#in the book the kid also is a mechanical genius but again: that can just be how someone is

[transannabeth]

phantom of manhattan is a truly terrible book in like a thousand different ways but it is peak hilarious for being like “yeah that kid can’t be raoul’s because UMMMMM he got shot in the dick”

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Worldbuilding Astronomy crash course

There is a general rule about worldbuilding before we begin: The more you deviate from what people know, the more you are required to spend time explaining or showing the difference and then coming up with plausible handwavium for it.

For the diverse writers out there: No, that does not include you having to explain what an oni is. Or bend over backwards on explaining queer qualifying. These are things people can look up on the internet in a library or ask. 

But it does apply to things you “make up”.

The second rule I have to say is “If you’re going to change the rules, understand what the current rules are.” Which means if you plan to change the very nature of astrophysics well, you better know your astrophysics well or have access to someone who does. You don’t want any excuse for any reader to be pulled out of the story.

That said, I did take a 101 Astronomy class and took extra notes specifically for worldbuilding purposes. All of the itchy things that you wish you knew I have a sense of.

So following the rule about largest to smallest unit:

Universe- Changing the mechanics of the universe is usually not recommended because you need to know a ton of information in order to do this, but if you are going to do it, your best bets are: Physics, Astrophysics, string theory and quantum theory. Also Einstein and reading all of Stephen Hawkings works will help. lol I got a crash course about this when I was 7-9 because my father was reading Stephen Hawking’s book, so was trying to spend time getting us to understand various theories of the universe. (I likewise made a protag that was about my age when I was learning it, and people didn’t believe a child could understand it--but then I exist. I’m not a particular genius or anything, just was a kid who had a parent who was reading Stephen Hawking.)

BTW, our universe is expanding. There is no center. You are literally at the center of the universe. It’ll peter out into nothingness according to the last theories. (The other theories were, it expands, then collapses, ah, deja vu all over again, or that it is shrinking. The expanding until it collapses into nothing won. Kinda depressing.)

My Astronomy prof, in particular, was against this sort of tinkering and string theory in general. But if you understand theory of relativity so well you think you can talk about the flaws and how time machines can’t travel to the past, then go for it.

Galaxy

My Astronomy prof warned that other galaxies aren’t well known, so knowing how they act in terms of physics, etc isn’t something to tinker with much. We only know about the closest one in any sort of any kind of remote detail (though this is not much). Galaxies do collapse on each other and combine, though.

Solar System

The thing is that strictly speaking, much like Swiftly Tilting Planet (Madeline L’Engle), you don’t need a Solar System. BUT, per the above rule, if it’s not a Solar System, you’ll have to spend a fair amount of time on it.

Despite this, I would encourage you to look up warm moons like on Jupiter (Europa), and also wandering planets. There’s so many cool plot bunnies off of these two things. Yes, Moons like Endor.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rogue_planet

The majority of planets are probably more like desert planets, though keep in mind not all deserts are warm. Mars is cold and a desert planet. (Also tundras are technically deserts)

Also, further away from the sun==Gas Giants like Jupiter. Closer to the sun, more likely you’re going to get fiery hellscapes like Venus/Mercury with less mass.

So, if you do go for an Earth-like planet you need to know 3 basic things to feed to the reader:

- The class of star the planet is orbiting.

O, B, A, F, G, K and M are the ones that your Astronomy prof asks you to memorize, but there are also L class stars.

https://www.astronomytrek.com/list-of-different-star-types/

https://www.atnf.csiro.au/outreach/education/senior/astrophysics/spectral_class.html

The sun for reference is growing in size and will wipe us out. The sun is a G2V.

L, for the Science Fiction fans would be fun to play with.

The majority of the Fantasy people are going to go for G.

There are solar systems (as Stephen Hawking pointed out) where there are 2 suns: 

https://exoplanets.nasa.gov/resources/97/orbiting-in-the-habitable-zone-of-two-suns/

But they are on a course to wipe one another out.

Our universe is weird and wonderful enough.

- The Goldilocks zone.

https://exoplanets.nasa.gov/resources/323/goldilocks-zone/

- The orbit of the planet.

The orbit of the planet is played with in Game of Thrones and the Pern series.

There are some minor rules about the orbit of planets, such that it is always an ellipse of some sort, but you can also look at how Uranus and Neptune switch and how the gravity of planets might affect each other. They also occasionally crash into each other: Earth itself likely crashed with another planet.

The class of planet is NOT the most important thing. The more important information you need is how much is the angle deviating from Earth’s angle. And keep in mind that the angle of the planet can change over time--as with Earth. This is because the angle of the planet will directly affect the climate system. The more severe the angle, the more severe the weather. (Uranus is on its side.)

The other 2 cool rules I learned is that if you planet has native life, the planet needs to have likely 

1: Crashed into another planet. 

2. Had a sun that blew up once or absorbed another sun.

This is because the more complex elements, like gold, etc that are needed to make life possible in the first place? You need a sun to blow up once to get there. We are literally made of star stuff and will return to being star stuff. This is what that means.

And if people were really good at mining burned out stars, then gold’s value would plummet drastically. (Does that mean you can make up metals, etc... maybe. But talking about how you have 2000 worth of gold bullion in space is nothing.)

Planet/Moon

So you’ve settled on a celestial body... what’s next? You’re down to the planet level. You need: 

Atmosphere make up. (To be clear our atmosphere is mostly Nitrogen.)

Ozone layer y/n? (Or somewhere in between...)

Water percentages?

Light cycle?

Angle of the planet/celestial body relative to Earth (if making Earth-like planet/Moon)

Indigenous fauna and flora y/n?

Here, I’d also build the wind/water currents. If the planet has a moon, then the moon will create the waves, etc. You need a round planet for that. Wind runs along the same currents as water. (The major ones). So theoretically, if you put a boat out on the Gulf stream, you should end up in Europe somewhere. So with a desert planet, you need to figure out the wind system. The Wind/water currents will help you figure out trade later.

Remember, the rule is, the more you deviate from an Earth-like planet, the more you have to explain the anomalies.

BUT I WANT A FLAT PLANET

My Astronomy professor was STRONGLY against this, even as a theoretical model, with a big frowny face, citing problems such as, and not limited to: 

- Currents would not work (this got to Tolkien, BTW, later. Tolkien was a keen Science lover, but he wrote several treaties on how he messed up by making Middle Earth flat and wished it was round and tried to *fix* it.), 

- Seasons would not occur at all. (Say goodbye to Europe or such climates.)

- The weather would be far more severe.

- There would be no biomes to work with.

- There is NO way you could get a plausible atmosphere with this model.

- The physics in forming a planet like this doesn’t work out.

If you’re picturing a White People Utopia--you’re *cough* flat out wrong. If you’re picturing anything like CS Lewis’s (who probably is the culprit that got Tolkien into the mess he did) Narnia, you’ll have to to a TON of handwavium to even get close to making it work. And you’ll have to know geography and physics from the *cough* ground up. (Also my geography prof who worked specifically with water systems pulled a face like he’d be out of work if that happened.)

My Geography Prof was like it’ll collapse very soon and won’t be able to support life.

Your planet is on the verge of dying without a water system. You’ll have to pull something out of your butt to get this to work. (Also, why Tolkien was crying near the end of his life trying to fix this and trying to include more plausibility into his worldbuilding.) Avoid the problems that plagued Tolkien?

Yeah, you have a round planet, you require PoCs, but not white people--but we’ll cover that in the biology part. You have a flat planet, you have to give up agriculture (and its dying fast because there is no way you can sail place to place--where is the wind system?)

So these should give you the basics.

BTW, if you would like to add things I missed by reblogging, go ahead, but be sure to have your sources lined up from CREDIBLE sources, say like NASA, Science Direct and reputable places with peer reviews and make sure you actually understand the studies being cited. Thanks. (I do fact check and I dislike having to correct people who don’t know their stuff because it’s messy.)

The next in the series, the Physical Geography and Map Making Crash course is here: https://www.kimyoonmiauthor.com/post/704668966231179264/worldbuilding-physical-geography-and-map-making

[acewithapaintbrush]

Fluff Prompt: Little Raph teaching Little Leo or Donnie how to play basket ball or skateboard and just failing at it so bad but trying really hard to be the cool and smart big bro anyway

This was such a fun prompt, thanks. Here you go with a little cameo at the end

******

"OK… so… and then you have to… Uhm, just like- ACK!" 

"Raphie! Are you okay?" 

Little Mikey kneels down next to his big brother, who is rubbing his backside and valiantly keeping the tears at bay. Stupid skateboard rolled right out from under him. Again. 

"I'm okay." Raph sniffles and slowly gets back to his feet. Leo had run after the escapee skateboard and is now holding it out to Raph. 

"Maybe we should ask dad to show us how it works?" 

"No." Dad has some Sad Days right now. Raph would rather not bother him with this. But he also doesn't want to wait for the Good Days. They had all been so excited to find the skateboard in the trash. Only one of its tires had been messed up and Donnie had been able to fashion a replacement out of an office chair. They have seen a lot of skateboarders on TV and Raph had thought that that was enough to teach himself and then his brothers. But it's so much harder than it looks on TV. 

Leo hugs himself and looks towards Donnie who is much more interested in the mechanics of the jungle gym right now. Their genius brother had been the most reluctant to try the board, but Raph had seen the joy on his face when he'd rolled a few feet. Too bad he'd fallen off right after and now refuses to get back on again. Which has made Leo wary to try in turn, because he often takes his cue from his twin. Raph is sure that, if he can show them how it works and that there is nothing to be afraid of, they will try again. 

If only he could stop falling off. 

Mikey points towards the sky, which has lightened considerably since they started practicing. "The stars go away." 

Raph rubs his little head. "Good job keeping watch, Mikey. Let's go home for today, before the sun comes up." They are all bundled up, only their faces visible, and the skatepark will probably remain empty for a long time yet, but Raph doesn't want to risk anyone seeing them. If their dad knew they were out here he would kill them. 

Leo runs to get Donnie and Raph tucks the board under one arm so he can take Mikey's hand. They go home, but Raph just can't stop thinking about the board pressed to his side and Donnie's grin when he'd rolled those precious few feet. 

Donnie can so very rarely be pulled away from his little projects and books but that smile had been real and true. Skateboarding could have been something they all could have enjoyed together for once. 

Raph wants nothing more than to give this to his brothers.

Which is why he, against his better judgment, comes back to the skatepark after he puts his brothers to bed. The sun is already rising and he'll probably only have another half an hour before it gets way too dangerous to be out here, but he wants to master this stupid skateboard. How hard could it be?

Very hard apparently. He can't even count how many times he's fallen in the last five minutes. 

Maybe it's hopeless. Maybe he's hopeless. 

After a particularly nasty fall a voice calls out. 

"Hey kid. You need to keep your knees bent when you push off."

Raph jumps to his feet. There is a man standing a few feet away, a skateboard covered in stickers losely held in his hands. He is wearing a cap, pulled deep into his face. Even though he is smiling and sounds nice enough Raph feels terror seize his heart. Dad has always told him that no humans can ever see them. Humans are dangerous. Humans hurt the things they don't understand. 

He takes a few steps back, but he is shaking and he is scared that if he runs the man will follow him and then he will find his brothers too and then he might hurt them and then and then and then

The man must have seen the fear in his face, because he puts the board down and raises his hands in the universal 'I mean no harm' pose. "Hey hey hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." 

Raph can see the guy do a double take when he gets a good look at his face and blurts out the first thing he can think of "It's a skin condition!" 

The man blinks a few times and then smirks a little sheepishly, as if embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Ah. Okay. Sorry again." Under his breath he mutters something that sounds like 'This is New York. Not the strangest thing I've seen'. He then slowly rolls closer on his board. Even though Raph is still a bit scared and very watchful, he can't help but notice how smooth the guy's movements are. "Really didn't mean to scare you. I've just seen you fall and thought you might like some pointers." 

Raph knows he should decline and get out of there. Stranger danger is a thing, he knows that. But something about the man makes him feel like he can trust him. 

He keeps his distance though and the man notices and doesn't come closer. 

"Pointers?"

"Yeah. You gotta keep your knees bent a little when you push off. Like this." He demonstrates and after a brief internal struggle, Raph copies him, always keeping one eye on the human. He immediately notices that it is a lot easier with bent knees. He's still wobbly, but he doesn't fall off. 

"Wow!"

"There you go." 

