#i’m so much healthier in so many ways than i have ever been all my life

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Kelly Betts

People can’t see my disability from the outside. I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at the comments and harassment I already face.

On Thursday, officials in Nassau County, New York, where I live, signed a mask ban into law, one of the first of its kind in the country. And while to most healthy adults it doesn’t mean much, to those with serious health conditions, like me, it makes getting out into the world a lot harder.

The ban was touted by lawmakers as a public safety measure after reported antisemitic incidents and protests at various New York universities, many involving people wearing masks. Those who violate the new law face a misdemeanor charge punishable by up to a year in jail and a $1,000 fine. And while there are exemptions for people with religious and medical reasons, it’s not dealing with the law that I’m afraid of. It’s dealing with the “citizen cops” of the world who will be using their discretion to enforce it.

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in February 2023. It’s a fast-growing type of blood cancer. I underwent more than five rounds of chemotherapy, and the following July, thanks to an amazingly generous donor, I had a stem cell transplant, something I knew nothing about until I got sick. I was given some of the most powerful chemotherapies to kill my old immune system and any remaining cancer cells. Then I was given my donor’s stem cells to help build a brand-new immune system.

There are a lot of risks that come along with the transplant, especially in the early stages as the stem cells are engrafting and you have no immune system. The first 100 days are the riskiest, and you must watch everything from what you eat to how it’s prepared, and most of all the people around you. Your body is starting from scratch, so you have almost no immunities. Any vaccinations you’ve had over your lifetime have been wiped out. For the last year since my transplant, my immune system has slowly been getting stronger. But building a new immune system takes years, and I have a long way to go. So, wearing my face mask whenever I go out is essential.

That brings me back to the new law. I wear a medic alert bracelet and would hope that showing it to the police, should it ever become an issue, would be enough. But that’s not guaranteed, because anyone can just order one. Would I be forced to show up in court to prove my medical condition to a judge? And what cost and time could that take, all to protect my health? And what about my family or people who act as caregivers, who don’t technically have medical conditions of their own, but still wear masks to protect me? Would there be an exemption for them?

Most of all, I worry about those who have strong feelings against masks. As we know, many people read headlines and not always the full story. And just reading most of the headlines, all someone will know is that there’s a mask ban in Nassau County. Even at the height of my illness, with no hair and really looking like I had cancer, I still got comments like “Covid is over” or “that’s not protecting you.” And while the few comments hurt, especially while I was battling for my life, I could shake them off. I had a bigger fight ahead of me.

Now, healthier with hair again and 43 years old, the comments continue. But I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at that. People can’t see my disability from the outside. It’s been hard to get back out in the world, as many can relate to after going through a global pandemic. Even being as careful as I am and just starting to let my guard down a little in outdoor settings, I caught Covid. And it took my body and immune system down hard. Luckily, I’m recovering and back to wearing my mask diligently, even outdoors.

I want to be able to return to my normal life. And go out with friends, see a Broadway show, and one day get back to my office in the city. But now with New York City considering passing its own mask ban, I don’t know when I would feel safe enough to do that. Is this law really protecting the masses?

[sanakiras]

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts bc i have too many 😭 this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

[hangmanbradshaw]

Rare personal post, under the cut (trigger warning re: death and grief and complicated family dynamics and a lot of sentimentality haha)

Today would’ve been my dad’s 60th bday. It’s only two years fresh so I never know what feelings to expect, but I was looking through old pics because of my cousin and smiling, and that’s good? He struggled with addition, and caused more scars than I’ll ever be able to talk about no matter how much therapy and EMDR I do, but as complicated as our family was, I love and miss him. There were so many good rays of moments in it, especially when I was younger. My teenage years were hell. The end wasn’t good. It’s all true. I never thought I’d be in my 20s being next of kin- making decisions about life support and planning funerals and burials and giving eulogies and writing obituaries and taking care of my grandparents, but I think I’ve found my peace with it. It hurts, but it’s bearable.

I keep thinking about the eulogy I wrote and gave, what I believe in my heart about loss after losing my best friend, my dad, other friends. They really stick with us? In so many ways we don’t always see. It’s not about moving on, truly it’s about just finding space for the rest of life too. Widening your heart to it. I watch Star Wars and I think of Andrew. I talk to his mom and we laugh. I get excited for football or hiking or going on an adventure and that’s my dad. All these pictures of him younger, healthier, playing football and bringing us to games, teaching my brother and me how to play, taking us white water rafting and horseback riding and hiking and camping over and over. Pictures of him doing it himself when he was younger. And it’s just like. I’m his daughter. He lives on in my life because I see those things in my life, and for that, I’m so grateful. I look at my life and that lyric is so true- There wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you.

My writing journey started about a year after he passed as art therapy. I realized I loved it. I met all of you, wrote IWTBY, wrote my novel now. I took myself to the Super Bowl and watched the team he taught me to love win. I took myself to a movie premiere, to Europe, to all these things he never got to do. To national parks he did visit. To parks he took us to. My brother and I are going to Austin this fall and staying out on a ranch like we did as kids. I live in a peaceful little apartment with a job that helps people and wonderful friends and all that pain and hurt led to it. Anyways, just a long, ridiculously sentimental rant to say I’m grateful for this little community. For my little life. It’s simple, and it’s mine, and I am forever thankful for it. For all of you and the love you show me, whether it be for my stories which truly have changed my life, or in general. I wrote that one shot last night, and immediately was blown away by the love y’all give it and me. If my little stories have made you smile, or feel something, it’s all I can hope for. I hope everyone who sees this finds their own peace, no matter how impossible it seems, truly. Keep your head up, keep finding the beauty and joy in the little things. In the sun shining and laughter with a friend and movies that make you inspired. With love, Steph 💙

[zukosdualdao]

honestly my pettiest hot take is that i think it’s Weird how many fics/popular headcanons depict zuko as being bad at making tea forever and i… Do Not like it. i mean, i will still read it if it’s otherwise a good fic, but trust that it has me considering clicking out.

we see zuko make bad tea one (1) time, when he makes it for iroh in bitter work after he wakes up from his unconscious state. and honestly, i think it’s the first time he’s ever tried making it on his own, since with servants at the palace, he wouldn’t have needed to. even on their ship, they had a cook who could’ve made tea, though realistically it was probably iroh more often than not. being bad at something the first time (and honestly, the first couple of times) you try it is par for the course. (and hey, the fact that he wanted to make tea, which he knows how greatly iroh values, for iroh to comfort him upon waking is still really sweet, even if it doesn’t go so great the first time.)

while we don’t see the day-to-day of their work in the tea shop in the lower ring in ba sing se, we know zuko is working there as a tea server every day, learning, and, hey, he keeps his job. (and yes, i know the argument could be made that the owner liked iroh so much that it wouldn’t have mattered, but i counter with this: there is absolutely a point at which your lack of skill outweighs any connections you have because it gets in the way, and if zuko is that terrible at it and shows no signs of growth or improvement, that would, in fact, be the point.)

later, we see zuko serve tea to the gaang and co, and while zuko says it won’t be as good as iroh’s (because he loves and misses him 😭), no one else has anything to say about it! the gaang is already lightly poking fun at him for his poor retelling of iroh’s joke, it wouldn’t have been hard to include. and if the show wanted to keep ‘zuko being bad at making tea’ as a gag, all they had to do was show a character or two making the same kind of face iroh makes in bitter work or trying to hand it off to someone else. but they didn’t! we even actually see teo take a sip with a mildly pleasant expression. and like, this isn’t even me saying i think he makes the best tea in the world, or even that it’s as good a iroh’s. i just don’t think he’s bad at it!

and we see him serving tea to his loved ones again in the earth kingdom in the finale and it’s the culmination of the part of his arc that’s about learning humility and to build healthier relationships and not self-isolate, to find peace and joy in little things. we see throughout the series that though iroh i’m sure loves tea for tea’s sake, he also uses it as a point of connection with people, and zuko is clearly trying to mimic that when he’s making an effort to bond with the gaang and later just to show love to his friends like! this is his way of trying to show love and affection in what comes to be maybe the clearest form of it he understands due to iroh’s influence. and the idea that he is bad at that makes me sad, but also, canon disagrees, so jot that down.

