#it is terrifying to think of him becoming a doctor in the academic sense..if he ever gets near research someone needs to cut him off

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

wow am i glad jensen never became a historian

[initiumseries]

I like how unimportant Buffy's father was. Nowadays, in supernatural everything has to be connected to the plot.

Yeah, I think especially for the 90s, when nuclear families, dysfunctional or otherwise, were still The Standard, having Buffy be raised by a very clearly single mother, with a father whose presence, already sparse, becomes less and less present as time goes on, to the point where, after Joyce dies, they can't even reach him at all, so she and Dawn are on their own. But what I like about that, is he wasn't at all unimportant, but he is that, the more Buffy's biological father recedes from her life, the more Giles steps into that role as Father Figure for her. Like in season 1, Buffy's nightmare is that her father will stop loving her. And so when he shows up to school, after being worried about her mother, she's excited to introduce him to Giles.

Then by season 3, Buffy is betrayed by her father, who sends flowers as an apology, and then by Giles, *while* she slides in that maybe someone might want to take their daughter...or their slayer to the ice show.

And after Giles realizes things have gone far beyond the scope of the test, he tells Buffy.

And she's crushed. Her father disappointing her, she can survive, but Giles, the one steady man in her life, who's become a father to her in the absence of her biological one, the betrayal devastates her far more than her father's.

And Giles makes good on his promise to earn back her trust. He goes to the test site, he helps her fight the vampires and save Joyce, and he loses everything in the process. He's fired, and vulnerable to the council.

But in the process, he gains back Buffy's trust, proving to her that her safety mattered to him above everything else. Something her own father wasn't capable of doing. And it's bolstered by dialogue:

So, when Hank Summers wasn't able to be the father Buffy needed, Giles steps up. And I really love that, because it's followed up again when Buffy is resurrected and has to catch up with all the bills. Her father is AWOL, and it's Giles who steps in to help give her some breathing room, and be the father she needs. He comes back from England straight away when he finds out she's alive. So I think, while Hank might not be a fixture, the way Joyce was, he definitely plays his part in Buffy's journey and her growth, if even just as a metaphorical litmus for Buffy to understand what a real father does in Giles.

As for the supernatural always being about The Plot. Yes. There was a shift, in TV and movies around the Dark Knight, when we had this reimagined Batman, that was dark, gritty and violent, rather that the weird acid trips with nipple suits of yore. And that perfectly suited Batman. And truthfully, the cartoon from the 90s had already done that.

So to me, it was really a return to the source material. But being Hollywood, they saw the success of TDK and instead of being like, that's great, let's do other movies, it was decided *everything* was going to get a darker, grittier reboot.

But it doesn't make sense when applied out of context. Because not everything needs a DARKER, GRITTIER applique. For what? And what came along with that new way of doing things, and it actually becomes regressive. For ex, this is what @zalrb said in a previous post on how BTVS influenced television altogether: Well, there are a lot of articles and in fact entire academic theses on how BTVS changed television, there are many interviews about it too:

“Russell T Davies said that he used Buffy as a model for when he was rebranding Doctor Who, because [Buffy creator] Joss Whedon was the first person to actually say you can have genuine comedy and life-changing events happening on the turn of a dime.

“You could laugh in one moment and be terrified the next moment, and the two emotions actually complement each other.

“Joss was also very keen to make sure that every event had a repercussion. Nothing happened without it having a follow through. He changed the face of sci-fi TV as a genre, I think, completely.”

So by this token, it was quite important that you could laugh AND be terrified in BTVS, and the only way to achieve that, was making sure there was dialogue that built the characters up so you could laugh with them, feel with them. And this turn to "gritty" stripped all that back, so if it isn't about The Plot, then it doesn't get any room. They stopped casting for chemistry, so you get shoe-horned romances to offset the "grit" and bring in the typical American sex sells in there, as opposed to humour, and it just ends up being a dry, poorly lit, over filtered, joyless mess with characters too archetypal or to unfleshed out for you to care about, who simply react to the plot. It's unfortunate, because television and viewer interest has suffered all for the sake of a trend that, imo has worn out its welcome.

[goldentournesol]

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go. 

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story. 

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot. 

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.” 

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly. 

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly. 

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze. 

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him. 

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship? 

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting. 

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation. 

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words. 

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch. 

