#if I wasn't it would be a lot easier to get past this stage

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

I don't know if this is helpful at all and please feel free to ignore -

From one socially anxious and awkward ND person to another, the technique I've found to connect with people is to act like/make yourself believe that whoever you're around already likes you. Approaching people with open body language and an affect like you are casually DELIGHTED to see them works wonders. Also, I make sure my energy and movement is low and slow, since getting wound up and moving too fast conveys tension.

You weren't asking for advice so again feel free to ignore, and I'm sorry if this comes off wrong! I just hope that I can sometimes help other people find their way more quickly and with less pain than I did.

see i don't actually have social anxiety (i have other flavours of anxiety). what i do have is a powerful awareness that when a group of people have all known each other and spent time around each other for three years and you have been there for two months and only know half of their names, it is extremely fucking hard to join in a conversation, because they are naturally talking about things and people you don't know about and therefore you cannot contribute. and while people introduce themselves once the first time you meet, when they all already know each other, they don't ever do so again bc it doesn't occur to them, so the ones whose names i don't know? yeah i'm gonna keep not knowing them because there is not really a non-rude way of inserting yourself into somebody else's existing friend group without being invited to do so

and because i have sensory issues and a mobility impairment and don't drink, i am often on the edge of a room, sitting in a chair, reliant on other people coming to me because i can't stand enough to mingle, and nobody ever thinks, "oh, that person doesn't have a friend group here, I will invite them to join our conversation". at best you get a few pity remarks from a group nearby, or one person comes to talk to you on their own because their friends have left. if they think about you at all, they probably think, "oh, that person is sitting on the edge of the room, they don't want to talk to anyone," and they don't realise I'm sitting there because my legs don't fucking work and for some goddamn reason all these goddamn social functions require people to stand up for an hour

and even if you end up with a nodding acquaintance with certain people, nobody ever thinks to invite you to anything extra because they all already have friends to invite to things. so you never get past acquaintance, and all the while the existing friend groups are getting tighter, because that's what happens

and the result is that every social event involves a couple of conversations on the periphery of a room and then a complete overwhelming sense of alienation and isolation that makes the whole thing wildly unpleasant to endure so then the next time there's a social thing i don't go to it, because why would i travel four miles to not be part of anyone's conversations, and then that perpetuates the issue, and it fucking sucks

the result is that i can count on my fingers the number of people i know in this environment and they are all closer to each other than to me so i ALWAYS feel like I am intruding when i try to be part of their conversations. there just aren't enough other new people in a similar position to me for me to have been able to form friendships outside of the existing cliques

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter One - I Hate You

Is me starting another series before my dissertation a really bad idea? Yes, yes it is (but i had the idea and I need to get it written down asap)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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"Get out of my apartment!"

In the doorway of a little two bedroom apartment in Woking was Y/N L/N. She had a bad on her back and at least three suitcases behind her. And in front of her was Lando Norris, her teammate, biggest rival and mortal enemy.

Lando stared at her, dumbfounded. "Your apartment?" He repeated, expression still shocked. "No, Zac said this one is for me."

"Then why did he give me a key for apartment 241?"

They held up the exact same set of keys on the exact same keyring. Lando let out a sigh through his nose as he pocketed his version of the key. "Somebody clearly has royally fucked up," he said and sat on the couch.

"I'm gonna call him," said Y/N as she put the key back into her pocket. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialled the number of her boss.

Zac Brown had been hers and Lando's boss for the last year and few months. He'd been dealing with hers and Lando's shit from day one, ever sine they revealing the McLaren car for that year. They'd almost gotten onto a fight on the stage in front of everybody.

Zac picked up the phone in just a few rings. "How're you liking the new place?" He asked in way of hello.

"It's great, Zac. Except it comes with an annoying little prick," Y/N spat.

There was a second where Zac didn't say anything. He saw this coming, had tried to mitigate it as best he could by telling Lando he'd be getting a roommate. Of course, he didn't say who that roommate would be: that would have just been asking for trouble.

But, then again, all of this was asking for trouble. Zac had been waiting for a call from at least one of them since he got into the office (he'd hoped it would have been Lando; over the past year he'd proven himself to be easier to deal with than Y/N, who didn't back down. No matter what).

"Get yourself unpacked, I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zac put the phone down. He didn't say goodbye to his drivers, unless it was on race days. With nowhere left to go, Y/N dragged her things into the apartment. "Where's the second bedroom?" She grumbled as she looked down at Lando.

Without looking away from the television, Lando pointed behind him. But that wasn't helpful, since there was the kitchen just behind them and then two doors. "Furthest one," he said and Y/N dragged her bags through the rest of the apartment, heading to the furthest away bedroom.

The bedroom was sizeable, with a double bed and wardrobe already inside. But, other than that, there wasn't a lot. Y/N unpacked nothing but bedding and clothes for the next day. There was no way she was staying here, not living with Lando Norris.

***

Carpooling made so much sense when going to the same place as somebody, unless you hated that person. Zac watched from his office as two cars pulled up outside of the McLaren Technology centre.

The drivers got out of the car almost in sync. They both wore sunglasses as they strode towards the doors, Y/N's glare not visible behind her sunglasses as she followed Lando inside.

Things were clearly tense between them as they walked through the office. The drivers said nothing to each other, but their expressions said enough.

Where Lando took an elevator up to Zac's office, Y/N took the stairs. She ran up them, the two of them arriving at the same time (one of them out of breath and the other smirking at her).

She took the lead as they strode into the office. "Zac," Y/N began, but the CEO held his hand.

He wasn't like other bosses, he was a cool boss. But he was still there boss and, when he held up his hand, the two knew to shut up. "Sit down," he said, leaning back in his own chair.

Y/N and Lando sat in the seats on the other side of the desk. Her leg bounced as she waited for Zac to speak and Lando had his hands shoved into his pockets. Neither of them could ever agree on anything, except the fact that they're not leaving the room until they're not living together.

Zac laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You're both brilliant drivers," he began, "but you're both liabilities. You've both cost us millions because you keep trying to kill each other on the track. And your behaviour towards each other off track is bringing bad press to all of us at McLaren," he finished.

"We don't want to lose either of you as drivers, so we've come up with the brilliant plan to force you to get along."

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at her boss. "And if we refuse?" She asked him, placing one leg on top of the other.

"Then, we'll have to let one of both of you go. But the choice is yours."

But the choice wasn't really theirs. No matter what, they couldn't lose their seats, so they were just going to have to stick it out, suffer through it. Fuck.

The tension between the two wasn't just random. It had been brewing since their karting days. Even then they ran each other off the tracks and fought between races. Of course, back then it wasn't as big a deal.

There were way too many videos of when they were kids and they'd pushed each other off the track, gotten out of their karts and gotten into a physical fight. If they weren't so clearly talented, it would have affected their careers.

For the first few months of their Formula One careers in McLaren, the team thought they had made a mistake. If they weren't consistently in the points, Zac would have gotten rid of the both of them. But, truth be told, they were too good to let go.

So, he dangled this threat in front of them. Learn to get along or one of you is sacked. He'd thought about this hard, realised that this was the perfect threat. Y/N and Lando were so competitive that the thought of one of them losing their seat while the other thrived would have torn them apart.

"Fine," said Y/N. She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sat on, fell backwards. She quickly picked it up and rushed out of the office.

Lando said a goodbye to Zac and walked out of the office, rushing after her. He ran into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and stood beside her. They didn't look at each other, stared straight at the doors as the elevator took them down. "Sup, new roommate," he said with a smirk.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open. "I hate you," Y/N said and walked out of the McLaren technology centre.

She drove her way back to the apartment in Woking in complete silence. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight that it left imprints on her skin, on her palms and her finger tip.

How she didn't get pulled over for speeding, she'd never know. But the speed limit was the least of her concern as she made her way back to what was her new home.

But it would never be her home, not while Lando was living there.

***

Reluctantly, she unpacked her things. Hung her clothes up in her wardrobe and placed her underwear in the drawers. Y/N placed pictures of her family, pictures of her old F2 car, of her pets, of her car from the previous year up around her room. She pulled her lamp from her back and placed it on the bedside table, along with her phone, its charger, and her toiletries.

Lando had arrived home just minutes after her, but she'd already locked herself in her room. The only way they'd be able to get through this was by avoiding each other.

When her things were unpacked, Y/N sat on the bed and grabbed a book. A biography, all about the life of Enzo Ferrari. The one thing her room was missing was her sim racing rig, something her father was meant to bring up that day, but Y/N had told him to wait until she had somewhere new to live (which, we all know didn't happen. She was stuck in this apartment with Lando, whether she liked it or not).

Pressing her ear to the door, Y/N listened as Lando walked around. She waited until he walked past her room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Only then did she walk out of her room to get herself something to eat and drink.

She could do this. All she had to do was avoid him.

Easy.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

[emptybagel]

About Luka in Round 7...

Am I the only one who saw this shot of Luka and immediately thought of one of his illnesses—a heart illness, to be exact—acting up rather than Luka holding in his laughter because he finally found Till's weaknes/knew all along?

Maybe I'm just being delirious, but I don't think he looks happy or relieved—I think he looks pained, like he's about to cry, especially the way in which he presses his hand into his face so visibly hard. It resembles someone trying to calm down their rapid breath, perhaps even hyperventilation, more than anything else—at least in my opinion, of course.

Especially that some time before R7 Lukanation got this official art:

I just genuinely don't think that Vivinos would release such a hear-wrenching, world-shattering art and not take advantage of it in Round 7.

Also, I don't really see people talking about the very likely possibility of there being an additional round featuring the "guests", Hyuna and Mizi, which came to me as a big surprise. I mean, they were even shown in the little boxes that the Alien Stage participants are always presented in.

It was clear to both me and my little sis that the aliens wouldn't miss the chance to force two wanted rebels, and terrorists—because, in the end, that's what Hyuna and Mizi are to them—to fight against eachother, and Vivinos wouldn't miss the chance to show it to her viewers.

And, I know that I'm diverging further and further from my original topic, but I wanted to address some of the criticism I've heard being targeted at R7. First of all, I think everyone—including me, of course—was surprised at the overall tone. We all expected a lot more flashbacks, more backstory, especially for Luka, about whom we had a surprising lot of content about up to the release of this round. Also Tillnation just longed for some R6 and R3 flashbacks, and Lukanation wanted Luka's messed up genetics to cause him some trouble and play a greater role overall.