(also, if nothing else: iroh is there in that last scene. do we honestly think he’d let zuko make and serve the tea if it was bad?)

[jbuffyangel]

Hi this may be an odd question but reading your blog (and other Olicity blogs) it strikes me that while you provide insightful in depth analysis of the show at large you proudly admit that Oliver and Felicity’s relationship is paramount to your overall enjoyment and investment in the show. I personally possess a lot of internal shame stemming from my primary focus on the ship and will feel the need to justify my interest in the other aspects of the show (which I do love but I also love Olicity). I struggle with this with not just Arrow but any tv show where the romantic relationship isn’t intended to be the main premise of a show. I know I am allowing myself to be impacted by the views of comic book (and mostly male) fans and I can acknowledge that many of their views on Olicity fans and the show at large when it comes to the ship are at least somewhat if not primarily misogynistic. Despite knowing it comes from a sexist place which loves to shame women for enjoying romance and reduce our enjoyment to a surface level guilty pleasure unaware of the ways a romantic relationship can add major depth and development to a story as is the case with Arrow (although even if it didn’t add that it would still be valid to like the romance aspects), I still internalize those sexist sentiments and feel ashamed and like I cannot fully enjoy those things are I have to add caveats of my enjoyment. I was just wondering if you ever struggled with this or if you have always felt confident in proudly proclaiming your interest and investment in ships or if it was something that evolved over time. I’m sorry if this is a weird question I just witnessed your confidence in the validity of your passion and I wish I could have that conviction and not feel the shame that misogynistic society has given me in regards to shipping and enjoying romance. It’s definitely much harder in a fandom like Arrow where antis will openly voice their disdain for shippers and make extremely disparaging remarks and assumptions about Olicity shippers but I have felt this way in other fandoms too even when non shippers aren’t this aggressive or sexist.

Hello Nonnie!!!! I am so happy you reached out :) Apologies for the delay. I haven't checked my inbox for about a week. You write so beautifully!

To be honest, I've always marched to the beat of my own drum. I was a sick kid and had difficulty making friends because of it. I was teased in school a lot because of my health issues. Elementary school was not fun. I liked my mom and I liked being home. (These things really haven't changed). The Lord blessed me with a great imagination and a love for stories. I would just play by myself because the world I invented was so much cooler than reality.

It did give me a very strong independent streak, which my parents encouraged. The world had been very cruel to them as well. I was highly encouraged to stand up for myself, tell people where to stick it, and not care what other people think.

I was much healthier in high school and made a bunch of friends. But even my friends, who I know love me to this day, thought it was weird how obsessed I was with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My family thought I joined a cult lol. I just like what I like. It never mattered to me if anyone else liked it.

I find it absolutely insane that anyone looks down on love stories. Love stories have been around for as long as there's been human beings on this planet. Every culture has love stories. Why? Love is central to being human. Love is what MAKES us human. We are here on this planet to be loved and to love in return. It's the whole damn point. And I'm not speaking just about romance. We build our lives around all kinds of different relationships. It is not exclusive to romantic love.

But let's address romantic stories, since that seems to be the genre asshats have a problem with. The question is why? Probably because it's popular with women and God forbid we'd be supportive of women and things they like. The horror. I think you absolutely nailed it here:

Despite knowing it comes from a sexist place which loves to shame women for enjoying romance and reduce our enjoyment to a surface level guilty pleasure...

But sometimes I think there are more personal reasons people have such vile reactions to it. Maybe they don't have romantic love in their own life. Maybe they've been hurt by partners. Maybe they've been rejected and are lonely. Maybe romance stories are a painful reminder of what they don't have. I'm not sure. What I do know is that hurt people hurt people. So, more often than not, what I feel is not shame, but pity.

We're clearly on the right track since every television show, movie, book and comic book has some romantic element to it. Romance sells. So, feel confident because you are in the majority.

I don't give the comic book crowd too much thought. My attitude when it came to Arrow was there's plenty of room for everyone to love what they love, hate what they hate, and go about their merry way. Don't like my blog? Cool. There's the door. Plenty of fish in the sea friends. Seek out other bloggers. Start your own blog! The internet is a vast place. Go with God.

But there is an element of ownership within that community that makes them think they can dictate who can watch a show/movie, what we can like or dislike, who can portray the characters on screen, what stories should be told and how they should be told. It's not just romance. Comic book fans are LOUD about basically everything.

To a certain extent, I get it. You love a character and their stories for a long time. It's very exciting when those stories which only existed on paper are going to be brought to life onscreen. Comic books are a refuge for many people, no different than books or movies. So, it can be very upsetting when you don't feel the tv show or movie has met your expectations. I've been bummed out on more than one occasion with books being made into a movie or television show. We've all been there.

But that doesn't mean they get to be the bouncers at the door. They don't get to gatekeep. They don't get to be racists assholes when an actor or actress doesn't look exactly like the character on the page. They are entitled to their opinion, and their opinion only, but it does not give them a free pass to be hateful towards others who may disagree.

I don't want to single out comic book fans out - this is a general internet problem. People just become assholes behind a keyboard. They say things they would never have the guts to say in person. And clearly this is not ALL comic book fans. I have met many wonderful comic book fans who are welcoming and kind. They love Olicity just as much as I do. Even if they didn't, they respect differing opinions. They are just good human beings overall.

In the beginning of my blog, I debated with antis a lot because I thought we were all just having fun. But when the death threats started because I like Olicity and believed Arrow was going to kill off Laurel Lance, then I reached a point where maybe I was dealing with people who were a few paper plates short of a picnic, if ya know what I'm mean. It's a TELEVISION SHOW. These characters are NOT REAL. But there's no reasoning with crazy.

Do you know who are huge comic book fans? Greg Berlanti and Marc Guggenheim. We're talking HARD CORE. And who created Olicity? Greg and Marc. Don't even get me started on the hate they receive.

I know there were entire Reddit threads devoted to trashing me and my blog. Did I read it? No. Did I engage with those people? No. When Stephen Amell's Facebook became a cesspool of terrible antis going after Olicity fans - I left. Did I read the messages in my inbox that were nasty? Nope. DELETED. Did I read the Lauriver tag on tumblr? Nope. We were North and South. The Red Sox and the Yankees. We were never going to agree, so you stay on your side and I'll stay on mine. And when some in the Olicity fandom turned on me because I was still enjoying the show in later seasons, I unfollowed and blocked if necessary. It really boils down to this - can you disagree with someone and remain a polite and kind person? Many folks do not have this skill.

The key to mental health on the internet is control your environment. Do not engage with people who are mean. It's really that simple. Because no matter how "strong" you are mentally, over time, nasty and demeaning comments have a way of sinking in and taking root inside your mind. It's completely understandable that your feelings get hurt because that's the intention! They are trying to hurt you. They are trying to shame you. So don't give them the opportunity.

Does that mean there will be some websites, blogs, social media sites that you don't go to anymore? Yes. Does that mean there will be some fans you don't engage with? Yes. But you know what? The internet is a vast place and there are plenty of people out there who share your opinions. Who love what you love and want nothing more than to chat with you about it until 4 am in the morning. Those are your people. That's your community.

And just for the record, romance loving shippers can be terrible too. I've seen awful behavior from our side of the fence so we're certainly not exempt from the behavior we receive from antis. And loving romance is no guarantee people will be nice either. My shipper flag was forged in the fiery pits of shipper hell - The Vampire Diaries fandom. Nasty doesn't even come close to what I experienced in the great Stelena vs. Delena wars. Arrow is child's play in comparison.

Here's the thing. Arrow is about one man's evolution to a superhero. He could not become that superhero without the love of one woman. LOVE is central to Oliver Queen's development and if you don't understand that part of the story then you really don't understand Arrow.

