouldn't run away either! He loved his mom too much to just up and leave her and me…" Marco trailed off, thinking about his and Jean's time together over the last two years. Picnic and arcade dates, eating pizza and hot wings while they binge watched their favorite tv series at that moment, the soft and gentle kisses they shared between one another before they parted ways, always promising to text each other once they got home, letting the other one know they got there safe. That's the single most reason why Marco knew something was wrong. Neither of them forgot to send the 'im home safe and sound' text. Not once, in the ten years that they've known each other, did they miss sending that text. Even as children and Marco's father gave Mrs. Kirstein a cell phone as a gift to keep in contact, did they miss THAT text.

"Son, we are doing everything we can to find Jean. But we also need to think rationally, Jean might not ever be found." Marco froze at those words, Jean may be lost forever? He may never see those honey eyes, beautiful smile, perfect sketches and vibrant paintings painted by those slender pale hands and fingers? May never run his hands through those soft locks of ash and brown ever again? That's when Marco broke, he screamed and fell to the floor in a fetal position on the floor. His father looked at him with hurt in his own dark chocolate eyes, for him, his son and Jean's mother who was currently out looking for her only child as they speak. Don Bott rose from his leather chair and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of his son. He put his hand on his back and whispered a pained, "I'm sorry, Marco."

~10 Years Later (Present Day)~

Here he was, once again, at an underground auction. Mr. Bott hated these things, but he had no other choice, ever since Mrs. Kirstein passed away three years ago from a drunk driving accident, he hasn't been able to find someone who cleaned as well as she had. Every person he hired had an attitude or just didn't speak at all, always forgetting to dust the book shelves or take out the trash. So he relented and took up on Mr. Ackerman's suggestion to go to an auction. Getting there early to get a good seat, Mr. Bott, along with Mr. Ackerman, Mr. Braun and Mr. Hoover, the Dons of their respected parts of New York City, all sat down to converse while the auction for the…. Pleasure portion of the auction slowly came to a close. Mr. Bott cringed as the scum of New York bid money on these poor people just for the gratification of getting their dick in a hole.

"And now for our last and best prize of the night!" The auctioneer spoke as the Dons sighed in relief, none of them liked the idea of people being sold for pleasure as they themselves, tried for years to get it under control but never succeeding. "This one has been in the business for ten years, used and a bit rough looking, but this little beauty will be the best fuck you ever had. Clean and pliant, not a bad body either if I do say so myself. Number 54!" The announcer spoke as someone roughly shoved a young man out into the center of the room. The numbers flying from the crowd started pouring in left and right and it got the Dons wondering whom this "prize" was. "Three-thousand!" "Ten-thousand!" "Twenty Five-thousand!"

"Two hundred-thousand!" The crowd went quiet after hearing the deep booming voice coming from the front row.

"Two hundred-thousand! Going once! Going twice! Sold! To Do Bott!" The young man was then hauled out of the room to be prepped for leaving the facility.

--------------

"Dad! I'm home! Reiner, Bert, Mikasa, Eren and Armin are here too!" Marco called from the doorway as he and the others walked into the Manor. "Dad?!"

"In the living room son!" He heard his father call and the group walked towards the sound.

"What's up? We heard your voicemail and hauled ass here. What happened?" Marco asked as soon as he saw his father, eyes brimmed with tears and a small smile. The others in the room, specifically Dr. Yeager, looked at them, small sad but slightly happy smiles on their faces. "What's going on here?" The group looked at each other, confused and concern plastered on their faces. Once Mr. Bott moved to the side and gestured to the couch, it was then that the group realized what was happening. On the couch asleep, lay a thin pale man, dark circles under his eyes, bruises and scars and even some fresh wounds, now neatly stitched up thanks to Dr. Yeager, littering his almost naked form. Marco stared at the man laying on the pale green couch and tears flooded down his cheeks. "Jean?"

[heathered-beinn]

BangtanTV Youtube Vids 4

130217 SUGA (feat.RAP MONSTER) - YouTube Suga’s Log 17/02/13 (UK date)

So this is Suga’s first log! I love that fluffy black hat he’s wearing!! Obviously the heating is still not great in the studio since he’s also bundled up in a thick jacket ☹ I don’t have much else to muse about for this this video as it’s pretty short and not much happens or is talked about. It’s mostly Suga trying to make a log but laughing and complaining at Rapmonster constantly distracting him in the background. They obviously get on well both as colleagues and friends and it’s nice to see the two of them messing around having fun. So far they have tended to be the quieter, more serious, members of the band so I love seeing them act in a silly manner. I also look forward to hearing more from Suga in the future when RM isn’t distracting him!

흔한 연습생의 Harlem shake.avi - YouTube흔한 연습생의 Harlem shake.avi - YouTube

WTF did I just watch lol?????

The first time we see so many of them together on their official YT channel and it’s 20 seconds of chaotic WTF are you doing ridiculousness. Six of them – not sure who is who except RM and probably Jimin doing the headstand on the couch and maybe Jungkook in red – doing random things to the beat of Harlem Shake. Okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkay Moving on ROFL

 130206 RAP MONSTER FREESTYLE - YouTube Rap Monster Freestyling

No picture just RM rapping. Thanks to Megan R (credit Genius) in the Youtube comments for the translation.

Reading through the translation it seems RM is back on the path of feeling lost “a deserted island among my friends” - only it seems worse this time. He talks about being an adult now but all of his music peers have found success but he hasn’t yet. He doesn’t feel like there is a path for him, that he is stuck, and there’s no fuel to move him forward. His friends are suggesting he goes to college instead but RM doesn’t want to give up on his dream. My heart goes out to him. It really does. What he wants seems to be insurmountably far away to him (although it actually isn’t really – hindsight really) and I want to say I am so proud and very impressed that he got through that hard time to become the star he is today.

 방탄소년들의 졸업 - Making Film - YouTube Behind the scenes of J-Hope, Jimin and Jungkook’s Music Video

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww <3 <3 <3

This was so cute. A short compilation of clips of them messing around, dancing, laughing, and running about, having fun together behind the scenes of their little music video (This was in the last lot of BTV videos I watched). Can I just say wow at Jimin’s running cartwheel!! Lol, at least Jungkook tried. However, Jungkook’s basketball shot was also pretty impressive too!

The three of them seemed to get on well. There is definitely a tight little friendship developing between them – particularly between Jimin and Jungkook. I noticed in the scene where they are in the café and crowded around the laptop that Jungkook was comfortable getting so close to Jimin he was millimetres from resting his chin on his shoulder. It was cute and only of note because he seemed such a shy boy in other series and appeared a bit uncomfortable with being overly touchy-feely (like a typical teenager). It makes me wonder if his discomfort was more rooted in doing those softer kinds of things in front of the camera rather than doing them fullstop. This is another reason I am so keen to watch these videos – we are more likely to see who they really are and what they are like in real life when there is less editing and scripting involved. Even these more candid videos will never be true reflections either unless it’s a moment where they genuinely don’t realise they are getting filmed. I do wonder how Jimin and Jungkook’s friendship pans out over the years though. There wasn’t much in Carpool Karaoke to make a judgement but I remember it was Jimin, J-Hope, and Jungkook in the middle seats which suggests to me they remain fairly close.

My finale musing on this video is, yet again, another moment of marvelling how this little cutie grew into this beautiful man.

 130228 RAP MONSTER - YouTube Rap Monster 28/02/13 (UK date)

There is no translation for this video but I think, I think, he is just rapping along to a famous rap song? Either way, it’s cute lol and he seems to be enjoying himself.

Can I take a moment to point out that we have not seen one glimpse of V in these videos so far!! ☹

 130227 J HOPE & 정국 - YouTube J Hope and Jungkook 27/02/13 (UK date)

Cuties!! <3

As soon as I saw these two I was ridiculously excited. I feel like this, so far to me, is an odd pairing and I can’t wait to see what they are like together :D Thanks to Hopeful Mang in the Youtube comments for the translation.

Okay, now that I’ve seen the video and read a vague translation I can’t help but laugh on rewatching. There doesn’t seem to be anything of note in what they say, however their antics were hilarious and silly and I’m still not entirely sure I understand what they were on about lol. What I most noticed was just how confident and talkative and generally at ease Jungkook was with J-Hope, like just J-Hope’s presence was enough to push back Jungkook’s shyness. It was so lovely to see! It’s clear the two of them get on well and spend quite a bit of time together. There was definitely a big brother / little brother vibe going on and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn if J-Hope was one of the ones who looked out for Jungkook the most back then – and brought him out of his shell. I mean, J-Hope is just a ball of sunshine – who wouldn’t be buoyed up in his presence?!

130304 J HOPE & RAP MONSTER - YouTube J-Hope and RM

Another pairing I’m so excited to see together! Thanks to Hopeful Mang in the Youtube comments for the translation.

J-Hope starts off by commenting the colour scheme is black and white. RM says this is coincidental but emphasises that the band is one that works well together without having to say a word. J-Hope agrees they are an awesome team. So… this is the first time in these BTV vids that I’ve seen RM talking about the band being a team and talking to another member as a teammate, which is an interesting and positive change to behold. Only a month ago (4 videos up) RM was talking as though he had no path and was somewhat lost in what he was doing with his life. This ‘team talk’ is a significant change in direction. How deep RM is in this change remains to be seen but it’s good to see him interacting with the others in a band-like way. I’m wondering if there has been significant movement in forming the band behind the scenes since the start of February. There were barely any logs between this one and RM’s one where he was describing himself as a deserted island so it’s possible their time has been spent working on the band – which, if the case, brilliant!

Lol, RM asked J-Hope what he had done that day. J-Hope said he’d been relaxing and watching a movie and could not be more vague about said movie – he really gave it a stellar review lol. RM said he had been around Seoul looking for music inspiration but ended up resting instead and being distracted by pretty girls. J-Hope says this is pretty typical of RM, suggesting he knows him and his habits fairly well by now.

Then it gets super interesting as they say their schedule for the week ahead is packed because BTS debut day is approaching. I wonder if that’s what’s got RM suddenly talking about teamwork? Perhaps now that things are gearing up for a debut he’s feeling like he finally has a focus – a path. The question is, does he still, deep down. think about himself as a soloist or is he now becoming accustomed to the idea that his future lies in a band? Does he truly think the band will work out? It’ll certainly be very interesting to see how this plays out over the following weeks.

Final musings on this video: RM and J-Hope seem comfortable with each other but not super-comfortable with each other. There’s not the same silliness between them as there was between RM and Suga or J-Hope and Jungkook, which suggests to me that at this point they have a friendly colleague-type relationship but are not yet super-close.

 130304 SUGA - YouTube Suga’s Log 04/03/13 (UK date)

Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuga!!!!!!!!!! <3 Thanks to Nana Na in the Youtube comments for the translation.

ROFL!!! Suga starts by saying that because RM isn’t there the log is going to be easy. Funny enough, both RM and J-Hope did a log on the same day in the same studio?! It’s probably much later in the day. Suga tells us that the song playing the background is “Fly” by Epic High, which he says guided him into the world of hip hop. He says this song made RM and himself choose to rap and further explains that in 2006, while in elementary school, it was this song that made him decide he wanted to rap. This small titbit gives us such a little insight into how Suga got into rapping and just how long he’s wanted to be a rap star for. The fact that he knew so early on what he wanted to be and is still working hard to make that dream come true shows just how dedicated he is and just how well he knows himself. He finishes his log by saying when he’s tired and exhausted, like he is today in the video, he listens to this song “Fly” and it inspires him to make good music.

 130309 SUGA - YouTube Suga’s Log 09/03/13 (UK date)

Takes place 4 – 5 days after his last log – same hat! Thanks to Hopeful Mang in the Youtube comments for the translation.

It’s Suga’s birthday!!! <3 He says he used to anticipate his birthday when he was younger but not anymore now that he is older.

Then J-Hope, Jimin and RM come into the studio singing happy birthday and carrying a cake. Suga says it’s too cliché but seems pretty pleased by the gesture. He blows out the candles, J-Hope punches his arm a few times, which Jimin then wants to do but can’t because he’s holding the cake. Suga tells J-Hope to quit with the punching. RM says to turn up the music and Suga ends the log.

It’s sweet to see them celebrating each other’s birthdays. I hope as the years go on we get to see them do this for every member! I wonder if they buy each other presents – with 7 in the band that could get complicated and expensive lol.

Anyway, Happy Birthday Suga, sweetheart <3 Sorry for being belated by 8 years!!!

 130306 정국 - YouTube Jungkook’s Log 06/03/13 (UK date)

This seems to be a few days out of sync with the video for Suga’s birthday but it’s no big issue. Thanks to nana na in the Youtube comments for the translation.

Jungkook is almost painfully cute at this age. He starts by saying he still feels shy shooting a log alone and is not sure what to talk about <3 He says the background music is what he has recently been learning choreography to and finds the dance moves funny and exciting. He also says he is really tired and sleepy but he still has things to do and will go to bed after finishing them because he promised. This concerns me a little. There’s nothing to indicate the time but it does look like it might be pretty late in the day. He’s still young, still at school (presumably a school night since 06/03/13 UK date was a Wednesday) and he’s also working on band things. The fact that he said he promised to go to bed to someone means that someone else – much closer to him than the fans - thinks he has been working too much and not getting enough rest ☹

 130308 J HOPE - YouTube J-Hope’s Log 08/03/13 (UK Date)

Thanks to Hopeful Many in the Youtube comments for the translation.

J-Hope says he walked in as Suga was going to record a log (he calls him by his real name Yoongi, and I forgot that even back then they were probably pretty new to their stage names and probably don’t call each other by their stage names behind the scenes). Suga is quietly sitting up the back. J-Hope says he wasn’t planning on playing any background music but he liked the MR so he let it play – it reminds him of cherry blossoms and first love. He says he thinks he should work on a song like that. However, he is extremely busy as reality is approaching. [I guess he means the band’s debut]. He admits he has been sleeping less and working hard and hopes the results will reflect how much work he is putting in right now. He finishes the log by saying they should all go to the cherry blossom festival, in which Suga agrees. I find it simply beautiful that BTS have grown up in a culture where their masculinity is not questioned because they want to see some pretty flowers.

Not much more for me to muse on other than I like J-Hope’s top <3

[mcrmadness]

Oh look, an anxiety attack, hadn't had one in a while... yay

It's the health anxiety again. I random, small itchy spot just popped up to my wrist out of nowhere and now I cannot go to shower and I don't know if I dare to go to sleep even. It's almost 5:30am and I have a meeting tomorrow (today) after 1pm.

I'm still in the middle of a panic attack, I'm terrified of allergy despite not being allergic to anything. I get these skin things sometimes but usually never due to anything specific. In fact I suspect that it's just my skin being very sensitive and reacting easily to things like a hair or fur or even a corner of a piece of paper pressing against my skin for a little too long. Sometimes I get these on my neck when my necklace is touching my skin a certain way (e.g. when I'm trying to sleep and don't realize the pointy part is against my skin), sometimes I get these just from my clothes and I try to think it's probably a cat fur or my own hair that's just in a position that it is sticking against my skin.

It's just. Right now I am in the alert mode. All my body hair is sticking up and I can feel my blood circulating all around in my skin, ready to fight or flee. I'm just checking out every single sensation I get in case it's not just one spot but more would appear. My skin feels itchy from everywhere. I am so, so exhausted but I am too afraid to go to sleep until I calm down enough.

Some days, life with an anxiety disorder is so exhausting. It's moments like these that feel like a reality check. Feeling like I was doing just fine and having my anxiety under control, and then there is one second like this and I feel like I'm a fool for even thinking about my future because I have anxiety. One second like this can trigger a panic attack and depending on the time of the day (usually they happen at nights because everyone's asleep and I wouldn't want to bother e.g. my parents at 5am), it can just. Mess up with everything. Cause me to fuck up my sleeping schedule because I am too afraid to sleep, so then I sleep only like 2 hours or none at all, or if I have no plans, then I'll go to sleep when I have calmed down enough and it can be anything from 6am to 1pm.

Moments like these always reminds me of how I can't have a job. I mean, what is even worse than having these panic attacks? To not be able to sleep because you are too afraid to sleep no matter how exhausted you would be, and then still having to get up in time to go to work and be there, totally exhausted, as that will also create even more anxiety because of how overwhelming everything feels when you haven't slept enough. Anxiety attacks also drain so much energy that all you want to do afterwards is sleep. Skip any plans and just sleep and rest. It's another reason why I am afraid of having to start a "real job" one day because I don't know if I can manage that. I might be doing alright most of the time and then I have just one random physical sensation and my whole world falls apart because I think I'm dying and wanna know what caused that sensation but am too afraid to try again in case it's something dangerous.

Tomorrow the meeting is with the occupational therapist. For the past few meetings we have been talking about studying and working and browsing all kinds of schools and study opportunities and have been trying to figure out what would interest and also suit me. I also mentioned that I have been thinking about if there would be anything in Germany next year that I could do for like 2-3 months before the summer so I wouldn't have to wonder where to live during that 2-3 weeks between the concerts. Maybe this panic attack is partially of that too. I just feel so exhausted because the autumn and seasonal depression (seasonal affective disorder) is approaching, I would not be on the mood for any shit like that tomorrow but I know the time will run out soon and it'd be easier to do that now than in e.g. February. Plan stuff, I mean. I don't need to do anything yet, just go through options and plan things. But you know, I just would not have that energy now.

I've been having derealization and depersonalization moments lately too. Mainly because I have been wondering my future and every time I do that, I just am hit with the reality and start to dissociate. Because it's just... so difficult to understand how big the world is. How there are other countries outside of mine. How things are happening. My small die ärzte bubble at home is so safe. Everything outside that bubble is scary. I am afraid of mental breakdowns. What would I do if I was all alone in a new country and had a mental breakdown? I could not call my mom if I can go to their place at night. There would be a few thousands of kilometers too many between the places.