However, we got pretty much none of that, save for one flashback from the kiss—and at least some semblance of Luka's sickness, though I already talked about this one. R7 came out to be a lot more plot-focused, settled in the present.

I've heard some people saying that Round 7 is rushed, that they're disappointed in it. And as much as I can't change how they're feeling about it, I don't think that it's rushed. Vivinos is just not that kind of a creator—her previous project, as well as the rest of Alien Stage were never rushed. They had a lot of thought, symbolism, time, and effort put into them, despite having a smaller budget.

I feel like the point of being constantly in the present might be perhaps a metaphor for Till trying to forget and fighting off his memories of both Ivan and Mizi. You know, trying to anchor himself in reality so that he won't get flooded with memories and break down right there and then. Especially that when he does break down (by dying, and btw no, I don't think he'll ever come back from the dead) he is overflown by a memory with Mizi—it's very clear, realistic, it's overwhelming, and he becomes lost in it while looking into Mizi's eyes. When he is forced to finally let go, all his mental barriers snap, break down, and crumble, as present mixes with the past. That's my interpretation, at least, and it could be a big stretch, but I think there's at least some value in looking at R7 that way.

As of Luka, because I just can't help but come back to this guy, I think it might be similar for him. Of course it was easier to think of this metaphor through the prism of Till, since we know him way better than we know the intimidating horse, but I see it that way: Luka found himself being paired with a very intense opponent, a "rookie", who, despite his young age, managed to gain a very large fanbase—he was top 2 in the popularity poll, after all. Even though he didn't have the superior genes, even though he wasn't obedient, wasn't a "good pet", he was still beloved by the aliens and was gifted with a talent for music. He might've felt threatened by him—and rightfully so! After all Till had no reason to restrain himself and all the reason to give it his all to win—and thus did what he must've done in order to survive, he tried to manipulate Till by resembling Ivan, copying his movements, taunting. Because if there's one thing that Luka is inherently and overwhelmingly better at than anyone else, it's the performance. He was trained well—he knows how to move to appeal to the masses, how to smile to please them, what to do, what to say, how to say it. I don't think he's to be blamed for being born into a system that requires someone's death and not wanting to be the one to die. He doesn't have to be the one to win—he can't win, because as long as humans continue to be seen as nothing more than pets, no human can be truly free, no participants of Alien Stage can truly win. And so he silences the humiliation of the strings attached to his wrists, the memory of Hyuna's disgusted face, Hyunwoo's echo. But he is different from Till. His walls do not crumble. Until he sees Hyuna, that is, most likely knowing what will happen to her, since she gave herself to aliens on a silver plate by coming onto the stage.

I might be delusional, but if we do get the additional round, I want Luka to at the very least try to save Hyuna—or maybe even Mizi!—in order to redeem himself in her eyes.

Anyway, Tillnation has fallen, Lukanation is cheering Mizination is on the verge of breaking down, and I hope Hyuna's and Luka's relationship will be thoroughly explored in the post-apocalyptic (aka post-round 7) content. Oh, and I would LOVE to have some more Sua content, perhaps in Mizi's flashbacks pretty please? 🥺 Cure MiziSua cover was not enough, I need them to kiss. The MiziSua and HyunLuka brainrot is real (not including IvanTill because the mfs already kissed).

By the way, Blink Gone is a majestic song, my jaw was literally on the floor! I first watched Alien Stage when R6 was still kind of fresh-ish so I didn't know the excitement of waiting to know what will happen in the story and to hear the full song!

That's all, bye!

[serene-destruction]

Oh! Listen I love Husk and I need him to have more love! Maybe a Fem!Reader x Husk x Angel. Angel Dust and Reader would be a qpr quite obviously, just besties who want to give love to a grumpy cat. Other than that I give you creative freedom!

The first request! Just for future reference, my stories are gender neutral unless otherwise plot relevant. Anyways, enjoy!

I Could Get Used To You

(GN) Reader x Husker x (Queer Platonic)Angel Dust

TW: drunkenness, vague mentions of past trauma.

Work count: 5.6k

Summary: Life in hell isn't an easy one, but it's a lot easier to get through it when you find people to care about.

You and Angel had known of each other for quite some time, given that he had often attended the bar you worked at in his early years in hell. Despite how aggressively flirtatious he was you didn't mind him as much as some of the other regulars. He at least had the restraint to make those comments in between sets or after the show. You spent the first few months mostly ignoring him, as you did with all the other patrons. That became harder, though, when he had decided to see you after the show.

“Heya sweetheart!” he called out to you as you left the bar. You rolled your eyes and held your coat a little tighter, hoping that hiding your body might get him to leave you the hell alone. You had a rough night filled with drunken idiots disrupting your show with their shameless attempts to touch you and you certainly didn't need his comments to top it all off.

“Say what you want then leave me the hell alone��� you nearly growled out your words. It was hard to stay composed after having spent hours keeping that fake smile for the crowd.

“Woah! Got it, bad night” he held his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Just wanna talk” he explained, his smile a little less cocky than when he made his usual comments at the bar. Truthfully it had caught you a little off guard, considering how you had ascribed total arrogant confidence to him. So you let out a sigh, motioning him to walk with you. You just simply didn't feel like arguing and you were pretty confident that he was mostly talk. Something you could easily placate until you made it back home.

“Just to be clear, if you lay a single one of those hands on me I'm cutting all of them off” you warn and he flashes a bright, teasing smile.

“Kinky~” his voice was sing-songy as he spoke. You crossed your arms, glared, and hoped he got the point.

“Right, right. I won't touch ya” he agreed and you were able to grow a little more comfortable. Still, you remained on guard.

“Names Angel by the way” he sounded so sure of himself as he spoke, a set of hands held on his hips in a show of confidence. He had only just started his career back then, his fame in its early stages. It wasn't a surprise when you didn't recognize it.

“Y/n. Though I'm sure you already knew that” your words held an edge, your tense posture clear. But he simply nodded along.

“Yeah. Still a nice name though” his smile widened a little and, despite the minor disdain you had started with, you could see him already growing on you.

“Right…any particular reason you decided to talk to me tonight of all nights? I've seen you around the bar for a while now” you questioned him, rather curious about why exactly now of all times he wanted to suddenly meet you.

“I just wanted to let ya know you did good tonight. I get how much of a bummer pricks messin’ with your show can be.” the genuine compliment surprised you so much that you're silent for a moment. A moment too long apparently as he speaks again.

“If it means anything it was one’a my favorites so far” At that you turned and searched for some sort of humor in his eyes, maybe something that said he was lying. But when there wasn't anything you finally returned his smile with a weary one.

“Glad you enjoyed it” you took the compliment, though you still didn’t fully believe that he was being truthful. It was rare someone ever complimented you to start with, but you had yet to have someone do so without an ulterior motive.

“And y’know, that happens again tomorrow and I'll personally knock ‘em around for you, yeah?” his smile turned into a grin and you couldn't help the short laugh that left at his expression.

“If you feel so inclined. Though if anyone asks, I told you to leave the poor sods alone” you tried to make it clear that you definitely weren't supposed to be harming the clientele with how dramatic the last part of the sentence was. Luckily he seemed to get the point.

“Course. They've been gettin’ on my nerves anyway” you couldn't help but agree.

The two of you continue on with your conversation, getting to know a bit about each other's lives on the short walk. Despite his behavior at the bar, he was actually surprisingly personable one-on-one. He had a kind of natural charisma with a bit of faint genuine kindness. It was, frankly, one of the better conversations you had since you fell into hell. But all good things always come to an end. This time it was because you stopped your feet outside your residence.

“It was nice getting to actually meet you Angel” he stopped with you and you could have sworn you caught the faintest glimpse of his smile falling.

“It was nice meetin’ you too. You workin’ tomorrow?” His question surprises you a bit, but you answer anyway.

“When am I not working” you rolled your eyes, your exhaustion now easy to see. His look turned sympathetic.

“If that ain't the truth. See you tomorrow then?” He begins to walk away but stays turned to you for a response with his hand held in a finger gun motion. You can't help the bit of genuine smile that peeks through.

“As always” you answer before finally tucking into your apartment building.

You and Angel only got closer over the coming years. He would walk you home from your shows from time to time and you would entertain him with whatever story you had of the nights when he was too busy to show up. You too bonded over work and he even offered to be a dancer a few times just to rake in some more attention and get you enough to finally move up from that shit hole. But you always kindly refused, not looking for the increasing fame he carried with him.

Eventually you two even started hanging out in other places. Granted they were always other run-down shit holes given he didn't particularly want the paparazzi and fans that came from his job, but you two always seemed to make the most of it, keeping your friendship on the down low.

Until, one night, he stopped showing up.

You had become increasingly concerned after a month of him just up and disappearing. You were worried something had happened or maybe that his psychotic boss was pulling away even more of his already limited freedom. But then he showed up after one of your shows, face guilt-ridden when you went near frantic.

You were already yelling out question after question at him. Where has he gone? Was he okay? Did something happen? He had to calm you down before explaining that he had moved. You were so incredibly proud knowing that he was finally removing even just a part of himself from the work that had begun to be his entire life, though you were still a bit upset that he hadn't told you sooner.

But then he made you an offer you weren't expecting.

“You know, the hotel has an open doors rule and uh…well I was hopin’ you might…”

“Join you?” You finish the sentence for him. He turned to you with a look more nervous than you've ever seen from him.

“Look I know the place ain't exactly the best- the whole redemption thing’s a joke- but y'know I think you could get a job down there! Get away from all…all of this. Plus, y’know, I'd get to see you more often and-”

“Sounds like a plan” you stop his rambling with your answer and he turns to you with an almost bewildered look.

“Really? You sure?” He couldn't believe you would agree so quickly. You laughed at that.

“A chance to leave this shitty life behind and live with my best friend? Why would I say no? Especially if you like the place enough to recommend it” You lightheartedly shoved him and he almost gleamed with joy, his prior nervousness nothing but a thought now.

“Well shit. I thought I was gonna have ta try a lot harder than that. Had a whole pitch and everything!” he spoke with a laugh and you couldn't help but join in the joy.

You had to say the first few months at the hotel had been rough. For one, your boss didn't like the idea of you quitting very much. You were half the reason he made any money to begin with and he wasn't about to let you go so easily. So for a while you had been harassed and once nearly even killed before Alastor went and ‘dealt with this little problem of yours’. Though you suspected it was only because your boss had sent people to attack the hotel itself and less that he cared about you in any capacity.