He gives Raph some more pointers about balance and how a board acts in certain situations. The entire time he keeps his distance and doesn't try to come closer than Raph is comfortable with. Raph is more and more convinced that this is a good guy. But then they start to hear voices coming their way from the entrance of the park and the turtle knows that he really needs to go now. He's already taken way too many risks today, even if they really paid off. Raph swears to himself to never tell anyone about this. He doesn't want his dad to punish him for his recklessness or his brothers to think that it's okay to talk to strangers. 

"I need to go. Thanks again, Mister."

"No problem, little guy." 

Raph starts to run home. He can't wait to show his brothers what he has learned. But then he turns around one last time, because there has been something on his mind this whole time. 

"Mister. You look a lot like Tony Hawk. Has anyone ever told you?" 

The man laughs, loud and long. Raph is a little confused about what is so funny about his question, but the voices are coming closer still and so he leaves before he can hear the answer of the middle aged skateboarder he leaves behind. 

"Once or twice, kid. Once or twice."

[troglobite]

re: my lrb abt autistic processing (copied & pasted from my rambling abt it in the tags of the reblogs, then i didn't wish to be Perceived so i bailed and am posting abt it here instead)

i'm also now thinking abt something v interesting

okay so part of the reason i pursued an english degree was bc i think this process make literature analysis intuitive to me? i'm guessing

in hs we were being taught how to write higher level analytical essays, and all of the steps and assignments to learning it and parsing out the different pieces of planning and writing the essay were actively detrimental to my ability to do so

i was like STOP MAKING ME GO THROUGH A BOOK AND PULL OUT QUOTES AT RANDOM STOP MAKING ME WRITE MULTIPLE DIFFERENT THESIS STATEMENTS STOP IT!!!

bc i could finish reading a thing, be given a direction for a prompt, and then go okay here's my thesis statement and entire essay concept

and to the traditional teaching and order of operations that was Wrong, bc How Do You Have a Thesis Without Evidence? but i DID have evidence, i just had to go back and find it now that i'd coalesced it into an argument

i did the processing of details and evidence WHILE READING. it made no sense to me that you would finish reading something and NOT have an observation or argument to make abt its mechanics and purpose.

luckily my teacher was really neurodivergent-friendly, even if neither of us knew that's what it was at the time, and he went yeah no problem you can skip these assignments or do them differently. you can already do this just keep practicing i don't wanna mess w your process.

so that was v nice, highlight of my young education. is this bragging? i'm not gonna put this in the tags i'm making a separate post.

okay copied & pasted section over

but the reason this feels like bottom-up autistic processing is--

none of the other kids would have a Clear Idea abt what the book was already abt. the way it was often taught was more open-ended in our classes that year bc the point was to encourage us to read critically ourselves and learn to develop this skill. and so to them, they go into a book and are lost in the forest bc they can't see/understand the trees. they get to the end and are like What Just Happened. then they have to go back and start looking at all the trees again, now that they have a rough idea of the size and shape of the forest, and maybe the type of forest it is (rain, temperate, conifer, etc.)

so i'm not a genius master at this, but i feel like the only "big" concept i need is Story, or Book, or whatever. and then i walk in and immediately start encountering and identifying trees.

by the time i walk out the other side, i've already collected all of that information as part of my journey. so as soon as i look back, i have all the information to make sense of the Larger Context of the forest, and i go "oh i see. so THAT'S why this thing/pattern happened."

that's what feels bottom-up to me

i was honestly worried and gaslighting myself like "no that's definitely top-down" but it's not. if it was, i would need to what kind of book or story beforehand, etc., and have that to guide me. but i think that's counterintuitive, personally. i think it can become obvious what someone thinks, really, when reading their writing (given that they are/were in a temporal and geographical context close enough to your own to have reference points). then getting extra information abt that later is further helpful.

anyway there's my little bit of reflection for the day.

which unfortunately isn't terribly helpful w my ongoing crisis of identity at the moment bc it doesn't answer many questions, but it does sort of offer empirical evidence that that is something i'm good at, that my brain likes to do.

and also i want to own up to the fact that sometimes i finish reading something and i go "idk wtf to make of that. goddamn."

and that could be bc it was poorly written or was trying to say a lot. it could be bc it didn't mesh w my brain. it could be bc i need the act of writing abt the piece of writing to understand it (the way i have to talk out loud to understand my feelings abt something). it could be many things. but point being: i'm not trying to brag that i'm some magnificent genius, and i'm not trying to say this particular thing should be Easy for all autistic ppl. the way my brain works w words and stories is such that the bottom-up processing applies here and works well, but it's not the case for everyone.

i wish i hadn't spent the last minute or two typing that up bc i guarantee no one reads this and less self-deprecatingly, i'm tired of feeling like i have to anticipate a negative reaction to something and i'm tired of being responsible for someone misreading this and taking it as an insult if they weren't good at this same thing or assuming this makes either me or them not autistic bc we're not the same on this point

i just need the baseline understanding to be that NOTHING IS UNIVERSAL and ppl talking abt their own experiences is JUST THAT AND NOTHING MORE. it is also an invitation for ppl to relate. but y'know. anyway.

how and why am i managing the feelings of hypothetical ppl who probably won't even read this? i'm v tired.

[em-r-sun]

Are we talking about Annabeth running away and Luke telling Percy about that? Because yeah I will agree that the characterization of Luke in the series is kinda strange.

But, with Annabeth, all they did is tweak her character motivations. (You can feel how you will about this)

She gets mad at Percy when he questions the gods (and Athena) because, to her, he is also indirectly questioning her worth. Her pride. And I think this is SO genius because that really is the root of Annabeth’s character, for me. She was neglected by her father, and had to grasp on to any sense of self worth she could find. Her pride is a huge coping mechanism for her. She’s more driven by the fact that the only family she has that hasn’t abandoned her is her mother and the gods, and so she pushes herself to unreasonable standards in order to be this perfect demigod hero for them. It’s the only way she knows how to be accepted. That’s why, in the books, she gets angrier with Percy when he directly questions her life. Because that is a source of weakness for her.

The only thing the series did was show off this weakness with a different conversation.

Annabeth gets angry whenever Percy brings up how badly the Gods have treated their kids. She actually snaps at him when he implies Thalia’s death was tragic. (Although, to be fair, he was kinda being an asshole about it) but it’s just as much because she hates the implication that the Gods are just…unreasonable. Their standards are impossible to maintain. They all want perfect solders and nothing else. Because they would make her endless quest to validate her worth by them void. She had built her entire self-worth on this, and if she accepts that it is impossible, she’ll also have to suffer some ego death that she is not prepared to handle.

This is a constant form of tension between her and Percy, because Percy just…pays the Gods almost no mind. (Outwardly. He’s compartmentalizing a TON of his feelings throughout the entire series and book) Like, yeah, he’s annoyed. He doesn’t really want to be doing this. And he recognizes that he has to. But he’s annoyed because he doesn’t really see the Gods as any real authority. He doesn’t give any respect to his father or any of the other Gods because they have never cared for him. Percy is intensely loyal to people he genuinely respects, but he only respects people who pay him kindness. (Probably because he was abused and bullied throughout most of his early life)

And it bothers Annabeth because, again, it implies that the Gods are unkind, that they will never genuinely care about her in the way that she has wanted her entire life. And I really think that that is her motivation throughout the books as well, it’s just shown differently. (We don’t get most of it until the “Annabeth accepts a quest from her mother that gets her sent directly to hell” plotline in Hero’s Of Olympus.) And that’s because it is one of the only times that we get chapters that are just from her POV.

I feel like a lot of her character and character growth in the books relies a LOT on her from the perspective of other characters. How she reacts to them. And while that’s fine, I genuinely enjoy the closer look we get at JUST her in the series.

So sorry to anyone who has ever recommended pjo media to me (on yt) and I didn’t watch it because of the book designs. But I’m also not sorry

[simmer-emsie]

Not So Berry Challenge 2

Couldn’t get enough of the original Not So Berry Legacy Challenge? Wishing you could play a challenge with all the new packs, careers, and aspirations? If you’ve been daydreaming about an updated Not So Berry Challenge (2020), look no further!

Welcome to the Not So Berry Legacy Challenge 2, a ten generation rags-to-riches legacy challenge with colour-themed heirs. Note: This challenge requires basically every pack except My First Pet Stuff and Journey to Batuu (...y’all know why).

Thank you to @lilsimsie​ and @alwaysimming​ for the inspiration (and the rules!).

Basic rules:

Each heir must represent the colour of the generation (like hair, makeup, clothing), but brightly-coloured skin isn’t necessary.

The colours of the spouses don’t matter as they aren’t part of the challenge. Unless otherwise stated you can do whatever you please with them.

Cheats can be used, but not excessively.

You may live wherever you please unless something is specified in the rules of a generation.

Every generation is supposed to complete both the career and aspiration of the heir unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Keep the lifespan on normal.

Generation One: Onyx

Long story short, your family kicked you out. Whatever. You couldn’t care less! You’ve always been the black sheep of the family, and now you’ve got to go out on your own just like you always planned. You work odd jobs to make ends meet, but you never seem to get ahead.

Traits: Slob, Evil, Freegan

Aspiration: Beach Life

Career: Odd jobs only

Rules:

Complete the Beach Life aspiration.

Start on an empty lot with 100 Simoleons. Hard mode: Start as a teen.

Marry the first adult Sim to rate you 5 stars for a job. 

Max the fishing and fabrication skills.

Your only friend is your spouse.

Generation Two: Sapphire

Growing up, you had a hard life. Your parents were always struggling, and they rarely had time to raise you. You spent a lot of time eating snacks instead of meals and hanging out at the park. Honestly? You kind of resent them for it. You know you’ll never treat your own kids that way. In fact, you’d do anything for your kids… including indulging in a little five-finger discount at the neighbour’s house.

Traits: Family-Oriented, Kleptomaniac, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Career: Babysitter (Teen), Business

Rules:

Complete the Big Happy Family aspiration and reach level 10 of the Business career.

Max the logic, mischief, and parenting skills.

Have a negative relationship with both your parents.

Every time you Woohoo, it must be “try for a baby”. 

Add a new piercing or tattoo for every new child you have.

Generation Three: Morganite

You were raised in a hectic household. You shared a room with all your siblings, and never got an ounce of privacy. To get away from it all, you spent your days on the monkey bars and later on the rock-climbing wall. You get an apartment on your own as soon as you’re old enough in a faraway town, and learn quickly that you’re much more special than your upbringing would have you believe.

Traits: Adventurous, Proper, Self-Absorbed

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Style Influencer

Rules:

Complete the Extreme Sports Enthusiast aspiration and reach level 10 of the Style Influencer career.

Max the fitness, rock climbing, and the skiing or snowboarding skills.

Move to Mt. Komorebi as a young adult.

Marry a Sim you meet on the slopes.

Have one child only (you may cheat for this).

Generation Four: Quartz

Your parent was a bit of a public figure, but you always shied away from the limelight. You like cats and romance novels, and all you really want to do is knit clothes for charity. You lead a book club and sometimes play the piano when the other book club members ask you to.

Traits: Cat-Lover, Creative, Bookworm

Aspiration: Lord or Lady of the Knits

Career: Politician (Charity Organizer branch)

Rules:

Complete the Lord or Lady of the Knits aspiration and reach level 10 of the Politician career in the Charity Organizer branch.

Max the knitting, charisma, and piano skills.

Adopt at least two cats from the shelter and one stray cat.

Lead a book club.

Have an on-again, off-again relationship with a book club member.

Never marry.

Generation Five: Citrine

You’ve always wanted to be the best at everything. You really, really want to impress your parent, but they don’t seem to have time for you between caring for all the cats and the book club. You get the best grades in school, participate in extracurriculars, and you even party the hardest at university. You never want to settle down, but you can’t stop love from sprouting when one day your academic rival winks instead of snarls. Also, you really, really hate cats.

Traits: Ambitious, Genius, Perfectionist

Aspiration: Academic

Career: Scout (Child/Teen), Engineer

Rules:

Complete the Academic aspiration and reach level 10 of the Engineer career.

Max the robotics, research and debate, dancing, and DJ mixing skills.

Go to university, live on campus, and get a degree (Computer Science or Physics).

Marry a Sim from the rival university.

As an elder, pursue a second degree.

Generation Six: Jade

As the child of an engineer, you’re familiar with mechanics and electricity and the inevitable dark plumes of smoke. As you get older, you realize you want to make up for the carbon footprint of your parent through living an entirely green life. As a vegetarian, you love thinking up new and creative recipes, and the cooking channel is the soundtrack of your life.

Traits: Vegetarian, Green Fiend, Recycle Disciple

Aspiration: Eco Innovator

Career: Civil Designer

Rules:

Complete the Eco Innovator aspiration and reach level 10 of the Civil Designer career.