I have friends in Germany, but I still don't know what would I do or where would I go. Berlin has been a dream for over 10 years but I keep being told it's impossible to find a flat from there. I don't think any of my friends live in Berlin, either. Nor that close to Berlin. So I would be all alone in a city where I don't even have friends. And all my German friends live all around the country and I just... don't think there is any point in choosing a city just because a friend lives in the city. There is no point running after friends who also have other plans and goals. I very likely would just be left alone in their town, too, if I did that and they found a future from somewhere else and moved on.

It's just. I don't know. The loneliness is awful and one of the biggest reasons for why I have been thinking about Germany is that I might find more like-minded people from there, and of course to be closer to where everything dä is happening as I could even walk to a store and find and buy an album or maybe a poster, or just a magazine with interviews. Something that never happens in my city nor even country. Still I just always have this feeling like I would have doomed to be "forever alone" - me being aroace and not looking for any kind of (romantic) partnership doesn't help much either, just creates even bigger gap between me and those who are looking for a partner and eventually will find one. I dream that I would be less lonely in Germany and that it would be the solution to all of my problems, but at the same time I'm afraid that I would be as lonely there as I am here. I guess it's partially also my own fault because I never go anywhere, but in Finland I can't much because people are so introverted that every social interaction often happens when people are surrounded by alcohol and I don't drink alcohol. Already in junior high I felt that I had no social life because everyone else's social life was revolving around alcohol and I had no desire to take a part to any of that.

Well, at least I now feel a little better after venting. Not having that much anxiety anymore, but still being a bit confused as always. Feeling like wasting my time and being too old for anything. I need friends of my age but I still feel like I was 18 and see younger people and think they are friend material and then realize they're literally 10 years younger and we do think differently. I have seen it so many times, but I just constantly forget that people in their early 20s are still so young that we're basically from different worlds at this point.

I'll continue watching youtube videos. A little bit of escapism before I decide if I am brave enough to either shower or sleep. 5-6 hours until I have to wake up.

[undeadorion-archive]

Strap in, folks! It’s family drama time! But there’s a lot of history, first. CW: emotional abuse, anti-vax/mask, physical assault

I have 2 sisters. One older, one younger. We’re all our own brand of mess thanks to an emotionally abusive and manipulative mother. But my older sister takes it to a whole new level. She’s the one who fell into perpetuating the cycle of abuse. 

Older sister is 6 years older than me, thus in her mid-40s. Younger sister is 1 year younger than me. 

Technically, my older sister is adopted. But she’s also my biological sister. It’s a longer story, but my mom got into a serious accident when my older sister was just a baby. My mom’s cousins adopted her, but didn’t tell her until she was like 10. They told her she was going to meet her biological family, gave her a one way ticket from the midwest to Oregon, and put her on a plane by herself. They didn’t tell her she was leaving for good. Which, understandably, would mess someone up for a while. 

Growing up, she had some serious issues with acting out and just being awful. She’d skip school to bring boyfriends home and have sex in other people’s beds, for example. 

The big thing she did to me, however, happened when I was like 20. I’d injured my knee severely and was still waiting to see the physical therapist. I couldn’t bend my right leg at all, I’d later find out it was because my kneecap had started to heal crooked. But at the time this happened, I was just in so much pain I was physically ill. She cornered me in the kitchen about something and refused to let me leave until I told her what she wanted to hear. I was in tears because I just wanted to go lay back down. I begged her to move, she wouldn’t listen. I tried to slap her out of sheer panic, but because of the pain and standing on one foot, I barely even touched her. She responded by taking my feet out from under me and laying on top of me, in a wrestling move type of thing. She then mocked me for not being able to get back up while I was laying on the floor having what I now realize was an extreme panic attack. I couldn’t even speak. 

To this day, she waffles between claiming to not remember it even happening and it not being a big deal. By one line in the sand is that if she apologizes, genuinely, for it then I’ll speak to her again. She’s tried exactly once in 15 years, and it was to tell me to get over it and move on.

At some point, she moved 300 miles away. She would periodically come to visit, but I wasn’t speaking to anyone in my family during that time.

She got REAL mad when I moved in with my dad. For the longest time using my deadname or the wrong pronouns. Eventually upgrading to calling me “Colon” (with the quotes). I’ve lived her since early 2018, and she continues to insist that I turned my dad and younger sister against her. Even though it was her vitriolic behavior about me that did it. My only caveat is that I don’t have to see her if she ever comes to visit. Yet somehow that’s too much for her to handle.

Slowly, my dad and younger sister started distancing themselves. The biggest blow coming in the middle of 2020. Late in 2019, my dad had started planning a trip out to see her in May. He bought plane tickets because he’s getting older and he just can’t do that drive anymore. Then his flight was cancelled so he re-scheduled for September. But the more the pandemic dragged on, the more he questioned it. So he told her he was going to cancel for now and they could try again after the world got back to normal.

She absolutely fucking lost it. Just blew her top. Started ranting and raving about how it’s all a hoax. Called him selfish and demanded he have empathy for her plight. Expecting him to risk the airport, when he was in a very high risk category, between his age and health issues. 

After that, she got REAL loud about being against masks. And eventually, against the vaccine. 

Then, about a year ago, she “coincidentally” tested positive for COVID when she went to the hospital for pneumonia. And expected the family to travel 300 miles to see her because of it. She’s still anti-mask and anti-vaccine.

All the while she’s been threatening my younger sister to come and visit. While also demanding to take my niece and nephew (ages 9 and 4) out for a day just the 3 of them. Without any other adults. Like flat out harassing my younger sister about it. 

She was constantly attacking both my dad and younger sister. And any time they’d say anything in the real of “that’s not okay” she’d start in with the usual “That’s just my OPINION” nonsense. Like telling my younger sister to have a cleaner house.

Then added on top of all that, over the last year we lost our 2 closest relatives. Our aunt and uncle who lived one town over. We practically lived at their house for several summers. When older sister was told about their passing, all she said was “sorry to hear that,” as if they were strangers. She didn’t care at all about it, and was almost irritated that she was expected to acknowledge it.

Until a few weeks ago. We went to help our cousins with clearing out the house. Took some heirlooms and sentimental stuff and otherwise helped sell what they weren’t keeping. They lived in a huge house out in the middle of farm country, so cell signal was non-existent and internet was spotty at best. She saw younger sister posting photos from the visit, and lost her shit. Because she expected us to video call her so she could see what stuff there was. Of course didn’t give a damn about the emotional weight of it all. 

Sometime after that, she ended up calling my dad and berating him about it all. Just yelling and insulting him for no reason. She called him a “Stubborn old fool” and hung up.

In the interim she had to go back to the hospital due to post-covid complications. During which she was on a call with my younger sister. Pulled that usual abuser tactic of pushing someone’s buttons until they explode and then letting someone see just the fallout. So she could then tell my dad the doctor asked if everything was safe at home, and called my younger sister abusive for it.

Well, today was all of this coming together in one single phone call. My dad called her back after a missed call, mostly to check in after her hospital visit. And all of a sudden it became her bemoaning her “abandonment issues.” Like literally saying “You should have compassion because of my abandonment issues.” This was in response to my dad telling her calmly that he didn’t like when she insulted him or yelled at him, which she also defended with saying she had been “frustrated”. As if that excused any of her behavior. It ended with him saying “I’m not your therapist,” and telling her to speak to one.

Ultimately, she proved that she’s allowed to say or do whatever she wants and everyone else must only be nice and sweet to her. 

Also, somehow, this is all my fault. Personally. 

Family is exhausting.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Among The Missing

A Facebook friend recently posted about how they miss their parents, and think about things related to them, good and bad, every day.

Rather than muck up their heartfelt post with my response, I’ll put mine here.

I don’t miss my parents, at least not in any painful sense of longing.

They were wonderful to me when I was growing up, they went out of their way to look after and support and encourage myself and my brothers.

I loved them dearly.

But they got old and died.

I’m not being cold and callous about this; I think I know why I am this way and I’ll go into that in a bit, but right now I feel this:  

There is no sense of unfinished business.  

There is no sense I failed them.

There is no sense they ever failed me.

I can look back and fondly remember the good times, smile at the ridiculous times, even feel a bit wistful for them that all of their dreams didn’t come true.

But it’s not something that preys on my mind every day.

My father died of Alzheimer’s.  In a very real sense he was gone long before we put him in a nursing home (and he lasted less than a year there).  Three years before that, while talking to him on the phone, I realized he had absolutely no idea who I was, that the disease had ravaged his brain and memory to the point where to him as a son I no longer existed.

So be it.

I wept then, and I wept later when I went to help my mother get him into a nursing home.

I also had a moment during that visit where I genuinely thought I might be a sociopath, completely lacking in any emotions.

In the middle of all that turmoil, all that anxiety, I felt nothing.

Since then I’m come to realize it’s how I respond to extreme stress:  I simply shut down emotionally and work through the problem.

It happened a few years later when my aunt died while Soon-ok and I were traveling in Europe.  Once we got the call that we had to come back, all emotion left me; it just became a matter of arranging schedules, getting to the airport, making new plans.

I didn’t cry for her until three or four days after we came home.

When my mother died, my reaction was similar.  

She stayed in the home she’d lived in with dad when he was alive, looking after my middle brother who lived with them.

But she was old and tired and worn out and legally blind; the stairs down to the washing machine in the basement were a death trap just waiting to catch her, her blindness let all sorts of messes pile up because she couldn’t see them.

My younger brother finally persuaded her to move in with him and his family, and they had a few happy months together but then her health started deteriorating.

The doctors were sure she’d rally and enjoy several more years of life, but she didn’t, and deep down inside I knew she wouldn’t.

She didn’t have anything left to live for.

My younger brother absolutely did the right and best thing by persuading her to come live with him and his family.

If she stayed at her old home she might have died under terrible circumstances.

But when my father died, when she moved out, when she no longer had my middle brother to look after…

…her sense of purpose died, too.

I’m glad she died in a safe, clean environment with people who loved her nearby.

But she was ready to go.

. . .

I’m fond of telling people my father worked in women’s garments.

Let me explain.

My father was a time study engineer for garment manufacturers.

You could say that was a variant on being an efficiency expert.

His job was to study how workers made the various garments, figure out what was the most economical way of doing so, and have them to all make it that way when assembling them (for example, one style of garment might go faster if the collar was put on before the sleeves, another vice versa, etc.).

He had a way of working himself out of a job, because as soon as he got a factory working at peak efficiency, they only person they didn’t need was…

…him.

Why he picked this career is a longer story, but suffice it to say in the early 1950s, when he had a wife and a baby boy and needed to find a way to support them all, he rationally looked for a career that

would enable him to stay in the South

not just the South in general but specifically North Carolina

was part of a booming industry and

put no extra stress or responsibility on him.

In 1953, time studies looked like the perfect career choice.

Southern textile and garment factories were churning out product at a prodigious rate, job openings were popping up everywhere.

Had the business stayed at its 1953 settings, you might not be reading this, because so many things that would affect my life would never have happened.

We lived in 20 different houses before I graduated high school.

Until junior high, I never spent more than a year and a half in any school system.

My father would work himself out of a job with clockwork regularity.

More than once he’d be offered a promotion to a managerial position and he’d turn it down, not wanting the added responsibility.

So they’d fire him and hire a younger, hungrier guy they could groom for management.

I got used to things ending. 

I got used to there being no permanence to anything.  Ever.

This life is here and now, and while we all fondly hope and pray for a life yet to come, I think I can safely say whatever will follow this existence won’t be like anything we expect, and those hoping Heaven is just Earth 2.0 with cleaner streets and a little more glitter are in for a rude awakening.  (Not necessarily a bad awakening, just one they’re not expecting.)

This ability to accept endings helps me keep my sanity after leaving a project.

I get asked time and again what I think about what other creative teams did on shows after I left.

I always tell people that when I’m done with a project, I put it down, and I walk away.

No sense frustrating myself over things I no longer have any input to.

I’m fully capable of nostalgia; I can wallow in it with the best of ‘em.

But for me nostalgia is always a conscious remembrance of things past, not an effort to actually relive them.

Do I miss my mom and dad and aunt and grandmother and mother-in-law?

Yeah, I do, but not every day, not achingly.

Their endings arrived, and that is that.

I still love them, and writing this piece certainly dredged up some bittersweet sadness.

But I’m still here.

And life goes on.

  © Buzz Dixon 

[lvlyhao]

Moments (Tom Holland x reader)

A/N: first Tom one-shot I actually completed! The reader is a female since it’s what I am used to working with. If I keep writing, I’ll try to make everything GN. Sort of proud of this, and I hope you all like it^^, and if you do, please like and reblog! 

Warnings: none. This is pure fluff.

Info you might need: Castellucio is a small village in Italy, and a very pretty one at that. It’s known for the flowerings that take place in the fields, every Spring. There are fields of lentils, poppies, violets... and I chose the red poppies.

Y/N = Your Name. M/N = Middle Name. L/N = Last Name. H/C = Hair Colour. E/C = Eye Colour. F/C = Favourite Colour. 

----------------------------------------

When the first rays of sun peek through the sheer curtains, Tom’s eyes flutter gently. The world is hazy the moment he opens them, seeing the entire room melt golden under the light. The air feels warm and balmy over his bare skin, immersing the two bodies in amenity as the early birds chirp outside.

Two bodies.

Finally coming to himself, the brown-haired boy stirs under the satiny sheets, looking for the glow of his lover. When his hand bumps into her, his heart beats faster. There she is, fast asleep, snoring softly and sprawled on her back. Her delicate skin seems velvety where glorious drops of light dance upon it. Her hair, H/C and silky, spreads over the ivory pillow like a halo. Soft, swollen lips give out peaceful breaths, and her hands are neatly folded over her stomach. A dot of glimmer attracts his gaze, and on her left hand, he finds the elegant ring. His ring, that he gave to her just yesterday.

Thinking back to that moment, it seemed like ages ago. The crimson fields of poppies of Castellucio encircled them and contrasted with her F/C dress—the one he always said was his favourite. His chocolate locks were an absolute mess from the wind, and he could only imagine how sweaty he looked, wearing a polo shirt and dress-pants under the scorching sun. Y/N didn’t seem to mind it that much, though. 

The second he kneeled on the grass, she started sobbing and grinning like a dork. It was endearing, how she couldn’t refrain from smiling even when he was talking about their (many) embarrassing memories. That tiny detail made him fall even harder for her. Every sliver of doubt he had left dissolved when she interrupted his speech, falling to the ground in front of him and lacing her arms around his neck. 

“That was enough”, she had muttered, “just ask the damn question already!”. Tom chuckled, reviving the way his voice cracked when he followed her request.

“Y/N M/N L/N, darling”, he grasped her hands, “will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down their faces as she nodded soundlessly time and again, too thrilled to find her voice. He slid the ring in her finger and they stood there, arms around the other and bawling their eyes out. For an instant, there was nothing else there—the flowers were gone, the Sun was hidden by the clouds, the winds turned into a breeze and even the smell of the Italian summer vanished. It was just the two of them, clinging onto each other for dear life and drowning in the chaste feeling of love. It was easily the best moment of his life.

Was it really?

Drinking in the sleeping figure of his fianceè, Tom thought about the day he met her. 29/04/20, a Wednesday, when he went live for the Marvel pub quiz. It had been genuinely amazing, to interact with his followers like that. He could still hear Harry's voice, telling him what to do to invite people to join the transmission.

“Such a grandpa”, he had said, shaking his head in amusement. Tom ignored him, randomly calling a username from the live chat to answer the final question—what does S.H.I.E.L.D stand for? 

The bright face that popped onto the screen one second later took his breath away. She had the most beautiful E/C eyes, sparkling with kindness and life. H/C strands framed her face, and her smile made his heart skip a beat, even with the low quality of the video. 

It was like everything around him froze; no one dared to move, fearing the moment would shatter. 

Except for his brother, though, seated to his left. 

“Oi, mate”, he nudged Tom, “read the question.” 

The brunette boy snapped out of it, covering his blush with a smirk and pretending he couldn’t hear Haz snickering behind him. Is it that obvious? 

Yes, of course, it was. How could it not be, when not only was she the loveliest girl he had ever seen but also a Marvel fan?

Y/N got the question right, not missing a beat when he asked. The three of them, on the other side of her screen, cheered a bit louder than necessary, and then he ended the live. Both his brother and best friend teased the hell out of him for the next few days. The fandom, of course, made memes about it, and eventually, Tom slid into her DMs. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Tenderly clasping her right hand, not to wake her up, the boy shifts and stares at the ceiling. It is painted baby-blue and makes him think of the sweater she wore to the first Christmas spent with his family.

While juggling university and her job after quarantine ended, meeting his family wasn’t a top priority for Y/N. She and Tom always spoke about it, guessing how it would be like, but she was not ready the day he made the offer. 

“Go to my family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I promise you it’s gonna be awesome, they’re gonna love you! And if you feel comfortable, you can sleep there and spend Christmas with us. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to get you home in time. Please, love”, cue puppy-eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to say no to that, but she had never felt more jittery than in the week before the dinner.

When the 23rd rolled around, she was tense the entire day. Tom had tried everything to make her unwind, from running a hot bath to giving her a massage and attempting at making muffins (which turned out burnt and very salty). When he started to feel as helpless as his girlfriend, 5 pm struck, and they left to his parents’ house. The ride there was made in silence, only broken when he turned to her to whisper how much he loved her.

The next 2 hours or so went by in a blur. He couldn’t exactly spot how it all went—the first contact with his brothers and parents, finally meeting Haz, introducing her to Tessa… the first memories of the actual dinner began with what she told him, days later, about the exact moment she clicked with everyone.

The first person she befriended was Harrison. He was very sweet, keeping her company when Tom would leave to help his mom with something and making her feel at ease. The one point that made the two grow close was his cooking. She had seen both the hot bread and the pancake video, and just couldn’t help but bring them up. At first, he seemed quite bashful, but when Y/N said she couldn’t cook either, he decided he liked her. They talked for a long time, telling their most awkward cooking stories, and Tom watched everything from afar. I knew they'd get along.