You had managed to get a job at the hotel like Angel had said, though you felt more like a resident since there weren't ever enough people to warrant a show. But it had been more than once you were able to lift spirits with a performance, so you did still get paid. It was nice not having to work as much.

Though you would have to say, out of all the other strange people and events here, the bartender was the one that caught your eye the most. A right asshole he was, but there was still a charm he had. You two mostly only had some idle chit-chat, but Angel seemed to be getting pretty close to him, especially after he had one of his rougher nights that you hadn't been around for. Which meant you talked to the cat demon more. Never really one on one, but still you grew to see why your friend seemed so comfortable around him. He was easy to talk to. You mostly saw him as a friend of a friend though. Maybe even a good acquaintance if you wanted to push it.

But then there was that night…

Two in the morning and you still couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Tossing and turning and general frustration simply wouldn't allow you.

You couldn't get it out of your head. It had been so long since the memories had been allowed to invade your mind like they did tonight. Your skin crawled as if it wanted to escape you and if you could you would let it. You felt utterly trapped as it clung to you. Like the only escape from it was to dissolve into nothing.

You knew why the memories had come back swinging, all too aware that it was such a stupid thing to have opened that old wound. All Charlie had done was pull you to the new activity she was so excited to share. But her hands dragged you and made it impossible to pull away and when you made it to that room all the eyes fell on you. It was horrifyingly familiar in a way that it shouldn't have been. You had wanted to disappear right then.

Yet you didn't speak up and instead let her do as she pleased, knowing that it was such a mundane thing that you shouldn't have let upset you like it did. You felt childish at having let the event ruin your night, at letting the entire situation dig itself into old scars. But still, you just couldn't stop the dread it built within you. You couldn't stop that clawing feeling of trying to escape your own body. Of escaping the phantom feeling of drag and pull and the expecting eyes that felt almost as if they'd burn you alive.

It didn't take long before the feeling began to sting your eyes with tears. It was at that point you knew there would be no sleeping tonight. So you finally gave up trying, sitting up in your bed as you wiped away the tears that hadn't been given the chance to fall. You quickly composed yourself, as you were just so great at doing by this point, and tossed on a warm robe before leaving your room. You glance at Angel's door when you do.

You contemplate for a brief moment if you should wake him, though you quickly decide against it. He was tired enough as it was with the shit he had to deal with on the daily, he didn't need you keeping him up on top of that. So you turned down the hall, making sure to remain quiet so as not to disturb anyone.

You needed a distraction, something to get your mind off everything. To numb that horrible feeling. You find that nothing calls your name quite like the sound of a drink and so you navigate the many halls until you find yourself at the hotel bar.

As you suspected, the place was barren and silent. You have no problem getting behind the bar and making your own drink as it most certainly wasn't your first time. You note that you should probably try to keep the place tidy while you're at it, but decide that you'll do so after you enjoy the sweet relief at the bottom of a glass.

And, for a few short moments, you do. The warm, burning feeling spreads through your chest and purges the shivers right on out of you. But it doesn't last after the drink is finished and the silence truly sets in. So you pour yourself another, trying to chase any semblance of peace.

“Can't sleep?” A voice asks from behind you, nearly scaring you off of the barstool as you whip around to see who it was. You're surprised to see Husk of all people, even more surprised to see something that might resemble concern show on him. But you soon calm, giving a nod to him before turning back around.

“Nope…you too?” You ask, catching him rounding his way to the other side of the bar as you do.

“I prefer nights. A lot more peaceful, especially in this place” you acknowledge his comment with a hum before turning back to nursing your drink.

There is a silence between the two of you for a good few minutes. He cleans around for a while and you try to let your emotions leave you with every sip. It isn't long before you poor a third and you try to ignore the fact that this isn't helping.

It's when you go to pour your fourth drink that he stops what he's doing. You try to ignore him and whatever he's deciding to do with his time, but it becomes harder when he leans on the bar in front of you.

“That’s not gonna help you” He states plainly, your eyes turning to glance at him. There's a brief moment where you attempt to pull your facade back up. Where you try to tug your lips into a smile and choke out any words that would deter his potential questions. But it is exhausting and you are already beyond tired. So instead you hang your head.

“I know…was just hoping I'd be wrong” your words are quiet and mumbled, a far cry from your usually quite loud and charismatic self. It makes your insides twist to have let yourself be seen like this.

“Do you wanna talk about why you're up so late?” His question makes you swallow thickly, hands gripping tighter on the glass in your hand. Another few moments of silence pass that seem almost like an eternity under his stare. It takes a while for you to find any words in this state.

“It’s not worth your time” you manage the sentence, eyes fixated on the honey color of your chosen liquor. You hear him sigh, taking a step back as he pours his own drink.

“I'm the one who's askin’. If I waste my time that's my own damn fault” you don't like how hard it is for you to find the meaning in his tone. You can't tell if he's being dismissive or trying to comfort you. So you settled on answering with silence once more. You hear him sigh before he rounds the bar again.

“Look, tell me or don't tell me, but I at least want to hear you say something” this time you do hear an attempt to be genuine. He takes a seat beside you and you finally turn to look at him again. His eyes expect nothing, a rare sight for you. It's…comforting. You aren't sure if it was you or the alcohol talking, but you could have even been able to delude yourself into thinking that he cared. You look away again when you feel that false comfort begins to wrap you. You find your tongue beginning to slip.

“I…” you start and suddenly it's like your insides churn. You put nearly everything into stopping the pull of tears.

“It's just a bad night for me, is all. I…I’m not really used to this” you finally let the words fall and you can't bring yourself to look at him. You don't want to know how he's reacting to your words. You don't want to see just how little he actually cares.

“Used to what, exactly?” he pries further, asking for more. The flood gates were already open and there was no use in trying to shut them now.

“The way everyone is just so comfortable with each other- the way that I almost feel comfortable. It was easy with Angel; both of us in the same shit situation with no one else to lean on but each other. But nobody needs something from me here, nobody's trying to take anything- they don't want anything! And it- I just-...” your hands shake, your breath becoming unsteady. It's been so long since you felt this pathetic.

“I don't think I'm supposed to be here” you admit as your voice wavers. You try to steady your breath and calm yourself. It wasn't safe to be this vulnerable, it was stupid.

“I get it” his words stop your thoughts immediately. You're left reeling from the whiplash and expecting that he must have grown a second head that speaks only lies. But it's just him as he stares down at his now half-empty drink, no second head in sight. There's a look of contemplation on his face that you can see even as he keeps his eyes on the glass. A moment later he speaks again.

“When you've spent so long getting used to people treating you like shit it can be hard to accept when someone doesn't. Makes it feel like they're lyin’, like they're just waitin’ for the moment to hurt you the worst” his words quickly hit a deep part of you, knocking at known insecurities you had long since buried as deep as you could.

“Makes you paranoid too, always checking your back for snakes. Gets harder to believe anyone; harder to care about anyone a lot of the time. And so you stop caring, and suddenly it stops hurting as much” his continued words only dug deeper, tugging away at your walls like they were wet paper. When his eyes finally meet yours again you are surprised to see them soften. There isn't pity in them, nor a look that makes you feel as childish as you felt before talking to him. Instead, you are met with a knowing stare, one that says he understands this feeling all too well.

“But the thing is that doesn't mean you feel any better. Makes the suffering pointless if you don't try to let the good in too. You gotta make it mean something” he doesn't look away from you as he says those words and you can't bring yourself to turn away either. You don't want to. Because he's saying everything you needed to hear and you can't find any reason not to trust that he doesn't know exactly how this feels. That he isn't speaking directly from the heart. Your dread turns to a sinking sort of comfort. The kind only broken people could give when they reach out and pull each other from the dark. It's the most seen you've ever felt.

You feel the tears finally well in your eyes but you can't help but smile at him, a sad laugh escaping you.

“Of all the people I expected to give me a pep talk I gotta say, you weren't even on the list” you finally speak again and there is no hiding that he's hit something deep within you.

“Of all the fucked up people here, I didn't expect you would need anyone to talk to” He offers the same smile as he hand you a napkin. You take it without complaint and quickly calm your tears with deep breaths, wiping away the strays that fell. There's a short moment of silence, but it doesn't feel as suffocating anymore. In fact you almost feel a strange comfort in it now that it doesn't feel so empty. Still, you knew you should probably say something.

“You know, uh…” you break the silence as you once again turn to your drink, this time far less focused on ignoring him as much as you were trying to compose yourself enough to speak. At the very least you're able to steady your voice.

“Angel and I were going to head out tomorrow. I don't think he'd mind if you came…if you're free, of course” you invited him but didn't catch the way his smile widened at the request.

“I can't guarantee anything, but I’m not declining” his maybe is better than a no, so you don't particularly mind his answer. In fact you can feel your own smile soften at it.

Since then the three of you have been near inseparable. At any given part of the day at least two of you are off doing something with each other. It's nice, you think, to have people this close to you, to have a reason to care again. The three of you look out for each other and It's the closest you've ever gotten to stability in your life. At this point, you don't think you'd trade it for anything.

Which is why when you start to develop feelings for Husk, you are utterly horrified.

You know him and Angel have…something going on. You know they're not together as you know you would have been the first to know, but you've also never seen Angel smile the way he does when he's around the winged demon. You would say the same for Husk, but you've caught him sending the same soft smile to you once or twice and you honestly can't tell if it's your lovestruck daze or if those smiles are what you think they are.

Your emotions are a spiraling mess within you. You care so much for both of them. You'd live through a thousand hells if it meant you'd have them around. The absolute last thing you want is to fuck this up.

So you choose to say nothing. You bottle your feelings and throw them in the garbage. As far as you were concerned being in their afterlives at all was good enough. You wouldn't risk it.

However, it became hard during nights like these. When you all were giddy off alcohol, conversation flowing through wide smiles and every touch as gentle as it could ever be. It was the definition of home, a place where you were the most comfortable you could possibly be. Your tongue loose and your actions anything but hidden. Your care poured from you openly and only so much could be blamed on the alcohol.

“I fucking love you guys” the words fell shamelessly from you. Granted you were pretty fucked up by this point as you tried to keep up with them, but it wasn't more than you could reasonably handle without blacking out. They both turned to you, inebriated smiles sending themselves your way.

“Love you too, sweetheart” Angel returned, one of his hands patting your head, a wider smile spreading on your face as he did. You leaned against the bar, your head propped up by one of your hands as you turned to Husk. You just barely notice the way he leaned ever so slightly closer. But he says nothing and you can't help but feel like you deserve at least an acknowledgement of your words from him.