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

[somedayonbroadway]

I am literally begging you to tell me about the Psych AU???

(Just to be clear this will be set in the fantasy land where all cops are trying their best to be good all the time. Thank you!)

So Psych was actually probably my favorite show for a lot of my life so I am pretty excited about this one. For those of you that haven’t seen the show, go watch it. It’s on Peacock and I believe it’s still on Amazon Prime. Definitely it’s at its best in the first three seasons, but it never ceases to be funny. However, I enjoy the first season a lot more because of how smart they portray Shawn without having him also be, for lack of a better word, an idiot. Shawn is incredibly smart and his humor and charisma highlighted that instead of hiding it and I miss that in the later seasons, but it is still a really funny show and I do recommend it.

Anyways, enough of me ranting.

Just to be clear, it could work with either Jack or Race as Shawn, and if you would like to see this AU the other way, just let me know!

Psych AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Shawn Spencer

Albert DaSilva — Burton Guster

Jack Kelly — Henry Spencer

Spot Conlon — Juliet O’Hara

David Jacobs — Carlton Lassiter

Medda Larkin — Chief Karen Vick

Racetrack Higgins (Shawn Spencer)

Tyler James Kelly had never had an easy life, with his drunk father or absent mother who had him on accident with a man she barely knew

His father had named him Anthony Higgins

When he’s six all of that changes when his half brother takes him in, against his father’s wishes.

Jack renames him Tyler James Kelly.

Race didn’t know Jack all too well back then. But he looked up to him, even if he’d refuse to admit it later.

Jack is eighteen and just starting out as a beat cop. But Jack’s father had been training him to be a good cop his whole life. Right up till he died.

Race never knew what a parent was supposed to look like. So when Jack began to test and train him, he didn’t think anything of it.

Race has a eidetic memory and Jack knows it even if his baby brother refuses to acknowledge it

The kid is hyper observant and quick witted which often can lead him into trouble though he describes it as being useful stay one step ahead intellectually while being one step behind physically

Was born two months too early and has always been pretty thin and small

Loves classic movies and television shows and often references them

Is wickedly smart and clever, resulting in him graduating high school three years early and leaving New York to travel the country

Growing up he’s best friends with his next door neighbor, Albert DaSilva, who he relies on constantly as he has a fear of abandonment

While growing up with Jack, Race finds himself somewhat resenting his brother who constantly pushes him to be more and do more and get better. He explains that Jack never let him just be a kid, and never lets Jack explain why he has him memorize how many hats are in the room and learn how killers and criminals operate

When he’s fifteen he takes the detective’s exam and gets a perfect score but refuses to go into law enforcement, instead chooses to leave Jack behind, illegally, and travel around the country on a bike he wins in a poker game with a bunch of old men who think he’s no threat.

When he’s eighteen, he inevitably ends up back in Manhattan.

After not speaking with Jack for three years, he has no idea if he’s still even there and is terrified to face him, feeling bad about running away and not knowing if Jack will forgive him.

He gets his own apartment, taking odd jobs around town to make ends meet

He starts going by Anthony Higgins again, but most of his friends just call him Race, a nickname he got from Albert when they were very young

Albert is the only one who knows when Race is back in town and Race makes him swear not to tell Jack.

Race often spends his nights watching the news, calling in tips to the police whenever he figures out a crime that they can’t.

Eventually this leads him to getting arrested before he even turns nineteen, as the police suspect he’s an inside man

In order to get out of this, he tells a lie that he believes will be a one time thing.

He makes the cops believe he is psychic.

Things spiral out of control from there.

After making the majority of the station believe he has the gift (all except for one skeptic who happens to be head detective) he thinks they’re going to let him off the hook.

He has no idea the chief of police is going to ask for his help

Actually excited by the idea, Race runs to Albert’s school and begs him to help him out. Albert is reluctant at first but eventually agrees

Race and Al go out investigating as private detectives until Race figures out the case, leading them straight to the suspect who turns out to be dead.

With nowhere else to turn, Race goes back to his brother, a brilliant detective who got injured in the line of duty and retired early, for help

Jack isn’t even shocked to see him. He’s not surprised, he’s not happy and he’s not angry. It makes Race mad.