I think you'll find when it comes to Arrow that it's not romance antis have a problem with. It's who Oliver's romantic partner is. If it was Laurel Lance they would've been happier than clams. But Arrow deviated from "comic book canon" and developed an organic character with an actress Stephen Amell actually had chemistry with. And they CANNOT get over it. But thems the breaks.

I think my perspective on humanity has not really evolved past age six in kindergarten. If you make fun of me or are cruel then you're not a nice person and I will have nothing to do with you going forward. I've approached life like this and overall I have come out the other side a healthier person because of it. The beauty of the internet is there's always another playground to find friends.

I've always been a shipper since I was a little kid. I could never understand why Bobby & Pam couldn't work it out on Dallas. Loved every single husband Erica Kane had on All My Children. (My mother let me watch some wildly inappropriate tv as a kid). I was really torn between Prince Lotor and Keith for Princess Allura on Voltron. I really didn't understand why He-Man and She-Ra couldn't date. I was obsessed with Jerrica and Rio on Jem. And on and on it goes.

In the immortal words of our Queen, Taylor Swift, "The worst kind of person is someone who makes someone feel bad, dumb or stupid for being excited about something.” She's bang on. Always trust in TSwizzle. I'm a 42 year old woman with a full life who wears her shipper flag proudly. Love what you love my friend. Screw the haters.

And feel free to message me whenever you want to talk shipping. This is a shipper safe zone and always will be. You have absolutely NOTHING to be ashamed of.

[theheirofthesharingan]

I have been reading your fic, The Everlasting Love, and I must say that it’s one of my favorite fics ever. Everything is just really well done :)).

I was just wondering how Itachi felt after he woke up and realized that he was alive. Did he want to die since the beginning or was he actually considering living until Sasuke had the sleep paralysis thing?

Why does Itachi hate medicines? Is it because he thinks he deserves to suffer or is it just a hc?

Also, in the anime/manga, do you think that Kishimoto should’ve added more realistic trauma responses (especially for Sasuke.) ? I think he did it better than many other animes, but I still think he should’ve added more. (And I do think Sasuke is mostly justified for his actions, I’m not sure why the narrator made him out to be a person who needed ‘fixing’)

I believe that Itachi was planned out from the start, now that I have read some of your posts. I was skeptical until the data book part (where he had only one s-rank mission), and now I feel really stupid for thinking otherwise. And I just realized that Itachi always looked sort of sad in the manga, not like a psychopathic cold-blooded killer.

Last question: how did you feel about Itachi before the twist (I’m sorry if this was asked already)?

Okay, all these questions are really random (sorry about that) but I was just really curious. Have a good day :).

I have been reading your fic, The Everlasting Love, and I must say that it’s one of my favorite fics ever. Everything is just really well done :)).

Thank you so much. :)

I was just wondering how Itachi felt after he woke up and realized that he was alive. Did he want to die since the beginning or was he actually considering living until Sasuke had the sleep paralysis thing?

This is a very good question, because on more than one occasions I've wanted to explore Itachi's thought process in the fic but the nature of the story prevents me from doing it, because it's going in the flashback and Sasuke only tells us as much as he knows and understands.

Itachi was devastated and horrified because he thought with him his sins and evil would be gone too, and Sasuke would be free from him. He wouldn't ever have to hurt his brother again and he'd planted Amaterasu in Sasuke to keep Madara away, and in case that failed, Naruto would keep Sasuke safe. But of course being alive horrified him, because how could he look at Sasuke after all he'd done? It's why his first reaction was to touch Sasuke's wrist as a way to apologize/see if it still hurt him there.

As to Itachi wanting to live.. It's a little bit complex, because Sasuke is his sun. Itachi lived his entire life in a world akin to the arctic cold where it was always cold and sun never shone. Sasuke's presence changed everything for him. On one hand, he wanted to go away, because he knew he didn't deserve the kindness Sasuke showed him. On the other hand, he loved being around his brother whose memories were his only comfort. How could he not when the person he loved the most was there beside him and there was a chance he could go back to being normal again? So, when he was around Sasuke, the frost thawed and Itachi reacted in a more human way. He would never be as vulnerable as he was if it was someone else. He doesn't know how to and he couldn't emotionally and physically show vulnerability to anyone else.

He also knew Sasuke would be under threat from Madara and Itachi wasn't deluded about anything. Itachi wanted to savour the moments he had with Sasuke, before he knew he would have to leave, so he could kill Madara (and die in the process), but Sasuke's nightmare only confirmed his belief, removing any doubt from his mind, that with him by his side, Sasuke would never be happy, although it's not true at all. But Itachi had understood how Sasuke reacted to him even if Itachi was completely harmless. He doesn't blame Sasuke, he blames himself. So, while he knew he'd have to die sooner or later (when he was healthier so he could face Obito), Sasuke's nightmares prompted him to leave.

Why does Itachi hate medicines? Is it because he thinks he deserves to suffer or is it just a hc?

It is a headcanon of mine that he took medicines to live and they didn't necessarily ease his pain. Some days he'd be in a much worse condition than any of his medicines could handle, and it's all associated with the bad, painful memories for him. Taking them also means living for him, which he didn't want.

It's a childish quirk that I wanted to add because he's always so solemn... But that doesn't mean he wouldn't have some things in him that were childish that someone else might find relatable.

Also, in the anime/manga, do you think that Kishimoto should’ve added more realistic trauma responses (especially for Sasuke.) ? I think he did it better than many other animes, but I still think he should’ve added more. (And I do think Sasuke is mostly justified for his actions, I’m not sure why the narrator made him out to be a person who needed ‘fixing’)

I do believe Kishimoto does a very good job at Sasuke's trauma responses, except for not letting him process the grief of losing Itachi and making him decide to destroy Konoha almost instantly. The narration makes him look bad/in the need to be fixed because he's Naruto's biggest challenge. And as much as he suffers, he continues to slip past Naruto's grip. Naruto, being the kind of person he is, has fixed many people. Gaara, Zabuza, and Pain etc., so Sasuke being his biggest obstacle, not only in his life, but in his dream to become the Hokage, he has to be shown as someone who needs to be fixed. Because that would establish Naruto as the kind of person he's said to be from the start.

The narrative sidelines Sasuke a lot for this. I would have loved that along with the whole fixed thing, if Sasuke and Naruto both changed the system together. Sasuke wouldn't have to be the bad guy for his anger towards the village, and Naruto could still be the saviour, a kid with a golden heart.

I believe that Itachi was planned out from the start, now that I have read some of your posts. I was skeptical until the data book part (where he had only one s-rank mission), and now I feel really stupid for thinking otherwise. And I just realized that Itachi always looked sort of sad in the manga, not like a psychopathic cold-blooded killer.

He was definitely planned. There's no doubt about it. The first databook, along with the earliest chapters of the manga prove there was always much more to him than we initially thought.

how did you feel about Itachi before the twist (I’m sorry if this was asked already)?

It wasn't asked before and it's okay.

I loved him from the moment he was introduced. Sasuke was my favorite character, but Itachi too, even as a villain, became my favourite as soon as he showed up. He always seemed cold and sad to me instead of evil. Like, something was immeasurably sad about him the way he reacted to the things around him (or didn't... which was most of the times). He was ethereal.

When he died, before the reveal, I had to take a break before watching the next episodes because his death saddened me so much. And then his reveal was brutal. How could someone go through that much pain and be subjected to so much injustice and just be okay with all of it? It's been over a year and I haven't stopped mourning him. :(

Thanks for the lovely ask.

[whinlatter]

obviously ginny always holds a candle for harry and her feelings for him never really go away, but what do you think is the point when her feelings change from a childhood crush to realised actual adult feelings?

(I love this question so here I am, back on my bullshit with another Hinny meta not a single soul asked for)

“— how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…” “She thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.”” 

There’s a huge gulf from the Ginny being talked about in that first quote and the Ginny speaking in the second. When and how Ginny gets from one to the other - both a new way of seeing herself, and holding a new, healthier set of feelings for Harry that he will return and deeply value - is tricky to parse out because of how much Ginny’s growth clearly happens off-stage (and is… criminally underwritten). But I do think it’s clear that that this shift does happen but I actually hadn't ever really thought about it properly before lol sooo I have been scratching my head over this one since you sent this ask.