“I'd be happy to show you if you don't believe me” the words slipped and once more you didn't notice what you were saying. You do, however, catch his eyes widen, pupils dilating a bit. When he continues to say nothing you roll your eyes and pull back just slightly. You don't catch the way he almost follows you before he pulls himself back, nor the stare Angel is giving from beside you.

“One of these days I'll get you to say it back” you speak before downing yet another shot. You miss the quick glance they give to each other.

“It’s getting late. We should probably head to bed” Angel suggests as he stands.

“Really?” You whine mostly to yourself.

“You two go ahead. I have to clean up anyway” Husk gives his excuse and you groan but ultimately agree to the end of your night. You take one of Angel's hands as the both of you begin your stumble down the halls. The two of you are a giggling mess against each other, nearly falling about twenty separate times, but you do eventually make it to your room. You quickly notice that he hesitates on his goodbyes though.

“Hey uh, can we…talk?” He asks and, though you are a bit surprised it doesn't show.

“Of course!” You agree, opening your door and allowing him inside your room. You make it to your bed where you both quickly sit, unable to stand unsupported for long.

“What's up?” You ask, bleary eyes turning to him. You have to admit you're a little worried, but you hope that whatever he wants to talk about isn't too serious.

“You and Husk are gettin’ pretty close” his words don't strike you at first, so you give him a smile.

“Yeah. Same for you” you comment and watch a wave of confusion hit him.

“What?” He seems to almost not Believe the words that have left you and it takes you a moment to realize why.

“Oh come on Angel, don't tell me you haven't noticed how he looks at you! With that little smile of his- and don't you think I've missed you staring either! You two are absolutely thirsty for each other” Your voice is louder than you notice. When he quickly tries to quiet you down you fall back onto your bed with a laugh, trying to escape his hands. He continues to reach out anyway and so you pull him down with you, eventually sending the both of you into another giggle fit.

“Could say the same for you” Angel speaks through his laugh, though there is a hesitance to it. You can't hide the way the implication catches you.

“You think so?” You ask cautiously, almost worried as you turn to look at him, his body beside yours.

“Yeah…Yeah I do” he replies just as slowly, the air in the room becoming tense in the sudden silence. It was a longer silence than you would have liked, both of you turning your eyes to the ceiling in contemplation of the words you both had spoken.

After a moment Angel sits up a bit, just enough to lean his head against his hand and look down at you.

“I love him. Like a whole fuckin’ lot and…I love you too. You’re the best friend I could’a eva asked for in this shithole” he admits and you can't tear your eyes from him. He, however, can't bear to look at you.

“And I was hopin', maybe, if you'd like ta…well if you'd wanna share him with me. If he even does feel that way about us” the words leave his lips ever so carefully and you can't help the wide smile that breaks across your face, all your previous worry disappearing. You reach a gentle hand out, his eyes finally turning back to yours when it lands on his face.

“I'd love that” you let the words leave and watch as he lights up, smile soft and worry dissipating by the second. Then suddenly an idea pops into your head, a mischievous smile crawling to your lips.

“Oh no, I know that look. What are you plannin’?” He asks, amusement overtaking any attempts to look worried. You quickly sat up, pulling him along with you.

“Well Mr. Grouchy Pants likes to walk by my door whenever he needs extra cleaning rags and personally I think he should be going to bed” you explain as you stand on still shaky legs. Angel doesn't seem to catch on for a moment before suddenly realizing what you mean.

“You ain't gonna do that” Angel says oh so confidently. He must have failed to account for how much bolder you are when drunk, because you most definitely plan to. In fact you hear stumbling feet making their way right about now. So you open the door, catching the attention of a certain winged cat almost immediately.

“Still working?” you ask. He has to blink a few times to catch up with the situation and you know then that drank a bit more after you guys left.

“Yeah” he answers simply. A moment later Angel is behind you, peaking out as well. He leans two arms against you for balance and Husk gives both of you a look.

“You ain't makin’ it down the hall like that. You look like you're about ta pass out” Angel points out and Husk turns back to him, almost offended.

“I'm not that drunk, sweetheart” the nickname catches you off guard and Husk seems just as surprised at what just came out of his own mouth.

“Oh? We’re doing pet names now kitty?” you tease a little and he looks utterly floored by the nickname. It sends a grin across Angel's face.

“Yeah kitten, since when did that happen?” Angel's voice is even more teasing than yours and Husk seems completely out of his depth. Every word he tries to speak dies before it leaves his lips. Eventually, he tips his hat down and tries to leave.

“I gotta go to bed-” before he gets too far you manage to snag one of his suspender straps, gently pulling him back a bit. He follows, knowing he would probably fall if he didn't.

“You should stay with us for the night” you offer and watch as his eyes shoot wider than you've ever seen them. He goes to speak but you cut him off before he can say a word.

“Mind out of the gutter. We’re just going to sleep’” you clarify and hear Angel whine a bit. You quickly nudge him and he stops, accepting that there would be nothing else tonight. But, while Husk's face seems a little less horrified, he still hesitates.

“Please?” You ask in as sweet a tone as you can manage. You watch as he uses the last of his resolve to attempt to answer no, but when Angel leans down near you and offers the same pleading look, he simply can't.

“Fine” he mumbles out with his arms crossed. Without a word you tug him inside, the door shutting as the three of you stumble your way back. Each one of you managed to bump or knock the others at least once as you all did your best to make it into bed.

At some point you and Angel are on the bed and Husk is still hesitating to follow. He's only allowed a moment before Angel reaches out and pulls him, his body landing heavily on the two of you with the strings of curses that follow. You all struggled to find your spots, moving and squirming to get comfortable. Your blankets are tossed and tugged to cover the three of you until, finally, you all seem to all be covered. It's then that idle talk arrives, slurred attempts at conversation that distract long enough for you all to get comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise Husk ended up in the middle, the two of you shamelessly cuddling up to him on either side. He's a bit tense for a while, but when he does allow himself to calm down and relax he is a purring mess; a sound that is only intensified when you absentmindedly pet the fluff on his head. Eventually all of you become quiet, eyes heavy with a need for sleep and the most comfortable you all have ever been. It's during this, moments away from drifting off, that husk manages two words.

“Love you” he slurs out, but to who neither you are Angel are sure. So instead you take it as a sentiment meant for both of you. You lay a soft kiss against his head before snuggling closer and Angel does the same.

You could definitely get used to this.

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Before Her Show

Pairing: Envy Adams x GN! Scott's Sibling! Reader.

Summary: Imagine being Scott's sibling and having a secret affair with Envy Adams.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Oral sex (fem receiving), backstage sex, Envy is kinda mean, cheating? (if you want to imagine Envy is with Todd).

Writing Time: 1 hour.

Word Count: 516.

Format: Kinktober Imagine, Day 4.

A/N:

Day 4 of Kinktober!I'm a lot more pleased with this than I thought I'd be. The prompt was such a bad one (that I made up) but I think I made it work really well. Please enjoy! Who's ready for the anime in November?

Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober 2023 works.

---///---

Imagine sneaking around with the World's biggest singer. Envy Adams had it all, everyone would die for less than half of what you got from her.

Sadly the sneaking around wasn't just to avoid bad press on the lead singer of the biggest Indie rock back ever, but so you didn't ruin your relationship with your brother. Scott was an asshole, but sleeping with the girl who broke his heart was just too much.

But there was something exciting with risking it all, it made your small quiet moments with Envy just all that more hot and loving. You loved the soft cuddles with Envy just as much as you loved the hard crazy fucking you'd both do too.

The way she would grab you suddenly back stage and drag you into her dressing room right before a show or interview because,

"I need something from you to keep me going, love.."

Imagine Envy locking the door before skipping past you and sitting herself down on her vanity table with her legs spread wide. You would stare at her in shock until you looked back at you with a glare, "I don't have all day brat!"

Yep, that was Envy for you.

Imagine moving down to your knees and moving over to Envy and taking hold of her thighs before placing a small kitten lick over her clothed cunt.

Imagine Envy wearing a white tank top, leather jacket and a black miniskirt. Always with a white thong to make it easier for you to pull her underwear to the side and get to work. Which you did, making Envy throw her head back and fist one hand into your hair and the other hand kept her balance on the top.

Imagine Envy pulling your hair gently and moaning as you devoured her folds. Her slick coated your face and tasted so sweet, you almost couldn't stop yourself. Her moans and shivers would make you hot and move one of your hands low to toy with yourself through your clothes.

It wouldn't take too long for Envy to cum. When she would, she would push your head away from her and slowly calm herself from her climax. You looked up at her eagerly, hoping today would be one of those rare days she's getting you off after you helped her out.

But alast, it was never one of those rare days. Envy fixed her clothes and kissed your cheek as she left the room, "See ya later honey! I've got a show to do."

Envy was so cruel.

[stripedwolf88]

The Eras Tour: Paris Night 1 (My Thoughts)

ALLLLLLLLRIGHT. So because @bettysgarden12 wanted to know my reactions and thoughts on everything that happened today, I thought I would share with the rest of yous. It's probably not going to be very in depth or analytical so fair warning on that hehe. Also this probably isn't in order of the show because my memory is trash haha.

1.First things first. The lover bodysuit. WHaT iN ThE FRiLly HeLl?!?!? I literally still don't know whether or not I dreamt of seeing that new bodysuit. Definitely, lesbian colors represented there and it was confirmed with the orange blazer she wore for The Man. It was not an accident I'm sure to have the inside be pink too.

(Side note: we all knew that The Archer was going to get cut. It actually makes a lot of sense too. I think we are past Taylor asking us to stay, not that she doesn't still hope us too. It's more like she is fine with blowing everything up now instead of focusing on the worry of messing everything up. At least I hope that is the case. We're here for ya Taylor. You got this.)

2. Second, the Fearless dress. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I also saw that it looks really reminiscent of the original dress she wore for her Fearless tour. It's almost like she is going back to what once was.

3. Third, transitioning right into Red was something. The new Red shirt says "This is not Taylor's Version" when Red is in fact Taylor's again. Some of my moots pointed out that it could be referencing the whole Real Taylor vs Taylor The Brand theory that we as a community have been developing for quite some time. With this thinking, it would mean that the Taylor we are seeing is not someone Taylor claims as her own or something like that. It's not truly her which we all knew already.