Max the cooking, gourmet cooking, and juice fizzing skills.

Have a “green” lot with extremely reduced bills.

Maintain an herb garden for your kitchen.

Host a community barbecue every Saturday afternoon.

Generation Seven: Amber

After growing up on collard greens and tofu, you can’t help but eat as much as you can of everything that you can. Your parent was entirely selfless, but all you ever wanted was to be spoiled. You make it your mission in life to be as rich as possible, and to become super famous through acting. Right before your death, you're overcome by altruism and give the family fortune to charity.

Traits: Self-Assured, Hates Children, Glutton

Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy

Career: Actor

Rules:

Complete the Fabulously Wealthy aspiration and reach level 10 of the Acting career.

Max the acting and mixology skills.

Marry an actor more famous than you.

As an elder, master the wellness skill.

On your Sim’s final day of life, use the “money 100” cheat.

Generation Eight: Amazonite

Okay, so, your parent went off the deep end and now you have no money. Not to worry! You’ve always been interested in the outdoors and travelling, so you decide to become an archaeologist. That’ll bring in some money… right? You take on a job gardening too, just in case.

Traits: Goofball, Good, Erratic

Aspiration: Archaeology Scholar

Career: Gardener

Rules:

Complete the Archaeology Scholar aspiration and reach level 10 of the Gardening career.

Max the archaeology, gardening, and Selvadorian culture skills.

Collect all 9 relics.

Have twins a few days before you become an elder (you may cheat for this).

Generation Nine: Topaz

You’re a really important person in your career, which kind of sucks because you’re also secretly a magician! When you were very young, you tried to use magic to prevent your elderly parents from dying. Spoiler alert: It didn’t work, but you continued on your spellcasting journey. You use humour to deflect questions about unearthly happenings around you. Your faithful dog is your closest companion, but also much too smart for a regular dog… Hopefully no one at work catches on.

Traits: Clumsy, Loner, Cheerful

Aspiration: Spellcraft & Sorcery

Career: Salaryperson

Rules:

Complete the Spellcraft & Sorcery aspiration and reach level 10 of the Salaryperson career.

Max the comedy and pet training skills.

Have a familiar (preferably your dog, but it’s up to you!).

Break up with your partner when they realize you’re a magician. Then, marry them to make sure they keep the secret.

Generation Ten: Ruby

Your family has a long and lustrous history. You’ve been told your oldest ancestor had nothing but 100 Simoleons to their name. Well, you have no interest in letting your good name come to an end. You seek to maintain the bloodline forevermore with immortality (...and social media). 

Traits: Snob, Art-Lover, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Vampire Family

Career: Social Media (Internet Personality branch)

Rules:

Complete the Vampire Family aspiration and reach level 10 of the Social Media career in the Internet Personality branch.

Max the painting, pipe organ, media production, and vampire lore skills.

Become a master vampire.

Become a 5-star celebrity.

Turn your spouse into a vampire*.

*You may, if you wish, name the Ruby heir Carlisle. You may not, under any circumstances, name them Edward.

Congratulations! You’ve completed the Not So Berry Legacy Challenge 2! …Now what?

[albaedhoe]

genshin ward

“modern hospital!au with the genshin characters as your patients and coworkers”

gender neutral reader

warning : mentions of blood, needles and death

feel free to send in your own thoughts and hcs!!

albedo definitely works as either a diagnostician or the in-hospital pharmacy technician. either way, i can see albedo giving advice on treatment and prescription that might help relieve a patient’s condition. works more for the children’s ward. you greet him with coffee every time you know he’s on shift, knowing that he probably hasn’t slept in a while. you cant convince me that he doesn’t experiment with the defective or expired meds. he shows you his own recent discoveries on certain combinations and you tell him to go to a proper research facility. you often wonder how such a genius ended up as only a pharmacist rather than a chemical engineer.

i think diluc would work as an adult nurse solely because of the fact that he’s patient, kind and the elderly aren’t scared of him unlike the children- though he doesn’t look like it, he enjoys listening to their stories and past. he’s the person you usually chat with during your breaks. you’re often seen re-doing his ponytail or just styling his hair at the break room. normally is the one who does the heavy lifting at his ward.

klee was sent to the hospital for cardiomyopathy, a disease where the heart muscles have been stretched or thickened, making it extremely hard for blood to pump through the body. though it’s very rare for children, klee was just unlucky. because of her rather rambunctious behaviour, you’ve put her on a strict rule of no extreme movement around the hospital and can only walk around with the supervision of a nurse. it makes you happier knowing she’s taken a liking towards albedo. you often see her colouring a book near where albedo can keep watch of her. if albedo isn’t on shift then she mostly clings onto you when she can. she claims that the other doctors are not as kind or forgiving as you are. because of her comment, you start to debate the employment of some of your fellow staff.

venti is a frequent visitor to your hospital. you see him perform some songs at the nursery, soothing and entertaining all the kids and babies. when he’s not performing for the children, he’s visiting his twin brother (nameless bard, not canon) in a private room, away from all the chaos and noise of the hospital. his brother has been in a coma for almost four years now. a car crash. you can tell that the anniversary of the accident is near when you can hear slow and melancholic music from the corridor leading to his room. you sometimes offer him a drink that he favours the day of the anniversary. in exchange, he would tell you his favourite childhood memories of him and his twin.

kazuha is for sure a children’s nurse. the children see him as a person they can really talk to without feeling intimidated or scolded for what they say. he’s so gentle and calm when giving the kids their injections, even going out of his way to hold them close if they’re really scared. gives them lollipops since they’ve been so brave! during playtime and he’s in charge of the activities for that day, he teaches the kids how to make haikus and expanding their vocabulary. at the end of the day the children give kazuha their haikus. he puts them into an album and cherishes them. when the two of you are on lunch break, he excitedly shows you all the new haikus he got from the kids. you laugh at his over excitement, you’re glad he’s finally settled into the hospital. you think back to the treatment he recieved at his former hospital but you shoved those thoughts aside and nodded along to the stars in his eyes.

bennett would also be a frequent visitor of the hospital, always covered with scratches, gashes and bruises everywhere. you nag at him to be careful next time, though, you know he’ll be rushing in in a few days, but you don’t say that. poor boy is the unluckiest person you’ve met. once, when he walks into the ER casually, you asked him what happened this time and he says that he was in the forest exploring, tripped down a hill and splashed into a river. you’re glad it isn’t as bad this time.

just because he’s a family man, i think that childe would also be a child nurse heh. he can easily give the children the same energy back at them without much effort, but he knows when to put his foot down once things get out of hand. because he builds such a close relationship with the kids, he’s absolutely devastated when he learns a child doesn’t survive a surgery. he thinks of his own younger siblings and it breaks his heart even more. you can find him in the laundry room, where it’s quiet and only the whirs of the washing machine can cover up his chocked sobs. you allow him to have some days off because you know that if you don’t, he’d be more snappy and impatient with the children. you tell him that he becomes like this because it’s a coping mechanism he’s developed after experiencing such an intense feeling of grief. his mind wants to cut all relationships he’s built with the children so he doesn’t have to experience such a thing again. he denies it but you know he’s saying this in attempts to convince himself that he’s okay. he’s not. you tell him that death is not something anyone gets used to but instead become stronger against, after all, it’s part of his job and if he ever wants to change professions you’re happy to recommend him to other wards.

my knowledge in health care and medicine is limited so sorry for any inaccuracies.

[dameronology]

that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out) 

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference 

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’  

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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

She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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

The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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

She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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

Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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

“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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

Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[flannel-cladpika]

Avengers x Teen reader

The reader is a brilliant engineer, that makes (grade A+) battle armor & weapons. The Vulture and the reader works together by selling these illegal armor & weapons. (The Vulture even gives the reader profit because the reader lives alone) The reader learns at school (The R is the quiet/loner kid) about Vulture getting arrested and they soon decide to leave New York and disappear. They grab all their money and leave to Tennessee to start a new life. The ending could be the reader starting a new life

Sorry for the delay! Here it is!

Avengers x GN! Teen Reader

You weren’t always like this. 

You had a family once. Loving parents, 2 siblings that were annoying but still kind and sweet. A nice house on the outskirts of New York City. You had the perfect life.

Until the world started ending due to an psychotic AI wanting control of the world.

You’d been out getting groceries while your parents were taking your siblings into the city to pick up some take out for dinner and maybe get something from the Cheesecake Factory.

You’d gotten home earlier than them, which was to be expected.

That’s when you saw the news.

There was an invasion of robots descending on the city. You heard screams in the background of the newscaster. You hurriedly picked up your phone and called your parents. It took three rings until one of them finally answered.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” you heard from the other line.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but where are you guys?! Tell me you’re headed home, ple-”

“Sweetie, I’m sorry...I love you...We all love you...No, no, no! God, no! PLEASE!! N-” and with that, the line went dead.

Later, when bodies were being identified, you found out that your family wasn’t among the survivors. That was the day you lost everything.

Timeskip~ 2 years later

You’d thrown yourself into your passion of engineering and tinkering, and worked like your life depended on it. You’d managed to make a name for yourself on the dark web and black market for being a fantastic engineer of unusual illegal weapons, like gloves that could shoot focused high-intensity soundwaves, causing an opponent’s ears to be in extreme pain and bleed, even causing horrible hearing loss.

You’d managed to make enough money from work to put yourself through school and even get yourself an apartment, though it wasn’t exactly the nicest place. But hey, you just needed a place to crash, keep all your equipment, and hide your money. A shady, rundown place was perfect. 

Through your work, you’d met some people. One of those being Adrian Toomes, aka, “The Vulture”. The guy had found out about you through a client of yours, and had apparently liked your products. He’d called you up on one of your  phones (you had several cells, to as to not be tracked), and asked for your help on a project of his. You’d heard of him, and knew he was a reliable guy in the underworld, so you agreed to meet him and see what you could do. Afterall, this guy had connections, which were invaluable in this business.

Turned out, the two of you worked really well together. He didn’t look down on you because of your age or treat you like a little kid. At the same time, he gave you space to work and listened to you. After a few more collaborations, you asked to move your tools into his warehouse, as your apartment wasn’t such a good workspace. He smiled and agreed. 

Adrian, or as you liked to call him “Vultch” was good to you. He would happen to bring extra food in his meals and offer you some. He’d even gotten you a new power drill for Christmas. He knew you were an orphan, and knew you lived on your own, but never pushed for details, which you were grateful for. He was like a father-figure, or at least a caring uncle.

When you met his daughter at school, you actually didn’t know who she was at first. Their last name was the same, but you figured that was probably just a coincidence. As a quiet kid who liked books and formulas more than most people, you didn’t really pay the popular pretty girl much mind.

That was, until you both were grouped together for a partner project. She offered to drive you over to her house after school, which you quietly agreed to.

You two started talking on the way there, and you realized that Liz was actually incredibly intelligent and not at all like the stereotypical popular kid. By the time you reached the Toomes residence, you guys were making horrible math puns.

“Well, we’re here! My mom and dad should be home, but don’t let them scare you. They’re overly affectionate and embarrassing, like every other parent. Come on!”

Liz opened the front door, her mother coming down the stairs with laundry immediately greeting you both. 

“Lizzie! You’re home! And who is this sweetie?” The woman asked her daughter.

“Mom! This is (Y/n). They’re my partner for a class project.”

You slowly raised your hand for a shake. “Hello, Mrs. Toomes. It’s nice to meet you.”

She smiled and shook your hand. “Nice to meet you too, sweetie.”

Suddenly, a voice came from the kitchen. A very familiar voice...

“Honey? Is that Lizzie?” 

Your eyes widened when you saw Liz’s dad come out from the kitchen, bowl of chips in hand.

When the Vulture’s eyes landed on you, he looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment, before shaking it off.

You knew better than to say anything about what you did for a living, and knew that other people in the business had lives outside of arms deals and engineering illegal weapons. You just never thought that Adrian would be Liz’s dad.

You shook your head lightly and stuck out your hand. “Hello Mr. Toomes. I’m (Y/n). Liz and I were partnered for a school project, so I hope you don’t mind my staying here to work on it.”

Adrian lightly smiled and shook your hand firmly. “Good to meet you (Y/n). As long as you two don’t cause any explosions or fires, your welcome to come on in.”

That was the start of an odd but fun relationship with the Toomes family.

Timeskip~

God, you hated superheroes. One minute, you were working with Vultch’s team on a new upgrade to the suit, and the next, you’re hearing of his arrest and trial. You went to the trial to say goodbye to him, holding back the tears. He gave you a warning to run. You promised you would soon.