The headline is: I basically think Ginny’s crush dies in the chamber. As early as Ginny’s second year, in PoA, she’s made a decision to cope with Harry’s inevitable presence in her life, and that’s to have her feelings be less about revering him, and more about making him feel supported and loved, both by her and by her family. She makes her feelings less about who she is relative to him, and much less about an immediate hope of reciprocation, and more about reinforcing in Harry a sense of his own worth and value as something that need not be a comment on her own. As they both grow up, and she gets to know him better, I think she starts to understand that they are fundamentally incredibly similar people. She learns that she has a unique understanding of him that other characters don’t, someone who she can help be better, and ultimately someone she knows how to love well and someone who knows how to be loved by him. And that in part is a testament to how much work she does - with the help of good guidance - to like herself and like what she brings to the table, both in seeing the parts of her that are similar to Harry and liking them, and in being confident that the parts of her that are different to Harry can be ways of understanding him and loving him in ways he really needs. Basically, when Ginny starts to see herself as somebody worthy of love and similar to Harry, not someone unworthy and defined by their inadequacy relative to Harry, that’s when the crush is gone and the real feelings emerge. I think that level of self growth starts to happen much earlier in canon for Ginny than it does for lots of her peer characters, especially Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

Full reasoning is below the cut, and I am using the word reasoning loosely, because there is absolutely no rhyme or reason why I have written as many words on this question as I have. Ask me a Ginny question and I will act up, apparently

The crush

What’s really significant about Ginny’s crush on Harry (and is imo quite overlooked) is that it’s defined by an incredibly low sense of self-worth and a terrible loneliness on little Ginny’s part. Riddle tells Harry how Ginny feels about herself, and tbh it’s absolutely fucking heartbreaking. Obviously, this version of Ginny’s sense of self is refracted through Riddle’s most uncharitable telling, but I think we should take it as containing at least an element of truth (because what makes Riddle such a master manipulator is his capacity to understand people’s fears and anxieties, and to play to them):

‘Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how —” Riddle’s eyes glinted “— how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…” ‘No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…”

The Ginny we get a sense of in these lines is of someone who thinks very little of themselves, who is defined by friendlessness, and has so deep a sense of isolated inadequacy she very easily becomes dependent on someone who shows her the first bit of genuine interest and makes her feel worth listening to. Obviously, Ginny is very loved at this stage, by both her parents and her brothers, but she’s not really seen, and she clearly feels both alone and deeply insecure. Unlike Ron’s way of dealing with his own sense of inadequacy, which is expressed, at various stages, through jealousy and resentment, Ginny feels her inadequacy into a crush that isn’t just about how great Harry is, but how great Harry is compared to her, and how unworthy she is of his attention. She doesn’t seem to have close friends, she has no-one who sees her as an equal, no emotional support that meets her where she’s at, and she is deeply doubtful that she deserves more. (I don’t want to say Ginny/Snape parallels but uhhh well........ you know)

There are elements of the crush that will remain a constant in Ginny’s feelings towards Harry throughout the series. She'll remain extremely protective of him ("Leave him alone, he didn't want all that"), she'll continue to admire him a great deal, and obvs she … fancies him. But the crush and her later feelings for Harry are clearly pretty distinct. When we see glimpses of her crush in other scenes - at the Burrow, in Diagon Alley, in the Valentine’s incident - it’s an endearing but ultimately juvenile, all-consuming view of Harry, in that way that crushes often are when you’re very young, but also one that speaks to her inability to see Harry as a real person and, especially, a person who is not better than her. Her crush isn’t empowering, but humiliating. It's something over which she has no control, and experiences publicly and very bodily (the whole-body blush, the physical clumsiness of knocking everything over, hiding behind doors and watching him at the Burrow). When she writes and commissions the Valentine, she talks about his appearance and his legacy in such a telling way. ‘I wish he was mine, he’s really divine’ isn’t the line of a confident person shooting their shot - it’s hero worship from someone who very much does not think themselves worthy of worship, and therefore direct adoration upwards at the person they’ve put on a pedestal. Although she’s not exactly asking Harry out directly with the Valentine (it’s supposed to be anonymous, and it’s only outed as Ginny by Malfoy), she pitches herself to Harry as someone who is in awe of him and really fancies him, but gives no sign of a capacity for great mutual understanding, no demonstration of their (many) similarities, no sign of deep care and no kind of pitch for her self as someone great who deserves love, someone funny, clever, and attractive, the traits that will later define the Ginny Harry falls for.  

Leaving the crush behind

I think the aftermath of the Chamber is really significant for Ginny’s changing feelings for Harry. Leaving aside the lingering trauma of possession and her near-death experience, it’s hard to overstate how absolutely fucking awful it would be to interact with Harry after that.  It’s not just that Riddle reveals the depth of little Ginny’s clearly intense feelings for him to Harry - mortifying enough - it’s that Riddle told Harry that Ginny’s obsession with him meant she inadvertently fed Riddle information that would render Lily Potter’s sacrifice moot, cost Harry his life and bring Voldemort to some form of power again. Though of course what Ginny reveals to Riddle isn’t an active betrayal of the Pettigrew vein, there are few consequences of having a crush that would be worse than the person you have a crush on nearly being killed because of it. A very reasonable response would have been to avoid Harry forever, and try and put that whole episode, and her feelings for him, to bed. 

But she… doesn’t do that. Of course, Harry’s in her life whether she likes it or not. But she doesn’t have to become who she does become to him by OotP, and it’s clear then that she actively makes a series of choices to turn her feelings for him into something that is useful and kind for Harry: something that helps him and improves him, rather than starting at a point of thinking he’s perfect. Her appearances in GoF and even PoA lay the groundwork for the approach to him that she’s mastered by OotP. In PoA - so in the aftermath of this experience where Harry is the person who serves as the biggest reminder of her ordeal, and also Riddle’s chief victim - other than her awkward hello in Diagon Alley, the only reminder of Ginny’s feelings for Harry come when she leaves him the get well card she makes for him in the hospital wing. Harry’s narration implies the get well soon card is an expression of Ginny’s crush: he describes her as “blushing furiously”. But both making and delivering the card takes a huge amount of courage, and it’s a fundamentally selfless gesture - it’s literally a wish for him to get better, to make him feel like someone cares about his welfare, and a sign she is already starting to try and channel her feelings for him into something kind and supportive.(Obviously he… hates that the card sings so, you know, swing and a miss on execution, but she’s trying). Other than that, she only pops up to briefly share a private laugh with Harry over Percy (the first one-on-one injection of humour to their relationship), and to console Ron and reprimand the twins when Scabbers ‘dies’, establishing her as someone who acts with love and kindness, even if not directed at Harry himself.

In GoF, Ginny comes closer to honing this approach. She blushes when she sees Harry again at the Burrow, but she also then talks with confidence and humour in front of him with relatively little effort. She really reaches a crossroads over the Yule Ball, where she sets herself on the path away from validation from Harry and towards a stronger sense of who she is and what she believes in. She doesn’t ask Harry to the Yule Ball, even though several other characters do ask him out. She doesn’t chance rejection, but nor does she risk mortifying him. When Ron suggests she go with Harry, she turns him down and honours her commitment to Neville, something she finds difficult but is her choosing who the person she wants to be: someone who does the right thing, the selfless thing, who doesn’t ask Harry to validate her, but also who won’t accept the idea of being an afterthought last-option invite for Harry Potter. Because we’ll later be told, by Hermione, that Ginny met Michael Corner at the Yule Ball, I think we’re supposed to take Christmas 1994 as the period where Ginny starts to actively turned a corner in her feelings for Harry. With Hermione’s help (and I think it is this Christmas where Hermione advises Ginny on this), Ginny resolves to seek out romantic companionship elsewhere, where she will be able to be herself - something that might attract Harry in the long-run, but that will have its own value, too. The time where Ginny's sense of her own worth was calibrated around how much better than her she thought Harry was is increasingly in the rear-view mirror.