Next was Harry, the sassy younger twin who seemed sort of intimidating. It’s not that he was mean, not at all, but he had a strong presence and for a split of a second, she thought he hated her. The tables turned when she mentioned her interest in photography and directing. It was all laughter, jokes and deep conversations by the fireplace after that, talking about some of their favourite films, photographers and directors. Harry turned out to be very kind, and the time she spent with him made her feel welcome.

With Sam, things were a bit different. Whenever Tom mentioned the twins, she thought the two of them would hit it off immediately. Apparently, though, she was too shy to initiate any kind of interaction with him and vice versa. Haz sensed her discomfort from the other side of the room and went to her aid. For the next 45 minutes, he acted as a bridge between them, keeping the chat going until they were talking like old friends. They bonded over the fact that they were huge Marvel fans, and discussed several theories for the next movies, as well as their favourite characters. Oh, how she loved the twins.

Getting to know Paddy was a challenge as well. He wasn’t timid but also didn’t seem very interested in talking. For most of the time, he played with Tessa quietly, time or another chiming in with a remark about something. It didn’t help that he was the youngest. Thinking back to everything Tom had told her about him, she couldn’t find a single topic to bring up. He was a high school kid, and that summed up everything they didn’t have in common. What would she talk about? Physics? Football? 

Things only clicked in her head when Tessa left his side to come to lick her hands, asking for pets and tossing around a rubber ball. So Y/N went outside and played catch, mutely hoping the boy would come around to play too. Soon enough, he did, and she bonded with the two of them at the same time.

By the time Nikki and Dom were finished with dinner, they were the only ones she hadn’t talked to a lot just yet. All the nerves that had gone away while she got to know the boys were back the moment everyone sat at the table. 

That was it. His parents. If they didn’t like her, chances were slim the relationship would last very long. Tom was a family person, and she'd never make him choose between them and her. 

She put on a charming smile, praying they’d get along, and complimented the food. A lot. Probably way more than she should, but there was no stopping now. It was her anxiety talking the wheel, after all. Luckily for her, they took it as a sign she was putting effort into making a good impression, and that was enough for them.

In one month, she was the closest thing to a sister the Holland boys had ever had. Things were fantastic after Christmas, and Tom could see a bright future for them. Waking up by her side was what he loved the most, but he could go on and on about every little thing he adored in her and their relationship.

One time, he did. It was their anniversary of two years, and Tom giggles at the mere thought of that. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong with his plans did go wrong, and he cried in front of Y/N, thinking he had ruined their special day. She took him in her arms, standing in the downpour at his favourite beach, where they were supposed to have a nice picnic. A long-forgotten basket was by her feet and the two were soaked to the bone, feeling a rainbow of emotions at once. 

Of course, she wasn't particularly cheery, but seeing Tom like that hurt, so she pushed her own frustration aside to take him home. There, wrapped tightly in 3 blankets and with a cup of cocoa in his hands, Tom was spoiled to death. They watched a bunch of Pixar movies, ordered pizza, took a bath together and, when the clock struck midnight, went to bed. 

The day was perfect, just not in the way she and Tom had imagined. It was better, actually, and the British boy decided to show her that with an impromptu speech. He had never been very good with words, but when he delicately cradled her face between his hands and began talking about the reasons why he loved her, he couldn’t stop. He told her about every tiny detail in her, from the way her nose crinkled when she smiled to how considerate she is. Recalling the moment she shut him up with a teary kiss, Tom realized he might have a tendency to overdo speeches. 

Now, lying side by side with the person he treasures above any other, he feels overwhelmed with love. The urge to take her in his arms, hold her close and defend her from the world brings a grin to his face as he gapes at her once more. Her eyes are starting to flutter, and soon she’ll be awake. 

Then, they’ll make plans for the afternoon and the night, since the morning is ending at this point. They’ll build one more memory for him to think about and laugh, and to someday tell their children about. They’ll go and live their dreams, cherishing and caring for one another. They’ll go and live thousands of perfect moments, because every moment by her side is the best of his life.

------------------------------------------

tagging some people I love here: @chaoticpete​ @underoosjae​ @spider-parker04​ @gwenvrse​ @lost-space-ranger​ @allegra-writes​

[vergilboyfriend]

You should do all of them questions and 90 is true

I love you!!!!

1. Favorite instrument?

I work at a music store u can’t just ask me this. When my coworkers play it’s the saxophone or the flute, when the boys in the repair shop are testing repairs and they harmonize with each other or try to outplay one another it’s the bassoon or the trombone or whatever they’re fixing at the moment. When I hear 🎺 give his lesson on Wednesday afternoons it’s the trumpet, and when I think about middle school it’s the clarinet, the flute, the French horn. When I hear the nutcracker pas des deux is the oboe and when I hear edith piaf l’accordeoniste it’s the remarkable human voice. Really my favorite instrument is all of them, it just depends.

2. Favorite fic trope? Mutual pining 🥺

3. Sport you played for the longest amount of time? LMAO I wasn’t a sporty kid but I did ballet

4. Shoe size? 10-11

5. Most recent (good) dream? Uhh I had a dream last night about my coworker 🎹 it wasn’t bad though I can’t really remember what it was about

6. Last person in your DMs? smugg

7. Can you do a handstand? Nooo nooo lmaoo nooooo

8. Unpopular food opinion I don’t like oranges or red meat

9. Conspiracy you believe in? There’s some kind of weird weather dome in my hometown around the military base that makes most storms pass around us

10. Is your hair its natural color/style? Most of it is I dyed the bottom layer of my hair tho so it’s blonde rn

11. state a useless fact all that’s coming to mind is outright lies rn hold on. The inventor of pringles is buried in a pringles can that’s so fucking nasty omg

12. most interesting gossip you’ve heard? Idk I don’t really care for gossip uhhhh have u heard tho rin dippindogs is a huge gay hah she uhh she like men AND women lmao gaaay gaaaay

13. Middle name? Carolyn

14. Sexuality? Bisexual

15. Amount of sleep you got last night? Idk actually I think like 9-10 hrs tho I slept in until 11

16. Opinion on ice cream cake? Tasty!!!

17. Opinion on (cup)cake frosting? It’s depends buttercream is usually too sweet for me in large amounts so I prefer whipped cream frosting

18. Last board game you played? Idk??? We played hunt a killer tho last Thursday me n my family I guess that counts kinda

19. Project you want to start? I need ideas first baby

20. Project you’re working on right now? HAHAHAHAHAHA

21. TV show you’re watching? nothing rn I just rewatch bojack a lot if I watch anything

22. Last movie you watched? Lego batman I think

23. Ever left anon hate? Not legit hate

24. Ever left anon love? Yes all the time. Sometimes to strangers it’s my favorite thing to do

25. Best Disney movie? The princess and the frog

26. Best Pixar movie? Soul or Up I can’t decide

27. Best Star Wars? Um. Empire strikes back

28. Last thing you consumed? Fuit gumy

29. NoTP? Idk I don’t really hate ships unless they’re gross like pedophilic gross

30. story behind your (nick)name? When I was a fetus my great grandfather had a dream that my name should be Carolyn Marie but my parents were huge dweebs so they named me Marina after the actress of Deanna Troi in Star Trek. Idk about my nickname ive just always been Rina/Rin as long as I can remember

31. ice cream order? Lately it’s lemon sorbetto I know it’s SO high in sugar but I love it

32. describe your blog in <5 words I love you

33. how many blogs do you follow? 436

34. Describe your voice it depends usually I sound like a sick child but my customer service voice is really pleasant

35. Describe your smile it’s cute :)

36. What is the place you live known for? LMAOOO LMAO we have a military base nearby and like. I could go on abt that one but also like. There’s a lot of gang violence and a lot of the other consequences of poverty. People from the cities around us see us as “””ghetto””” or violent but it’s just. It’s more than that it’s always more than that. And idk what else there’s nothing really particularly special about this town except that we’re all here and not anywhere else

37. What is the place you’re originally from known for? (if they’re different)

38. pronouns? she/any idc

39. Languages you speak? English

40. first friend you made through tumblr? Idk. I probably don’t talk to them anymore :(

41. Person on tumblr you know in real life? my brother

42. First dog breed you think of shih tzu I have 2 next to me rn

43. room wall color? Purble!!!! The paint color is called grape juice that’s why I picked it!!!

44. Song that’s stuck in your head right now? It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time it’s trickyyyyy

45. Favorite number? 5, 34

46. Color you associate with your name? Red

47. Favorite jolly rancher flavor?watermelon

48. Pets? 2 dogs rocket and groot and 4 cats loki danni who r from the same litter and we raised from kittens, miss kitty who we adopted from a shelter after my boy blue moon passed away and ben (his real name is Kylo Ren thanks to my mom but I refuse to call him that) he is my little baby and he has 7 toes on his front paws

49. Collections? Hot wheels

50. Character outside of your fandom you’d marry? Girl what lmaooo idk

51. Character outside of your fandom you’d kill? That’s mean :(

52. Have you met any celebrities? NO thank god id have to kill on sight

53. Favorite time period in history? Itslian Renaissance & Romantic Era

54. What time is it right now? 2:35 am oops

55. History or future? Future but like . A good one. Or prehistory

56. Space or ocean? Space

57. Fears? Abandonment

58. Command + v and post. It’s this list of questions u don’t want that

59. Favorite season? Spring

60. Describe your aesthetic. Messy just a mess, neon and old buildings and things, antiques, countryside if there weren’t so many trump pence flags still lmaoo give uppp give up, nature just al of nature and space and places humans can’t touch and places they used to touch but can’t anymore

61. MBTI? Infp but I haven’t taken it in a few years

62. What’s your relationship with your family like? Normal.

63. “Biggest fan” in your tumblr activity? I’m in mobile hold on acc to tumblr it’s akky

64. Favorite musical? Sweeney todd

65. Comfort book? Idk how to read 💔💔💔 wuthering heights tho

66. Comfort movie? Whisper of the heart

67. OTP? Girl idk

68. BroTP? Joey and Tristan yugioh

69. AUs or canon compliant? Canon ig idk

70. Opinion on the person who’s sending the ask? It’s an anon!! But I love them

71. FMK + 3 characters anon didnt leave any characters and I was going to say something very bad but I won’t

72. Dream date? I’ve wanted to do this for a while but ideally it would be after we’d been together a while maybe even engaged or whatever, I wanna go to like a Home Depot or a furniture store and pretend to be married and looking for house paints and furniture and plan what our home is going to look like I wanna do that so bad. But idk for a first/early relationship date i really want to go to the zilker botanical garden it’s one of my favorite places, we could also go to the natural gardener which is a plant nursery in Austin I really love it there too and it’s not that far from zilker.

73. Relationship status? Single

74. Ever dyed your hair? Do you plan to? Yes and perhaps. Maybe

75. Dream job/career? Idk anymore I used to have big girl goals and I haven’t had any in a while. But when I was younger I wanted to be a game warden

76. Favorite band/singer? Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

77. Something that makes you soft/that you find adorable? My cats

78. The first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Buy a house

79. Are you superstitious? Yes

80. Character you project onto? Shizuku tsukishima

81. Fictional character you’ve had a crush on? Vergil devil may cry. Forever husband

82. Celebrity crush? LMAO

83. Person on here you’d date? my mutuals

84. Person on here you’d marry? 🥺 my mutuals

85. Person on here you’d throw into the void? Smugg

86. Other social media you have? I’ve got a photography insta that I barely use and a Twitter that’s just nintendo switch screenies that’s it

87. Finish the sentence: Due to personal reasons, ___________i will be passing away

88. Bad habit? I find it rlly hard to say no or like to say when and why I’m upset I don’t feel like for the latter I don’t feel like I should bring something that’s upsetting me up because I know I’ll get over it on my own and I don’t really trust myself to be upset about rational things. Idk I’m working on it

89. Three things you like about yourself? I’m hot, I’m kind, I’m resilient

90. Ily and you deserve the world I love you!!!!! YOU deserve it too!!!

[euchunja]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄. // 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒. // 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓.

hi my loves !! oh my gosh this took me so long and it’s embarrassing but anywho ... i am jasmine, and here i am ! as i’m sure we all hate the dash right now so let me apologize for how hideous this whole thing looks !! but since i’m late i won’t waste time, so below the cut you’ll find some info on miss 𝐁𝐀𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐀 as well as plot ideas !  ( iforgottosaythisbutpleaselikethisifyoudliketoplot! )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.

child of dionysus, and in his fashion, is a lover of all things revolving around partying, playing pretend, and chaos !

could be confused for an aphrodite kid for her obsession over making love and beauty, but nope !! she’s actually a child of dionysus through and through once you really watch her, she’s got all the traits but ... for the worse ??

though honestly, it’s sometimes hard to remember she’s a half-god child, as most of her powers aren’t physical, and honestly could be claimed to either be a matter of coincidence or her being naturally gifted.

born in seoul, south korea, initially clueless to her ties to the greek god. she was raised christian, as well, and the idea never really crossed her mind !

her mom told her when she was really young, as she saw the girl’s powers developing into dangerous habits very early, and hoped clarity would stop that ! but unfortunately it didn’t, and ... well chunja is chunja haha !!

her powers started coming full force when she was around 10 ! her mom, who was the owner of a bar, suffered a drop in customers and was forced to close her business. hopeless and out of work, she had to resort to house hopping between family members until they finally settled into a one-room apartment much smaller than their old house.

but chunja was humiliated and wanted to keep up the appearance that they were well off, so always thought up elaborate lies to keep up the appearance that they were doing just fine - comparable to elite’s cayetana ! but given that this went on for years without anyonr noticing ... you could say she was naturally a pretty good liar actor, thanks to her father !

the big moment that happened because of this though was when she was caught shoplifting ! she wanted trendy clothes, and given her family’s predicament, it was the only way how. after getting caught, she made an elaborate lie and turned it around to accuse the store clerk who’d spotted her of falsely accusing her, and got away with it !

this is why she thinks her father noticed her and claimed her. however, that’s not the case ! though chunja often uses her skills for the worse, it was a time she cured someone of madness not long after that shoplifting incident that got the attention of dionysus !

 after getting claimed, she became much more sure of herself, despite her financial situation ! she seemed to understand herself better, and was more sure of her talents.

shortly after getting claimed, things seemed to look up for her, and her mother came back better, becoming the owner of a lounge much more upscale than the bar she had owned prior. she moved up to the middle class, and it was then at age 13 she became an international student, travelling all over the world with her mom on business trips.

but she felt incredibly drawn to greece, as she felt her ties were there. but it wouldn’t be until she was approaching college that she would get her chance to move there, when she started university !

before then, she spent two and a half years after high school studying abroad in france, desperately wanting a change of pace but not yet ready for the academic pressure of college.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀.

highkey can’t say it nicer than this .... chunja is an insensitive manipulative asshole lmao !! 

listen i hate to say it ... but it’s true ! she’s got a bad temper, and if you get on her nerves, she becomes livid, and since chaos is what she loves the most, doesn’t feel upset when messing with others.

chunja’s definitely got a sharp tongue, and is incredibly blunt, always speaking her mind and not being afraid to do so. some appreciate her honesty, other’s hate it ... really, it depends !

she has inherited the ability to trigger madness in others, and ... yikes !! it’s sort of a known fact that all her boyfriends and girlfriends seemed to go off the rails after they broke up, and ... i can’t say that’s not a coincidence !

 unsurprisingly, she loooooves parties, and because of that, she doesn’t perform too well in school. she actually doesn’t even go to class as much as she should, but what you gonna do when there’s a rave the night before an exam you know ??

drug / alcohol tw !! alongside parties, she loves indulging in both alcohol and drugs, as she’s near addicted to the feeling of euphoria she gets ... a trait she got from being dionysus’ kid ! at first glance she might not seem like it, but she’s tried nearly everything in the book, as she doesn’t want to miss out on anything that might give her that perfect high. she loves drinking, especially wine, and the smell alone is intoxicating to her ! she can’t get drunks as easily as the average person, though, as she has a high tolerance. it frustrates her a lot of the time, as she wants to get drunk, but it’s good for keeping up appearances, and is impressive to down numerous shots at parties.

she always tries to reach out to her father, seeking his praise, but for some reason or another he never seems to reciprocate her affection. it really messes with her, and often has her questioning her own self worth, but does help in motivating her to work hard to impress him.

despite her ego at times, she’s actually pretty gloomy internally ! she feels things just  never seem to go right for her in the long run, and though she often has temporary happiness it rarely lasts. it may be chunja’s punishment for using the powers she’s been granted for the worse, but she’s not willing to really change anytime soon !

despite her bad traits, she really does have some redeeming ones ! for instance, she is incredibly loyal to those she cares for, ironic given her tendency to use others for her own gain. but she always stays true to her friends and family she’s on good terms with, and will cause literal hell to anyone who tries to go against them !

there’s probably more, but ... it’s so late and this needs to be posted lol !

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒.

here is just a connection idea dump because a proper plots page is coming super soon and i’m too tired to think properly honestly ?? 

dionysus sibling relationships, even sibling rivalry ?? partying buddies who seem to vibe with each other and always have fun ! other older / mid-20′s muses clinging to their youth, smoking / drinking buddies, ex - flings, with lingering feelings ?? or current flings struggling to not have feelings ! friends who both have that sense of chaos in them, a crush who she’s actually soft for ? what ?? is this a fever dream ??? someone who heard the rumors all her exes went mad and are now terrified, best friends who know each other better than anyone ! study buddy to make sure she isn’t kicked out of school, fwbs,  a duo who constantly butt heads, first girlfriend and first person she came out to, someone she’s met while travelling at one point or another, someone who knew her as a kid and potentially the only person who knew the truth about her financial situation, a younger muse who she unexpectedly looks out for, etc !