At school, you hugged Liz goodbye, heartbroken, as she was like a sister to you.

You saw your friend Peter talking to her as she left. You wondered what he said to make her look even sadder.

You packed up what few belongings you had. Adrian had asked you to blow up the warehouse, so that your fingerprints wouldn’t be found. You did as asked via remote from 1/2 mile away.

You took out all the money that you kept underneath a loose floorboard and stuffed it in a backpack, covering the cash with your clothes and personal items.

You bought a ticket for a train heading out of the city, and from there, a bus that was headed towards Florida. You planned to get off in Tennessee so that no one who follow you.

That night, as you waited for the train to come, you heard your name being called. You looked around, the station nearly devoid of other people except one guy with air-pods in and a lady on a phone call

“(Y/n)! (Y/N)! WAIT!” 

You then turned around, seeing Peter running towards you. What the Hell was he doing here?

“Peter, what ar-”

“I know.”

You froze. What?

“What do you mean? What are you talking about Pete?”

“I know you worked with Toomes on creating illegal weapons. I know that you knew who he was.”

You tried acting dumb. “What? Peter, you know me. I w-”

He stared at you with a serious expression that you’d never seen on him.

“You’re right. I do know you. I know you’re a genius with mechanical and electrical engineering. I know you live alone in an apartment that you pay for, which no highschooler could make enough to do, especially if they went to our school, which has a high tuition. You’ve also never talked about your job. I’m not an idiot (Y/n). You have 2 choices, either turn yourself in, or come with me and we can see about putting your skills towards helping others.”

You sighed as you walked towards your friend. “That’s the thing about you Peter. You’ve never been an idiot. I liked that about you. If only you had been just a little less observant.” You said as you heard the train coming

You hugged Peter, making sure you were out of sight from any cameras. He was about to return the gesture, when you stuck a needle into his arm. 

“Wai-”

You whispered, “I’m truly sorry Petey, but I don’t think either of those options is for me. This stuff will wear off in about an hour. I’ll call Ned to come pick you up. I really am sorry, Peter. Goodbye. Maybe someday, we’ll see each other again.”

With that, you slung Peter’s arm over your shoulder, making it look like you were helping a drunk friend. You placed him on a bench before calling Ned, saying Peter passed out from a fight and was at the train station.

You boarded the train with your backpack and sighed as the train slowly started  moving. You looked behind you at Peter’s slumping body on the bench and at the New York City skyline. 

Man were you going to miss this place.

Maybe one day, when it was safe again, you’d be able to come back...

THE END

A/N: Hey! If you made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! 

[angelcatsiel]

Ok gotta get this off my chest so I’ll feel better, likes and dislikes about the movie bc I wanna rant but also need positivity in my life right now!

Things I disliked:

They completely undermined Artemis’s intelligence. They cut the entire trip to Ho Chi Minh City, which just makes no sense to me, considering they did film it. Even just fitting that in somewhere would have made a difference and added to Artemis’s character. Artemis did very little of this plan by himself, most of it was from his dad. He simply looked like a smart bold kid, not a super genius. He didn’t even use his brains to get out of the time stop like he did in the book, he just managed to break it. This is all probably my biggest issue.

Root’s gender change. Enough said about that.

Butler. He didn’t play much of a part at all, and cried twice? Uh?

I literally saw pictures of the gold, and Artemis, Juliet and Butler standing looking at it with champagne. They clearly had a version that was closer to the book. They removed all those parts. I feel like a better version IS out there, and I’m upset we didn’t get to actually see that.

I knew Artemis and Holly would become friends a lot quicker than in the books, and tbh I kind of expected that all along in a disney movie, but when they did become friends, it didn’t have much emotional depth to it at all.

They didn’t get the balance right between making Artemis evil but also likeable, though I will admit, that’s a fine line to walk.

Angeline! She’d been cast. They mentioned her in the book about the movie. Once again, I get the feeling that there was a better version out there with her in it. Who do I have to fight to see that version?

Things I liked:

The whole scene between Artemis and his therapist. Sure, it was from the second book, but a lot of it was pretty much verbatim from the book, and I feel like it made sense to include it, to help new viewers get to know Artemis’s character better (which they definitely needed to do more of).

Mulch. He made me laugh, and I enjoyed the scene between him and Root. Also the dwarf mechanics... holy shit. Fucking terrifying and hilarious.

I actually liked Foaly, but we didn’t see nearly enough of him.

I found myself very much enjoying the entire troll battle, although of course I am very disappointed that we didn’t see Butler in his suit of armour taking it down. Hard to find the words as to why, but I just had fun watching it.

I liked Holly. Of course I have issues with the whitewashing, but she was badass and tough but likeable. In the book, Eoin did a brilliant job of making you root for Artemis, even while making it clear that he was not a good kid and the things he was doing were wrong, and you were kind of rooting for Holly at the same time. I was definitely rooting for Holly over Artemis in the movie.

I’ve talked about this before, but I ADORE the manor. I would love to be able to visit it in real life if that ever becomes a thing. It looked incredible and took a huge amount of effort.

All in all, I am disappointed. But I’ve seen people say they’d rather no movie at all than this, and I disagree. I still got some enjoyment out of it, and some things that made me smile, which in my eyes is always a good thing. I’ll think of it as a very expensive fanfiction and take what joy I can get right now!

[happi-tree]

On The Style and Effectiveness of 1-A Hero Costumes - Part 2/5

Part 2 of this post!

NAVIGATION

Part 1 2 3 4 5

INGENIUM / IIDA TENYA

It’s armor time!!! Behold a man. 

What I don’t like:

The costume seems too bulky for a Quirk and fighting style that optimize speed. And while it’s true that cars are pretty bulky but still go fast, it’s equally true that certain types of cars are designed to go faster. The current design reminds me most of a semi or a big SUV, but if the costume was more streamlined along the lines of racecars or sports cars, it would help take off the extra weight that the bulk provides, leaving Iida lighter and more streamlined - therefore, faster. 

Some examples of slimmer armor include Go Go Tomago’s from Big Hero 6 and Jim Lake Jr.’s from Trollhunters. And while I get that his body type inherently lends itself to being tank-like, lightening up on the bulk would probably be great for him.

The exhaust pipes out of his back confuse me. They bring some car energy, which is entirely welcome, but they likely hinder balance and motion, which is bad. They leave him looking a little unbalanced, and since so much of his strength and his fighting ability focuses on his lower body, having excess superficial material protruding out of the sides like that doesn’t seem to lend him any favors. And even while it looks cool, it just seems like it would be uncomfortable? Especially since a lot of runners - Iida included - like having full range of their arms to help propel them forward. The pipes might get in the way of that.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how this look both makes sense with Iida’s Quirk and personality and plays with elements of his older brother’s costume. It simultaneously puts across some knightly vibes - which is genius, considering how chivalrous and rule-following Iida typically is - and also calls to mind Transformers and cars with the emphasis on the engines and some of the more mecha elements.

The support! Armor is such an easy way to protect yourself while also getting some serious style points. His most essential areas are covered - neck, chest, arms, and legs - which is especially important considering that Iida’s legs are integral to his Quirk and his fighting style. The helmet is also a really good choice, considering this boy is essentially a human car. He looks a bit intimidating wearing it, which is good for fighting Villains, I suppose. Class dad is protected.

And a misc. note:

You know how after Iida’s special Recipro Burst move, he has to wait awhile while his engines cool back down? I think it would be really neat if he implemented some cooling technology into his Hero suit (similarly to Todoroki’s temperature-regulating gear). Theoretically, if he could find something that worked a bit like coolant for his engines, he would have a much quicker reaction time - and speed is the main facet of his Quirk, so it would probably help a lot!

Overall: Very good at providing protection while having a bomb-ass aesthetic. Not quite so good at being built for speed.

I CANNOT STOP TWINKLING / AOYAMA YUUGA 

On the other side of the armored spectrum… we have this kid!

What I don’t like:

*Edna Mode voice* NO CAPE! Why do I not like the cape? Capes can snag on stuff very easily and it would be an easy thing for Villains to target and use to unbalance Aoyama. Longer capes are especially susceptible to getting trapped under rubble, torn up, or covered in gunk from the environment (which is not the Look he seems to like). I feel like a shorter cape would get a similar message across while minimizing the potential dangers that a long cape poses. Of course, Aoyama can be trained via experience to utilize his costume effectively with the full-length cape, but when his life and the lives of others are on the line, I’d rather not take that chance.

The shades. I get that they’re iconic, but they’re taking rose colored glasses a bit too seriously. 110% will fall off his face and also messes with the princely Vibe the rest of his costume provides. I do like their Elton John energy, though.

Not a bad thing, but I just want to know how his belt works.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how the costume’s obvious “princely knight” vibe reflects so much of Aoyama’s character. 

The support here is also really good! Working the belt into the theme of his costume so seamlessly is very innovative and I love that for him. Getting the knee pads and shoulder pauldrons to match his central laser both adds to the uniqueness of the outfit and also pushes that royalty theme since they look very similar to inset gems. 

The color scheme. Purple, silver, gold, and black look very classy and regal together, and I appreciate how the royal purple ties back into the concept of European royalty, which is very in-character for this boy. His pantaloon-looking things??? Neato.

Overall: Eh, okay. Ditch the glasses and shorten the cape. Superb, you funky lil knight light.

CREATI / YAOYOROZU MOMO

Here we are! I’m finally taking a crack at one of the most highly debated hero costumes in the entire show, and like a good portion of people, I’m gonna be extremely salty about it. Yaomomo doesn’t deserve this - none of the girls deserve this. These are my thoughts:

What I don’t like:

The absolute lack of support. For any aspect of her. Nothing about this costume is protective (other than maybe the partial high collar). Her most vulnerable areas are exposed, and while it makes sense for easy Quirk usage, it does not make sense for a girl who’s fighting homicidal maniacs on the front lines. The most glaring area in need of support is obviously her chest, as nothing substantial is holding her bust in place. However, so much could be done to work with the benefits of Creation and against its weaknesses that is not being done in this costume. I’ve seen quite a few redesigns that include a sports bra with a front zip closure, which is worlds better. With the show being set in the future, having a slightly mechanized costume with the ability to retract certain pieces at the press of a button would be useful and likely doable considering Yuuei’s own Support department. Gloves would probably be a good idea to give Yaoyorozu a better grip on harder-to-handle Created objects, such as heavy metal machinery. 

The over-sexualization is, obviously, disgusting. Nothing about this costume says “Hero.” What it does say, in-universe, is that someone had the absolute gall to approve and send this outfit to a 15-year-old girl about to be thrown headfirst into training for an extremely dangerous profession. It says that giving a person in their freshman year of high school an overly sexualized outfit meant for combat training is okay (it isn’t, for reasons I can’t even begin to explain). This more closely resembles an outfit for a lingerie or swimsuit model than it does for any type of superhero, which alone should be enough to warrant some serious changes - especially, as I have stated, since the girl is only 15!

The overall aesthetic. There is no aesthetic reading for this costume other than “sexy”, which, as I explained above, is very problematic. Sure, the exposed skin makes sense for her Quirk, since she needs access to skin in order to produce items with Creation, but nothing about this outfit denotes anything about her personality. Yaoyorozu Momo is a gentle girl who has been shown to have self-esteem issues from early on in the show, and just knowing that makes me wonder if she feels uncomfortable wearing this. If she’s totally comfortable in this look, good for her! But comfort in our clothing factors so much into our mental states, which translates directly to our physical performance - it’s the same reason why having clothes that fit you and your style well make you feel more confident and more content. And especially if Yaoyorozu wasn’t quite expecting the amount of skin revealed when her costume was given to her, it could likely have added on to her self-esteem issues as seen early in the school year.

The skintight fit of what amounts to a glorified bathing suit is not conducive or acceptable whatsoever. With such a powerful Quirk, Yaoyorozu needs all the protective material she can get - which, as I said in Uraraka’s analysis, is quite simply not possible to fit under that bodycon fabric. Some padding at the very least would work wonders, and bulletproof material would serve her even better. 

Once again, heels are not good for any kind of running or fighting! At least it’s a block heel, which is marginally more stable than, say, a stiletto, but still.

The literal bookshelf on her ass. It makes no sense to put it there - it’s an inconvenient place (what if she needs to sit down?) and it looks incredibly awkward to move around with. Besides, there’s absolutely nothing stopping that book from falling at the slightest jostle. At least give her a proper holster or implement it into a toolbelt like some of the boys have. 

What’s with the belt? Can it hold emergency supplies? Or is it just there to make it seem like she’s wearing more than a deep v one-piece? I’m at a loss here.