After the crush

By the time we get to the summer of OotP, something really big has shifted in Ginny’s mind about how she is going to be around Harry and what he is to her. The depth of Ginny’s growth, self-improvement and self-knowledge is on full display here, and she’s clearly reached a relative peace with herself. She has a confidence she didn’t have before; she’s got clear skills and abilities that mark her out as talented and assured (including Quidditch, but also her sense of humour and magical abilities); she’s actually shown herself capable not just of controlling her bodily and emotional responses to Harry, and also become an incredibly sophisticated liar (lol); and, crucially, she’s no longer lonely but surrounded by friends and in a romantic relationship that seems to be stable and healthy enough for a fourteen year old relationship, a real fuck-you to Tom Riddle. From the very start of OotP (“I thought I’d heard your voice”, “We know, Harry”), she can see what she’s become towards Harry: a shrewd reader of him, empathetic, supportive, forgiving, someone rooting for him, wanting good things for him and for him to grow and mature in happy, healthy ways, unafraid to call him out or help him grow when he’s displaying destructive coping mechanisms, lashing out or craving the approval of unworthy peers, and, crucially, someone who has pushed any thought of reciprocation to the back of her mind.

She also really understands who Sirius is to Harry in such a deep and profound way. Over the prefects issue, she’s the one who instigates of the conversation that consoles him over the Prefects issue - she’s the one who draws Sirius in as someone whose example (as a person who clearly was not a Prefect) will be a comfort to him (as well as just like, giving him valuable bonding moment with his godfather and knowledge of his father at school):

“What about you, Sirius?” Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh. “No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

On the train, when Ron and Hermione go to the Prefects carriage and Harry feels suddenly bereft, it’s Ginny alone who stays with him and agrees to sit with him on the train, finding the carriage with Neville and Luna to sit with, even though she’s with Michael at this point. Does Ginny still hold a torch for him? Sure, but she’s still holding a torch in sixth year, and she’s happy to leave him on his own on the train then. She decides in this moment Harry’s need is great, and wants him to not feel alone on his first train ride without Ron. She also shows here that she’s matured and grown up a lot more than he is in some significant ways. She doesn’t share his acute embarrassment about Neville and Luna, and she sorts him out after the Stinksap debacle, helping his embarrassment in front of Cho. Obviously there’s the ‘lucky you’ scene (side note: I love Ginny’s at his side on the tube as soon as they leave St Mungo’s after the conversation about possession). The ‘lucky you’ scene does not scream ‘please love me I’m so in love with you’. It’s a sign of deep care for a person, but it’s the behaviour of a person who no longer gives much of a fuck about being thought well of - they want to be helpful, it’s a very selfless kind of love, but she’s sort of over expecting things of him. 

The Easter egg scene is another case in point of someone who clearly has some level of deep feelings for someone else - as evidenced by their obvious close knowledge of that person developed through watching them closely and generously - but who has turned them into something directed and selflessly productive. We can see that Ginny’s approach has meant something to Harry even if he hasn’t really clocked it. That he gets upset over the Easter egg certainly speaks to how much distress he’s in, but it also speaks to a subconscious feeling of being in the presence of someone who allows him to let his guard down, even if he's baffled as to why his body has behaved like this. Fifteen year old Harry sits, despairing over his fifteen year old father’s failings, grappling with his doubts about his parents’ path to romantic love, consoled by the thought that “his mother had been decent” - when Ginny enters, reaching through fifteen year old Harry’s own failings (irascibility, self-isolation) and gets through to what he needs. Selflessly, she suggests he tries to talk to Cho. She demonstrates strong emotional intelligence towards him, she delivers him a path to getting what Harry really wants - a conversation with the one person he sees as family, about his dad. That Ginny is the person who makes possible Harry’s one conversation about James with Remus and Sirius is so significant (and why I’ll always be mad that JKR cut the plan to have Harry literally confess the James memory to Ginny in the library and then mention Ginny’s advice to Sirius and Remus. The cut “That’s what Ginny said” line that Harry was supposed to say to Sirius and Remus from the JKR OotP planning notes lives in my head not just rent free but claiming full squatters’ rights). 

Even more significantly in OotP, Harry quietly shows her that, while there’s a lot to admire about him, and lots of empathise with, there’s also a lot to be disappointed with him in. I think this only cements Ginny’s sense that her approach is the right one, and avoids setting herself up for further disappointment. The truth is that Harry lets her down several points in OotP, not just in the ‘lucky you’ scene. On the train, he is at least a bit embarrassed by her - not as much as he is of Neville and Luna, but certainly doesn’t think of her as a “very cool person”. Harry spends the whole book screaming at everyone for information, feeling frustrated about being patronised and deemed too young, but does the same thing to Ginny four times: once, at Grimmauld Place, where he lets Molly remove her from the room and makes no case for her entitlement to knowledge, and then three separate times after he's had the vision of Sirius being tortured:

“Hi,” said Ginny uncertainly. “We recognised Harry’s voice — what are you yelling about?”  “Never you mind,” said Harry roughly. Ginny raised her eyebrows. “There’s no need to take that tone with me,” she said coolly. “I was only wondering whether I could help.”  “Well, you can’t,” said Harry shortly. “You’re being rather rude, you know,” said Luna serenely.

And then again a few pages later in the Forest: 

“I’ve got a broom!” said Ginny. “Yeah, but you’re not coming,” said Ron angrily. “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking. “You’re too —” Harry began. “I’m three years older than you were when you fought You-KnowWho over the Sorcerer’s Stone,” she said fiercely, “and it’s because of me Malfoy’s stuck back in Umbridge’s office with giant flying bogeys attacking him —” “Yeah, but —”

One more time for emphasis, Harry, there's not enough salt in that wound:

“Look, you three” — he pointed at Neville, Ginny, and Luna — “you’re not involved in this, you’re not — ”

I think this is in part why Ginny moves onto Dean so quickly at the end of the OotP year and doesn’t wait around to see if post-Cho Harry is interested in something. Obviously, she would see and respect the enormity of Harry’s grief. But she has just spent a year receiving confirmation that Harry doesn't see her as an equal and doesn't seem to intend to meet her emotional needs in any of the ways she has learned to meet his. She dumps Michael because she knows what she’s worth, and though she’s briefly single she fills Michael’s space with someone else who clearly admires and values her, something Harry has shown no sign he is capable of doing (yet). She leaves OotP having found a way of being around Harry that works for her, that offers him meaningful friendship and support, and that both sees him and sees through him. She’s not about to ask for more, out of respect for him but also out of self-preservation. (I think she is also beginning to grasp that if anything ever did happen with Harry, it would be temporary, in ways that colour her approach to it, too.) 

All this is to say, by the time we get to HBP, Ginny has five years post-crush under her belt of overcoming the unhealthy and toxic aspects of her feelings for Harry, honing who she is to Harry and living with her feelings for him, and also just... becoming someone she herself likes and who she believes deserves love and respect. Her feelings aren’t gone, but she’s built a life that doesn't centre them, and she’s happy with who she is to Harry, and how she can make him feel loved without asking for romantic love in return. The trouble for her is that Harry’s about to have an absolute shocker and realise their significance to one another in ways that threaten the equilibrium she’s found. But that's the trouble when you have a massive sense-of-self glow-up Gin! Sometimes people clock them and go: wow wait. So sorry baby you did this to yourself! 

[spearxwind]

Hiya, I’d like to put some thoughts out there on my blog (my house) bc I need to yarf some intense feelings or I fear I will explode on a nuclear scale. This is about hollowridge (not in a negative light!! just explaining + reminiscing of old stuff and talking about new stuff. Pouring my heart out more than a little bit.)

I will put them under a readmore of course, this is PRETTY long winded, so you can read or ignore at your leisure -w- 

I was in my adri tag a while ago looking for some images and ended up going through the whole thing and seeing the evolution of him as a character and HR as a story. Additionally, I recently organized my external memory where all my art files are stored and also saw my old stuff, old concepts, old documents with info and ideas, etc etc and like other times where I have looked through my old stuff I have been WRACKED with so many emotions about it. It’s always a dangerous game to go back into my folders/tags to look because I always end up feeling this whooole spiel all at once and very intensely.