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝔻𝕒𝕪

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Heyo this is my first time writing on the blog so be kind. I just got obsessed with the idea of Aizawa being an elementary school teacher 

>> Admin B̷r̷a̷n̷d̷o̷

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad? 

He put on a fake smile and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were somehow more apparent then usual. His face quickly faded into his trademark apathetic scowl. 

Who am I kidding? This is the worst possible situation. 

Aizawa sneered at the thought of his current situation. Of how his pristine English classroom was being taken from him because they needed “fresh blood”. Of how he was not only being forced into a new school, but also a new grade. He sighed (heavier than usual), leaving his dim apartment early, to beat traffic and give him time to dwell further on his current situation.

As he drove, his brain on went on auto pilot and all his worries and thoughts crossed his mind once again. Aizawa had never taught anything lower than 6th grade, and he never wanted to. It’s not that he didn’t like kids, it’s that he didn’t love kids. High schoolers were almost adults, so he didn’t have to sugar coat anything. No snack time, no name calling, no bullshit. The sudden unemployment was truly a wake-up call (not just because he would fall asleep in class), telling him that he needed to get his shit together. He was thankful that his good friend Nezu happened to have a job opening, he just wished it were at any other school.

Arriving at the school made him sick. The bright colors. The intricately hand painted signs reading “Welcome To The New Year!” and “Start the school year with a smile.” The line of staff waiting outside the school to welcome him. The line of staff? Jesus.

His wish to quietly slip into his new classroom vanished before his eyes. There was no way he could avoid meeting his new colleagues now. Hopefully, he thought, I can get through this without too much headache.

“SHOUTAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

And the headache began.

“Oh my god, Shouta! It’s been so long! And you never returned my texts?? I can’t believe we’re working together again! I thought you didn’t like elementary school?? Anyway, c’mon we need to get you all settled!! I heard you got fired?? What’s up with that? Did you- “

Before he could even fully get out of his car, Hizashi was pulling him toward the crowd of faculty almost against his will. The crowd was full of smiling faces, kind waves, and judging glances.

 Ugh

“Welcome Mr. Aizawa! I am glad that Mr. Yamada was telling the truth that he was a close friend. Well I know that our little pocket of perfect isn’t quite the high school setting you’re used to but believe me that you’ll love it soon enough.” Principal Nezu smiled happily and gestured to the quaint little school.

“Starting in the middle of the school year isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it,” he added with a wink.

Aizawa glanced briefly at the bright marquee reading “U. A. Elementary School”, then back to the group of hopeful faces. He put on his best “I’m totally not wishing I was somewhere else right now” face, and /reluctantly/ expressed his joy to be there. 

With his seemingly pleasant response, the evaluative air cleared somewhat, and the gossipier teachers left the gathering, no longer interested.

Taking Aizawa’s arm, Nemuri pressed her chest against him, “Hate to interrupt but Shouta- Mr. Aizawa, really needs to get to his classroom.” With that, the tall woman, along with Hizashi, practically dragged the poor man away, though he was internally grateful to be away from the crowd.

They arrived at Aizawa’s new classroom, still full of the previous teachers’ belongings. He pulled himself away from the others, brushing himself off.

“Thanks Midnight.”

“Oh, stop with that,” Nemuri responded, fixing her immaculate hair in the reflection from the window, “I haven’t gone by that since college. No one here needs to know the escapades of Ms. Midnight.”

Aizawa chuckled lightly, “At least I have some familiar faces here, aside from Nezu.” He peered over to the other two, seeing their “trying to be respectful but insanely curious” faces. “Fine, I’ll address the elephant in the room. Yes, I was fired. No, it was not for selling drugs to the kids, Hizashi. I just… had trouble staying awake, apparently a few times too many.”

Hizashi sighed in defeat and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, handing it sadly to Nemuri.

“Good thing there was an opening here for you,” Hizashi replied, almost like a whine as he mourned his loss, “Too bad it came at the loss of Yagi. Poor guy having to be stuck at home after that dumb injury.”

Nemuri chuckled, “It’s his own fault for jumping out of the second story window to give one of his students the lunchbox they forgot.”

“He’ll be back next year, and I’ll be long gone. hopefully.” Aizawa interrupted, tying his long hair back. “Now can you two leave? I have kids coming in less than an hour to a teacher that could care less about them right now.”

Nemuri exhaled sharply through her nose, a smirk crossing her face, “You need a better attitude, my friend, or they will eat you alive.” She pushed herself off the desk, pulling Hizashi along.

“Good luck!” He called out, “let me know if I can help! The music room is always open for you!”

As the door slowly closed, Aizawa turned back to his new classroom. The desks were arranged in neat rows and columns, small pieces of tape on the carpeted floor to ensure that they remained in their neat arrangement. He was appalled by the disorganized mess that was Yagi’s previous desk arrangement.

Aizawa sat at his new desk, dropping his head into his hands. He had never taught 2nd grade before. Sure, he was certified to teach it, but that was more of a trophy to him than an actual career choice. Like when someone minors in art history. What made it especially difficult was that he was taking over a class run by the one and only Yagi Toshinori, legendary his teaching. He was the “symbol of peace” for teachers, doing interviews for local news stations and giving presentations for the school district.

The four of them (Yagi, Hizashi, Nemuri, and himself) had gone through college together, but lost touch as they all chose their path. Yagi with younger kids, Aizawa with teens, Hizashi with music, and Nemuri with administration. Aizawa knew that Yagi was a better teacher than him, and that he had big shoes to fill, literally.

Aizawa broke from his lamentation as the morning bell rang. He opened his door to be greeted with the cacophonous sound of 20 children itching the get into their classroom. He was nearly knocked over by the force of almost two dozen children running into inspect what the new teacher had done. Surprisingly, the new layout did not stop the wave of children, they all quickly found their name tags and sat down, most of them loudly complaining.

Aizawa moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. Twenty small faces focused on him. “Good morning students. As you may know, Mr. Toshinori is injured and will not be able to continue teaching this year. My name is Mr. Aizawa and I’m going to be your teacher for the remainder of the school year-” A series of small hands shot up in front of him. He sighed, “Yes, you,” pointing to the small girl sitting politely in the front row.

“Excuse me, but why can’t Mr. Toshinori come back?” she asked, cocking her head.

Before he could answer, another young girl, this one with pink hair, jumped up, “Momo, he broke his butt, that’s why he can’t come back!”

“He didn’t break his butt! He broke his feet, stupid.” A blonde boy in the back stood up and pointed at her.

“Who are you calling stupid? I saw it, you buttface.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Seeing her mocking face, the boy began throwing his pencils at her, to which she started throwing her pencils. Momo began crying at the violence, while the other students began cheering for one of the other two students.

This was going to be a long day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

As Nemuri entered the teacher’s lounge, she was greeted with the sight of Aizawa looking… well, dead. “Well, I was expecting this.” She commented, setting her stack of papers down and sitting on the table in front of him. “Rough day?” Aizawa merely groaned in response. She patted his head lightly, “You know what they say about kids, it’s like wrangling kittens.”

“I’ve never heard that.” He replied, lifting his head up to a more alive position. “I don’t know how he did it. Those kids just don’t listen.”

“How did you deal with your high schoolers?”

“None of us wanted to be there so we respected each other’s time and got shit done.”

Nemuri clicked her tongue, “It’s a wonder why you’re a teacher at all. You used to have passion for teaching, Shouta. Try to tap into some of that.” With that, Nemuri hopped off the desk, scooping up her papers, “If you need advice on how to deal with them, we’re here for you, all three of us.”

The door to the lounge closed softly behind, and he was once again alone. Aizawa hesitated at the thought of asking any of them for help. He had not spoken to any of them for years. While he enjoyed their company, Aizawa knew he did not belong. Nemuri, Hizashi, and of course Yagi, all had this passion and fire for education that Aizawa himself had lost years ago. It felt wrong to him to be there.

The soft chime of the lunch bell reminded Aizawa that he had to return to his classroom. Which he really did not want to do. The kids barely got along with each other, who they have known for months, how were they supposed to cooperate with him, a total stranger? He trudged back to his classroom, just as the students began pouring in. As they took their seats, he stood, and began writing their next lesson on the board. Once all were seated, he turned around to address them.

 “I am very disappointed with how the morning went.” At this remark, half the students rolled their eyes, while the other half looked like they were going to burst into tears. Aizawa stopped and began thinking. What would Yagi do in this situation? He would be cheery and upbeat and overly personal with the students. Well, he thought, nothing would hurt to try at this point.

He sighed, sitting down on his desk, “Listen guys, I know this is hard for you, its hard for me two. The only way we can make this work is if we give each other a chance and get to know each other. So..” he looked at the confused faces of the kids, “Let’s go outside.”

The students all filed outside behind Aizawa, confused yet intrigued. He turned to face them, “Now I have a task for you, we’re going to go on a hike around the school, and you’re going to tell me about everything interesting you see.” The students collectively gasped and nodded excitedly.

As the class walked around the school, Aizawa learned many things about the kids. Like how Tenya liked to walk this path with his brother, or how Shoto would take trips through the woods when he wanted to get away from his family, or how Yuga collect only “the prettiest and shiniest” rocks. Although this was far more effort than he usually put into teaching, Aizawa was having fun.

The week from that point on went… surprisingly well. The students slowly warmed up to Aizawa, and even began enjoying his teaching. They continued setting time aside for a class hike and decided that they would start a nature journal to write about what they saw on their hikes. Aizawa, even though he would never admit it, even started smiling more in class. Before he knew it, the end of the week had already come.

As the students filed out of the room, several waved goodbyes to Aizawa. He smiled and waved back, eyes wandering to the small boy standing shyly next to him. “Hey Midoriya, do you need something? You should be heading home.”

“I am going home! But I made you something to celebrate how much fun we are having! I still like Mr. Toshinori more, but you’re really fun!” The boy shoved a piece of paper into Aizawa’s hands. “Ok my mom is waiting, bye Mr. Aizawa! See you next week!” Before Aizawa could respond, the boy ran out of the room. He looked at the paper. On it was a crudely drawn picture of him and the class on one of their hikes. He chuckled lightly, pinning the picture to the wall. 

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sudden vibrations of his phone. Without checking, he answered, “Aizawa speaking.”

“Um, hey! It’s been a while.”

“…Yagi?”

“Yeah! Hizashi told me you were taking over for me, and I, uh, wanted to say thanks!”

“I should be thanking you,” Aizawa commented, amusement crossing his face upon hearing the familiar voice again, “I needed a job and you had some broken bones.” They both chuckled awkwardly.

After a moment of thick silence, Aizawa sighed, “Its good time hear from you, Yagi. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Yagi chuckled, “We should catch up soon. You know, when I can walk again that is.” he paused, “So I, uh actually called to... uh, How are the kids?”

Aizawa laughed at how the blonde could barely hide his intentions. “They’re doing fine, no need to worry.”

“Are you handling them alright? I know they can be a handful.”

Aizawa looked fondly at the drawing Midoriya had handed him, “It’s an adjustment, but I think we’ll be able to get through the year.

[halorocks1214]

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

Summary: The Law of Relativity states that each person will receive a series of problems (‘tests of initiation’) for the purpose of strengthening the ‘light’ within. We must consider each of these tests to be a challenge and remain connected to our hearts when proceeding to solve the problems. This law also teaches us to compare our problems to others’ problems and put everything into its proper perspective. No matter how bad we perceive our situation to be, there is always someone who is in a worse position. It is all relative

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | Virgil | You are here! | Gordon

WHY 👏🏼 CANT 👏🏼 I 👏🏼 WRITE 👏🏼 FICS 👏🏼 IN 👏🏼 MO 👏🏼 DER 👏🏼 RATION 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 also just bluuuergh. dont ask about this fic. part of it was written in a dark auditorium, another was written in a different state, another was written on a frickin bus, this fic has been places ill tell you what. half the time i think this is hot garbage and the other half i think its actually decent so im posting this while my head is in a good headspace and then promptly yeeting myself off the internet for a few hours to wait and see what happens. this series is becoming less of a canon divergence AU and more of a straight-up AU because of certain details im trying to worm in there buT IM TRYING MY BEST

thanks once more to @gumnut-logic, because of the length, this time i used three prompts, them being "What do you mean?", crease, and dream (and they werent even used that much sksksksk)

Warnings for both graphic and non-graphic depictions of violence, as well as mentions of torture and other PTSD/panic attack related stuff. I went deep with this one fellas

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

He can still see the footage in the backs of his eyelids from when he watched it exactly one year ago. He was the only other (living) adult at the time in the family outside of Grandma, so he was permitted to see it. He remembered they originally didn’t want to show him, mainly because of his age, but Grandma was fierce, and she put one hell of an argument on the table.

One Scott refused to let fall through the cracks by breaking down. If only Grandma knew how he cried his eyes out and screamed to high heaven that night in the hotel room after essentially watching his father be blown to bloody smithereens then she was a goddamn saint for keeping it a secret. It made sense, she was the mother to his father. She had quite the line up of stories from Jeff’s childhood. Scott sensed the early-greying of his hair came from her, heh.

The rest of his family eventually saw it, of course, they did. Scott couldn’t shield them forever. What he will protect, selfishly he might add, was how angry he was at how much better they took it than he did. They cried, yes they did, but they never fully broke down like Scott did. Later in life, he wondered if it was jealousy: jealousy at not truly being able to let go. Whatever it was, he made sure to swallow it along with whatever alcohol he chose for the weekend.

Just add it to the ever-growing pile of shit he had to deal with. Nothing new.

Suddenly he’s 20 again and seated in a plane to be taken to his first stint in the Air Force. He said his goodbyes to Virgil, Gordon, and Alan back at home while Grandma and John metaphorically held his hand all the way to the airport. John was… quiet, more so than usual, but Grandma was stuck right in the middle between being a sobbing mess and ecstatic at the fine young man he’s become.

You’re just like your father. He would be proud.

Scott was secretly glad she never physically said it. It gave him plausible deniability in thinking that those words weren’t laced behind her big, bright, prideful eyes.

The first time went well, maybe even great. He stayed for a couple of months, did some flight tests, and while the training was brutal, boy did he learn a lot. When he came back home it was to a family slowly stitching itself back together. Grandma was a full-time house member, Virgil had taken up painting, Gordon talked about potentially going back to his swim meets, and while Alan was still as silent as ever, he was perkier than when Scott last saw him.

It would be on and off for the next few years: a couple of months at home, slowly and painfully taking over the role their father had (he can’t remember when he essentially received joint custody of his younger siblings with Grandma, but hey, he’s not complaining), then a couple of months out at the Air Force base where he slowly climbed up the ranking platform. He became skillful, perhaps too skillful. When he got his rank of Captain he felt it was less of an honor and more of something they owed him.

He was getting cocky. Never enough to be a danger to his fellow men, but enough to be somewhat of an occasional annoyance. Charles smacked him upside the head more than once. It felt like the world was right-side-up for once. Scott made many-a-calls to John and Virgil, the former enjoying his first few rotations up in space and the latter squarely in the middle of college. Gordon was being offered sponsorships to hell and back, and Alan was quietly getting along with the other kids at his school. Grandma was on welcoming duty for Kayo, who was taking her slot in the Tracy family with grace, though, a warning that their family would take custody of her if something were to happen to her parents would have been nice, Dad.

Of course, nothing ever goes right for their family for too long.

Orphan.

Age 24, it was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission of civilians. Scott was put in charge of his squad and then some. At night, they rolled-- well, flew out to get the job done. Scott can’t even remember the country anymore when minding his own business. Australia? Finland? Perhaps Bangladesh? There was a place John was insistent Scott never do rescues in, Virgil tended to agree, and the eldest unhealthily let them banish him from ever stepping foot there without argument. He could never remember the name off the top of his head until John’s familiar International Rescue, we have a situation rung out in the living room followed by the name of the country.

He would immediately forget it later, trauma too strong, too volatile, but the way his heart stopped and his head shattered and the way he felt ice water rush down his back was a good enough reason to quietly leave the room and let John delegate the job to one of his brothers. Sometimes John found him retching in the toilet halfway through the mission. He made sure to always mute Scott’s wrist communicator, even if it was never turned on in the first place.

The plane touched down. Orders sent the ground team out. But then the ground team took longer than estimated. Scott tensely waited where he was told to. It wasn’t the first mission that took a little longer than predicted and knowing humans, it surely wouldn’t be the last. Then, words mixed with heavy static came over the radio. H--p. Co-- ---7--. --nd ba---p --me--at--y.

Scott sat tensely in his seat, remembering his orders and suddenly hating them. Radio back to home if the mission goes south. Well, it didn’t look like they had the radio anymore. Still didn’t hurt to try at least. Scott spoke the familiar protocol that was ingrained into him when trying to call base. Dammit. Nothing. Probably some kind of blocker of sorts. Sitting up straight as a board, Scott looked through his options.

… He was in charge here. If something happened to his team the fault would lie squarely on his shoulders. Going against everything but his gut, he went out to help his squad. He can’t really remember what he exactly did anymore, but he does remember that it made a noise. Like a Looney Tunes scene: he flinched, froze, waited to see if anything or one heard, breathed a sigh of relief, and continued.

He eventually stumbled across one of his closest comrades, Arnold Brigeets. Yes, the name was ironic and half the reason he joined the force in the first place. The guy was one of the people that actually trained Scott and also seemed to be one of the few that was genuinely proud when Scott became a higher rank. It’s why Scott was more appreciative of Arnold than others, that, and well… Scott thought his fatherly abilities were good. The guy did have three kids back home.

Orphan.

Ducking down behind the cover his older friend was semi-situated behind, Scott watched as Arnold jumped at the intrusion before sighing. Scott had run into some enemies that he swiftly took down-- nothing too serious, he didn’t have the time or weapons for such an act, but they definitely would be out of it for a while-- so Arnold must have too on his way to find cover as well, hence why he was so on edge.

“Thank God,” Arnold wiped his forehead, “Glad to see you join us, kid.”