Here’s what I like:

The color scheme. Deep red, white, and pale yellow look good on her! The color ratios are also pretty good in my opinion. Unfortunately, this is the only good thing I can say about her getup.

And to round us out, some misc. notes:

I feel like the book could be done away with entirely and replaced with something digital. This universe is set multiple centuries into the future, and I think something like a holographic data set would look slick, enable for faster search time for whatever info Yaoyorozu would need, and eliminate the bulk problem completely. At the very least, there could be a smartwatch-type gauntlet to pull up info with a larger screen to enable easy reading. Really, the lack of support for Yaoyorozu’s look is devastating because she could go so many directions in creating an outfit that works with her Quirk’s strengths and against its weaknesses.

Overall: Awful, a disgrace, and a disservice to one of the coolest, kindest characters in the class. I would kill for her to get the outfit she deserves.

INVISIBLE GIRL / HAGAKURE TOORU

Wow, look! Two travesties in a row! One more and I get a bingo!

Hagakure, I love you so much, and I am so, so sorry that the yahoos over at the Support company thought that this was a good idea.

What I don’t like:

Uh. The fact that there isn’t a costume. There is literally no in-universe rationalization for this. Surely, they have the technology. Just look at Lemillion! Togata Mirio’s Quirk is literally phasing through materials (including his own clothing) and they made him his own non-phaseable costume by weaving his own DNA into the fabric! Even if they don’t have the technology (they do), I know that Hatsume and probably the rest of the Support students would immediately jump on the chance of creating a fabric with the ability to switch between visible and invisible modes. 

Once again, the sexualization of minor Hero students continues to disturb me. Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to send a naked teenager out into a live battlefield just because she’s less likely to be noticed that way? This line of thought surely doesn’t account for stray bullets or falling debris, nor does it account for this poor girl’s peace of mind. She should be focused on getting the job done and saving people, not worrying about how it’s too cold for her to work properly or how there’s nothing between her body and a loaded gun except for the air between them.

The gloves and shoes seem like they’re kinda. Missing the point of contributing to a stealth Hero costume? Yes, they’re good so that Hagakure can be easily recognized among her allies, but does she just have to stow them wherever when she needs to go fully invisible and hope she can find them once the mission’s over? Plus, Hagakure will always, at the very bare minimum, need something to protect the soles of her feet. Walking barefoot just for everyday civilian stuff would cause a lot of problems, but Heroes likely have a lot of broken glass, broken nails, debris, and other nasty things on the streets where they fight. Tetanus is not fun to have. 

Here’s what I like:

The gloves are a nice color, I guess?

Some misc. notes:

I gotta say, I’ve seen SO many good takes on outfit redesigns for Hagakure (same with Yaoyorozu) and the fandom collectively has some wonderful ideas on how to go about creating a costume for her. Personally, I think it would be cool if she had a full-body suit that could change between visible and invisible modes - that way, she would be easy to identify in head counts and it would likely be easier to see places where she could be injured after a fight. At the very, very least they could pull a Lemillion and have her outfit infused with something from her own DNA so it can disappear as she does while leaving her at least covered.

Overall: So, so bad. Please give this girl a suit. I’m tired. 

TLDR Part 2:

Great Costumes: 

Good: Iida

Okay: Aoyama

Questionable: 

Bad: 

The Absolute Worst: Yaoyorozu, Hagakure

[dreaming-gamer]

Eyy! Now, I have a proper V HC request, hihi!😍😍😍❤❤❤🙈🙈🙈 The gang ( include anyone you want ) introducing V to his very first cosplay convention!😍😍😍❤❤❤ I'll patiently wait, my dear. I love your V HCs so much😍😍😍❤❤❤

Hello dear! <3<3<3 Thank you so much for liking my headcanons and the request! :D :D :D I’m sorry this one took so long, I should have posted this one much earlier but better late than never? *sweats* 

In any case, here we go! <3<3<3

Random headcanon: Cosplay convention

Nico:

Nico is the first one to jump at the idea when she finds out V has never been to a cosplay convention. She loves those because people just let their creativity flow and she is among them. Creating an impressive cosplay that lets her display her genius, oh that’s right up her alley.

Of course the work on the van and Nero’s Devil Breakers go first, but the Queen of Machines can juggle that and more if needs be. If she’s going to a convention, you can bet she’s going to show off something that’s flashy and functional.

She’s all for helping the others find something they want to dress up in as well, they don’t even have to take something as spectacular as she does, if they don’t want to. If they do, she’s all for helping them with something on the more mechanical style as sewing and fabrics aren’t her thing.

Honestly, she just wants her friends to come along, try the event out. If someone really doesn’t want to dress up, she won’t push the suggestion too much but if she can work on them for a bit, they might open up to it. She’s the one to convince V to come along, claiming she can find just the right character for him.

Though Nico is able and considered fixing a workable Gundam costume (complete with rockets and guns, could it get better?!), she ultimately chose Mei Hatsume from My Hero Academia as her own cosplay character because let’s face it, it would let her show off more of her creations.

The costume itself she found online, cheap and the inventions are the important part, so that’s all good for her. A prototype is customized to function as a flying skateboard for anyone who wants to try, an Overture is remodeled to set off (harmless) fireworks rather than demon-killing sparks, a Dr Faust replica with built-in video and audio to teach you Michael Jackson moves on the go, she brings an array of different inventions and many are a success with younger audiences.

Nero (& Kyrie):

Nero’s never been to a cosplay convention, he’s just as new to them as V is. As a kid, he wanted to dress up and go to gatherings like that because it looked fun and hopefully no one would look at him funny, as they did in the Order.

Now that he feels more secure in his own skin, having come to terms with his heritage and how he can use it to protect his family, Nero doesn’t feel the immediate need to dress up for the convention but when Kyrie mentions it might be fun, he falls for the suggestion.

Whenever the orphans’ clothes get holes, Kyrie fixes them with her sewing but she is uncertain she has the skills and the time to fix herself and Nero matching outfits in time for the convention, when they have both decided they’ll go. And Nico has convinced them that they’ll have the most fun if they dress up.

Nero is supportive, he’s fine with whichever costume Kyrie wants to do, he doesn’t push and he’s fine with just going as they are as well if it spares Kyrie some trouble, but the kids are very insistent. And Kyrie sometimes has a hard time saying no to them.

Knowing it’s one of Kyrie’s favorite Disney movies, Nero suggests Beauty and the Beast for the two of them. Kyrie wants Nero to have fun and get the whole experience by dressing up, but at first, she is a little bit hesitant about his suggestion. She never wants Nero to feel like she doubts him or his humanity ever again.

They have been through a lot and so, they just talk it out, ending the discussion with soft whispers of love and care and in agreement over their choice.

As for their costumes, they don’t buy anything new. They check their closets for anything unused or something that can just be adjusted. In their eyes, the details don’t have to be perfect as long as they are both having fun. Kyrie also has a field day trying to put make-up on Nero’s face for the Beast look. Honestly, she does a good job. And the clothes she adjusted for Nero’s blue Beast attire, as well as her own blue and white dress for Belle, look great and she feels proud over her work.

At the convention, Nero will make sure to keep an eye on her, make sure she won’t be dehydrated or stay on her feet for too long in queues. It’s mostly unexplored ground for both of them, but they have a lot of fun just people-watching and following the three orphans under their care around, as the boys point out characters that they know everywhere. If the boys don’t recognize someone, they’ll run right up and ask.

Their camera roll is full of pictures of other cosplayers and the kids posing at the end of the day. And Nico snuck in a few pictures of Nero and Kyrie as well.

Dante:

It’s a party, Dante’s interested, enough said. He doesn’t mind grabbing the most ridiculous outfits if it gives him the love of the crowd. At a convention, people of all ages gather so it will be some simple, awesome fun.

As for him choosing a cosplay, the Dr. Faust hat has made him realize he rocks wearing a hat so he initially thought of cosplaying Alucard from Hellsing but after realizing V would cosplay another Alucard, he switched gears. Actually, Dante might just prefer cosplaying a character that likes having fun, just like he does.

By coincidence, he found Vash the Stampede from Trigun and though there is no hat involved, hey, the guy rocks red just as well as Dante does and he uses guns. Does Dante know anything about the character? Not really but that doesn’t stop him from rocking it. Plus, Dante already has red clothes, it’s just a matter of going into character because adjusting those clothes, he knows not how to do.

At said convention, he instantly clicks with a Deadpool cosplayer and they dance to Michael Jackson songs. They also photobomb some cosplay shoots, all in good fun. He lives for the spirit of people just having fun and humans just being humans, gathering thanks to a common interest.

Dante is the type who comes to a convention with several outfits. Or at least he would, if he had enough money for it. Since most of his paycheck goes to keeping the gas, water and electricity at Devil May Cry running, he resorts to simple, but effective ways to show off character, both his own and from other series.

V:

When the idea of going to a cosplay convention is first introduced to him, along with what it actually entails, he’s a bit skeptical. Nico telling him that there will be a ton of people doesn’t really sell him on it as he’s not that fond of crowds. But hearing that many will dress up as characters from stories they enjoy catches his attention. If he agrees to go, maybe he should be sure to make the most of it. And when Nico notices that shift in his demeanor, she keeps pushing him to join, juuust a bit.

For V, cosplay sounds like a way to show appreciation for characters and the stories they star in. Being the big fan of literature and poetry that he is, this aspect of the event does trigger his interest but when Nico gives him the idea to try out cosplay himself, she suggests that he shouldn’t go with cosplaying William Blake. Griffon laughs out loud at the mere idea but his suggestion of V cosplaying as a Disney princess (the orphans under Nero’s and Kyrie’s care have tried to show the avian various Disney movies, further adding to his arsenal of nicknames for V), is equally shot down.

V does want to put some thought and care into who to cosplay, but he also acknowledges his lack of sewing skills and is not too into the thought of buying a costume for himself with his limited funds. Kyrie offers to help but he is hesitant to accept it, seeing how she is trying to make something wearable for both herself, Nero and three little boys.

Ultimately, Nico and surprisingly, Dante become his greatest helpers. The childhood home of the sons of Spardas might have mostly fallen apart, but there are still some of their father’s old black robes in one of the rooms. It needs some adjustments, being too big on V’s lean frame, but the length is pretty spot on.

Nico demonstrates an automatic multi-tool that includes both measuring and sewing capabilities, as well as a laser pointer and a demon alarm that accidentally trips when Griffon is present. V doesn’t ask why she saw the necessity to put all of those functions together, but in the end, two of them are helpful for their situation. And she will show it off at the convention, as part of her genius.

How Dante does it, V doesn’t know, but one day, a long blonde wig is delivered to Devil May Cry, perfect for his decided cosplay. Turns out Dante’s flirt with the lady at the costume shop was helpful.

Ultimately, V feels very satisfied with his appearance as Alucard from Castlevania. The black robes are a different material from his regular leather vest but it’s still in black and thus, he feels right at home in it rather quickly. The long blonde wig takes some more time to adjust to.

What he had not anticipated were people asking to photograph him in this getup but thankfully, V took his time to research his character’s lines and mannerisms. Alucard is a gentleman, so V doesn’t find it very hard at all.

During the convention, Nero and Kyrie have enough on their plate, keeping an eye on the boys, so Nico usually stays close to V. Their chosen media are not anything alike, but that hardly matters. Nico is easily swept up in the excitement of the convention and seeing her makes V think that letting loose once in a while isn’t so bad.

Griffon stars in V’s cosplay as well, dressed up as a bat.

The next day, V will be a bit socially exhausted. Expect him to keep to himself with his book and tea for a good remainder of the day.

[rosebloodcat]

WoW- Harry’s relation/friend ships in Wasteland

A commentor on Ao3 asked me about Harry’s friendships in Wasteland and how the toons viewed/thought of him. Not only did I deliver, I MAY have gone a little overboard on one of them.

Be warned, this got LONG.

Oswald and Harry have a kind of unique relationship, but I'd say they're pretty good friends, if not terribly close in the beginning.

Ozzy, when he first met Harry, was hesitant about being around/hanging out with him. Harry looks a lot like Mickey, which made it hard for him to be close/super friendly with him. Harry’s also a pretty “blank slate” toon when he first comes to Wasteland, even if his “design” and personality seem pretty fleshed out.

(“Blank Slate��� toons are basic ideas/designs that don’t have much of a background and don’t seem very thought out yet. They’re usually background/single episode toons.)

But once he got past the resemblance, they got along pretty well and a lot of Harry's creations made his job as "King of Wasteland" easier.