Seeing my content shifts is jarring. Very much so. It always is. I don’t think I can pinpoint causes, some of my better creative highs were at really low points in my life, and then other times my creativity and worlds were subsequently really hardly hit during similar lows. I like to think that I am on the up now though, both mentally and creatively. I’m getting back into a lot of things I love, and I am surrounded by people who I love dearly and who love me back, and things in general are really good! I feel less… I wouldn't say wrathful, but way less frustrated when looking back at my old stuff and more inspired to go back to these concepts with a healthier more open mind + knowing that I have improved nonetheless. 

Specifically for hollowridge. Hollowridge feels like a home to me, simple as that. It's something immensely dear to me and I think this is clear by how much effort I have put into it over time, not all of it well placed or with good results, but effort to make it the best that it could be (at best) and effort to keep it afloat (at worst). HR is a strange thing to look back on because it has gone through so many iterations that its hard to pinpoint just one when looking back, but there's a specific time slot (2017-2018 roughly… I’m not gonna check) that I believe is where it was at its best, and that is specifically the vibe that I am trying really hard to go back to with the newest iteration.

I’ve always struggled with it a lot, I've often voiced this publicly, or to friends who would hear my woes out (god bless them for hearing me go on and on about this like a bass boosted and emotional broken record), often because there was so many possibilities that I could run with and I had a lot of really, really conflicting ideas that I wanted to explore. I also had a lot of trouble with lore in general because for many years I was haunted by the absurd need to “make things make sense”, whatever that means. Having things grounded so that people wouldn't be able to poke holes into the watertight plot.. which I never achieved of course. It was less watertight and more of a welded together pringle shaped monstrosity (This was not only true for hollowridge, but was true for everything I have ever made. like in general. It’s been a consistent creative problem for me). 

Eventually what happened iteration after iteration was that I throttled myself too much with rules, random limitations, all in favor of making something cohesive and deleting all the fun bits off the project in the process.

For this reason I also can’t just up and go “yeah i'm gonna turboscrap everything and go back to what worked in 2017” because it also DIDN’T work then. But that vibe specifically is what I am aiming for. The “classic” vibe, if you will (if that means anything to you as it does to me.)

What didn't work for me back in the day was giving everything a reason for existing, which is something I no longer wish to do (it’s better that way) and also something that failed back then both in HR, and in extinction (earlier drafts) and just about any version of a story I ever tried to make was THE SCOPE. It always spiraled out of my hands. God entities always escape me. Magic systems always escape me. How cities and such would be regulated in these scenarios escape me. Its just things I’m not comfortable writing about in general

So that’s why I have made changes to it currently (the whole lens of technology over it) because it makes it easier to think about, and easier to handle. Post apocalypses are fun to handle, and also easy to handle (for me, in this context). Technology going awry feels like its easier to think about than just vague “magic”, even if in the end the aesthetic looks literally exactly the same. Does that make sense? I hope it makes sense.

To give an example: Magic spells and circles → programs and code lines. That can be shot into machinery or meat (recodes your fucking genome in real time and gives you super brain hemorrhage idk). I guess it just gives my brain something to latch onto that isnt just vague rules of a magic system that could potentially be anything and everything? It essentially works the exact same way… its just the lens of looking at it is changed.

Mimics are their own thing now (nanotechnology, instead of vague.. shadow things). Adri is his own thing while still connected to mimics (an angel array made of the same stuff, instead of.. whatever else). Connected to the world. AND all the conflicting but dearly beloved concepts I had for him actually fit (snake, scarf, smoke, usurper of a body that is not his. Hey remember when he was made out of ashes/smoke and eventually out of goop. Well all of that is true at once now! It’s ALL canon! Bitch! The concepts have been reconciled!!)

There are also more “normal” creatures besides these, animals that have either evolved aboveground due to fit into new world niches (so I can design Whatever without being too limited) and there’s also machine/biomachine chimeras, and purposed grown organisms, and just Weird Shit made by machines in the belly of the earth (meat is just complex machinery. you know this. your heart is a piston and your blood gasoline. but I digress.) So I have the space to Get Weird if I so choose, on my own terms this time. And it will have a proper place in the world.

There used to be a lot of concepts that were cool that I missed a lot when I had to shift away from them. Like mimics infecting people and pretending to be them, and then being able to break the hosts bodies apart to make bodies for the mimic itself. That did not fly in pretty much 80% of the later versions of HR but I was able to bring it back for this one. I’ve tied mimics to the epidemic and to Adri in a way that MAKES SENSE but lets me go wild anyways

I guess… the short way of explaining is that. Instead of it being very vague supernatural stuff of dubious origin, now it's a ‘manmade horrors beyond your comprehension’ type deal (still of dubious origin). Which obviously neither the characters nor I would be able to explain to you the details of its origins but the distinction MATTERS to me (to my brain).

Something else about HR is that it’s made up of me having rounded up a bunch of ocs who’s stories were empty or were left to the void so that they could have a fitting home where they could shine. At the end of the day I just wanna do my characters justice. I don’t want to just relegate them to nice set pieces (even though they ARE cool set pieces), but each of them has years of backstory stuff that I would like to keep to not lose the essence of said character and its where I put the bulk of my writing effort into.

I want their connections to the story to be solid, but I also want their base vibes and the vibes I am familiar with for those characters to BE THERE too. So if I’m slow with revealing info, or writing in general, its literally because all the processing power in my skull is being used to think of how to best approach that and not just throw low quality spaghetti at a wall. (Sometimes the spaghetti method works very well, but often. It does not. And only makes things more complex in the long run, so I have learned to be more careful with it)

Dianne and Nirven are over 12 years old now as characters. That 's insane. And she still has the same core concept of how her magic works as I created it ages ago.

Same for Bei. He still has his same vibe back when I made him 10 years ago.

And Adam when I made him 9 years ago. Though I’m working out stuff for him still in this new edition, but I’ll get there. I promise. 

Sooo……….. What I’m really trying to say is that I’m learning to have fun again. And at the same time (re)realizing I used to have some super swag ideas that I have never fully let go of that I am VERY adamant on keeping. And my aim is to go back to that unhinged unbridled joy of creating for a world that is just So Fucked Up but it Works somehow. And yeah, if you’ve ever been frustrated at my changes don’t worry: me fuckin’ too buddy. A thousandfold. And if you’ve ever been curious as to the why of everything, then I hope this rant serves as some sort of explanation?

So yeah, if you’re an old fan and missed old stuff, I hope I am able to do it justice once more and from now on. I promise I am trying my best, I always have been. It just works better sometimes. And if you are someone new and dont know what the fuck I’m talking about, 1. thank you for reading this far and 2. I hope you enjoy the ride regardless

And who knows…. knowing me in a few years I might see this all changed again. Or maybe this will be the one, finally, that sticks. We’ll see. At the moment like I said, I am focusing on loving my characters, their world, their and my original intentions, and just having as much fun as I can with it. If I create confusion in the process then that’s something I will have to accept. I’m not a big media corporation with a team or writers, or even just one (1) accomplished author with a huge brain. I’m not tolkien. I’m just some guy having fun with made up guys in my brain

Thank you for reading this far, if you did, if there’s anything you’d like to comment or discuss (if anything, I don’t expect it) please feel free to reply or DM me, I try to respond in a timely manner when possible <3 

Thanks for sticking around too. It means the world to me that you have. Have a really good week, cheers

[alexius-fr]

Martyrs Waste Chapter 1: Dust and Ash

Sanguine, Silas and Khadiyah travel to the Waste to find Nerissa

_______________________________

The air was thick here, much more so than they had been used to before. Dense fog hid the land below them in a mystery of red and orange hues with the occasional sickly green bioluminescence shining through dimly. But the smell was familiar to Sanguine, who had always belonged here, no matter how far he had tried to run from that truth.