4. Fourth, we saw a new intro for Speak Now (now officially just Enchanted since Long Live has been axed.) I don't have much to say on that other than I wasn't surprised that Long Live got cut. This cut also makes sense if we are thinking that Taylor is gonna burn it down. No more reminding about the good times or the "needing" fans to stand by her forever.

5. Fifth, combining folklore and evermore was unexpected but also not? Idk it made sense and to me it just seems like it was easier to combine them since room had to be made for TTPD.

6. Sixth, Rep was Rep. Nothing really changed from what I could tell or remember other than THE FREAKING GLASS CASES SHATTERING!!! YOU BREAK THAT GLASS CLOSET TAYLOR! WHOOP WHOOP!

7. Seventh, 1989 outfit was...something. It's just not my cup of tea visually. I DID NOT notice the lion or tiger(???) charm she had on until someone else pointed it out. Very interesting either way.

8. Eighth, putting TTPD before Midnights was an interesting choice. The whole theory that we still have to meet her at Midnight (credit to my moots for pointing this out again) is supported by this I think.

9. Ninth, the dress for TTPD is amazing!! And so are the other two outfits. The marching band uniform and it's possible reference back to ME! music video? It has me in shambles.

10. Tenth, the performance for Who Afraid of Little Old Me was visually amazing and she sang it beautifully (no surprise there) with such emotion that it was impossible for me to look away. Her levitating across the stage was also freaking awesome!

11. Next the empty cages imagery?? The nurses pulling her away from her lover??? The image of her crouching in the middle of this weird ass place??? That one really kind of freaked me out. It was eerie and heartbreaking in a way I'm not quite able to explain at this moment.

12. I was conflicted about I Can Do It With A Broken Heart both before, during, and after the performance. I had a feeling she was going to perform it and I kind of wanted her to just to hear her sing it live but then not because I knew how the fans were going to react. I really did face-palm when everyone yelled "More!" on the livestream but we all knew they were going to. The transition into ICDIWABH made me want to throw something at the TV but I also did snort on the petulance on Taylor's face for the little act. I really liked the old Hollywood theme for the visuals and the dance. It was pleasing to watch. BY THE WAY....HAVING THE OUTFIT FOR ICDIWABH ECHO HER OUTFITS ON REP IS REALLY SOMETHING. She bamboozled me again.

13. Midniiiiiiights. THE BODYSUIT IS MY FAVORITE ONE OUT OF THE ONES WE HAVE SEEN SO FAR. I'm glad that Mastermind was kept. I didn't think that she would have taken away anything from the Midnights era but if there was I had this weird concern that it would be Mastermind. Thank god my anxiety was unnecessary.

14. The surprise soooooongs~ Paris is a favorite of mine so I'm happy she played it but also of course she did. That was another predictable thing that happened. Her performance of loml was again heartfelt. She seems really happy to sing these new songs and it shows.

15. I am pretty freaking sure that the Bejeweled lights were a LOT more colorful and rainbowy than usual. Was that just me? Please tell me it wasn't just me!

Overall, it is safe to say that I was not prepared for the absolute chaos that today brought.

Taylor, it seems like you're really doing this (I reeeeeally hope that is the case) and I'm so happy for you if that is what is happening. You do you and you show us what's up. I'm looking forward to it. <3

[idontlikeem]

i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

[tacticalhimbo]

PALE STATIC EXCHANGE... 2! Posting this a bit early, but I'm very excited to have been able to dip my toes into @palestaticexchange this time around! It's very cool to see how alive the Disco Elysium fandom is.

That said, this piece is for @glitch-critter , who asked for "stuff relating to HDB's experience/psyche, especially with regards to electrochemistry/addiction".

WORDS: 2.3K

I really liked the prompts provided, and I thought it would be cool to kind of explore how relapse and recovery can manifest in forms different than the baseline addiction. As such, it would seem Harry has found himself over-correcting himself in regard to his work...

I hope you do enjoy it <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Coastal winds were much tamer as they rolled through the densely packed buildings of Central Jamrock, only just able to sustain themselves as they lapped around the perimeter of Precinct 41. Harry wouldn't be here, if not for Kim. It was he who'd defended him to Vicquemare. He who'd attested to the idea that Harry could get better, with a little guidance and a lot of patience. He who'd truly believed in him, despite everything they faced. Creeping along his senses was the smell of blood shed by belief and held together by vengeance. Remnants of a decades' long war, and its lasting effects on the human psyche—both those that were in tact, and those that were already fragmented—as the world evolved around them. The stillness of the air was dry, just as was the mouth of the disco detective who'd found himself falling into familiar habit. Eat, sleep, work, party—

[LOGIC] No, not anymore. You've given that up now.

[VOLITION] You are a changed man. Or so you would like to have others believe.

Harry is a changed man, or so he would like others to believe. He would like to believe it.

Yet the familiar dryness that consumed Harry did not feel changed. Nor did the aching that settled into his musculature, drawing the thickened fibers back like that of a bowstring, arming them—arming him—to snap at a moment's notice. His stomach felt a familiar sickness. One that had consumed him during the infancy stages of the Martinaise investigation. A horrific hangover, but this one was different. It was dry. He was dry. And that irritated him. Thick brows knitted as his psyche wandered to the idea, briefly leaning into the comforting embrace of familiarity of outrage. It was easier, after all, to be mad at the circumstance than to navigate it. But… It didn't feel right. No, he wasn't angry about it. Perhaps a part of him was. But Harry? Him? He was uncertain. Afraid. Every time he wet his lips in consideration, he knew he would not be able to stop himself. Not when—

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] It's a miracle you even lasted this long. It's like something has snapped in you—a nerve ending. You've lost yourself, Harry. Truly, lost yourself. And god knows how long it will take you to come back this time.

The subtle emphasis makes his skin crawl as his head shakes, hands pausing to linger under the chilled water pouring forth into the sink basin. He sighed, looking to the dingy mirror before him.

Through the speckles of old debris and matted dust, and past the droplets of dew that form with the arterial spray of the sink's faucet (a sign that the mechanism, much like the rest of the restroom, is in need of repair; it has been for as long as one can remember), the visage that greets Harry is… healthier. It invokes a sense of pride not too dissimilar to when he'd first whispered his name—the one he had chosen, not the one he was given—and truly seen himself for the first time. Like the waves, it swelled briefly before crashing down. Fell upon the invariable signs of his past habits. Like looking through the bottom of a liquor-filled glass, it was hazy; a deluge of desperation and need encapsulated by bloatedness and swollenness. Sat neatly among the discolored planes. Pallid skin darkened and reddened as the blood vessels beneath the skin remained agape, prepared for consumption.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Telangiectasia. Small blood vessels sat near the skin's surface. It is natural for them to sit so high, but normally they remain unseen until there is an increase in blood flow.

[INLAND EMPIRE] Recall how one's features become rosy when hearts begin to flutter, or how the sun's warmth seems to sit upon the apples of one's cheeks like a comforting blanket.

[DRAMA] There is an art to this.

[LOGIC] There is not. This is a different sort of happenstance. The events that have led to your flushed appearance are not a simple point of life, nor something to be proud of.

But it is, a simple point of life. Accentuation of Harry's simple existence. It is not something he can change, especially as that nausea begins to grow in his gut. His mouth feels full of cotton; his body so writhe with tension that he begins to tremble and grow dizzy. His nose feels like a small balloon in the middle of his face. His tongue feels swollen and snail-like, floundering about amidst tainted teeth as trembling hands cusp beneath the faucet and draw splashes of water toward his lips.

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] Drink, but it will not replace what you need. No, this is nothing, brother. The best cure for a disease like this is indulgence. Morphine, cigarettes, rum… You need them again. You will not survive without them. This? This is—

[COMPOSURE] Embarrassing.

[AUTHORITY] Weak. How do you expect anybody to take you seriously? Nobody would listen to someone so pathetic.

The taunts were met with the sound of the door slamming; a minute signal in the grand scheme of things. It went unnoticed by those in the wing's hallway. To them, it was business as usual. If not Harry, then Satellite-Officer Vicquemare. If not Vicquemare, then Captain Pryce.

[RHETORIC] The police aren't there to mess up; the police are there to preserve the mess.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Says the professor of Ecole Normale de Revachol. Someone has been reading in his spare time.

[LOGIC] Or simply observing with a clear mind.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] This is a dangerous line of thinking to be falling down. Your past airing of grievances with the RCM has earned you several stern talkings to. In his office, Captain Pryce grimaces at the clutched papers in his aging hands.

[RHETORIC] It was addiction that saved you. Easier to blame the abstract than to examine the system.

A shiver. Harry wasn't the only one struggling. He knew that, even before his days of total sobriety. This sort of culture was normalized; expected of its officers. Many of his habits he fell into through the hands of his coworkers, even if they were not his introduction to the idea. Of course, things were different now. After his outburst, and the disaster in Martinaise, the RCM began cracking down on the use of substances among its officers. Many, like Harry, suddenly found themselves thrust into the true responsibility of duty. Conscious and aware to the severity of their workloads. Many quit. Many more fell into old habits and were systemically demoted until the work no longer supported their needs. And those, like Harry, leaned into the work. Buried themselves in mountains of paperwork chasing that adrenaline-fueled high by doing something—anything—to feel alive.

Yet they never did. Harry never did.

Time blurred past and he was, effectively, the same old corpse he always was. A puppet of the RCM's agenda. The failed Dick Mullen. The swaying body strung from the rafters, dancing along to the fluttering shimmer of the disco ball.

Then, there is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. An inordinate amount of time passes, not even measurable by the distant, rhythmic technological beeps.

[PERCEPTION] Hospital monitors? No. Alarms. An alarm.

[LOGIC] It must be morning. We should get up.

[VOLITION] We shouldn't. We can't. It's much too difficult.

The soft rustling of sheets.

[PAIN THRESHOLD] Easy…

Muscles ache and the silence is inevitably broken by a low groan. Sunlight filters in through dusted curtains, particles coming to fill the air as a heavy hand finds itself upon the alarm clock beside him. Equally heavy feet find the floor, though remain unable to hold the body above them. In a quick sequence, Harry finds himself on the floor, slumped and slouched in an all too familiar position. The aches stop, albeit briefly. Like a fly to the ointment, his conscience sticks to it. Chases it as the limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering awakens itself once more. He is on his feet again, cotton cloth sliding across the floor as his body wills itself to the bathroom.