Another thing to remember is that, despite everyone in Wasteland liking Oswald, it's implied that he was a bit of a recluse after the Thinner Disaster. I’d wager that he isn’t terribly familiar with newer residents because of that, so Harry would have probably flown under his radar for a while before they two of them happened to run across each other in town. But by then Harry’s probably established himself as another resident and everyone already knows him.

So Oswald mostly viewed Harry the same as everyone else in Wasteland, as a resident that he needed to help/care for.

Harry likes Oswald as a person and respects that he tried to make Wasteland into a Home for everyone, and is thankful for it. But he's also a bit of a cynic (one of his many contrasts against Mickey and a holdover from being human) and thinks there are things Oswald should have been doing instead of locking himself away. He knows Ozzy was grieving, so he doesn't really bring it up. Although he would drop hints about things Oswald should do whenever the rabbit stopped by. Kind of a “I’m a little mad at you but know you’re going through stuff so I’ll let it go” type situation.

Their relationship would probably change a bit after the Main Story here, with Oswald working harder to look out for Harry and helping him through and identity issues that may crop up. Eventually, they're fairly good friends that MAY lean into a more family-like role with each other.

(Oswald is a Dad after all, and Harry's a teen with no real father figure in his life so that could have a hand. But then again, Harry looks like Mickey, so it's also a bit of a "he's kind of a brother" situation too.)

Mickey is also sort-of friends with Harry, but he also doesn't know him as well as the other toons in Wasteland.

He was first under the impression that Harry was for a "Mistaken Identity" thing and feels bad that Harry had been "made" just to be swapped for him for a bit then forgotten, so most of their early interactions are pretty awkward on his side of things. Later on, he finds that he gets along pretty well with Harry and they shift more into being friends. He's also a bit more people-aware than Oswald and probably picks up on Harry actually being younger than him despite how similar they look pretty quickly, and that factors into his opinion too.

(Harry is, after all, a teenager compared to Mickey’s “ambiguous young adult” shtick.)

Harry is actually pretty indifferent to Mickey when he first shows up at the shop. And at first doesn't believe he’s the real Mickey, being so used to look-a-likes around Wasteland. He’s really not prepared for Gus to explain that “Yes, he’s really Mickey Mouse. He was abducted by the Blot and Mad Doctor, we’re trying to get him home again.”

He knows Ozzy doesn't like his brother but decides to take a wait-and-see approach to things, since he never really knew Mickey and wasn’t up to making a fool of himself. It's only after he hears about Mickey helping everyone around Wasteland that he decides he likes the guy. And after subsequent visits and chats, they shift to being friends. Harry is also more open to letting Mickey into areas of the shop that he normally doesn’t let people into, like the lab where he makes potions and such.

Mickey becomes more worried/protective about Harry after his past is revealed and probably makes a habit of checking in from time to time. He still can’t wrap his head around the idea of a kid genuinely losing hope in the world around him, and can’t help trying to share all the good things he knows about to help fix that.

Again, they're good friends that may lean into more family-like roles, but more along the lines of being brothers or cousins.

(Which would probably be how Mickey would explain how they knew each other/why they looked alike to his friends if they ever somehow met.)

Ortensia is someone Harry respects, but she’s also a pretty big Unknown to him. The Thinner Disaster had already happened when he appeared which means she was already Inert and Harry never got the chance to meet her until after the events of EM1. They’re mostly acquaintances but are slowly getting to know each other.

And Harry is pretty good friends/on good terms with most of the residents of Wasteland. He’s not super outgoing and can be pretty awkward at times, but he does make friends and tries to help out where he can.

One of his friends is Madame Leona from the Haunted Mansion, as they both share an interest in magic and the forms it takes.

She’s also the only person in Wasteland that Harry has to actively seek out in order to talk. They have bi-weekly tea sessions where they talk shop, share the most recent book/magic they’ve been looking at, and spill gossip about the rest of Wasteland. There are probably a number of ghosts who join in too and add in their own gossip and reading suggestions.

(Basically, it’s like a supernatural Book Club!)

Gremlin Gus is probably more of an acquaintance than a friend. They know of each other, but aren’t terribly close. They talk on occasion, but it’s more in-passing than anything else.

He worries more about Harry after the story, but it’s in a protective, borderline-parental way.

I think another friend of his, maybe even his Best Friend, would be Gremlin Prescott.

It might seem a little odd, but I think they would bond over their love of creating new things to help out Wasteland and sharing the projects they’re working on with each other. They’ve probably even put their heads together to make joint projects too!

Having the drive to actually create in Wasteland seems pretty rare, most toons seems to prefer using pre-made things or following already created recipes. Most of the Gremlins don’t seem interested in making new machines and focus more on maintaining what’s already there instead. And toons don’t seem to want to make anything new or pursue new projects, always trying to keep up their familiar habits and lifestyles.

(There are a few exceptions, but this seems to be mostly true.)

Part of this could be because of the Thinner Disaster and the Blotlings. It’s hard to find motivation to build/make something new if you know it’s just going to get destroyed, so a lot of them seem to have developed a “Why Bother?” mindset about it. Which results in everyone being stuck in a rut, and they can’t really find anything new to cheer themselves up and contributes to the frustration/sadness everybody suffers from.

That makes Harry’s Alchemy Shoppe and Prescott’s inventions unique. They’re always trying to make something, even if it might not stick around or be appreciated very much. And it’s something they both enjoy doing. Both of them appreciate the work the other puts into their projects and they bounce ideas off each other a lot.

They probably know each other really well, too, and can name the other’s favorite foods/books/interests without a second thought (and be right about it). They’re the kind of friends that can hang out in each other’s work spaces without talking and be perfectly happy about it, or spend hours gushing about their latest interest/project and not get bored with it.

They’re best friends, which would also make the events of EM2 so interesting since it would add an extra element to Prescott’s motivations.

Prescott isn’t just frustrated that no one can see his genius, he’s frustrated because no one can see the genius of his Best Friend either. Wasteland is finally recovering from the Thinner Disaster, but the work he and Harry had been putting in through it all had never been appreciated as much as he felt it should have been.

He wants both of them to be recognized, and is frustrated that no one seems to pay attention to their work, even if Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it.

It also adds an interesting duality/angle to Prescott’s relationship with the Mad Doctor.

Prescott is proud of his mechanical inventions and wants to be recognized for his work on them, both of which the Doctor promises to him. And while Harry is his best friend, he knows Harry’s never been a tech guy/mechanic and that a lot of Prescott’s interests go right over his head. But Harry’s still super supportive about them and is always ready to listen, which Prescott deeply appreciates.

But the Doctor gets him. He doesn’t just listen to Prescott when he talks about machines, he understands him. He understands the tools, the lingo, the schematics, everything. Prescott’s never had anyone outside of his fellow Gremlins understand him and be interested in what new things he wanted to create. It’s a new intoxicating experience and he can’t help being caught up in it.

Harry, on the other hand, isn’t interested in being recognized for his work. He just wants to help out where he can make the life of himself and everyone else in Wasteland easier. Their difference in opinion is one of the few things they get into arguments about, which unintentionally fuels Prescott’s motives to help the Doctor after a bad fight before the start of EM2.

Harry is worried about Prescott for most of EM2, first for his distance at the beginning then for how strange the idea of him intentionally wrecking Wasteland. But he never gives up on Prescott as a person, saying that something wasn’t right and that he wouldn’t do that for no reason.

During the story, Prescott is pretty much the only one who knows what’s going on and is desperately trying to help as best he can. He knows something is wrong with Harry and wants to help him, but he’s a prisoner and there’s only so much he can do. From trying to send hints, to remotely controlling/fixing things, to putting barricades to slow things down. He deeply hates the helpless feelings he has while there.

After the story, he throws himself into trying to help Harry and make up for the damage to their friendship, as well as the hurt he caused the rest of Wasteland.

It takes it a while for them to mend things between them, but it’s easier for Harry to forgive Prescott since he’s sincere about his guilt and is actively trying to make up for it. (And not just showing up and saying “Sorry, I did a bad. Friends again?” and expecting Harry to forgive him.) Things are a little rocky, but they’re working on it.

[secret-engima]

Like,, I know u only know the fma and undertale fandom through absorption but like imagine, Edward Elric and Alphonse are the ones to fall down the hole instead of Frisk. Or, them having the save point/resets powers. Ed is Determination Personified u can't convince me otherwise. This Kid got trapped in a mine shaft with a pole through his stomach and was like,, yeah, I need u to pull it out and I'll heal myself with Experimental Powers and, with a hole in his back, fucked off to beat Up kimblee.

That would be terrifying and amazing holy cow. Imagine, also, if their Undertale adventure happened BEFORE the main plot of FMA. Like- when they did the Forbidden Alchemy and Truth yote them through his gate, something went sideways and wrong because of Ed’s sheer levels up Stubborn and so they both wound up IN the underground. Al with his body and Ed with … most of his? I still kinda want him to be missing that initial arm. Just cause.

Anyway cue Toriel finding the possibly covered in blood and crying children and her rushing to heal them and stuff and Al and Ed going on a grand Undertale adventure and TOTALLY doing at least two runs (neutral and then pure pacifist to make it right), Ed learning to abuse the HECK out of the save point system and determination over alchemy while Al … honestly I want Al to learn monster magic. Like- he and Ed obviously find a way to save the day but like- they totally figure out a way to use monster magic. Perhaps in a slightly more alchemic way but STILL something that isn’t “in the norm or rules” of basic alchemy.

Also also if I REALLY super wanted to AU this then it would JUST be Ed who falls into the underground and his brother Al isn’t his original little brother at all (he would be an only child in this au) but would be ASRIEL who Ed un-flowey-ed and turned into a human by like- using alchemy to build an inert human body (because that doesn’t break the Laws of Alchemy) and then using his own Determination to help build/stabilize Asriel’s soul and stuff it in there so boom. New bby brother he is monstrously overprotective of after they get back to his world which is like-a separate dimension from the Undertale dimension.

…. you know what that is amazingly interesting.

DARNIT I HAVE A NEW AU.

-Ed loses the only person in his life he loves and he is smart and desperate and has no sibling to even moderately hold him back. He studies under Teacher and he plans and then he-

-Makes the biggest mistake of his life.

-And he is going to lose everything for it, he KNOWS this down to his Soul as the thing called Truth laughs at his hubris and the gates yawn wide. But just before it can take him, just before it can UNMAKE him he-

-Refuses.

-His Determination burns and

-He

-Falls

-He wakes up, sobbing and in pain, the stump that was once his arm pounding with his heart. There is a face over his, a face that isn’t human, but he has no time to be afraid because the blackness takes him.

-He wakes up in an unfamiliar bed that smells like cinnamon, with a bandaged arm and the monster he will soon know to be Toriel sleepingly fitfully in an armchair by his bedside.

-He doesn’t take it well. He is a hot-tempered child prone to violence, he is a grieving child who does not take boundaries well. But … he is still a child, and he is hurt and grieving and scared. He spends months in Toriel’s care and he … loves her.

-He discovers save points day they fight in the basement and he screams-screams-screams with her dust on his hands.

-(there are two ways this AU might go at this point, one is that Ed snaps and goes on a Genocide run until he meets Sans in the Hall of Judgement(? I think that’s what it’s called) and there Ed has a change of heart and performs a True Reset, OR he just reloads the save point from before his fight with Toriel without leaving the ruins at all. Because I’m an Angst Lover™, my personal HC is the first option).

-Toriel can never get him to tell her why he sometimes stumbles into her room in the night and sobs apologies into her nightshirt, clutching at her with his one hand.

-His run after that is a True Pacifist run (yes yes I’ve read that has to be the second run after a Neutral but this is AU). He’s already got the blood of one mother (one run, one world) on his hands, he refuses to add anyone else’s). He meets the monsters of the Underground, and he is awed by their magic just as they are awed by his alchemy, and Alphys makes him a shiny new arm to replace his old one after they figure out that he CAN learn monster magic for some reason (the Gate, blame the Gate, humans in this world don’t have a Gate).

-And he learns things, and befriends people and sometimes he watches Sans and Papyrus and feels an ache that isn’t his arm and wonders why he feels like something is Missing™, like that should be a mirror of him and another when he is an only child. But he loves the brothers anyway, and he treats Papyrus like his hero, because he remembers this skeleton who was so very very SURE he could be a good person if he just TRIED, and he gives Undyne water because she may be scary and angry but she’s also kind of cool and he wants to be friends.

-But sometimes fighting is inevitable, no matter how much he refuses to kill and so when everything unravels and Flowey becomes his adult Asriel form … Ed fights. He fights and fights.

-But he does not kill

-He choses Mercy.