“How much farther?”

“We’ll get there when we get there!”

Silas wailed a pitiful cry of woe is me. “But my wings hurt!”

“Oh shush, you’ll be right at home there.” Khadiyah laughed as she ridiculed her mate. Sanguine, who flew ahead of them, couldn’t help but laugh.

“True, it is called the Martyrs Waste after all.” he chimed in, always down for a little jab at his dear brother. Silas groaned and rolled his eyes. “You two have no empathy! I’m getting old, you know!”

“Sanguine is older than you and he has not complained.” Khadiyah reminded Silas.

“Because we haven’t gone very far!” Sanguine agreed, picking up the pace to show his point. He might have been older, but he hadn’t lost his form yet. In fact, he probably looked healthier than he ever had. Years of Rowan’s care and love had left him in peak physical and mental shape. His hide was shiny, blood red and healthy despite it’s many scars. His wings beat as strongly as ever, his spikes were sharp and his eyesight- well, that was perhaps a little questionable, but it was good enough.

Sanguine saddened a bit at the thought of Rowan. His old mate had returned to the Wasteland’s embrace recently, ‘to slumber with the Plague Mother until they would be reunited and reborn together’, or so Rowan had phrased it. But Sanguine still had a part to play, lessons to teach and learn, and so here he was, honouring Rowan’s last request.

Go see Nerissa.

Apologize to her for pushing her away. She strove for his acceptance and he had cast her out. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of doing this himself, but always there was something that would stop him from going, an excuse, a child that needed him more, an injury that prevented him from going, he had to hunt for food for them all, etcetera etcetera. And recently, taking care of Rowan had taken all his focus. Now though, there was nothing to justify not going any more. Rowan was gone, all his children had flown the nest. It was time he made amends with Nerissa, to avoid becoming his mother. To avoid her making the same mistakes he did.

Silas and Khadiyah had offered to accompany him, curious to see their niece once again. They had heard of her clan in the Martyrs Waste, an area that had been the site of many a battle in the past, not in the least between the Mother and her mortal enemy, the Gladekeeper. It was a place of great infamy, where Plague’s toughest dragons battled each other for the right to survive. Those who died in battle there were named martyr to the Plague Mother, though Sanguine was sceptical of this practice himself.

“There, the rock that looks like a mushroom!” Silas called with relief. “Finally!”

Sanguine said nothing, feeling nervous as they descended through the thick fog, Sand particles swept up into his face and battered his hide before they reached the floor, dust and sand kicking up as the three of them landed not far from their landmark. Though the air was thick, it felt welcoming as Sanguine breathed in deep, the scent of home.

Silas was also taking deep breaths, though it was more like he was gasping for air.

“Mother save me, I can’t breathe with this thick fog and sand in my nostrils!” he complained.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Khadiyah frowned and swept her tail up to whirl an extra load of sand Silas’ way. Silas coughed when he got some in his mouth, covering his face with his wing while Khadiyah laughed wickedly.

Sanguine took no notice of their antics behind him, taking in the environment. A huge rock formation towered before them, shaped somewhat like a mushroom. Specks of green luminescence shimmer through the dust, some kind of fungus? The sun behind the rock cast a large shadow through the sand and the fog, but it’s heat was still present, warming Sanguine’s deep red hide. He strode forwards carefully, looking around with purpose for a sign of any dragons other than them. So far, nothing. He turned his head to Silas and Khadiyah.

“Quiet you two. We have to consider the possibility we are not welcome here.” he reminded them.

“Right, because you were rude to her.” Silas said, deadpan. Khadiyah grinned in unison with Silas, like the little shit she was. “He’s got a point.”

Sanguine sighed, quietly shaking his head before moving ahead.

A natural arch big enough to accommodate a large Guardian stood before them, but beyond that he could see nothing but a turmoil of swirling sand. Still, he knew he was in the right place. He could smell his daughter’s distinct scent, sense her presence.

“Stay here.”

Sanguine said the words to Silas and Khadiyah sternly, then proceeded into the thick wall of red sand before him. It battered him, blinded him, all of those things he had expected, but he had not expected the fluorescent green light to pierce through the sand as if a great eye had locked it’s gaze upon him.

The green light was just enough to project a silhouette through the dust on top of the rock. It was far away, but Sanguine recognized the silhouette as an Aberration dragon. When she spoke, it sounded like two voices at once spoke in unison, echoing between the rocky walls.

“I knew you would come.”

[richarlotte]

Do you have a particular diet or do you eat whatever? I want to eat healthier but carbs and sugar are so addicting

I could go on a whole long talk about how developing a healthy relationship with food has been so important to me, but the truth is that I really struggle at times. I grew up as a bigger girl and really struggled with the way I looked. I hated myself through elementary and middle school, and my body didn’t get better until my senior year of high school was over.

I was always tall and big, so I felt like I was meant to be last. I never had a date to any of the dances, I cheered from the sidelines, and let the way I looked define my life. I hate to talk about it, but one of the reasons I decided not to go to university immediately is because of my weight. I was miserable until I turned 19, got into EDTWT, started a really serious diet, worked out every single moment I could, and my life did a total 180°.

My life totally changed after I lost weight. People saw me for the first time, people gave me attention and opportunities, men became chivalrous and treated me like a woman, the praise for anything I did was amazing, and I looked so much better than I ever had before. I have this fear of gaining it all back, so I go through phases of eating very little or being very careful. Even though I’m a good weight and don’t have a disorder, my mind still goes back to how I was before.

I went from a size 20 to a size 2, became focused on my health, and got really into Pilates and yoga, and people started taking me seriously. I went from being nobody’s choice to being the first choice, getting comments and likes on my socials, constantly being asked out, sugaring, and doing so many things I could have never dreamed of before losing weight, and that feeling was better than feeling full. I try my best to nourish myself these days and keep to a caloric intake level that’s acceptable, but honestly, it can be very difficult for me at times.

[stormblessed95]

To also piggyback off the older army anon I think it’s possible jikook “took a break” during this chapter 2 to test the waters of being separated for such an extended period of time. I don’t think they love each other any less, and maybe I’m just colder and more analytical, but I would want to make sure I could still function after being so codependent on someone else for so long. Most shippers seem to think that if you knew you had to be apart, you’d spend every moment you could together, when really that’s just one of the options. When I reference shippers I’m not talking about you, I mean generally.

I’m saying this as someone who took a year long break with my partner. We’ve been together for more than 10 years now. We were together for a few years, took a break, and now we’ve been together again for 7 years. Sometimes life gets in the way. We didn’t stop loving each other, and we didn’t talk often, but when we did, we were sad but still flirty and nice to each other because we missed each other and we chose to get back together after that time apart.

A lot of shippers put Jikook’s relationship on a pedestal because their story can be presented as an epic romance, but they are still just people. It can be hard for those shippers to understand that two people that love each other and don’t “have to” be apart yet could choose to be apart, and I don’t think that these people have ever been in a LTR much less a LTR where real life obligations got in the way. (Side note: after years of being with someone, you don’t always have to be in each other’s pockets. Would it be nice to always be with your partner? Of course, but life doesn’t always allow that.)

The break my partner and I took strengthened our relationship. After years together you can become complacent. When we got back together we were choosing it, and we continued to choose each other, we both put in more effort and we are both more comfortable in the times we have to spend apart. We are healthier now than when we were codependently stuck to each other. I’m not saying this is 100% Jikook’s situation, maybe they never took a break, but I’ve seen a lot of shippers projecting their ideas of what a perfect (in their mind Jikook’s) relationship should look like and I hoped sharing my experience could add another perspective of how difficult real life relationships can be, how much nuance there can be, and how sometimes the healthier choice isn’t the most romantic choice. I know one of their many names is the black and white couple, but most aspects of life are not that simple, and I wish more shippers would understand that.