A mirror hangs above a bent, not broken, sink. Languid hands find themselves upon the faucet, though are gentler in the way they manipulate it. Hot water sprays from the stem and steam covers the mirror. Harry cannot see himself, just the outline of a man.

[CONCEPTUALIZATION] There is an irony in seeing the image. It was not always like this.

[VOLITION] Those days are long gone, now.

Cloth falls from the man's frame, though it remains obscured by the apparatus before him. He slowly reaches his hand toward the surface of the mirror…

[INLAND EMPIRE] You're certain you wish to do this? You may not like what you see there.

[HARRY] I don't care.

A deft motion. The condensation on the reflective surface gives under the palm that wipes it, leaving in its path a clear view to the tired visage that stares back. To the naked, pallid flesh that rolls from a slumped frame. Hair highlights various pathways, traveling down between taped and tucked mounds and rolling along the rumbling stomach, and continuing through the fog and beyond the sink's barrier. It traverses the adhesive edges of Harry's binding (he's still thankful he has learned this alternative; not only does it keep his natural form, but it allows him to wear his shirts open with pride) and over his shoulders. Down thick arms to the bruised knuckles that hold the porcelain lip of the sink. It flutters out, then reappears upon his rounded jaw, mutton chops growing thickened around his lips. He's due for a shave, but a part of him enjoys this rugged look. It's… different. He's different.

He's happy.

[COMPOSURE] You're exhausted.

[SAVOIR FAIRE] You've dropped the toothbrush. Again. Your hands feel foreign to your own body.

His eyes follow dirt-stained grout lines down to the floor, only to find that sad little toothbrush dried beside the trash bin. He's exhausted. Creaking and groaning, Harry bends to discard the brush; opts to simply swish some mouthwash and try not to think of the burning sensation that draws his nose to scrunch and his eyes to water. He does it twice. Perhaps to mask the fact he has not properly brushed and will have to save that act for after his shift. Perhaps because he feels he deserves the ache; it invigorates him. Begins to bring him back to life and pull him from the vice grip weariness holds on him.

But it isn't enough.

Not as he washes himself in the shower, nearly tripping over the tub's lip as he climbs out afterward. Nor as he finds himself slumped against the wardrobe door, idly flipping through his clothing options and looking for his RCM jacket.

[PERCEPTION] It… should be here. Why isn't it here? Don't tell me we've lost it again.

[LOGIC] Nonsense. We brought it home. It is here, just not put away.

It's not enough as he waits for the toast to pop from its apparatus, where the sudden click and ding nearly makes him crawl out of his skin. Coffee spills on his shirt, bringing him back to the wardrobe once more, digging around for a new shirt and tie. Back to the kitchen. New coffee in his cup. Butter and jam on cooling bread. Crumbs dust his facial hair, only unsettled from their rest when he reaches to scratch a persistent itch. It is then when the realization clicks.

He's exhausted. He is unmoving. Those early morning aches have not been shaken, and have in fact only worsened with his moving through the morning routine. His mind has been quieter; nearly absent. He can barely recall what he's done and what he hasn't, with the only clues being the visible changes in his appearance that signify—at the very least—that he's done the basics and cleaned himself. But that's just it. If he can't even recall this, how in the world could he find himself responsible for the safety of others. How could he find himself amidst the greater world around him, with dozens of eyes on him—some pleading, some scrutinizing?

He'd done it before, under worse circumstances… but he wasn't that kind of animal anymore. He didn't want to be that kind of animal anymore.

Which is why, with a swaying physique and a hoarseness in his voice, he found himself on the phone with whichever unfortunate soul would find themselves on the other end of the line. Unfortunate, not for taking in his call-in, but for having to present it to Vicquemare and Pryce.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Early morning ire. Slender knuckles knock on the door to ask permission to enter; it is granted. From his throne, Pryce sneers at the individual before him. His brow twitches, his posture stiffens.

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] What the hell do you mean he called out?

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] A pregnant pause. The avoidance of eye contact.

[UNKNOWN] He just did… Said something about feeling under the weather.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] The response was faint. Nearly whispered as the other end of the reigning duo entered with a stack of papers.

[JEAN VICQUEMARE] Who called out?

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] Your star pupil.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Jean's posture slackens and he sneers. It's evident the sarcastic jab was more than enough to clue him in. Yet there is a subtleness in his eyes that almost suggests concern. He sets the papers on Pryce's desk then walks out without another word.

Shoulders slump and a ragged sigh escapes as Harry undoes his tie and discards it, absentmindedly tossing it to the coffee table. His shirt follows as he sinks into the comfortable contour of the couch. Tired eyes slip shut, coaxing the surrounding musculature to relax and begin a rippling effect. He melts, and for once he can feel the day passing.

And for once, he does not care. He deserves this rest, and nothing can convince him otherwise.

[semperreformanda]

i've been at war with myself for the past 3 years of our marriage, between "oh living like this is fine, maybe this is gonna sanctify us, make us more adaptable and flexible" to "actually? i just feel like a house guest all the time, like i'm living under my mom's house, but with more rules and anxiety. we have a baby now, we need to be more established as a family. we NEED to move out". it's been fine before we had our baby and when i was working because i wasn't home a lot. but now it's a whole different picture. i feel bad but i am (and my husband too) so relieved when my MIL is at work or somewhere else because we don't have to overthink everything (is x and y clean enough? etc.) or be ready to stand our ground on parenting boundaries ("sorry, he can't have too much tv"). i feel like i'm always on high alert. postpartum didn't make it any easier. i wanted to bond with my newborn son and gain the confidence to soothe him and fix what's needed to be fixed, but that was difficult when she or other family members would always go "give me him," and tried to soothe him themselves. and as much as i wanted to say "no, i can do it," i couldn't, because it felt like i owed her that much for living under her house rent-free. now that the postpartum fog has settled and i've gained a bit more confidence in becoming a new mom, i realize there's new hurdles we need to overcome in this new stage. i still feel anxiety when she is home and my baby starts crying (as he does when he is being changed, or when he realizes it's bed time), because then she's going to start getting all up in mine and baby's face to soothe him and then saying orders to "do this/do that" while a baby is screaming in my face. sometimes i wonder if i'm overreacting, but then she leaves for work and i can finally breathe a sigh of relief. she's a great MIL and grandma but i desperately need the space to learn how to be a mom and a wife and all those things in between. little things like being able to use the kitchen whenever we want, making a meal whenever we want, being able to leave the house a little dirty to go to a dinner and not rushing home to clean up before she gets home, being able to host dinner parties or bible studies or fellowship things because it's our own space, nobody nagging my husband or calling him names. i think the last one is the worst; i could handle it then but not now with a baby. i could never let him hear her call his dad an idiot over something silly like not folding boxes the way she wanted him to. we barely have privacy, or storage for our things, and when our baby grows into a toddler (which is soon), how are his tantrums going to be met as we try to discipline him but she gets in our faces with orders of "do this! do that!"? i'm trying so hard to stay calm and be content but it's difficult. i feel so relieved our pastor knows these struggles, and i can talk to my close church friends for advice. so thankful for the Body of Christ.

[spongeknife]

An Idea That Would've Helped Me Process My System Better (also hello i haven't posted in a while)

TL;DR IF YOU CANT READ THROUGH If your system is in recovery and feels as though everyone's just becoming defensive/closed off, it may be (partially) because of phrasing when discussing different alters, as an alter may not feel truly supported or connected to the challenges you guy's face. This is about recovery and specifically about when trying to process a system through a third party (in my examples I use medical professionals - MP, but this could include anyone) When I was first open to getting support for my system, I remember being told in many different ways that "an(y) alter HAD a purpose, but don't necessarily have that same purpose now - so let's try to help them change their behaviors" WHICH is a lot easier said than done, right? But, I also didn't have the experience to fully understand what that means or how to support any alters into participating so a lot of helpful advice wasn't usable. SO, I felt frustrated and mostly like I was stuck banging my head against a wall to get the system to a better place. AND the entire system was feeling generally tense because everybody felt vindicated by each other. Alter(s) with an "older purpose" felt they were underappreciated, especially, and were looping back to not wanting to seek support. I started to see the bigger problem (and picture) when I was able to understand why some of the alters felt they were not being taken seriously. And that the wording MPs were using weren't very empathetic. Most of the time, when referencing these alters, words like "useful and not useful", "purposeful and not purposeful", and "help and unhelpful" were used. Along with this, sessions about those alters talked about how they needed to change now, or how they didn't have a "function" now (or their function wasn't good/beneficial). When the system started to change phrasing, and started to change wording to be more understanding of experiences/characteristics we couldn't understand, the alters were more willing to work and communicate as a cohesive unit. If you're a system who's trying to recover but can't seem to get past a communication stage, I would try becoming less goal-oriented and more process-oriented. We have done this by: -creating reaction trees to help think out harmful actions [goal/motive -> actions to achieve motive -> intended consequences AND unintended consequences -> was original goal achieved? -> ideas for different actions to have the same goal that could be used instead] is an example we use -doing venn diagrams of how someone feels about the alter/action vs how the alter feels/thinks about the action (with a similarity bubble to see what things are in common) -taking ANY (genuine/reasonable) feedback from the alter being discussed, even if it's just a paper with angry scribbles (feedback shows an awareness of communication, and can be worked on to become clearer later - it shows a first step) I'm not quite sure if this will help anyone, but when I think back to the start of my recovery I remember being told what NOT to do, but not really being told what better examples could look like. In any case, of course advice or anything will vary from system to system, and what worked for me may not work for you. This is just a generalized idea if you're not sure where to start and don't think this will do any harm to try (if you're unsafe or not ready, please follow your best judgement on what to do). I also mostly say this because I was seeing this kind of thing on a lot of system recovery pages (Not just on tumblr, but on other websites as well), and I think for some people it's not really important (phrasing may not be a big deal), but I feel for some systems this may help/make more sense. (also please know my intent is well even if I worded things a little weird or rambled a bit, I don't really want discourse or anything about this, i just am not very good at communicating my thoughts)

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Remember (an unforgettable moment)

Pt 2 of this

Warnings;the same as the first part of think

Here you go my dear @randomly-a-fan!! 🖤🖤

I tried my best, but it's not my best work 😂🥲

-(recap )

"C'mon, were gonna be late!" Aquarius called out, laughing when she sees Archie's eyes widen at the building in the distance, a theater-

"wait?? Really??" He gasped, mouth hanging open as he practically bounced in happiness, finally putting the pieces together...-

**

They passed through doors and metal detectors and the ticket scanners, all the while Archie happily rambled away, unknowingly to both him and Pennywise that Aquarius was beaming at the thought of seeing her favorite band once more. On the inside, she was way more excited than Archie-

She'd be bouncing off the walls herself right now if she could.