Scott was breathing heavily, but the grin he attempted was still there, “Y-Yeah, so what happened? More threats than we thought?”

Arnold shook his head, “Yes and no. There were a lot more baddies than we thought, but that’s because the civilians weren’t civilians. It’s a tr--”

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

Arnold fell over. Never got back up. Dropped like a rock in a lake, never to come up to the surface again.

Scott was so caught off guard he couldn’t react to the gun that swiftly beat him over the head, knocking him out cold. The only thing on his mind was oh fuck oh fuck I messed up I shouldn’t have come I wouldn’t have made any noise that way why did I--

They had him for roughly two weeks. Scott always thought the plotline in movies where the villain vehemently denied knowing any important information was dumb as hell. We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t go after someone if they didn’t know something.

The things they did hurt and no amount of I don’t fucking know anything! would help. Those two weeks were lost to Scott in a sea of pain and torment. The only thing he remembered was being captured, then waking up in a hospital drugged up to his gills with his superiors staring at him like he cured cancer.

“You saved the rest of your squad from sharing the same fate as the first half.”

“I-I did?”

“You betcha, son. I only wish I was there to see it! People be saying you were like an animal in how you took ‘em all down.”

Scott’s never remembered, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He was given the highest honors, even the chance to skip a couple of ranks to be at the same level as the big boys, but the night they were going to share the news to the golden boy himself, they found him in one of the bathrooms with a bloody hand and a mirror shattered with no hope of fixing it.

He was honorably discharged to a family that was so thankful he was home. Words like missing in action and POA never stopped haunting their nightmares. Scott was too, God, of course, he was, but sitting around and doing nothing was the last thing his traumatized mind wanted or maybe even needed. After doing what he considered to be the biggest fuck-up of his life, he needed to feel important.

This isn’t the first time he’ll say this and it surely won’t be the last: thank Christ for Grandma.

“You want me to take over?...”

“Yep, it’s about time Tracy Industries received a new pair of eyes. The Board certainly thinks so.”

“But… they’d rather have a crazy, PTSD-infected veteran over you?”

A rough pinch to his ear, “Hey now, don’t call yourself that,” the gentle motherly tone was back as soon as it left, “Besides, that crazy might exactly be what they want. Half of their argument is that I “don’t take enough risks.” They’re getting tired of listening to an old fart like me.”

A moment of contemplation, followed by the cheeky raise of an eyebrow, “So you’re saying you want me to take so many risks they have no choice but to take you back?”

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

He learned the ropes faster than normal (healthy, is probably the correct term), and he immediately won the hearts of both young and old in the company. Instead of flying planes every few months, he worked on business reports and vetoed new ideas every couple of weeks. It felt satisfying for the most part, and his family was just happy he was still alive to enjoy it.

However, there was a slight roadblock on his way to becoming a somewhat stable person.

He became prone to violent blackouts. It had to have started when he blacked out and saved himself from those two weeks of hell, which made the most sense. Something was always destroyed when he came back to life. John was the best at calming him down due to his own experience with panic attacks, however, John couldn’t always be there, and the next rotation for NASA was coming swiftly. Scott swore up and down he would be fine, he could figure something out. John went back into space with an eyebrow permanently raised.

It was just him and Virgil home (Grandma had taken Alan and Kayo to watch Gordon swim) when he, unfortunately, proved John right. Scott wasn’t sure what triggered it, but he vividly remembered coming back in Virgil’s extremely tight hold. The first thing Scott thought to say was damn, beanstalk, when did you get so strong? but then he laid his eyes upon the forming bruise on his younger bro’s face and hasn’t recovered since.

Virgil swore he never held it against Scott. Scott definitely thought he should have.

That night brought sudden clarity to Scott that he was doing this horribly wrong. He was a ticking time bomb, and it wouldn’t be long before something was damaged in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Scott needed an anchor. Something to ground him before he took it too far. John wasn’t going to be earthside forever, Grandma was busy with Kayo, Alan was just a kid, and Gordon was living the dream. None of them were viable.

Then, as he was thinking, he was suddenly aware of how calming Virgil’s arms were around him, how they were preventing the growing panic attack in his chest from getting even bigger.

It was easy.

For once in Scott’s life, his eyes were big and young as he asked Virgil, “Help me, please.”

After a few brief seconds, Virgil gulped, “Okay.”

From then on, Virgil was Stone Number One. Scott’s admiration for Virgil outweighed the guilt of putting the black-haired man in that position in the first place. Virgil was glad to follow his older brother’s leadership, but just as qualified to bring him the hell back when he went too far. From getting too sacrificial to preventing a good punching-out some of the idiots they dealt with, Virgil made sure Scott knocked that shit off.

Time went on, Scott was a top-notch CEO at Tracy Industries, John was having one hell of a time up in space, Virgil was graduated and had so many life opportunities to pick from, Alan was thriving at being a (mostly) stable kid, Kayo was 100% acclimated to the family, and Gordon--

Scott found himself gripping the wooden desk very abruptly. He was shocked he didn’t snap a chunk off in the process. Why was he thinking about this right after a giant business conference? Who knows at this point. If this giant origin story seemed jagged and jumpy, maybe even somewhat vague, good, that’s how it fucking felt.

Back to said story.

Scott always thought he and Gordon would have the least amount in common.

They do, but out of all the things they could have picked to be similar, why did it have to be the PTSD caused by military-related jobs? Scott was 24 when he got his, Gordon was just under 20. It may have been a few years since their respective accidents, but they’re never going to go another day without it feeling like it was just yesterday.

At this point, Gordon was up and walking again, mainly thanks to John and Alan while Virgil and Scott helped in their own ways. Grandma’s cooking was what probably motivated him the most though, ha, the need to get away from it… Scott smiled. Grandma was always a constant. Honestly, if it weren’t for her, the family might have fallen apart. Literally.

What has he been saying throughout this whole shindig? Thank Christ for Grandma.

One day out of the blue, Grandma reserved the entire family (yes, even Kayo and Alan) private plane tickets so they could spend some time on the mainland for a few days. Honestly, even if the island wasn’t getting major renovations, you hooligans need to get out more. Have some fun. Try not to kill anything, especially each other, she all told them while creepily grinning. John and Virgil smacked Gordon more than once on the plane for insisting that she finally snapped, dudes, she’s gonna kill us.

Most of the time during their little vacation, Scott heavily focused on his breathing. He was pretty sure he knew what she was doing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but the same went for his excitement.

Dad showed him these plans the day after his 18th birthday. You’re a man now, Scotty, I need your help making this big boy decision with me.

As soon as they reset foot down on the island, Scott took a deep breath and felt relaxed at the salty taste in the air. It was weird, nothing on the outside was changed, and yet… it still felt different.

“Guys!” Virgil yelled out, “Stop playing in the water! We just got back, aren’t you two tired?!”

Blinking back to reality, Scott looked over to see his two youngest brothers doing exactly what Virgil was yelling at them for. Poor Johnny was a little damp too, which is what probably caused Virgil to shout at them in the first place. The blondes didn’t care. They continued to prance around in the shallow waves with their pants legs rolled up, acting as if they didn’t hear anything outside of their laughter. Gordon shoved his hands down into the liquid and threw some directly at Alan, nailing him right in the face.

Scott exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine them doing this 8 years ago.

Regardless, the artist was right, and they couldn’t waste too much time. Kayo was swift in grabbing both gentlemen by the ears and dragging them onto dry land. They all painstakingly trekked their way up to the-- what would you call Tracy Island? Mansion? Over-blown cabin? Well, whatever it was, Scott would always be willing to call it home.

Stepping inside, each brother took in the view, which was underwhelmingly not that much different, except for one tiny thing. John suddenly noticed a figure already standing in the living room and blinked, “No way… it’s--”

Gordon jumped in, both with his body and his words, “Brains?! Dude, how’s it hanging?!”

The scientist in question jumped at the voices before clearing his throat and readjusting his glasses, “O-Oh, hello again, T-Tracys. It’s good to see you all once more.”

Virgil slung an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the blatant squawk, “Man, how long has it been?! What made you finally decide to crawl out of your hole?”

Snickers came from all corners of the house. Brains stood up straighter, “W-Well, I was contacted b-by Mrs. Tracy over here with an offer I c-couldn’t turn down.”

Eyebrows tilted in all shapes and sizes. Someone cleared their throat. Everyone turned to look at Grandma once again, “I think if you all follow me, you’ll swiftly understand what I’m talking about.”

I already do, Scott thought matter-of-factly. John seemed to be understanding it now, Virgil was on the cusp of remembering what his father was hinting at for him, and Gordon was just as lost as Alan. It made sense, Jeff talked to all of them about it, but the oldest had seniority. The two youngest not remembering just by words was expected, especially since that was going to be rectified very quickly.

The hangar under the island was beautiful. Point blank. It smelt of iron and steel and grease and engine and that was the first time since Scott had been in the Air Force that he didn’t gag or flinch at the thought of flying something again. Scott had seen the plans his father drew. He assumed Jeff finished building it, but he never got to physically see it since…

In some ways, he was glad he didn’t. Now he got to experience it with (most of) his family, and that made it ten times better.

After letting them absorb the scenery, Grandma slowly turned around to look at them all, “You remember that dream your father had?”

The four oldest blinked, Kayo simply raised her eyebrows, meanwhile, Alan, being the teenager he was, didn’t read the emotion in the room, “Oh, yeah! Aunt Casey always talked about how he was going to “change the world” and stuff. What did he call it again?”

Scott felt way more confident than he had in a while, “International Rescue.”

Grandma nodded, gleeful at the happy look on her oldest and youngest grandsons’ faces, “Well, I’ve been thinking about some things. I know we don’t exactly worry about money, but after everything your father put into these girls… I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

The Tracy family jumped at that. John’s mouth was wide open in shock, yes, shock, “That station is still up there?”

Grandma sighed, “You mean ‘Five? Not for long. Not if we don’t send someone up there within the next few days.”

John blushed at the grin Grandma gave him. Clearing his throat, his big brain came to a startling conclusion, “Wait… you brought Alan along?”

The other big brothers in the room jumped at that. Kayo was the only one with enough balls to say the truth out loud, “Mrs. Tracy, I mean no offense, but he’s--”

“Just a kid?” Grandma smirked, “A kid that’s topped the VR charts for Intergalactic Fury for weeks straight while simultaneously getting nothing but A’s in his classes?”

Scott nodded slowly in comprehension. He remembered Alan talking about that game for a while. It was some kind of online racing simulator of sorts. Scott caught the prettiest string of words from Alan when going to bed one night. Nearly made him shit his pants. He made the kid promise to keep it PG-13 if he wanted to keep playing.

Still, the elders in the family slowly turned to look at the freckled boy with both shock and pride. Alan blinked with wide-eyed innocence, “But my English class is only at a B--”

“Shh, kiddo, I’m making a point,” Grandma rolled her eyes. The other brothers snickered. Yep, still Alan. Grandma sighed, “Now before you point out that video games are different, I know, but the difference between them and this is that video games don’t have some of the most talented older brothers in the world to guide him.”

Said older brothers jumped at the idea. Before any objection could be made, Grandma continued, “Besides, the GDF seemed to be okay with it. The Colonel was willing to oversee some of his training too.”

John flinched at that, “But IR is supposed to be independent!”

Grandma slightly frowned. She didn’t exactly like it either, “It still is, but in the world of business, compromises have to be made.”

Virgil huffed and crossed his arms, “Well, that’s… rough. Here I thought only Scott would have to deal with the bullshit of business.”

Grandma chuckled at the somewhat un-Virgil-like behavior, “It really is, Virgil. But about that Scott part,” she slowly turned to look at him and him only, “I hate to give you more work to do, but if you want to work within their restrictions?”

Suddenly every pair of eyes in the room was on the head of the family. Gulping, Scott looked down at his feet to think. It was a tense few moments, nobody sure what he was going to decide, least of all him, before the brunette cleared his throat and brought his face back up with a grin.

“Well then,” Scott turned to look at the bright tip of ‘One, chest fluttering with a feeling that became unfamiliar to him over the past few years, “I guess now it’s time to state the obvious.”

From then on, every time he loaded into that cockpit of his girl, he felt lighter than air.

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

Scott took another sip of his whiskey and refocused on his reports.

---

Scott was in some kind of dissociative state the whole way home.

Alan doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid, barely an adult, and he’s going to go through utter hell because you screwed up. You were 24, Gordon was just under 20, Alan was barely 18. Alan’s going to get fucked up like you and it’s all your fault.

His movements were robotic and rigid. Anyone with a working eye could tell he was deep in shock and running on autopilot. Mostly Jeff. Especially Jeff. The rest of the brothers all noticed too, but they were also running on their own empty fuel tanks, so the only thing they could do was guilty send their older brother the occasional glance of pity and concern.

Jeff was going to need to talk to them about that. Somehow. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to point it out since he feels just as bad. His sons were too much like him, sometimes, and that made his guilt burn all the same. He should’ve been there to warn his sons about the dangers of unnecessary guilt. Having that kind of guilt was a parent’s job, dammit, and maybe grandparents only occasionally.

But then he remembered where he’s been for the past 8 years and… who really was Alan’s parents anymore? His gut was screaming it sure as hell isn’t you, but he knew his sons would want him to step back into the role as soon as he was physically fit to do so, not just for Alan, but for themselves as well. They would deny it, but they probably just wanted to be kids again too, even if it was only brief, fleeting moments.

Who was to tell the protective, fatherly side of Jeff no to that? No better time to fix things like the present after all.

He saw Scott go up the stairs when they first stepped into the living room, so that’s where Jeff was going to go too. Footsteps light, Jeff retraced his eldest’s pathway to his bedroom. Only, he stopped before said bedroom. Unfavorable noises were coming from the closed bathroom door, and Jeff could only swallow whatever emotion it made him feel. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the (unlocked) door to the bathroom and laid his eyes upon the incriminating scene.

Jeff was met with the sight of Scott retching his entire stomach into the toilet, hands aggressively grabbing his sticky, hair-gelled hair and trying to make himself bald from the strain.

Jeff’s reaction was always based on autopilot, and it will never stop being so.

Ignoring his protesting body, Jeff kneeled and placed a hand on his son’s back, only to abruptly pull back like he touched a hot stove when Scott only got more hysterical at the contact. The brunette clenched his eyes shut even more (and they were already shut as much as possible) while his head became a special kind of crease. Like he was in pain, “God, I wanna go home. Why won’t they listen I swear I’m telling the truth! Please, I just want Dad--”

Jeff was frozen on the spot, heart stopping in the process. His brain shut down while he watched his son continue to mindlessly ramble and panic. His freaked-out mind barely registered footsteps from behind in the hallway, followed by a voice going what’s going-- holy--

Something thundered past him. Blinking once, Jeff guiltily watched as Virgil kneeled behind the eldest and wrapped his arms around the thin man’s shoulders while taking Scott’s hands in his in a protective blanket, “Scott! Jesus-- we’re at home, you’re safe and it’s June 14th, 2--”

Scott only struggled more, panicking at the fact he could no longer yank his hair out. Dammit, it was the only way he could feel in control, don’t take that away too! “No! I swear I’ve said everything! Please--”

Virgil immediately knew that this was one of those attacks that Scott wasn’t coming back down from with pure human intervention. Add-on the sight of his father’s big eyes signifying the man was at a loss at what to do, Virgil had no choice. He snapped loudly, remembering the comms were still on and only feeling slightly bad at the way Scott flinched in his arms, “Shit-- John! It’s Scott! Get the stuff! We’re in the upstairs bathroom!”

Muffled footsteps through a few walls in the house could be heard. Jeff’s mind was only starting to catch up when the brother Virgil called for came rushing into the bathroom (Jeff never remembered it being big enough to hold four of them) and ignoring Jeff (practically shoving him out of the way too, man, this was bad) on his way to the main problem at hand. Landing on his knees in a way that made Jeff wince, John gently grabbed one of Scott’s arms from Virgil’s hold and subsequently pulled a needle from nowhere and injected something into Scott.

The response was instantaneous.

Scott’s breathing, while still labored, got slower. He stopped struggling as well, and the way he sagged reminded Jeff of ice melting into a puddle. The two other brothers’ shoulders also sagged, relieved at the crisis averted. John stood up, knees cracking as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he froze at the sight of something in the doorway, “G-Gordon…”

Virgil snapped his head up from where he was looking at Scott. Jeff did something similar. Yup, in the doorway was the strawberry blonde, eyes wide, making him younger by about 10 years. The ex-Olympian in question inhaled, closed his eyes, and soon speed-walked his way out of the entrance to the bathroom. Dammit, neither Gordon or Alan have seen something like that and it probably spooked him more than anything. He’d understand with his own PTSD-related issues, but still, seeing the “never weak” big brother freak out in such a scary way...

John combed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. As he started walking out of the room, he whispered to himself, probably hoping no one heard him, “Dammit, this is all so fucked…”

Unfortunately, Jeff did hear, and the dirty language made the father flinch. John was always the best about making sure Grandma didn’t wash his mouth out with soap, and the fact that he so willingly didn’t care meant that everyone was at the end of their rope. Still reeling at the sight, Jeff couldn’t react to the gentle arms that picked him up off the floor and slowly led him out of the suddenly stuffy room.

With the click of the door shutting, Jeff realized what Virgil did, “W-Wait, Scott--”

“Will be okay for a few seconds,” Virgil finished for his dad, “I know it’s nearly been a decade, but the one part of you I definitely know hasn’t changed is the need to comfort us, just like we hoped.” The small grin that fell over the middle child’s face put Jeff a little bit at ease, but Virgil wasn’t completely done, “So, I’m going to let you take care of this, but I just want to make sure you’ll handle it with grace. Take this slowly, okay? Scott might be doped up, but he’s still… volatile, in a sense.”