I like how kindly you shared your opinion. I'm not sure I completely agree with you, but it's valid. And who knows. We don't know anything for sure so it's possible. We aren't seeing much from them, so who knows. From what we do see, I don't personally think they've taken a full break or separation. But that's just me. And yeah, long distance relationships can be hard. We shall see what they share snd how things go in the future, during their service and when they get out again too I'm sure. For now, in my opinion, I do think they are probably still together. Based off my own assumptions lol

And the one thing I do agree with is that protecting your idea of a perfect relationship onto jikook is never a good idea. Unless they release a tell all book one day, we will likely never know everything and have to be content just enjoying the little bit of their love that we do get to see

[glysaturn]

hello glysaturn i have been following u for *years* and i want u to know that i havent for one second been convinced that your art is not good or has plateaued in some way. i think that youve managed to convince yourself of these ideas but i want to remind you that the more you continue to think this way the worse it gets. personally i felt at my most hopeless as an artist when i was obsessing over how bad i thought my art was and how little engagement it got online. i hit a point where i stopped drawing entirely for a while because i kept asking myself why i was doing any of this if it was “bad” — but then how could someone ever improve if they give up? all these negative thoughts bashing your own art just lead to hopelessness and an unwillingness to keep trying.

i’m glad that you *do* continue to push through and continue making art but i think it’s important to remember that you shouldnt be comparing yourself to other people. every artist u see online built up to wherever they are now and i think instead of fixating on how “good” their art is or how many likes theyre getting it’s healthier to fixate on the practice and effort they put in to getting there. i’m sorry if you’re not looking for comments about your outlook but again as someone who has been a fan and a follower for like over 5 years it saddens me to see one of my favorite artists tripping themselves up so often

i'm.. not sure what prompted this message. if it was my last post then you severely misunderstood it, no offence, like maybe it's on me for failing to convey exactly what i was trying to say, but i definitely was not coming from a place of self-hate. i love my art! i've just noticed a certain.. pattern in it which was making the process frustrating for me as of late. a pattern which was born through my damn perfectionism. it was making me feel like i have to squeeze my art out rather than just making it happen naturally. even if i like the final result, it takes too much out of me and it's just not very fun. so for a while now i was trying to start taking it easier, making simpler, messier works and through that - learning how to maybe draw something that might be a bit more complex but it would feel less like manual labour. whatever change i may want to see in my art isn't driven by outside factors, it's driven by my own desire to improve.

if this was prompted by my.. less than sane behaviour that i exhibit from time to time. first of all - i'm sorry you had to see that, trust me i ain't proud of it. secondly, uhhh, i get where you're coming from, but i feel like it's still not entirely accurate to what i'm experiencing. am i comparing my works to works of others? …….yea. sometimes. it's a god damn curse. does it make me feel bad about my art? not anymore, no, not really. i definitely do not look at someone else's art and think mine is shit in comparison. i think mine is quite good and worthy. it is true that i was not able to find any sort of balance that would let me exist online fully in peace. but i'm still looking for it, still trying to figure it out. and none of it is going to actually make me stop drawing and loving my own art. i know i said the thought of quitting crosses my mind from time to time, i did, but i was just in a moment of experiencing very intense emotions. i don't actually mean it, like deeply. my brain is wired in such a way that if i were to stop drawing, i would literally lose my mind. i simply cannot sit and do nothing. i MUST create. so there's that.

thank you for your.. concern?

[milomi]

Hello! Your work about the reader gets angry at crowly and proceed to swear in native language, it’s funny and got me dying after reading it! I’m just wondering if you could do the part where the other staff caught to witness the event of their argument? Feel free to ignore this request 🫶

ANON MY DEAR , I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG

In any case: thank you for your kind words, I didn't think my post would be that funny but I'm glad it made you laugh <3 I mean it was just a bunch of nonsense I wrote at 2am

Real story: i wrote most of the headcanons, and thought i was ready to post it soon, but no, i fell asleep while writing Leona and when I woke up, i realized i hadn't written like 3 characters yet

Anyway! Here is the original post, for anyone who hasn't seen it: ★

og post 🐸

* Crowley was already featured in the first part

Vargas

flabbergasted

oh, so doing a few runs around the playing field (?) is too much, but excessively swearing in such an outraged state is no problem for you

well uh, you know what they say

" A healthy body is a healthy mind "

That means in order to have a healthy and clean, swear-free, mind, you'll need to get your weak, feeble little body into a much healthier state.

20 laps around the courtyard! Go! Go! Go!

Trein

never in his [many years] of teaching had he ever encountered such a reckless individual such as yourself

hes not mad,, just disappointed..

You know the usual teacher schtick

" I never would've expected something like that from you. Truly, I am left speechless by your behavior. "

normally this would be a reason to call your legal guardian. ,, but whos gonna get called. Crowley aka the man you had just cussed out ?? The ghosts??? Grim?!

Lucius

Uh... Meow?

Crewel

probably the only one who is more concerned about you rather than your outrage

Because- as your homeroom teacher - he sees you every other day and knows it would take a lot to make you have such a reaction

or at least, have such a reaction, publicly

Would most definitely tell you to stay, after tomorrow's lesson, but he will not scold you.

Instead, it's a talk discussing your current situation, well being.

and maybe shittalking crowley, just a little,,

Sam

Did you know that this entire ordeal has been actually video documented in several ways?!? 😁

Now, of course, Sam wouldn't just use that as any sort of thing against you.

instead

He will opt for the much safer option of storing said recordings, far from anybody's reach.

or so it would seem

In actuality, they are available for purchase, through a secret code and agreement to not publish it anywhere.

But this is all for your good!

Students that have seen the video will now never attempt to outrage you

I mean, have you seen the video?

And and since you are somewhat of a sensation around here, people are interested in you, you look quite badass in that video

when the time comes and you'll have to fight against Crowley, this team of students (and your friends ig) will be here to get assembled

say Avengers asesemble

[ssodiepop]

[Huge TW: mentions of neglect/abuse & some heavier sexual topics]

I don’t really have anywhere else to put this, so I’m kind of tossing this to the void where I feel not many people will see it. But good god I feel wonderful

After a year and a half I finally have the closure I need to move on with my life and not feel as weighed down by it anymore.

Although I had my faults too and had some behaviors I will fully own up to no hesitation, my ex abused me emotionally (even if unintentionally) and sexually damaged me. I have gone no contact with her since July of last year (a few months after our breakup). Originally I (and her family) thought this was harsh, but after opening up about my side of the story to my friend (who’s also her family) a year and a half after the split I feel finally understood. I feel seen and heard and understood. I was cheated on emotionally (once again, even if it was unintentional, by definition this is what happened), treated like shit, constantly got blown off, and had sexual encounters that would bring back old paranoia from a former friend who coerced me into something that left me paranoid for years. I was made to feel ugly for being afab, she constantly talked of wanting a “man” and saying she’d let me watch if it made me more comfortable to let her have sex with men in the future. I was “in the way” of her “college dating experience”. I was in no way a saint, I had deep, troubling flaws that surfaced during the relationship. But now that I’m in a healthier relationship, I can say those more toxic behaviors have either become way less rampant or have disappeared entirely. This is in no way blaming my ex, what I did was entirely my fault. But I can certainly say the healthier dynamic and communication has helped me work on myself. My sense of self beauty has been damaged, and it’s slowly being restored by my wonderful partner. I’m learning to forgive myself and not fault myself for EVERYTHING that happened. I don’t mourn my ex truly, more was haunted by everything I felt to sheepish to speak up about as to not cause conflict with my friend and their family.

But it’s over. It finally feels over. I can finally rest and let it go because people believe me, and listened. That’s really all I needed to finally shake off what was left of my angst and bitterness and resentment.

And thank you to my boyfriend for listening to me talk about this stuff. And thank you to him for encouraging me to finally open up about the situation with people who care about me. Only my mother, a lifelong friend, and my boyfriend previously knew about this in detail (and even then only my boyfriend knew EVERYTHING). I can finally feel less scared of revealing something that would end my friendships. Because in reality my friendships are so much stronger than I could’ve ever wished for and I’m thankful to be supported in all corners about this. Thank you to my friends and family forever this is getting so sappy but I really can’t overstate it

It finally feels over. I’m free