-And in the end, when Asriel insists he cannot rejoin the monsters as himself, Ed, being the stubborn genius he is, says, “Then be my brother.”

-And there among the flowers, using materials scavenged from the Underground and supplemented with magic, Ed makes an empty shell that looks a bit like him, but not quite. Younger. Gentler. He fuses magic and alchemy and pure unrelenting Determination to give this boy a second chance just like he was given one and…

-And the boy in the flowers opens his bright gold eyes.

-He wiggles his fingers in awe and Ed laughs until he cries.

-“What should my name be?” The boy (Ed’s little brother) asks shyly, “I don’t … think Asriel OR Flowey fit me anymore.”

-“How about Alphonse?” Ed asks, the name sitting easy on his tongue, “It’s a name from a book I read in the aboveground. I can call you Al!” And the boy named Alphonse smiles shyly and hand in hand they stumble up the path to the door that leads to the outdoors, to freedom and light and life-.

-They step over the threshold and the world crumbles.

-The Underground was magic, and magic had kept Truth from finding the wayward Edward, but once they were outside-.

-They tumble back through the gates on a burst of magic so strong Truth cannot stop them and steal anything more.

-They wake up on the bloodstained floor of Ed’s old family home.

-Winry’s grandmother (I forget her name atm) finds them when she comes to check on Ed, having seen the brilliant flash of light that came from the transmutation circle. She comes to … conclusions … when she sees Ed huddled there with a boy who looks like him but Not clutched in his arms, one arm now METAL like automail and an older haunted look in his eyes as he stares at her like he hasn’t seen her in a long, long time.

-She doesn’t ask. She just takes them home. When Winry asks who the other boy is, Ed says “That’s Alphonse. He’s my brother.” And something in his tone brooks no argument.

-It’s a small town, but the Elrics have always been Odd, so no one really questions it when Winry’s grandmother says that the boy’s father showed up late one night and dropped off a child from another woman (even Winry is told this story, though she … has suspicions as she grows older). Ed’s arm is explained as an alchemy accident, and if the “automail” that is a foreign design and strange makeup well … the Rockbells are eccentric mechanical geniuses. It’s probably just a new design.

-Roy Mustang knows none of these things when he comes looking for a genius alchemist. He finds the bloody circle like in canon, he talks to Ed about the military.

-Ed quietly tells him no.

-Funnily enough, the world still has a happy ending. Because Alphonse has never been aboveground save that one tragic time and he is curious about the world, so Ed and Al take to traveling, doing odd jobs with Alchemy to get by, and this somehow leads them getting dragged into the plot and probably Ed still joining the military just to get nosy people off his back.

-But the Homonculus are going to get a NASTY shock when they try their plot, because Ed and Al have already seen the end of that Run and they are not going to do it again and for all Alchemy is a known factor that Father can control.

-Magic and Determination?

-Not. So. Much.

[rebelrecovery]

Book Notes:

This one is one of the better quit lit books I’ve read - Belle writes with blunt honesty, and I love the way she envisions the alcoholic voice in her head as a big bad wolf rather than a wine witch.  

Below are the parts that were most helpful for me... 

I thought, I can’t start drinking now, there isn’t enough. Not enough for what? To fade out. To be numb. Because despite what I may have said, I never wanted one glass of wine with dinner. I wanted three glasses. What’s the point in one glass? And despite what I may have said, I never drank because I liked the taste. [...] I drank to get fuzzy. I wanted to be slightly numb, to take the edge off. I spent a lot of time taking the edge off and then trying to maintain the edge taken off, but I usually ran into problems of sobering up too quickly, or drinking too much. There was no magic formula for edge-off-ness. I tried to find it. I tried having beer before wine, I tried eating first, I tried drinking on an empty stomach. There may have been a four-minute window of edge-off-ness and then I spent the rest of the night trying to find the four-minute window again.

I never want to do this again. I never want to wake up in the middle of the night both wishing I was dead and hoping I’m not dying. Let me not vomit, please, and I promise I will cut back on the drinking. I never want to feel this bad, feel so hopeless, alone, scared, dark. I am definitely drinking too much. I should face that. I should stop drinking for a week, take a break. I’ll start tomorrow. After the work party. After vacation. Next week. After the birthday. The first of the month. On a Monday. I promise. 

I had tried to stop drinking plenty of times on my own, but never managed to quit for more than a couple of days. Usually I’d declare my sobriety in the morning and then open a bottle of wine by 6 p.m. that same night. Then I’d quit again the next morning. No wine for one day. For two days. Then the voice would start. Is it time yet? You can drink now. Celebrate sobriety with a glass or two. You’ve done well. You are going to break this non-drinking stretch anyway, so you might as well drink now. Drink tonight and quit later. What about now. Is it time to drink yet? Fuck it, I’m going to drink, this is ridiculous. I’ve already quit for a week. Let’s celebrate sobriety with some alcohol.

If alcohol was in the house, it spoke to me, then I drank it. Even if I didn’t really enjoy it. I was drinking because it was the thing I did. No enjoyment. No taste. No feeling except for exhaustion. Like a hammer banging on my head. Did you ever try buying a case of wine, thinking that if it was around all the time you’d feel less compulsive about it, and drink less? Ha. Really. Who was I kidding? With a case of wine in the house, I drank more. Of course I did. We never had a wine collection or a wine rack or a wine cellar or a liquor cabinet either. Alcohol didn’t last long enough to be collected or displayed or shared.]

I had lots of drinking rules and guidelines for myself, and over time, bit by bit, I broke all of my rules. I’m only going to drink on special occasions or when socializing. Only on weekends.” But of course, you and I both know that only drinking on weekends is tricky. Because what about Sunday night? Is Sunday part of the weekend? What about Thursday? Maybe the weekend is four days long. Maybe it is, in fact, most of the week. Controlled drinking is not very successful—you know this already because you’ve tried it. If we have to control our drinking, it means that our natural, default tendency is to have one, and then another, and then another. Any plan we make is very difficult, if not impossible, to adhere to. You tried moderation. You did. You maybe didn’t call it moderation. You tried making rules for yourself. When you realized that you were drinking more than you wanted to, before you ever saw this book, you did things like alternating every second glass with water, or switching from hard stuff to beer, or trying to skip days. You tried to drink only on weekends, or only have one, or only . . . or only . . . or only.

Normal drinkers measure their alcohol consumption like I measure my corn on the cob consumption—which is to say, not at all. Just like I have days without corn, normal drinkers have plenty of days without alcohol but they’re not keeping track. I don’t pay attention to whether you are getting more corn than me, and a normal drinker fills up glasses around her without worrying about who’s getting how much. And yes, it’s true that corn on the cob is my favourite of all summer things to eat, but I have never planned days around when I can eat it. I have never gone out at 11 p.m. to get more corn. I’ve never worried about running out of corn.

A ‘bottom’ in the sober world describes the point where you quit drinking. If you have a ‘high bottom’ then you quit when your problems were smaller. Poor concentration, missed deadlines, an inability to take advantage of new opportunities, procrastination, crappy sleep, many days of feeling ill. A ‘low bottom’ is where the micro problems have grown into larger holes, and might include health, relationship, money, or legal issues. My high bottom looks like this: drink with dinner, and after, plan to drink less, continue to drink the same amount, try to quit for a month and manage nine days, start again, not keep my promises to myself. Wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Suffer with crappy sleep, extra pounds, wasted money.

If alcohol is an elevator that only goes down, the goal is to step off, not to ride down any more. Stop drinking now. Start feeling better now. I stepped off early. But I’m not naive. I know where that elevator was going. If I stopped ‘before there was a problem’ then I was fucking lucky, plain and simple. Because even stopping where I did, it was hard to do. Really hard.

The “Drink Now” voice, which I call Wolfie, will say anything to get us to drink. Nothing is off-limits. Wolfie hits below the belt. Wolfie talks smack. Wolfie with a megaphone said to me: You’ve had a long, crazy day. Have a drink. You’ll just have one. It will take the edge off. You have blown this whole thing out of proportion. You need to cut back, not quit. A hundred fucking days? You’ll never make it anyway. 

I knew I had a very loud Wolfie “Drink Now” voice in my head that insisted that a glass of wine with dinner was normal. I also knew that there was another very quiet, very tiny mouse-like voice, that said: You have to stop. You know what this internal conflict is like. 

I felt moderately stable until something happened, like if I got frustrated, or mad, or sad, or bored, or if something good happened and I had to celebrate. I had completely maladaptive coping strategies. I didn’t have the skills to try anything else to feel better because—duh—I’d been using wine as my only coping mechanism. I’d overused wine as a feel-better tool for so long that I literally couldn’t remember one single thing I could do instead to ease my mood.

Booze isn’t a solution to a problem. It’s a very temporary pause button (manhole cover) with horrendous consequences. It’d be like turning to heroin. It isn’t the right solution for the problem. It gets between me and my life, between me and you, between me and serving, between me and fun. It affects my weight, my sleep, my enthusiasm. It blunts, fills, numbs, fills time, expands into the space allowed. Adds nothing, feels bad, sad, argumentative, irritated. Isn’t the real me. My life has so much MORE good stuff in it when the wine is gone. There’s nothing to escape from, it isn’t bad here, there’s joy and beauty and ease here. Don’t need to ‘go’ anywhere else. 

The voice that is YOU, when you’re 50 days sober, says “I know sometimes I feel like drinking but I’m not going to because I don’t want to have a new Day 1. I’ve done enough drinking in my past. I know that Day 1 is rotten.” The voice that is YOU says: “I want something different and better and I don’t know what that is yet, but I know I want to try this sober thing.” We end up in a place where even if bad shit happens, we do NOT think about drinking.

Picture booze like a Big Wolf With Black Eyes, he represents the voice in your head. Now you have to very calmly starve the wolf. Or better yet, you have to dehydrate him by not giving him anything to drink. At first he’ll be mad at you. “Where’s my drink?” You’ll say: I have all this free time now. I can’t talk to you, Wolfie. I’m running, baking, singing, reading, cleaning, spending time with my kids. I’m paying my taxes, cleaning off my desk, enjoying the weather. The wolf will taunt you. “Everyone else is drinking, why can’t you?” You’ll say: Sorry, Wolfie, can’t hear you. I’m too busy cranking up the volume on my new iPad that I bought with all the money I’ve saved.” The wolf will nearly be dehydrated. He’ll try a few more last-chance, desperate attempts. “You’re broken,” he’ll snarl. “You bitch, you can’t be fixed, you’ll always be a fuck-up, you suck at this, you might as well quit now.” And you’ll say: You want to fight? I’ll win. I’ve got so much more energy now that I’m sleeping through the night. I can outrun you Wolfie. I’m light on my feet now. I’ve got so much more spunk, clearer thinking. I’m planning to take over the world, Wolfie, me and my clear-headed genius. What is that? Sorry I can’t quite hear you. Your voice is so quiet, Wolfie. Are you nearly dehydrated? You’re going to dry up and turn to dust. Puts palm of hand up to lips and blows across the surface. Dust disperses, Wolfie is specks of grey in the air. And then gone.

Being sober is a relief. Quitting drinking is like putting down a backpack of rocks that you’ve been carrying around for a long time. It’s like a deep breath that fills your lungs. Being sober is feeling proud of yourself. Being sober is easier than drinking. Too much of our brain space is used trying to manage alcohol consumption. The “Drink Now” voice is exhausting. All of that time we spend planning to drink—thinking about drinking, wondering how much alcohol there is, trying to figure out how we’re going to get out of that work obligation because we’re hungover—all of that can stop. You have been drowning out who you really are. Literally. Banging yourself on the head with a bottle or two of wine. That’s not you. The real you is in there. Drinking is a way of hiding from who you really are. I can honestly say that being a non-drinker is unicorns and parades compared to drinking.

There is a point in each day when you will most feel like drinking. I call this the witching hours. Typically it’s around dinner time; for me it was 6:00 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. If you were to plot the duration of the witching hours on a graph, the period of time gets predictably shorter and less intense each day. Having a replacement drink is a good idea. Your brain is used to having something to drink at this time of day, so you can plan a lovely replacement drink. I have found that bitter drinks deal with cravings better than sweet drinks.