Jeff cleared his throat, suddenly choking on the unneeded tension, “Okay, Virgil, I promise, just… what happened? That was… bad, and really bad at that too. I know Scott would never let something that severe willingly come out in front of his family.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not ready for this conversation, “Listen, Dad,” he inhaled sharply, cutting himself off before sighing in a way that said fuck it, might as well get this over with, “As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living. We all have lives and stories now, and this is Scott’s story to tell.”

Jeff was getting misty-eyed again. Back when he was just a kid, Virgil couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, mainly in part due to his insomnia-related issues (Jeff has to wonder if he still has them, more problems for the future) and general lack of filter because of sleep-deprivation. Now Jeff knew there was a starch difference between a kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and a man who genuinely knew how to respect another man’s privacy, but…

It just hammers home how much he’s missed with his boys. Gulping, Jeff made a mental note to talk with his mom about certain things he’s missed. She’ll know a lot more than he would, “Okay, Virge. Thank you, for stepping up there.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed at Jeff’s words, as well as his father’s hand patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Dad. Just… go easy on him. I know it’s a little late for this but none of us ever properly talked about things. It was very unhealthy, deep down we all knew that, but…”

“You just couldn’t get the proper emotions out?” Jeff finished for his son. At Virgil’s soft nod, Jeff exhaled, “I’m not going to say that it was a smart decision, but we’re all here now. We can move forward with this.” Jeff squeezed where his hand laid.

Virgil blinked before curtly going, “Yeah. Goodnight, Dad. Take care of Scott.”

Virgil stepped around his father and walked to where his bedroom most definitely was not, but Jeff could deal with that in a little bit. He had another son who he was pretty sure just had a violent PTSD attack of some kind, plus, Virgil seemed to sour at something Jeff said. The ex-astronaut wasn’t sure what it was, so he didn’t chase after him out of worry that--

Wait.

We’re all here now.

Dammit, Jeff. Out of all the sentences you could’ve picked...

Alrighty, just add that to the ever-growing pile of things that need to be talked about later. No biggie. Jeff found himself sighing and rubbing the back of his neck much like Virgil did a few minutes ago. Turning around, he was met with the bathroom door once more. Shaking his head, Jeff slowly crept into the room and saw that not much was different, especially with Scott.

His heart softly cracked, but, again, he can deal with it later.

Sitting down on the ground and grimacing at the way his body ached (was gravity always this rough?), Jeff leaned against the floor cabinets about 2-3 feet away from Scott, who made himself into a nice comfortable ball in the corner next to the toilet, his palm smushed against his forehead. Jeff waited a few seconds. Then minutes. Then he realized he would have to be the one to initiate the conversation. He probably should’ve realized that right when he came back in. He opened his mouth, but his wasn’t the one that words came out of.

“It was… Zambia.”

Jeff’s heart stopped and his mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t stop the way his eyes clearly showed his panic, but hopefully, he guiltily thought, Scott was a little too doped up to not realize it, “Scotty, what do you mean?”

Scott shrugged in a way that spoke he thought what he was admitting wasn’t a big deal. Yep, clearly not with it, “Mission went bad… caught for a couple of weeks.”

Jeff was hoping his first fuck back on Earth, spoken to himself like right now or otherwise, would have been a comedic thing, but the way nausea rose in his throat said this was anything but funny.

Scott wanted to be in the Air Force. Badly. Who was a father to deny his son’s want to be part of such a noble cause? He gave him tips, took him to meet friends in high places, sometimes even sparred with him when he turned 18, but then Jeff was suddenly thousands of miles away with no hope of ever having the chance of sparring with his eldest again. Despite it, Jeff hoped Scott went on to become the best pilot the world has ever seen.

Part of this looks like he did, but at what cost?

As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living.

Aw hell, “Jesus, Scott…” Jeff couldn’t tell if it was the brashness or the lack of a nickname that made Scott flinch and he hated it. He immediately softened his tone and brought his 27-year-old child into his arms, “Shh, shh, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

Like father like son, old habits die hard, and as easy as it was to still be able to comfort his children, Scott seemed to just as easily take it as he used to 8 years ago, “Alan doesn’t deserve this kind of hell, God, he’s barely not a kid anymore! Why--”

Jeff tightened his hold to keep his son in reality, and because he didn’t like the tone behind those words, “Hey, you didn’t either--”

Scott somehow managed to fling himself out of the hug, focus incredibly on point for someone who was doped up to his eyelids five seconds ago, “But I fucked up! I made the wrong call and then suddenly Arnold was dead and he had a wife and kids-- shit, what the hell did I do?”

Okay.

First of all: way to put him back in that headspace when that’s the exact opposite you were going for, Jeff, father of the year. Second: dammit. Just… dammit. This was a big fat hand grenade in a giant handbasket that they didn’t have time to gently get out while simultaneously not yanking the pin clean off with the grace of a drunk elephant. Jeff was no stranger to Survivor’s Guilt, but there was a whole untapped pile of metaphorical C4 within his son’s head that was ready for someone to push the goddamn button.

He wanted it to be him, desperately, because it sounded like he already failed his family enough, it was all he could do at this point, but he absolutely hated that he couldn’t do it right now. This was going to take a lot of time, which they didn’t have, plus, Jeff thought he had a pretty good understanding of this new Scott and the rest of his kids. Jeff was aware that if he didn’t help his sons find their baby as fast as possible over everything else it’ll lead to a fate nobody wanted.

A shaky sigh, “Okay, Scotty, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk strategy in the morning.”

Scott simply nodded as his father flung Scott’s arm around his broader shoulders and picked him up. Slowly and painfully but surely, father and son meandered their way to Scott’s room. With a thump a little harder than Jeff wanted, Scott flopped down on top of his sheets and immediately started snoring. Despite everything that just happened, the father couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Well, there was another thing Jeff gracefully passed onto his son.

Jeff only took Scott’s shoes off. He would’ve loved to pull the sheets up around him too, but the father didn’t want to take any chances at waking him up. Slowly tip-toeing out of the room, Jeff gave one last glance back at his son before finally letting him be and gently shutting the door. He had three other sons he needed to console, but his tired joints told him to selfishly take a moment for himself for right now unless he wanted to collapse and give his family more to deal with.

Jeff eventually made his way to his room-- which was sadly unkempt, he noticed-- and sat down on the edge of his unfamiliar bed to think.

He’ll figure something out. If he had to crawl through images of his son being brutally and bloodily tortured then by God he would with the fury of a thousand suns.

He was back and he wasn’t going to throw away any second or even third chance he was given.

---

“I got him.”

Virgil turned his comms back on, and with it, Scott’s heart restarted for the first time in a few weeks. Taking a moment for a breather, Scott leaned against the wall while practically wheezing. They have him back, holy shit, they have him back. Scott vaguely heard Gordon cry in pure relief and joy. He saw John’s side of the comms flutter for a bit before a bright flash happened. Blinking away the white spots, Scott looked at his wrist to see a fully detailed map of the compound.

Gordon spoke what they were all thinking, “Woohoo! First Allie comes back, then Johnny-boy gets us a free ticket out of here! We’re winning this race, baby!”

A very loud moment of silence. John cleared his throat, “Actually, I was going to say glad to see you in one piece, you little shit,” a playful gasp came from Virgil’s side. It was too high pitched to be from the pianist’s mouth. Scott chuckled, but the paranoid part of his brain said John wasn’t done. His brain was right, ‘“But guys… that wasn’t me. Or EOS. We still haven’t found a way to get past the metal they made these walls out of.”

That silence was even more deafening than the last, and before Virgil could utter out his typical what the fuck, a small logo appeared at the corner of their new map. One that was all too familiar. The Chaos Crew wasn’t the only one who could brand their awful deeds.

Son of a bitch.

Virgil’s order over the radio was meant for Alan, but Scott couldn’t help but listen to it too.

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

Making quick work of the compound once more, Scott, while booking it even quicker than last time, opened a private line between him and Gordon, “Hey, how would you feel if I said go help Virgil while I cover Alan?”

The first response was stuttering, which Scott expected, but then it was followed up by something completely out of left field for Gordon, “... Okay, just as long as you promise to bring Alan back in one piece.”

Part of Scott wanted to console Gordon, another was questioning why Gordon was so quick to give up, another wanted to say of course, I will, idiot, but the first part that made itself verbal was easy, “You know I will, buddy.”

Scott could physically picture Gordon’s tiny, little, somber nod clear as day, “Sounds good, captain. See you on the other side.”

With a click, Scott was back on the group comm. Suddenly remembering what exactly his job was, he pulled out the map so graciously given to them by The Hood. Looking at all the dots, one was heading towards a prone one (oh if that asshole did anything to Virgil…) while another one was heading right for Scott himself. Actually, in just a few seconds, right as Scott rounded the corner he would--

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

Yes, you heard that correctly: not tiger, Tigger. Tigger hadn’t been used since Alan was itty bitty. It always seemed like the kid had endless energy with the way he wouldn’t stop bounding off the walls and furniture. Even as a baby, Lucy had to sit with him for a few hours while he slept in his crib to make sure he would stay there. In fact, their mother gave Alan that nickname herself. She was quite the Winnie the Pooh fan, and the rest of the family figured it would be one of the ways they could keep her legacy alive for the tiny potato.

Wrapping his arms around said flailing potato, albeit much bigger than a baby, Scott thought he would collapse then and there. Alan was here, in his arms, and yeah, the sight of his dirty and somewhat ripped up IR uniform made him mad, but Scott, for once in his life, decided to focus on the here-and-now, aka his precious, alive little brother, who finally stopped struggling at the realization that hey, the person holding you is a good guy, time to turn off fight mode.

Smushing their foreheads together as much as possible, Scott desperately fought to keep the waterworks back, a smile from ear to ear hopefully taking whatever energy his tear ducts had, “You are getting such an ass beating when we get home, little bro.”

Alan jumped back with a look of What the hell?! What did I do now?!

Scott simply rolled his eyes, “Really? “Not important”? You graduated high school, tiny dude! That’s huge! You remember Gordon’s party, right?”

Alan’s mouth gaped before he closed it with slightly puffy cheeks. Those same cheeks tinged with a small blush. Alan wasn’t exactly expecting to be smothered so soon (well, he did cry his eyes out on Virgil’s shoulder, but that was different!). Shaking it off, Alan moved his hands rhythmically and rapidly, To be fair, we weren’t sure he was going to get one for a while.

Scott faltered a little bit at the ASL. Darn, he should’ve seen Alan’s lack of talking from a mile away. Scott carefully hid his disappointment from Alan. Lord knew what the kid would take it as, “Yeah, that’s what he got for barely making it. Imagine what you’re going to get!”

Scott assumed his semi-fake charm worked, as Alan seemed to play along without any kind of suspicion, Oh yeah. Fair enough.

This kid, man.

Then, slow clapping came from a dark corner, making Scott’s heart leap out of his throat as well as push Alan behind himself. Glaring as much as he could towards the invisible evil-doer, Scott didn’t have to think twice, “Alan, take my map and find Virgil and Gordon.”

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

Listening to the field commander’s orders, Scott felt his wristband slip off his wrist and a warm body leave his vicinity. An inhale. Also good. An exhale, followed by an even darker glare, “What more do you want?”

Short and straight-to-the-point and angry, two things Scott typically wasn’t. Regardless, like a cold gust of wind, footsteps started approaching him from the shadow. Once Scott saw the outline of a body, he tensed even more. Virgil would snap at him for clenching his jaw so much.

A dark chuckle reminded him of what was important. The voice that spoke reminded him of something completely different, “Now then, brother, let’s not be rude to each other!”

Scott’s pupils shrunk at the familiar sight of Gordon stepping towards him. Except it wasn’t Gordon, because Scott knew that Gordon knew better. He also knew Gordon didn’t cheekily smile like that, even after a prank, nor did he walk that straight. He always had a funny walk after WASP, and Gordon wore that fact like a badge of honor.

Oh no, Scott definitely knew who this was, “What the hell are you playing at?”

Fake-Gordon rolled his eyes, like it wasn’t obvious, “I mean if we want to go that route, why did kid insist you being in the military was the coolest thing he’d ever heard you do? Maybe I wouldn’t have been pressured into joining a branch myself in the end.”

Scott’s nostrils flared, and by God, his pupils might have actually slitted like a snake’s, or possibly even a dragon’s, “Excuse me?”

Scott blinked, and suddenly he was met by not-Virgil, “Plus, why was our conclusion after hearing a three-year-old wanting to see snow to go to a ski resort? It had to have been those big, selfish, beady eyes, right?”

“C’mon, Scotty, we gotta give you some kind of calming exercise. There’s going to come a time when neither me or John are going to be there.”

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

A snort, “Well, that’s not too bad of an idea. Maybe the person pissing you off will stop whatever they’re doing at the sight of you spontaneously doing downward dog.”

Laughter, an unfamiliar action, “Yeah, okay, but for real, those breathing exercises I’ve seen you do look okay. Let’s start there.”

Scott was not a liar by heart. He had to admit that those exercises were doing jack shit right about now.

Another blink, another brother. Familiar ginger hair was all Scott could see, “To continue that previous point, why did Dad start International Rescue again? And what led to his demise?”

“Sounds like a piece of work. Why do you keep dealing with these people again?”

“Someone has to pay the bills, Johnny. Grandma’s too focused on making the perfect poison for us.”

A roll of eyes, “Right, because the billions we have saved wouldn’t be enough to last a couple of families a few lifetimes. Glad to see your calming exercises are working at least. How’s that going for you, by the way?”

A pause. A flicker of vision around the room. Someone cleared their throat, probably himself, “It’s probably not as bad as whatever space is throwing at you. You handling it okay up there?”

Another pause, followed by a sigh, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Scott wanted to deflect the truth so badly right now more than anything else. Telling him he couldn’t pilot ‘One anymore would be a much more enticing option than what he was hearing.

Suddenly, Scott was looking in a mirror, “Besides, I know more than anybody that he wasn’t wanted. A mistake. I thought we Tracys hated being imperfect?”

The Hood must have known their backstories from internet articles, and being the mastermind he was, it probably took him all of three seconds to see Alan had some hidden self-worth issues. By playing the biggest Guess Who? game of all time, The Hood was most likely able to figure out some less-than-positive ideals Alan thought about himself throughout his childhood and danced circles around his already weakened mind to string together some spineless blame to put on the kid by sheer evilness alone.

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

Scott wasn’t thinking straight-- maybe even at all when the first punch was thrown.

Just like that, Scott blacked out and was running on terminator mode. John would be disappointed. Virgil would be horrified. Gordon might find it funny. Alan wasn’t here, and thank God for that. Scott wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. All his mind was telling him was make lots of pain hard and fast. His brain also blocked out any hit The Hood was giving him in return. Pain flared for a few seconds, then it was swept away in the puddle of rage his mind was currently being consumed in.

Soon, his out-of-it mind found its target and gripped his-- The Hood’s arm, no disguise would make him have an identity crisis, thank you very much-- nice and rough.

Scott heard the familiar snap of cartilage and felt only partially bad. If he was thinking more clearly, he would be disgusted with himself. Yes, even The Hood didn’t deserve this level of Scott’s fury. Oh, he definitely deserved to be hit by a truck, but not by Scott. It was mostly due to Scott’s sanity. If he could be this graphic and violent at all, even to the worse possible criminals, that meant he could be that way during other moments, and that was not a territory he wanted to cross into.

Welp, he was here now, and he’ll hate to admit it in the future, but the only thing that brought him out of it was a tiny gasp from a few feet away. Snapping his head up, Scott’s eyes landed squarely on a smaller-than-normal Alan, who was currently clutching his arm to his chest in an emotion Scott didn’t want to figure out at the moment. So much for going and finding Virgil and Gordon.

“Allie, help…” fake him grunted out, only making real Scott growl and tighten his hold (and probably making his case worse). Looking up from the person in his arms, Scott felt his heart split in two at the sight. There was fear and uncertainty in Alan’s blue eyes and boy did it hurt. Scott couldn’t tell if it was because even seeing a potentially-fake Scott being beaten up was bad or if it was because he’d never seen big brother be this brutal, even towards their enemies. Whatever the reason, it involved Scott being the main root of the problem.

Wait, that was The Hood’s plan. Shit… make Scott act past the point of no return in a way that was unfamiliar to Alan so the kid couldn’t be fully sure who was who, and Scott fell right into his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

Scott faltered a little bit, “A-Alan, I--”

That falter was enough for The Hood to break an arm out of his grip and elbow him in the face. In the brief second of freedom he had, he tried dashing towards Alan, but Scott was too quick for everyone’s good and soon had the imposter back in his arms, both of them struggling in a way that made them look like they were tied into the weirdest knot in existence.

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

A big shake of the abandoned compound threw the look-a-likes about and subsequently off the platform they were on. The place was old; it didn’t take a lot of weight for that guard rail they made their way over towards while fighting to snap right off. With a yelp, the two of them gripped the edge as much as they could and held on. Crap, I know we talked with Fuse about potentially setting some stuff off, but--

Blinking, Scott saw a familiar mop of blonde hair come into view. Alan was rather panicked, clearly not sure which Scott was the real Scott. Not only that, he had little time to decide which one to save. Goodie, another reason to despise The Hood: not only has he put Alan through weeks of torment, now he’s forcing the kid to decide to either save his oldest brother and biggest hero or his personal torturer.

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

Holy hell, this was getting worse by the second. Hopefully, big brother charm can work its magic and get them the hell out of there.

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

“I can’t hold on for much longer, Alan, hurry!”

The two Scotts glared at one another in the exact same way, not making Alan’s job much easier. Another shake, another slip down the metal cliff, more screams, and Alan looked ready to tear his hair out. Scott watched as the kid looked around rapidly, probably praying for a miracle in the process. Suddenly, the kid jumped when he must have spotted something important. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone and out of their range of visions to retrieve it.

Whatever the hell he noticed better be important, because if just ended up wasting precious time then--

Another shake, probably the last one. Still, it was enough.