As they found their places near the front, Aquarius could feel her heart pounding our of her chest.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when a younger woman with a Ghost shirt made a comment

"oooh, it must be so cool going to a show with your sister!"

The woman looked at Archie, who scrunched his face as he corrected her, telling her that it's his mom, making a small 'ew' noise. Pennywise laughed, grinning from ear to ear as he watched the interaction. His mother was pretty flattered, even if he was looking at the apologetic stranger.

The show hadn't started, yet, so there was the intermission songs as the theater filled with people. If it wasn't for the fact that she'd see her favorite band, she would have probably been stressed at how many people there are, but she didn't think much about it, too focused on the closed curtains, where she could faintly see through the gap between them, the stage operators(?) putting instruments and such, making the scene.

"It's not about to start until 15 minutes" Pennywise groaned, stating almost too loudly.

"Why don't we go to the merchandise table, hm? " He pouted like a child. Before Aquarius could tell him she didn't have much money, the places they have having cost a LOT, he continued

"My treat, pretty blue" he stopped pouting and replaced it with a grin, giving his wife a wink. He then looked down at Archie

"don't worry, birthday boy-

You're getting something, too" the young clown jumped in joy, hugging his father as the latter awkwardly patted his back. They made their way through the crowd, it being slightly easier with how tall Pennywise is, even in his human form(because yes, they're all obviously in their human forms).

It took them approximately 5 minutes, fortunately, to get to the table. Aquarius kept looking back the way they came, stressing a bit that it would start while they were here, as the lines were a bit long

"-Star??" Her husband was waving a hand in front of her face to her attention, and before she knew it, it was their turn already. She blushed a bit in embarrassment, before picking from the bunch, asking Archie what he picked as they got their sizes. Pennywise paid and hesitantly got a Crucifix, only to please Archie as the boy wanted him to have some type of merch too.

With approximately 5 minutes left, the Greys went back to their seats, making their ways a bit harder through the crowd and people, some already slightly drunk and rowdy.

As soon as they heard the opening song, Star jumped out of her seat, feeling as if she'd just been carried to the past, feeling like a teen again. While her son was happily bouncing, singing to the songs he knows, she counted on her husband(?) to let her lean slightly into him, her eyes wide as she looked to he new Papa on stage. It wasn't Secondo, the one she saw, but she was more than happy nonetheless, grinning as big, if not bigger, than Archie.

*

It was about almost at the end of the concert, after screaming her lungs out with her son, Pennywise supervising them, that she felt like she'd *really* faint. During 'Cirice', as she leaned against the fence at the front, security guards' gazes everywhere, she almost jumped out of her skin, Papa IV's, known as Copia, mismatched eyes glancing down at her at one of the most famous parts, what the fans calls 'ciricing'.

She tensed up, earplugs in barely drowning the music but protecting her eardrums. She shakily extended her hand as he did his, getting on her tip toes.

She could feel Pennywise's eyes on her, but she couldn't care much at the moment as the singer got on his knees, the gap between the stage and the fence still small enough so that the tip of her fingers could touch the gloved hand without the satanic pope falling down the stage.

"Can't you see that you're lost without me?

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart

I can see through the scars inside you—"

The eye contact was intense, but she couldn't look away. Her heart skipped multiple beat when she felt his thumb gently running over her fingers, and before she knew it, he was looking expectantly at her. She knew what was coming, and despite her lover behind her, she nodded, the ghost of a smile on the singer's painted lips, before he lightly, barely kissed her fingers. He gave her a small wink, glancing behind her as Pennywise looked shocked, jealous even.

When he got back up and further down the stage, she still hadn't snapped out of it.

She felt Pennywise's arm wrap around her shoulder protectively, but surprisingly enough, he was lightly smiling. Not his normal daring one, but a soft one.

Archie, having seen everything, tugged on his mother's shirt, face shocked. They gave eachother knowing looks, all they needed to say.

The boy didn't look sad one bit, catching confettis after mummy dust and 'dollar bills', and she couldn't avec been more proud of how mature he was, despite her having touched the singer's hand, even if barely. He could have thrown a fit, but he didn't, enjoying the show will all his soul.

*

When they got out, voices hoarse, Pennywise had to carry their son out, the latter having spent all his energy, now tired. He obviously didn't mind though.

For one of the few rare times, he he felt satisfied by seeing someone happy, and son and wife;his 'Pretty Blue'. He smiled as he saw her leaning slightly into him, rambling away about how happy she was, while still keeping their son in the situation, saying how happy he was, how it'll be a core memory...

For once, the Greys had a good day.

[howtofightwrite]

Do you have any cites for your statement in the "war crimes" post, about the IRA being an unusual case where the more moderate faction was able to dominate and cut out the more ruthless factions? Not doubting you, I'd just like to know more about it and how this happened to buck the trend.

Not without digging much deeper into the IRA than than I have in the past.

It's worth noting that during The Troubles (the conflict in Northern Ireland), even the moderate paramilitary elements on both sides were pretty brutal. That said, I think this might be as simple as the IRA was able to negotiate a resolution to the conflict.

Ireland regained its independence from the UK in 1922, however six of the nation's thirty-two counties chose to remain in the UK at that time. The status quo deteriorated in the late-'60s, with sectarian violence following. Again, there's more to unpack here than I can do justice to in a quick overview. For one thing, the IRA did have continuity from the IRA of the Irish War of Independence (1919-21.)

This leads to some interesting anomalies regarding the IRA. For one thing, they had a relatively achievable goal. They wanted the return of self-rule to those six counties in Northern Ireland. This wasn't a situation where they were trying to overthrow their entire country, most of the time. (At various points in time the IRA did have a goal of overthrowing the Irish government as well, and unifying all 32 counties under a single rule. But, there was a lot less movement in that direction.)

Another factor that's almost unique, was the negotiated resolution. You basically never see that in situations like this because the insurgent elements almost always have a goal of eliminating the existing government. However, the IRA wasn't trying to overthrow the UK (even if they did launch a mortar attack on 10 Downing St. in 1991.)

Ironically, an extremist branch of the IRA (referred to as the “Real IRA”) staged a particularly bloody bombing while the Good Friday/Belfast Accords were being negotiated in 1998. This is something I warned about derailing negotiations like this, however, in this case the Real IRA apologized for the bombing, claiming that it was not intended to kill civilians. (When the Real IRA sent their bomb threats, there was a miscommunication about where it had been placed, and caused the police to evacuate civilians towards the bomb.) The Real IRA proceeded join the ceasefire that they'd previously ignored.

This highlights a weird anomaly, in this specific case even the extremists had a “unity of purpose,” and I can't say exactly why.

So, in a lot of cases where you're dealing with rebel groups, they have a unified goal of overthrowing their oppressors and ruling their nation. However, it is much easier to say you want to rule a nation than it is to actually organize a government to do so. Especially when there are ideological differences within your organization. In the the case of the IRA, there was a legitimate government already in place with the capacity to take over those counties. And even the negotiated result saw the return of existing political parties.

So, without spending a lot of time digging deeper into this, and looking at all of the IRA's schism groups and what became of them, the short citation would be that the Good Friday/Belfast Accord happened. That Northern Ireland exists today in a state of, relative, peace. That's not how these stories tend to end.

-Starke

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[gravesung-moving]

how do they deal with being sick?

because i'm grumbly about my body keeping me hostage for the whole damn week so i'm hitting them with the beam too

KEON — overwork and denial. he'll find a way to keep doing work no matter what state he's in. he's too rich to have to worry about PTO but if he did, he would never use it. if he has to stay home (because he's not an imbecile caveman, he won't spread his fucking germs around) he'll work remotely and call into meetings. if he's feverish and bedridden, he'll work in bed. that isn't to say he doesn't take care of himself; in fact, keon is almost mathematical about it. he has a set of vitamins to take every morning, tablets of day/night cold medicine, different teas for different types of illnesses, and will skip past the homemade soup stage and straight-up make bone broth to sip throughout the day. it has all of the nutrients chicken soup has, but it's more efficient. he's a good cook, he likes to make things, but when he's sick it's easier to just throw a bunch of bones, spices/seasonings and stock into a pot and let it slow-cook for a whole day. he's a fuckin machine. he's so used to not being taken care of that he doesn't expect someone else to step in and help him. i think there is a part of him (the child-part, buried deep) that feels sad about this, but it's an old, resigned, weary kind of sad that he doesn't expect to change.

GETO — surprisingly gracefully. he doesn't often ask for help, because similarly to keon he had to deal with illness alone growing up, but his heart is more open about accepting it when it's offered. he sleeps a looooottttt when he's sick. it's one of the only situations in which he can be out like a light for 12 hours a day without having to deal with nightmares and sleep paralysis, so he takes the opportunity to catch up on rest that he misses during work hours. he also drinks a lot of tea and munches on many snacks throughout the day. if there's something productive he can do while he's in bed, he will, but otherwise geto will read, meditate, and spend the time with himself mulling over all of the thoughts he's been too busy to chew on.

CHIAKI — gets really grumbly and clingy when she's sick. she's used to her parents taking care of her during childhood (one of them was always home, even if the other wasn't) & is always looking for someone to curl up on even if it means getting them sick too sry she's a menace. tends to go more for porridge — congee, oats, etc. — than brothy soups. like she'll eat a soup if it's given to her, happily, but if she had to choose between the two she'd go with a savory porridge any day. it's probably one of the few things she knows how to cook and produce a decent result. even if she'll be grumbling at the pot and sniffling the whole time.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Candy pop dealing with the 5 stages of mourning please

Like I've done a few times, I combined all the five stages into one as I'm still not fully mentally at my best.

Candy, fortunately or unfortunately, already has experience when it comes to losing those he cares deeply for, considering he lost his whole family in his past, at that time to his own hands. Losing you, however, isn't all that much easier on him. You were his future, someone he was ready to spend the rest of his life with, and yet you were ripped away from him all the same. He doesn't spend much time at all in the denial stage of that, but realizing you're gone was one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

He doesn't really go through an anger stage. As he's had to cope with death before, he doesn't see the point in burning bridges with himself or others when it won't change anything that's already happened. Bargaining, however, comes much easier to him. He's all alone again he feels, and because of this he quickly tries to strike up bonds with others. The loneliness was the hardest part of losing his family, and so this time around he's quick to seek support from others. He spends a lot of time with the other residents, trying to stay close to them, trying to bond with them, to get support, and they do support him quite easily. They talk with him, try and laugh with him, try and comfort him. They make sure he knows he isn't alone and that they aren't going anywhere, and he appreciates it.