We are so used to using alcohol as our only treat, that we need to learn new treats. You can have bubble bath, trashy magazines, flowers, oven mitts, bad TV from Netflix, time alone, cheap earrings, or savoury pancakes. Perhaps you’ll plan to have steak every Friday for the first six weeks. And if you don’t eat steak, then substitute salmon or sushi or marinated tofu in that category. You spent money drinking, so you can invest some of those Wolfie dollars to support your sobriety. Here are some examples of things I’ve treated myself to: fuzzy blankets, silver jewelry, deluxe candles, essential oils, chocolate croissants, lovely beads, thrift shopping, craft supplies, gourmet ground coffee, a gorgeous teacup, a bouquet of flowers, a potted basil plant. The largest was a countertop dishwasher. The trick is to either find something that you want but don’t need, or to splurge on a more deluxe version of something you were going to buy anyway. Like shampoo or lipstick. I have always struggled with confidence and my inner critic is a real bitch. The concept of self-care is relatively new to me and these gifts remind me to treat myself kindly.

One of the reasons we drink is in search of an ‘off’ switch: to quiet our brains, to escape responsibilities, to have ‘me’ time. If there are coping strategies that are adaptive (make things better) versus maladaptive (make things worse), then drinking is maladaptive. While it may be an off-switch, it creates many other problems at the same time. 

We are not taught, explicitly, how to deal with uncomfortable feelings, or how to self-soothe. So we reach for available tools, however malformed. Did your parents ever sit you down and have a conversation with you about what you can do if you feel overwhelmed, exhausted, irritated, freaked out, lonely, or depressed? Did they give you strategies and tools to help you with Changing the Channel in Your Head? No. Mine neither. Did they model for you how they dealt with disappointment, their feelings of not fitting in, or how they coped with the occasional overwhelming sense of dread? If they did model for you, was it with something other than cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, or a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken? Did your parents have ‘self-care’ time where they made it clear that they needed to recharge batteries, to unwind. Did they lock themselves in the tub with big mounds of lavender bubble bath and candles? Did your father go for a run when he was feeling stressed, or to delineate the mark between ‘work’ and ‘home’ and did he tell you he was doing this, explicitly, so that you could learn to do the same? No? 

in your first months sober, you will get a crash course in adaptive self-care strategies, whether you want it or not. One of the most important things you will do is learn to strategically avoid ‘overwhelm’—I use this word as a noun, it’s a thing on the horizon, like fog. Your life is like a video game. You can see potential bombs, things advancing, that could blow up and throw you off course. Your job is to navigate them. You don’t walk right into a bomb and hope for the best. You don’t test yourself by repeatedly doing difficult or stressful things. Instead, you ask someone to carpool, you decline social activities, and you simplify meals. Your job is to reduce overwhelm. All around you, there are lists of things to do and when you first quit drinking you are going to take it easy. When you first quit drinking, you are going to remember that being overwhelmed is our number one trigger. You will instead do less. Learn to be slothful. Embrace the art of underachieving.

Here are my top three tools for overwhelm: exercise, tub, and bed. I probably use exercise four times a week, specifically to help with my mood. I’m in the tub anytime I’m feeling antsy, or as my reward at the end of a day of catering. And as far as sleep is concerned, I have been known to go to bed at 7:30 p.m. in early sobriety, because I had no other way of dealing with life. I knew I didn’t want to drink, and I had no idea what else to do except ‘hide’.

When we are drinking, we use alcohol to fix everything—or so we think—and we don’t develop any other self-soothing, comforting, or change-the-channel tools. Turns out—who knew—there are at least 578 other ways to shift how you feel. There are things you’ve done before, perhaps by accident, things that once you remember them, and try them, you think “OK, good, I feel better.” Like when you change the sheets on the bed you feel better. And when you have a nap you feel better. And when you snuggle on the couch with a fluffy blanket and braid your cats’ tails together you feel better. Especially if you add hot chocolate. A change of location works. If you’re at home, go out. If you’re out, go home :) If you’re alone, get with some people. If you’re overwhelmed in a group, hide in the bathroom and read sober blogs on your phone. Yes, really.

I made a list of the ways to change my state. It had 30+ things on it. They included: listen to loud music, play guitar, sing, talk on the phone, write a letter longhand, take a bath with candles, light candles anywhere in the house, clean my desk, clean anything, go for a run, make tea, plan meals, test a recipe, read a magazine, brainstorm with clients, design a new logo, read light fiction, read self-help, make a puzzle, go for a walk, take pictures, go swimming, watch a good movie, go to a concert, go to see a movie at the theatre with popcorn, listen to podcasts, do volunteer work, find an audience and do some kind of public speaking, write in my journal, play cards, explore a new part of the city, go to the art gallery, the museum, write a restaurant review.

If you’re an introvert, or if you’re a non-joiner like I am, then asking for any kind of support or encouragement seems hard. But here’s the truth. The simple act of reaching out might make you feel weak, but it’s actually a sign of strength.

When Wolfie says that being sober sucks and that it’s too much to give up, you can remind him that you are also giving up the following: •  feeling like death in the morning •  waking at 3 a.m. with guilt and dread and horror •  vomiting •  spending dumb money (like money spent in bars, expensive bottles of wine in restaurants, buying rounds for people, impulse shopping online) •  emailing and texting random people •  hooking up with random people •  falling down •  hiding bottles •  arguing with your partner •  alternating stores so they don’t get to know you •  cringing when it’s time to take out the recycling. 

And here are a few of the things that you can focus on instead, the things you GET by being sober: •  you sleep through the night •  your skin looks great •  your health improves •  your marriage improves •  your kids talk to you again •  your family will now take your calls after 6 p.m. •  you can drive the car in the evening •  you have the beginnings of a hobby •  you can read a book and remember it •  you can watch a movie and stay awake for it •  you can actually cook the food in your fridge instead of eating popcorn for dinner •  you lift your head, look around, and feel like things are ‘possible’ •  you feel proud of yourself. 

Keep a short journal of your own, particularly for the first 60 days. By keeping a daily record you can see the grass grow. And you can more clearly identify that some periods of time are shitty but that they don’t last, and they’re followed swiftly by easier days. You can start your journal with this entry. Start with a list of 10 things: 1. The way I drink has affected my ___ 2. And my ___ 3. And my ___ 4. It’s caused problems with ___ 5. And ___ 6. It’s made me feel ___ especially when ___ 7. I nearly had a disaster when ___ 8. And this was just about a disaster too: ___ 9. I’m tired of waking up feeling like ___ 10. People who will be relieved that I am sober:  ___

It’s entirely possible to have sober fun, of course it is :) Those of us who are longer-term sober have plenty of fun. There’s nothing better than waking up without a hangover, without regret, without shame. There’s nothing better than being on a beach and being sober and watching a sunset. There’s nothing better than coming home at the end of a long night, or dancing until 4 a.m., knowing that you had a fabulous time, that you rocked it all without a drink. To think that you need alcohol to have fun is Wolfie talking. You were fun when you were 12 years old. You’ve had hilarious pee-your-pants laughing with your best friend and it didn’t involve alcohol. Wolfie tells you that kind of shit to encourage you to drink, but it’s not true. Can you dance sober? Turns out you can. Who knew.

If you are in prelapse, then you will want to do things right away that might make you feel better. Even if you have to try things mechanically, one after the other. You’ll say “I got enough sleep that didn’t work, had a nap that didn’t work, went for a run that didn’t work.” Then you go on to the next thing. You have a treat, that didn’t work. You watch bad TV, that didn’t work. You read blogs, write in your journal, comment on blogs, listen to audios, email somebody, reach out, go to a meeting, listen to something inspirational—you go through the toolkit. And here’s something that will seem obvious when I say it: If the first tool doesn’t work, it does not mean that the whole thing is hopeless. It means that you go on to the next tool. 

You are more likely to be successful if you: •  Reach out for support. It’s hard. Do it anyway. •  Sign up to have a sober penpal. Email your penpal every day. •  Share real stuff, don’t exaggerate, and don’t leave things out. Be truly honest with at least one person in your life about your booze stuff. •  Reach out instead of drink, cry instead of drink, walk instead, email me frustrated instead (the people who don’t email are more likely to get alone in their head with Wolfie who will always say that drinking is a good idea). •  Remember that successful treaters do MUCH better. It’s shocking how much better they do. Once you figure out the self-care treat thing, you’ll find this whole sober experience to be much easier. If you resist treats, don’t understand them, don’t think they apply to you, then I worry about you (see below). •  Get enough support, load on a lot to begin and then ease off as time goes by and you feel stable. Be cautious. Don’t fuck with sober momentum. •  Tell on Wolfie—share when you’re having weird thoughts, externalize the voice, tell on your inner addict. •  Read stuff that supports you and turn away from what doesn’t. You don’t read about moderation, you don’t read blogs that get under your skin, you turn away from people who repeatedly relapse if that makes you feel wobbly. •  Protect your sobriety, avoid situations and people that may trigger you. Your sobriety is a like a little chick that can easily get squished in traffic.

Write in a journal every day for your first 30 days sober, no matter what (can be private, or anonymous on a blog, doesn’t matter).

Read sober blogs at least one hour a day, every day.

Rethink your evening routine

Have a bath/shower every evening, early, so that it sets the mood for the rest of the night.

Plan and purchase replacement drinks that you can have during the witching hours. Bitter is better.

Schedule something to coincide with Wolfie time

Get yourself daily treats for the first two weeks, and then something every two days thereafter.

Get as much sleep as humanly possible. Take naps. You will need a lot more sleep than you anticipate.

Go to bed every time you feel crappy, when you feel you’re about to drink, or when you are agitated and need a time-out. Bed is a good, safe place to hide.

Sober first. If you push yourself too hard, and load on too many goals at once, Wolfie comes in with “this is all too hard.”

Pretend, for a while, that you’re sick, that you have the flu, that you need to take good care of you—very, very good care.

Try to do some kind of physical exercise every day, even if it’s only for 10 minutes

Rent/stream new TV shows and movies as your sober treats, that you can watch only if sober.

Give up any ideas of a clean and tidy house for now.

Please know that crying is totally normal, required, and necessary.

Take pictures of things that you’re grateful for now that you’re sober. It can be simple things like a good cup of coffee, the view from the window, your girls playing dress-up. You can do a sober photo project.

Avoid overwhelm as much as possible. In fact, strive for “underwhelm” and engage in some truly slothful behaviours. It’s OK to be in your jammies watching a show on your iPad. You’re sober. Sometimes bed-snuggle time is required.

Pet your cat, dog, or horse. You know already that this makes you feel better.

Listen to sober audio and podcasts. Find specific topics or episodes that resonate with you. Listen to them on repeat.

Accept that sober motivation is like deodorant: it needs to be reapplied every day. Stop feeling like you should be able to do this if you ‘try harder’. You will need to ‘try different’.

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Ask for and listen to advice from other successfully sober people.

See irritating people as people with struggles. We were irritating too. We were dealing with stuff that other people couldn’t see. Drop your shoulders and see that woman as lonely, or hurt, or needy. She’s not trying intentionally to make you crazy.

Share the nonsensical things that Wolfie tells you—share with another sober person who will truly ‘get it’. Be shocked and then amused that we all hear virtually the same thing.

Find some small activities to do in the evenings to help occupy the empty time. It doesn’t take long for regular life to flow back into the spaces that alcohol consumed, but to begin it’s helpful to have some projects. Decluttering is helpful. It’s cleaning up, from the outside in.

Have something you can wear, some special piece of jewelry, that reminds you that you’re sober and that you’re special. Rub the jewelry. Bestow it with super powers.

Find ONE person that you can be 100% honest with about your drinking, about your thinking, your worries, your struggles, your excitement, and your joy. That might be a counsellor, sober mentor, a coach, sponsor, or a sober friend. You should have at least ONE person who truly gets what it’s like to be you.

Accept that the first time you do everything, it’s going to be a little weird.

When you are facing a shitty hard thing, or a weirdly tempting event (like a staff party), then plan a sober treat you’ll have AFTER you’re home again, safe and sober. Don’t skip this step. Wolfie likes to come in with “where’s my reward” after we do something hard. So you want to remember to have these treats pre-planned.

Be pretty darn proud of yourself.

You have to celebrate your successes. No one is coming in to do this for you. It’s you. It’s up to you.

Walk out of your office, cross the street, have a cry, get a take-out coffee and a pastry, call it a sober treat, email me that you’re doing OK, and then go back to work. Even if you remove yourself ‘briefly’ from whatever situation is making you feel crazy, you can give yourself some time to settle and feel better.

Find tools that work and keep using them. Don’t drift from your sober supports. You know how people stop taking their blood pressure medication as soon as they feel better? Whatever you’re doing is working, so keep doing it. 

Know that Wolfie wants to get us alone in our head, where he can say: “Drinking seems like a good idea. You can probably have one.” Resist this kind of wolfie-solo-nonsense-manipulation by reaching out, telling on your inner addict. Wolfie is a bully and hates it when we share.

What you’re doing is for YOU. Your partner is on their own road. You can do what’s best for you.