Both their grips gave away at the same time, screams identical (God, did he always sound that wimpy?) as they plummeted to their demises. Scott was briefly able to look up to see his brother pop his head over the cliff like a chipmunk again and grab the (albeit broken) arm of The Hood and save him. Dammit, Scott should have expected that, though, that display of anger was uncharacteristic to Alan. Probably terrified him even more than he already was. Fuck, Scott deser--

Suddenly, a rope wrapped itself around Scott’s left arm and stopped his descent. Hard. Hopefully, it was only torn stuff, they didn’t have time to deal with dislocation--

Wait.

Scott wasn’t dead if he could think about these kinds of things.

Blinking, he looked at his arm to see the familiar rope of his grappling hook around his forearm. Moving his eyesight to look past that, he saw the wide, blue eyes of his baby brother struggling to stay on top. The Hood was using his non-broken side to try and climb his way back up to safety. Huh, that’s weird. When did Alan get ahold of that? Scott must have dropped it during his scuffle with--

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

Alan saved them both.

And it would be all for jack shit if Scott didn’t get his ass up there to help.

Panicking, Scott gripped the rope and started to ascend. He had two working arms and a smother complex to boot; it wasn’t long before he overtook a struggling Hood, who could only use one arm and a weakened brother (that bastard was so lucky Alan had a literal heart of gold).

Flinging his arms over the edge and pulling himself up-- and shrugging off the extra help Alan offered. Save your strength, baby bro-- Scott was in a much calmer search-and-destroy mode. He yanked his evil look-a-like up, turned him on his stomach, pinned him down, and before he could even watch Alan blink, “Sign something.”

There, now he watched Alan blink.

Scott pulled out one of his best ‘big brother’ smiles ever, “Tell me something in ASL. I don’t think The Hood learned that kind of etiquette.”

The body beneath him growled, making Alan jump and Scott tighten not only his hold but his glare. Further prove big brother’s point, why don’t cha? He lost the angry look immediately to grin at Alan once more, who seemed to be slowly getting the picture. With a gulp, the blonde slowly strung together a sentence that Scott had to laugh at, just a little bit.

Damn, could you teach me to fight like that, Scooter?

Nodding his head, Scott had to concede, “Sure. Consider it a graduation present.”

Alan blinked again, and the immense relief that washed over the boy’s shoulders would be enough to banish nightmares for at least a couple of days. Suddenly, The Hood’s disguise blinked out of existence, making both brothers jump that time. Scott didn’t falter in his grip, however. This man was going down right here and now, Scott thought darkly, staring at the prone body beneath his.

Scott saw Alan continue to sign out of the corner of his eye, You know you look like shit, right?

Scott chuckled. Alan was always able to put a smile on his face no matter the circumstances, “Yeah, well, kindred spirits, little bro.”

Scott was probably as pale as Alan was with such lack of sleep and food. Running on what was essentially a prolonged PTSD attack wasn’t healthy in the slightest, and no doubt whatever kind of bruises and scratches The Hood gave him didn’t help, however, seeing hope fill those deep-blue eyes when Alan learned he was truly being saved drowned everything out, including the way those freckles were getting lost in those eye bags.

Yeah, their entire family probably looked like shit, and the recovery process was going to be even shittier, but they were going to suffer through it together as a family would.

That made it all worth it.

Shuffling himself so one arm was free while the other kept The Hood pinned, Scott held it out towards Alan. The flinch the youngest made tore a hole in Scott’s heart that was only slightly patched when Alan leaned into the warmth and safety of his biggest bro. Long recovery process, remember? Regardless, Alan still took to the hug like a dehydrated zebra did a pond, and that was good enough for Scott.

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

[writers-hes]

meet-cute / fluff !

thank you so much for your support on my first ever fanfic! i really had such a great time writing it and i will be updating the second part of it soon. for now, please enjoy this super fluffy fic!

WARNING: UNEDITED !

word count: 3596

in which y/n and harry meets for the first time and can’t seem to get enough if each other

“lou, do i really have to go?” you ask. your sister and lou teasdale have been great friends, immediately clicking it off in middle school. the both of them never lost contact and you were glad that they didn’t because you considered her as an older sister and you knew that she treated you like her younger sister.

“of course you do! your parents entrusted you to me and i have to keep my promise that i will look over for the night.” she chuckles. you roll your eyes. you were twenty for christ’s sake and the last thing you needed was a baby sitter. your parents have always been strict, not allowing you to date till you finish your studies. sure, you had a few short-term relationships here and there. it was all part of growing up but even so, you didn’t let your parents know about them.

lou sensed your annoyance. she felt sorry for you, not experiencing the things that kids in your age should. you should be out, getting wasted and experiencing youth but you were stuck with her. “tell you what, you don’t have to come to the backstage with me. i’ll let you stay in my hotel room and you can order room service or pizza. my treat.” she says.

“will lux be there with me?” you ask, talking about lou’s adorable little girl.

“sure. i needed someone to take care of lux anyway. she’s been losing sleep layely because if the loudness in concerts.” she replies. poor girl.

“where is she anyway?” you ask. you were outside with lou, eating breakfast a block away from their hotel and it was so unusual for lux not to be joined in her hip.

“she spent the night with harry. said its been a while since he last saw the little girl,”

harry styles. out of all the members of the boy band, the person you still haven’t met yet is harry. lou speaks of the young kad fondly, telling stories about how funny and gentlemanly he is. you’ve met everybody twice, in end-of-tour parties in one of their fancy houses (with your sister by your side and your parents’ permission, of course.) still, harry would always arrive late and you’ll always leave early, not really caring for the party itself. you were just there to support lou, anyway.

“oh, what time will you leave for the arena?” you ask.

“noon-time. which reminds me, we should get going!” she exclaims, wiping off the crumbs of the sandwich she just finished. you nodded drank the last of your hot cocoa. the two of you walk side by side to the hotel. “have you ket harry before?” she asks. you shake your head no and explain what happens during the parties.

“ah, well that’s such a shame! you will absolutely love him, i promise,” you nod, not really caring that you were about to meet the harry styles—your personal favourite from the band. you were excited to see lux.

you arrive at the hotel, finally. you were so excited to see lux. “hey, why don’t you go ahead and take lux from harry? his room is 1723 and take her to my room, 1735. i’ll just go get ready and take a shower.” she says. you nod and tread your way to 1723.

you knock once you arrive, not noticing the doorbell right beside the door.

“stay there, luxy! i’ll just see who’s at the door.” you hear from the outside. you blush, anxious to finally meet harry. you hear shuffling as you anticipate the door to open.

“hey, i’m here to get lu—“

“uh, who are you?” he asks, a little rudely. you frown but immediately get over it. he doesn’t know you and was probably just looking out for lux.

“name is (y/n) and i’m here to take lux...lou told me that she spent the night with you.” you told him.

“uncle harry!” you hear lux from the inside. you smile at her cute little voice. “who’s there?” you hear her ask as her head poked from the door. you watch her face light up.

“auntie (y/n)!” she squeals. she ducks under harry’s arm to run towards you.

“lux, i’ve missed you so much!” you say, crouching down to her height and opening your arms to hug her. you see that she was wearing the winnie the pooh pyjama set you gave her and smiled even wider.

“i see you watched pooh without me...” you fake-pout, making lux giggle and hug you even tighter.

meanwhile, harry is leaning on the door frame in awe as he watch you interact with lux. he suddenly felt guilty for being so rude when you first met. he was just being protective of lux.

“y/n, is it?” he suddenly asks. you turn to him and nod curtly, still a little annoyed at how he treated you earlier. “i’m sorry about earlier...thought you were someone else...lou didn’t tell me someone else was coming to get her.”

you picked up lux and stood up.

“s’okay,” you smiled. now that harry apologized he didn’t seem as bad.

“hey, do you wanna go in? i’ll just prepare her stuff in her bag.” he offers. you told him that you were going in so he pulled the space of the door a little more and let you in. “so, how come we’ve never met before? you seem to know the atkins well.” he asks you as he cleans up the little girl’s mess.

“ah, well, i suppose our paths never crossed. i met niall, liam, zayn, and louis twice in your end-of-tour parties.” you say. “you were always late and i always happen to leave earlier.” you let go of lux once you sat on the couch of the grand hotel room.

“uncle har, up!” lux said, making grabby hands for her to be picked up by harry. he looks at you, as if asking if it was alright if he picked up lux first.

“it’s alright. i’ll clean up,” you offer. he smiles at you thankfully and picks up the little girl who’s been asking for attention since the two of you met.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how come you’re here?”

“my parents asked lou if she could ‘babysit’ me…” a little embarrassed that you’re saying this to the man who travelled the world.

“wait--how old are you?”

“i’m 20...my parents are out of the country and luckily, you guys are here so they asked lou if i could tag along. it would’ve been okay to not have someone guard for me if they were out of town,” you grumbled.

harry chuckles. “so, you attend uni then?”

“yeah, i’m currently majoring in political science and minoring in creative writing…”

“you liking it so far?” he asks, slowly rocking lux back and forth, making her extra sleepy.

“yeah. i really love comparative politics and seeing all the different patterns in different political landscapes. did you know that changing the appearance of money causes the economies of different countries to go down? i love studying about political theories by calvin, plato, machiavelli…” you gush. you suddenly stop. “i’m sorry, i’m probably boring you with all the academic talk.”

harry sets lux back to the bed. “no, it’s alright. tell me more about uni! you know, i originally planned to be a lawyer if i didn’t join the x factor. about political science and creative writing, may i please know more?” he asks, plopping himself beside you on the couch.

“well...what do you want to know? i’m still in sophomore so i really don’t know much.”

“you know more than i do and that’s enough for me. ah! look at me, being so rude. i didn’t even offer you a drink. do you want anything? water? juice?”

“water’s fine, thanks.” you watch as he stand up and retrieve a bottle of fiji water from the fridge. fancy.

“so...creative writing? do you think i can get you to read some of my poems and snippets of songs sometime? i need a professional’s opinion…”

“hey! i told you i don’t really know much yet, harry.” you chuckle. harry smiles. it was his first time hearing his name roll of from your lips and he likes it. he really likes it.

“and i said that it’s okay. you probably know more than i do anyway. how about this, let’s go out tonight after the show. we can hang around somewhere, maybe even here. you read my writing and criticise it. if you don’t like it, you have the power to make me do one silly thing. if you like it, i’ll take you to a date.” harry didn’t know if he was shotting his shot here but his smile became even wider when you said sure.

“alright. what time do you want to meet up?” you ask.

“i’m free midnight. do you know anything open by that time?”

“well, there’s a nice coffee shop that sort of serves like a flower market near the hotel. nobody’s really there because it’s hidden but we can go there if you like.”

“deal. i’ll pick you up at lou’s room and then we can go.”

you really like harry. he was so warm and humble. he listened to you while you ramble about politics. you obviously loved your course and he could see that. throughout your conversation, you could feel warmth radiate through your body, not knowing that that was how he felt too.  

---

“looks like you’ve spent the whole morning with my little sister, huh, harry?” lou teased while blow-drying his hair.

“yeah...quite lovely, isn’t she?” he mutters, blushing a little bit.

“oi, niall! someone here got a crush!” liam teases. harry blushed a little bit more, his whole face was red. the lads looked at him funnily. it’s been awhile since harry had a crush on a girl. sure, there were a few flings but those either didn’t work out well because of his busy schedule or because it was for publicity.

“who’s he crushin on?” louis asks.

“you know my friends’s sister, y/n?” lou replies, finishing up harry’s braids.

“oh, pretty girl. she’s super smart too.” zayn comments.

“yeah, m’taking her out tonight…” harry mumbles. he felt like he was back in high school crushing on a girl.

“you didn’t even ask me, oi! i’m her guardian tonight,”

“fine! may i take her out then?” harry asks. why can’t these people let him be? it was just a little crush.

“alright. just make sure to be back before the sun comes up. no funny business, haz. or else.” lou threatens. harry nods while the boys look at each other. it was so unlike harry to have a crush on a girl the first time meeting her. still, they couldn’t deny that y/n was a lovely girl. she was very polite and was well-raised. she was exactly harry’s type.

---

harry felt guilty. he was running late. it was almost 1 a.m. and he still wasn’t at the hotel. the concert ended a few minutes early and harry immediately left after the meet and greet with some fans. he still had about thirty minutes to spare before twelve. he asked his driver to drive around the area in hopes to find flowers for her. in the end, he only got her red and white floating balloons from a liquor store.

once he arrived at the hotel, he ran to the special elevator and jogged to where you were. you were sitting on lou’s bed as she put your hair up in a high ponytail.

“now, love, i know harry’s very attractive and very kind but don’t you forget to come home before the sun comes up. your parents will pick you up here tomorrow noon and you can’t look like you’ve been out dating a popstar. you know what will happen if they find out.” lou warns. you nod absentmindedly. you couldn’t wait till harry arrives. he’s been on your mind since you parted. was he alright? how was the concert? did he enjoy performing? you’ve never really been to their show, finding no time because you were always busy with coursework.

knock, knock, knock.

three hasty knocks were heard and you know it was harry. you immediately zoom your way to the door to find harry holding red and white balloons.

“hey, harry. what are the balloons for?” you ask.

“well, i’ve been looking for an open flower shop around the area since i left the arena but i couldn’t find any. so, i got you red and white balloons from a liquor store instead. just think of them as red and white roses…” he offers you the balloons and you take it from him. lou was smiling in the background, feeling as if she was watching two awkward highschoolers go out on their first date.

“thanks. i love them.” you say. “lou? is it alright if i tie the balloons on the door knob?”

“yeah but lux will play with that once she sees it tomorrow…”

“it’s alright. lux and i can play with it together.” you tie the balloons on the doorknob as harry waits outside. “hey, harry? are you ready to go?” harry nods and offers you his hand. you take it as he bids goodbye to lou from inside the hotel room.

“hey, i hope it’s okay for lux to play with the balloons you gave tomorrow.” you start. you were walking arm in arm down the hallway of the fancy hotel.

“it’s alright. i’m glad that you’re willing to share it with luxie. it’s really cute how you interact with her,” he replies. he was looking really good tonight--even better than how he did in the morning. he was wearing a white britney spears t-shirt, straight cut denim, white socks, and old school black vans. he was also wearing black nail polish on his ridiculously pretty hands adorned with rings and a small gucci pouch that he tucked on his other arm. “so, love, where are you taking me?”

“well, it’s this small flower-slash-coffee shop downtown. we can walk there if you’d like,” you say. he nods in agreement as he unconsciously pulls you closer. “hey, harry?”

“hm?”

“you look really good tonight.” you both blush at your words.

“hey, you look even prettier than i do!” he gushes. you say thanks and look the other way. your face was so red. “let’s walk there, yeah? i’d love to spend more time with you and i feel like if we use the car, we’ll just tire out the driver,”

you nod, in awe at how he just said that so confidently.

--

you arrive at the small coffee shop. flora it read. this was your favourite coffee shop in the whole town. you loved how rustic everything felt--from the white walls to the flowers scattered all over the place. you loved how the smell of coffee and flowers are all mixed in the air.

“wow, this is beautiful.” harry comments. there was no place like this was. flora was so beautiful with the string lights hung from the ceiling. even though the coffee shop is empty, it still somehow felt comforting. “how did you find this place, love?”

“well, once i graduated from high school, i had the mission to drink something from every coffee shop in the area. i guess i was also looking for the best cup of coffee at the best price. coffee here is quite out of my budget. this place, though, it has the best coffee and it’s also quite cheap.” you tell him truthfully. you walked, still arm in arm, to the counter.

“hey! what can i get you today?” the barista asks.

“hey. i’ll get the cookie cream milkshake, please. also, please add a shot of espresso,” you tell him. it was your usual order. “what about you, harry?”

“oh, no. i’ll pay for this, y/n. i was the one who asked you to read my writings and critique them,”

“but--”

“no buts, sorry. hey, may i get a large homemade milk tea, please?” he says and before you could even take out your money, he slides his credit card to the barista. “take something for your tip, too.”

the barista smiles at him gratefully.

“you know, i have to pay you back, harry.” you grumble, making your way to one of the corner seats of the coffee shop.

“no! take that as an apology for the shitty balloons and for being late...also as a payment for the time you’ll be spending tonight. okay?” he protested.

“but i don’t think that the balloons were shitty...i think they’re pretty sweet.”

“okay....why don’t you spend your money on dessert and we will call it even.” he offered.

you smiled and immediately went back to the barista, asking for a honey almond toast with extra whip--your personal favourite.

“thanks. i will just serve your orders once they’re ready since there’s no one else here.” the barista says right before you turn and go back to where you sat.

“so...here’s my journal. read whatever you like. some of them are bits of song lyrics that i have yet to finish. or maybe i’m not gonna finish them.” he shyly slides a leatherbound journal towards you. he watches as you pick it up gently. “i really wanna hear about your opinions on them...we can even edit it together or write something together!”

you chuckle at his excitement. “here. this is my journal. some writings that inspired me for some of my papers. it’s a little bit all over the place. political papers, some emotional, and also some rubbish. i figured, since i will be knowing lots about you tonight, you should also know about me. i mean, if you want to…”

harry smiles at you widely and gratefully takes your journal from your hands.

the barista arrives and sets down the toast and your drinks.

“whoa, this toast! i’ve never seen one of these before.” the toast lays in its glory. thick, golden brown, and syrupy.

“yeah, take a bite! it’s one of my favourite things to eat.” you say. you offer him a forkful of the toast with some of the whip cream and watch him take a bite as you feed it to him. the both of you blush at the interaction.

“this is really good. what is this called?”

“honey almond toast. it usually has lesser whip cream but i really love how it mellows down the sweetness. wanna try my milkshake?” you ask. you give him the glass of sweetness and watch him drink from your straw.

“hey, this is also delicious. taste my milk tea?” you nod and reach for his cup. it was also delicious.