Depression hits him like a train. Candy is usually so full of glee, always smiling, always laughing, but for the first good long while after you pass there's not a smile or laugh to be had from him. Tears are often shed, and he finds himself a lot quieter than he's been in a hard, long while, but he does his best to move through it for your sake. He spends a lot of time talking to Slender, going through therapy to process his emotions, unlike the first time he experienced true loss, and it helped him quite a bit. It wasn't easy, not in the slightest bit, but Candy is willing to do anything for your sake, and right now that means working toward a brighter future that he can more easily remember and cherish you in. Acceptance begins to come to him, slowly but surely, and he takes it in stride. His blank faces slowly work up to small smiles, and then quiet laughter, and then bubbly, excited faces as his days grow warmer. He always misses you, that's a given, but he eagerly works toward a brighter, happier future. One where he can be happy and not feel guilty about it, one where he knows you'd be proud of him, where you'd be happy for him, and that's really all that matters to Candy. In then end, you're all that matters to him, and he'll do his best to live a life you would enjoy, no matter what.

[golbrocklovely]

i saw marianas trench the other day (sept. 30) and here is how all of that went down lol

so i stayed in the city at a hotel for the night bc it was just easier to do that than to drive all the way back home after the concert.

i had to get to the venue early bc i got the vip package so that i could meet the band. honestly, i didn't even really want to meet them, i just wanted to get as close to the stage as possible and that was honestly the only way.

and fun fact, i basically got barricade so it worked out well for me lol

i had to be there at 3, but that was also when i was supposed to check into the hotel. luckily i was able to check in early, and then the venue was only a five minute drive down the road. i get to the venue at 3ish. i went alone to this concert, bc in the past i would go with my ex best friend… but since clearly we aren't on good terms anymore, i was by myself. i was thinking "oh my god, am i gonna be alone the whole time and speak to no one??" bc i am an awkward person and don't know how to make friends. but luckily, standing in line for so long, i ended up making friends with the girls behind me. one of them was even giving out friendship bracelets which was cool and i got two of them :)

we all hung out pretty much the entire time, even well into the concert. it ended up being like ten of us in the end, all women minus two guys lol i had a lot of fun with the group i became friends with and now i follow a couple of them on insta which is nice.

so we did the q&a first, which was cool. i'll be honest i kinda forget everything that was asked. here's what i do remember:

what are josh's inspirations for their music?

he said he's not really into pop music anymore (or it doesn't inspire him like it once did) and he listed hans zimmer as an inspiration. he also stated that he's always trying to outdo himself and the band from the previous record.

2. was it intentional to make MPT, EA, and Astoria almost like a trilogy?

no, but he did purposefully choose to make things connect later down the line bc he never heard that in pop records and he wanted that to be the case with their music. also an ex of his gave him the idea to use the line from say anything in MPT 3.

3. if they were a type of egg what would they be?

one of them answered for all of them. josh - scrambled, matt - over easy, ian - rotten??, mike - also rotten, or hard boiled lol

4. if they could all switch jobs in the band, what would they be?

no one wanted to do josh's job lol matt said mike bc playing bass is easy. mike said matt bc he could be a shitty guitarist and still get paid (obviously a joke). ian said mike, and josh said ian.

5. what do you guys do when you have a day off?

nothing really. explore the city if they can. josh stays away from everyone and doesn't talk and just watches netflix or plays video games.

there were other questions but i'm blanking on them now tbh.

then afterwards it was time for the meet and greet. and boy… was that awkward lol

see, i kinda knew it was gonna be a bit weird only bc we weren't allowed to hug or touch the guys at all. which hey, i get it. the first five shows got cancelled and rescheduled bc josh got sick and couldn't sing. and even if that wasn't the case, we gotta respect boundaries and if that's what they wanted, so be it. my only problem is that…. why have a meet and greet in the first place if you are so scared to get sick?? just do the q&a and maybe give us more merch or something. or charge less. idk. not only that, but josh literally runs into the crowd every night and DANCES WITH THE AUDIENCE so i don't get the whole needing to keep their distance from fans. it just felt really weird walking up and saying hi and having to keep a distance.

i love mtrench and have been a fan of them literally since the beginning. like i was supporting them on myspace, that's how long ago i've been a fan (since roughly 2006/7 when i was 10/11). but i've always felt like they are a band that never wanted to be famous, they just wanted to make music and perform. like, they don't feel like the type to want a fanbase, if that makes sense. or at least what we would say fanbases act like nowadays. absolutely no parasocial relationships whatsoever. i'm not bashing them for that, don't get it twisted. it's just… you can tell they keep their distance in more ways than one, which is why i think meet and greets are just something they shouldn't do.

so when i went up to finally meet them, i told them that i had been a fan of them since 2006, when i was 10/11 years old, so i've been here for forever. they all kinda nodded their heads, matt said "wow you've been here a long time" or something like that. i think mike said "thank you", and then i said i really love fix me, which is their first album, and then i said "please play something from it soon" and josh gave me this look of 😬 so………… let's just say i felt the vibe shift sksks then we took the pic and i waved goodbye.

remember kids, don't meet your idols.

(i'll be honest, it wasn't a bad meet and greet. but it was just very awkward. and i think weirdly i would have rather it been bad than awkward. or maybe i'm just judging both myself and mtrench too harshly bc i was so in my head about it. especially since i asked about fix me and that album is very heavy and when josh was going thru the worst shit so again…. i think i'm just too in my head about it)

afterwards, my group and i bought some merch (which btw i had to pay $5 extra for bc it was plus size… thanks so much) and then we were all lined up outside with everyone else in vip. then we waited out there for like an hour or two. ordered some food from a place near by, all sat around and just talked about mtrench. we made friends with the ppl in front of us which was a couple and a friend of the fiancé. and then a girl behind us as well.

everybody in our group was super fun, truly. but i will say something i noticed that i thought was kinda funny was the engaged couple, imma give them the names jack and sally (not even remotely their names): it became very apparent that girly pop was not too keen on us girls talking to her soon to be husband. very much giving territorial. at one point we were all exchanging instas to keep in touch and she said "why don't you guys follow me and i'll get him to follow you" which…. babe, he's right there. i'm just gonna ask for his insta. please don't make this weird.

(i'll be honest, it felt like she didn't like me in particular, but not bc i said anything but bc i was the only name he remembered just bc it was unique compared to the other girls. and at one point when i left, he said "oh everyone, angelica's back!" which was sweet of him to do but please know he was not being flirty at all whatsoever)

like this man could not have made it more abundantly clear he loved her. i'm talking he introduced her as his fiancé. he talked about how he proposed. he was holding her and kissing her the whole night. like, it was adorable. but she was very much giving the cold shoulder at times and was making eyes at all of us (which was extremely funny given half the group was either lesbians or taken or both). but in the end we all had fun and even "sally" loosened up a bit.

the concert itself was a lot of funny. the openers were fantastic. some of the best singing/songs i've heard from an opener in a while. and somehow, right before mtrench came on, i somehow got right behind the barricade. or rather, right behind the person that was standing at the barricade lol

mtrench was so fucking good, but that's expected. they are always somehow better live than on the album which is an insane thing to do, especially with vocals like that. i will say, at times you could kinda see josh struggle a bit (since he's still getting over being sick) and instead would do these runs instead of the usual vocals. nothing's wrong with that, and it still sounded great, just something i noticed.

also, i've seen mtrench 3 times before this concert, and it had been a reoccurring joke between me and my ex best friend that they won't play my favorite song from whatever album they are touring. like on almost all occasions they played the entire album except my favorite song, so we would joke they were taking it out on me personally. but this time around, they played BOTH of my favorite songs from the album. so i'll be honest with you, i don't think it was a me curse. it was a her curse. thank god that's broken now lmao

i made the dumb decision to try and break in new shoes and literally by the end of the concert i was limping and couldn't feel my toes. but other than that i had a good night. got back to the hotel, chilled out, ate some food, and passed out until the morning.

overall i had a really good time. i enjoyed myself a lot and i'm so happy that i made friends while there bc i genuinely thought i wasn't gonna.

[ambrossart]

One of my favorite songs of all time is I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski, which I requested a long time ago for Paper Men’s playlist because it reminds me so much of Evelyn and Henry (thank you for adding btw!). But I’ve been listening to it again and Paper Men has been on my mind constantly and I just wanted to share why it reminded me of them. The song, in my interpretation, is a metaphor for placing hopes and expectations in relationships that are doomed to fail or with people too damaged to love one back the way they want/need. The way I’ve come to see it, Evelyn (like Mitski) seems to know that it will inevitably end badly, but consciously pursues it anyways. She wants them to let her keep believing they’re going to work out or they’ll love her back one day. It’s sad and beautiful and relatable. I feel like this could also apply to Evelyn and Victor (who I hope are endgame despite my Patrick obsession). Again, this is simply my interpretation and I’ve been reading Paper Men while this song plays on a loop lol. Thank you for creating such a beautiful story, I’m excited for chapter 31!

Omg I've been listening to that song while writing this chapter, particularly the Evelyn-Henry scenes (I'm reworking a few of Henry's scenes to better set up what I have planned for Mr. Hockstetter).

I absolutely love this song and I completely agree with your interpretation and how it applies to Evelyn and Henry's relationship. She's so emotionally invested in him and his struggle. She's willing to stand by his side through everything, even the ugliest things. She lets him dump all of his emotional baggage on her. She lets him use her as his punching bag whenever he's angry (and, of course, I mean this figuratively, not literally; Henry wasn't physically abusing her). She puts herself through so much for him because she loves him and wants better for him and hopes with all her heart that one day things will get better. And I think this is the first time she's seeing how hopeless this all is and how much she's hurting herself by staying in this relationship.

Even with everything that's happened, she still doesn't want to let him go. In fact, she's probably searching for any reason not to.

It's a lot different than her relationship with Victor (even though I agree the song could apply to him as well). She had an easier time separating from him romantically because Vic never let her get that close to him. He would be kind to her occasionally, but he was always very good at keeping his distance. Because of that, Evelyn's feelings never evolved past the puppy love/childhood crush stage. She still cares about him as a friend, but... Vic made her wait too long.