“look at us. meeting for the first time and already sharing each others’ drinks! how chummy.” he teases. you chuckle at his comment. you open his journal and he opens yours.

sweet creature had another talk about where it's going wrong but we're still young we don't know where we're going but we know where we belong

wow. he thought to himself. it was a four line poem of something but it was so good. so, so, good.

just let me know i'll be at the door, at the door

hoping you'll come around

just let me know i'll be on the floor, on the floor

maybe we'll work it out

i gotta get better, gotta get better

i gotta get better, gotta get better

i gotta get better, gotta get better

and maybe we'll work it out

“you wrote this?” you ask. you’ve been flipping the pages, so immersed with his writings.

“y-yeah…?” he replies. he was afraid that you wouldn’t like it. “it’s actually a little song...haven’t finished it yet but i sorta like the flow.”

“it’s brilliant! may i suggest something?” you ask. he nods. “um, well, it seems to me as if this is about someone leaving yes? if this is a song...i think it’s nice if you make it about someone you want to meet again. you know? like, let’s escape together. meet me in five…meet me to where we used to be...in the hallway?”

“i really like hallway...makes it sound more intimate and secretive.”

“here, write it on this page.” you move a beside him, arms touching, and point to a blank space right before what he originally has written. you watch as his boyish handwriting fill up the space. damn, this man is so beautiful and everything that comes out of him is even more beautiful.

“what about that?” he asks. you nod in approval. really loving what he got so far. “i really like your piece on this sweet creature. love the way it’s titled and written. are you planning to finish it?”

“y-yeah...just don’t have the motivation to write. politics has drained the life out of me,” you chuckle.

harry hopes you could write sweet creature soon. harry hopes to be the sweet creature you speak of so fondly.

// end of part one //

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Hard Choices

Bucky stood in the kitchen sipping his coffee and watching you talk on the phone on the balcony of the penthouse. They’d just moved you in. It hadn’t been long but the place already had little feminine touches that made it feel less like just a place to sleep. 

The modern lines and sleek furniture made homey with a few decorations and some throw pillows. It felt nice now, coming home after a long day. Like sinking into a bath when you were cold. 

Still, there were somethings you hadn’t permitted yet. They hadn’t yet met or even talked to your younger siblings. The ones you’d sued for guardianship of at 18. You protected them like they were your own kids. Even though they were grown now, Tommy was 20 and Kate has just started college this fall. They know you miss them. When you moved Kate into her dorm they didn’t see you for a few days and when they finally came over to check on you, you were a mess.

You’d started crying all over again. In the quiet with no one to take care of immediately in front of you, you’d been forced to deal with all the things you shoved aside. All the pain and all the hurt and frustration. The disappointment of all the dreams you had to give up so Tommy and Kate didn’t have to grow up as fast as you did. You’d told them everything. 

How you’d been in and out of foster care so many times that you knew exactly what the social worker’s knock sounded like. The official sounding click of their shoes on the sidewalk and the jangle of office keys on a lanyard. Your mom’s protestations that she wasn’t high while there was a pipe, still smoking in her hand. The night you’d all almost frozen to death in a van by the river. 

Your parents had just left you there with two-year-old Tommy and newborn Kate. What they’d done it for you didn’t remember but you’d all been so cold. At 8, you’d had to decide whether to freeze to death in the van or risk trying to find somewhere warm to sleep. So you took Tommy by the hand, put Kate bundled in your coat and started walking. You’d found a church. Someone had left the doors to the sanctuary unlocked. It was warm at least and you’d all collapsed into exhausted sleep in a back corner in a pew. Hungry and cold but too little and too tired to look for anything to eat. 

As you got older, you shouldered more of the brunt of managing finances. You dropped out at 15 and worked any job someone would give you. You didn’t know what else to do but keep social workers from sniffing around. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway, and that helped. No one on your block was going to report you as long as the three of you kept your heads down. You thought you’d been so smart, hoarding away enough money for a little apartment. Getting it all set in order and taking everything to an overworked judge. He’d granted you the custody of them and hardly looked at you. Or the kids. All clean and dressed well. Kate had been so sad that no one noticed her new hair bow. 

But money ran out and bills piled up. So when a girlfriend told you how much money she could make in clubs, it seemed like a way out. And it had been. You figured if men were constantly staring at your tits and trying to grab your ass you might as well make them pay for it. You got popular fast. Did some escort work from time to time and special appearances. Ran club nights all your own because you knew everyone who was anyone... And by 22 you bought a bar with the money you saved up. Another risk that paid off. It was putting the kids through school. Helping them get where they needed to go. Making sure they never needed to make hard choices.

______

After that, the boys had decided to keep you. Probably forever. You’d slept that night, sprawled on your stomach between them. You were wrung out and exhausted. Too numb and disoriented from the weight of the grief for all you’d given up to have sex. But they didn’t care. They never wanted you to have to make another choice like that. To feel like all you were was a body. To feel like you weren’t worth it.

_______

When you come in off the balcony, looking like you’re praying for patience because if God gives you the strength you’re gonna need bail, Bucky frowns. “What’s wrong, Doll? Kids acting up?” You snort, “Kate’s not coming home for Thanksgiving. I guess she and some friends are gonna go fuck around in Mexico. She saved enough of her allowance to buy the plane ticket.” You don’t say that it hurts. You don’t need to. Bucky wraps his arms around you gently and kisses the side of your head. “I’m sorry, baby, I know you miss them,” he murmurs. You swallow hard and take a deep breath, shaking your head, “Kate’s an adult. Aside from that, she should go do things. Maybe she’ll learn something.” Bucky smiles a little, “Babe, you can be mad about it. It’s okay.” You shrug and help yourself to coffee, “What good would it do? All it would do is start a fight. Katie will tell anyone who’ll listen that I’m just jealous. Tommy’ll get stuck in the middle and everyone will be miserable and still not speaking to one person or the other by Christmas... I’ll stick with passive-aggressive mom guilt and just make sure my boys all have a nice Thanksgiving.”

Steve paused at the kitchen door and looked from you to Bucky, “What’s he telling you to be mad about?” You shrug, “Kate’s going to Mexico with friends for Thanksgiving instead of coming home.” Steve frowned, “Why?” You shrug again, “I mean, when I was 18 I would have if I’d had the chance.” You sip your coffee, “Is Tommy still coming?” Steve asked, stealing a kiss from Bucky and slipping his arms around your waist. You nod, smiling a little, “He wants to make sure you’re treating me okay... Dunno what the fuck he thinks he gonna do if you’re not.”  Steve smiled a little, “Well, we wouldn’t rough him up too bad.”  You snort, “You’d have to get through me first, boys.”

______

Watching you behind the bar was always a treat. You flirted with them easily. They liked flirting back. Knowing that every male in that bar would kill to get the attention they were getting. Until one day, you stopped mid joke and froze for a second. “Tommy!” You bolt around the bar and half tackle your baby brother as the tall, lanky kid pulls you into a bone-crushing hug and swings you in a slow circle for a second. Bucky feels a pang, watching you fuss at him, adjusting his collar and telling him he’s gotten too skinny. Threatening to cheerfully beat him to death for not telling you he was coming so you could have his bed made up and food waiting. The poor kid just looks so relieved to be home. He thuds his head into your shoulder and sighs. 

Bucky knows his sisters have been dead for years. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wonder if his sisters would have greeted him like that. It made his miss the sisterly fussing. The teasing. Steve kisses the side of his head and squeezes his hand, “You okay?” he asked softly, “Still with us?” Bucky nodded, smiling a little, “Yeah,” he said, “Just wishing I could have introduced Y/N to Rebecca.”  Steve smiled a little, “They would have got on like a house on fire,” he said. Bucky smiled a little, watching you card your fingers through Tommy’s hair, telling him he needs a haircut. “Yeah,” he said softly. When You turn, Tommy is towering over you, his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his waist, still fussing. Telling one of the girls to put an order for him in, in the kitchen. His favorite thing on the menu. 

Steve and Bucky both get a handshake and a smile when you introduce them. He looks like you. Same soft hair. Same wide eyes. Same nose and cheekbones. His dimples when he smiles are different and he’s taller. Lanky. Could fall through a crack in the floor if he stands sideways. But they can see he loves you. You’re his mom even if you didn’t give birth to him. You get your boys settled with food and something to drink before going back behind the bar. Once you’re out of ear shot, Tommy leans back in his chair and watches them both, “Don’t hurt her,” he says after a long moment. It isn’t a threat. But the promise is clear. If they hurt you he will find a way to hurt them back.” Steve smiles a little. He already likes Tommy. He has a soft spot for scrappy kids. “Son,” he starts, making Tommy twitch an eyebrow. Bucky smirks. He’s seen that look. When Steve had accidentally assumed he’d gone over your head discussing something and tried to dumb it down. It reminded him irresistibly of a tripwire. One wrong move and all hell is gonna break lose. “We’re not going to hurt her,” Bucky said, “Not on purpose.” Tommy nodded, accepting that for the moment. Bucky wondered if you’d ever introduced him to anyone you were in a relationship with. He knew actual relationships were few and far between. 

“So,” Steve said, “How long are you going to stay?” Tommy shrugged, “Just until the day after Thanksgiving... I came early because I found a flight with a stopover to try and get Katie to come home.” Steve nodded, good kid. He assessed. Really good kid. “No dice,” he sighed, “she’s... She’s mostly not happy about Y/N being with both of you. And still running club promotions... It’s not classy enough, she says,” he rolled his eyes. “Like... don’t tell Y/N that? Please? She’d be fucking heartbroken.” He looked towards you and winced reflexively. “How do you feel about it?” Bucky asked. Tommy snorted, “She’s a grown adult. I don’t pay her bills. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.”

Steve smiled a little and nodded. “She gave up enough for us,” Tommy said, “She was on track for a full ride to college. She could have just left us to rot but she didn’t.” He took a deep breath, “I can’t. There’s no way I could ever pay her back for what she did. How hard she tried even when I was an asshole.” He shrugged, “As long as she’s happy that’s all I care about.”

After Tommy had eaten and had some time to get his bearing again, he rolled up his sleeves and started bussing tables. Mostly, he told you when you fussed at him, it was because he was really fucking bored. Really, Tommy told Steve later in the back, it was because he felt like he should. You busted your ass for years to make sure he could have everything he needed. The least he could do was help out when he was home. Aside from that, he’d added, it was a way to spend time with you while you were working. 

Steve and Bucky watched with interest as the pair of you crisscrossed over each other easily. Part of it was practice and part of it was just intuitive. It was fun, listening to the two of you bicker back and forth over the bar. Adding to the din and bringing in tips for being entertaining. 

________

Thanksgiving was quiet. Tommy helped in the kitchen. Mostly by being in the way. He taste-tested everything, whether you wanted him to or not and drove you to distraction, “Thomas Alexander,” you said sternly, smacking the back of his hand, “If you don’t quit it I’m gonna stab you.” Tommy only smiled and cheerfully snagged another cookie. He’d missed your cooking. And irritating you. 

Bucky smiled a little and leaned on the counter. It felt so achingly familiar, watching this scene that his chest hurt a little bit. He didn’t know if he should help you or help Tommy. He settled for being somewhere in between and stole a kiss that left you distracted and a little dizzy, “You can’t stab him. You promised me there’d be no ER trips if I let you cook,” he rumbled. 

Tommy looked away, a little uncomfortable. He really didn’t like having certain images in his head and anything pertaining to your sex life was one of those things. 

“That was one time!” you protest. 

“And it looked like a crime scene in here,” Bucky countered, “Seriously. One little cut. I didn’t know you could bleed that much needing three stitches.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you and Steve both go beast mode on can openers. and we need a new one every 6 weeks.” you pout. 

Tommy snorted, “Sis, remember that one time we got Dr. Pepper on the ceiling when that one can exploded?” You look around Bucky and smile a little, “Did mom ever figure out what it was?” Tommy grins and shakes his head, “Nope. Not a clue. Every time I go over there she mentions it though.” 

“You still see your parents?” Steve asked confused. Tommy shrugs, “I mean yeah. Ronnie and Joe are fucked up but like... They’re still my parents. Kinda. On paper.” You turn back to the stove quickly pretending something needs to be stirred so none of them can see the emotions on your face. “They like to say Y/N ‘stole us’ but like... It’s not like they were raising us.”

Tags: @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt, @mistressoftorture @thorfanficwriter, @ctinadiva, @innerpaperexpertcloud @amalthea9

[alenajade]

❛ alexa demie, 19, cisfemale, she/her ❜ was that ALENA MONTANEZ i just saw hurrying across the quad? you’d think they would know what happens when a SOPHOMORE is late to class. then again, the FASHION major has been known to be pretty MANIPULATIVE. maybe being so VIVACIOUS helps keep them out of trouble. i heard that they are BISEXUAL and love DADDY KINK + SIZE DIFFERENCE

ayyye it’s G bringing ya’ll yet another lovable trash heap (i play Ezra too hi) ! figured I’d up my chances of being able to plot with as many people as possible if I had both a male & a female, plus I’ve been dying for a chance to use alexa as a fc so! alena is a brand new muse i’ve never played before & i’m super hype to develop her here for the first time ok so lemme just FINALLY get around to introducing this bitch real quick

OTHER KINKS: CHOKING, ORGASM CONTROL/DENIAL, BODY WORSHIP (REC), FORCE, PUNISHMENT + REWARD, ANAL, SPANKING, MARKING, BITING, HAIR PULLING,  DOMINANCE,  VOYEURISM,  CLOTHES ON, GROUP SEX, SEXUAL PAIN, ORDERS (REC)(GIV), BEING FILMED / PHOTOGRAPHED

alena jade montanez was born that bitch.

 was such a daddy’s girl up until age 6 when he left her, her mom, and her (at the time) 4, almost 5 year old little sister to pursue a new life with his mistress- after that, alena’s grandmother moved in with them, and her mom went through such a transformative stage that she had no choice but to pick herself up and make the decision to raise the strongest, most confident daughters she possibly could, because she never wanted a man to be able to break them the way the one she’d thought was her soulmate had broken her

and that’s exactly what she did 

alena grew up in a small town in pennsylvania; her mom had wanted to move after the divorce, but decided it best for alena not to uproot her when she was already accustomed to the life she had there. her mom made sure she was involved in absolutely everything she could possibly do so she wasn’t bored out of her mind, often driving her miles and miles to bigger cities for gymnastics meets and practices, cheerleading practice/competitions, dance practice/competitions, etc

thanks to child support from her dirtbag dad, who never tried to maintain a father/daughter relationship with her or her sister after she left, and both her mom and grandma essentially revolving their lives around caring for the girls, alena never really wanted for anything- in fact, materialistically speaking, she was spoiled rotten

every toy, every lavish birthday party, every cute little outfit, and as she got older every expensive new makeup release she just had to have, alena always got, and she rarely ever had to make a fuss or ask twice, meaning she was bred into someone who absolutely despises being told no or being told what to do

her mom eventually remarried (alena would’ve been around 8) a dude who alena just never connected with or considered any kind of father figure, but he was loaded, and out of that deal came her step sister around her same age who she loves VERY much (wc!!)

she was head cheerleader at her high school, she was also voted prom queen, but she never wanted to be one of those bitches who peaked in high school, 

so that’s why, even though she partied way 2 much and sucked way 2 much dick to actually be learning anything in hs, she got good grades and always aced her tests because she knew she wanted to be able to go to college and eventually move away- she chose noru bc it’s close to home so she can still visit her mom and her grandma, and ofc bc of its party school reputatuion

she’s a full on bratz doll personified okay she has a passion 4 fashion or whateva, she loves makeup and she’s loved making her own clothes from the time she learned to sew at just 11 years old, which is why she’s at northridge studying fashion- her main goal (is to blow up, and then act like she don’t know noboday) is to eventually get accepted for transfer to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in los angeles and get out of PA altogether 

she hates PA because... well, she feels fucking haunted here. literally and figuratively

lemme explain: my girl sees ghosts- like either she was born with something wrong with her (CW: f u don’t wanna read abt this spooky stuff or don’t believe in the paranormal u can go w/ that & skip this whole part but) she sees ghosts, str8 up, bc it’s been this way all her life, as long as she can remember

the house she grew up in was crazy haunted and that means she saw a lot of creepy messed up shit happen growing up- but the rly fucked up part comes in how, even after her family moved out of their house and into a new place right before alena turned 16... the creepy haunting shit didn’t stop, it got worse, with family belongings going missing, cupboard doors and windows all being found open in the middle of the night, incessant footsteps, whisperings, and unexplainable banging sounds. 

instead of a new environment solving the haunting problem, it was like whatever energy had been in their previous home had somehow attached itself to her. alena started having horrific bouts of sleep paralysis literally every time she slept too deeply or for too long- this has continued into her early adulthood, and because of this she:

!!! literally, doesn’t sleep- like, gets as little sleep as humanly possible, as a person could possibly function on, and she does it with the help of her rampant caffeine addiction and (TW: drug use) stimulant drugs- you will never catch alena smoking pot or wax bc it will make her sleepy and she won’t feel safe

that also means she never spends the night with anyone because then they’ll know how fuckt up she really is, so she prefers to keep things surface-level with most people, putting on an individualized performance for anyone she is attracted enough to to pursue, but never letting it get any deeper than casual sex

loves and is so fiercely protective of all the women in her life!!! is more likely to be leery of or mistrusting with men, but ofc there’ll be exceptions

and YEA that’s p much what i have for her so far, like i said she’s brand new so i wanna do most of her development here in this group but i had to get something up !!

i’m working on a connections page for her but some stuff i’d love off the top off my head are !!! ofc her younger sister (would be not quite 2 years younger than alena, so freshman age/ just turned 18) and her step-sister (would be the same age as her, 19 going on 20), best friends / squad, (she’s a cheerleader but she’s not a captain or anything bc her focus is on fashion now that she’s @ uni), an ex bf/ gf / fling (or 12 ), fwb, enemies w/ benefits, frenemies, exes who hate each other but still fuck, a professor / administrator she fucks on the reg (bonus points if they’re older and/or married), anything ur lil heart desires ok hmu <3