Jack takes Race out to lunch where he lets Race talk and tells him that he’s the ultimate disappointment because Jack told Race all growing up how much he hated private detectives and psychics. But ultimately, he helps Race out anyway

This leads to Race solving the case and getting recognition for it. Jack keeps his secret and is even secretly proud of him

The happiness he feels at that convinces Race to open up his own agency with Albert

Throughout their journey as detectives, Race ends up falling for a junior detective, a transfer from Brooklyn who is a partner to the skeptic head detective, David Jacob, his brother’s former partner and best friend.

Spot, the Junior detective, often flirts with Race and leads him on, but they don’t start a relationship until five years later.

Race is faced with countless situations where he becomes a target for serial killers and criminals who come after his and his friends and family.

Race gets shot and kidnapped at one point.

He and Albert get held captive constantly and The Yin Yang killer, a serial killer who had been messing with the department for years, takes a special interest in him, causing his current boyfriend to be nearly drowned, Spot to be nearly dropped from a clock tower, Jack to be nearly blown up and he and Albert to be nearly poisoned.

Despite only telling this lie to get out of going to jail for a crime he did not commit, he ends up sticking with it and finding his purpose in life was to help others instead of help himself and loves it

Albert DaSilva (Bruton Gaster)

Grows up with a good life.

His mother died when he was really young, not even a year old, and he lived with his father and two much older brothers who spoiled him and loved him.

Albert was always smart. He was always smart in different ways than Race was and enjoyed learning and gaining better understandings of things

When he was young, he wanted to become an astronomer. He always loved the planets and the stars.

While being academically advanced, he knew that graduating with Race was not the best option for him as he used to doubt himself when Race wasn’t around to tell him how much he needed him

As a child he applied for a school for advanced students, which he was accepted into. His father refused to send him on account of wanting him to be a kid which Albert never truly liked being

His father never did appreciate the influence that Race had on his son, but allowed it in order to let Albert be a kid because he knew Albert needed it

Albert loved academic activities growing up and had nearly won a national spelling bee that Race botched for him. After learning this, Albert is angry with Race and realizes his friend’s need for him as Race eventually admits he was scared his only friend was going to leave him

Albert is very independent and enjoys doing things on his own, much to Race’s dismay

Al was voted most likely to succeed in high school

When Race runs away, Albert knows about it and tries to stop him, but believes Race will get nervous and come back

When that doesn’t happen, Albert is too embarrassed and scared to tell anyone so he lets Race go, feeling abandonment for the first and possibly only time in his life and he’s always secretly a little angry with Race for leaving

Albert goes to college right out of high school and studied medicine, wanting to become a doctor

When Race comes back into town, he ends up missing a lot of classes and barely manages to stay ahead in school

He still works towards becoming a doctor, which often helps with solving crimes

After finding out he does not like the sight of blood and dead bodies, he switches to forensics which also helps with a lot of investigations

Albert’s oldest brother is a rocket scientist at NASA and his other brother is an engineer

He constantly feels as though he’s trying to catch up and be just as accomplished as his brothers

Albert was pep captain in high school in attempts to be popular. While he did have more friends than Race, he didn’t accomplish actually being popular, but hanging around so many girls turned him into somewhat of a ladies man

During his senior year spring break, Albert, who’s already eighteen, heads down to Mexico with some friends but ends up meeting a girl. He gets drunk and marries her before leaving and never speaking of it again, not seeing the girl until years later when she is getting remarried.

After helping Race on his first case, Albert finds he had a knack for assisting his friend in crime fighting and, though often gives Race a hard time about it and complains, genuinely enjoys helping

Is very protective of his car that his father pays for, affectionately named the Blueberry by Race who picks up the name from a stuck up client

Albert knows Race better than Race knows himself and is sometimes the only thing actually keeping him from chaotically causing his own accidental death, despite Jack’s best efforts.

He has a very refined sense of smell

Grew up catholic and believes in demonic possessions and exorcisms

In an attempt to be cool when he was younger, Albert learned how to pick locks and crack safes

Is often given ridiculous nicknames by his best friend while they’re out solving cases, just for fun. He just rolls with them typically.

He joined an a capella group in college because he knew how to sing and was curious as to what it would be like. Race always finds it entertaining.

Is an experienced tap dancer

Has trouble doing things that are more on the dangerous side while Race doesn’t mind jumping in head first just to see what will happen.

Albert’s father is very protective of him and, even when he’s being accused of murder, tries to constantly give Race money and have someone babysit and take care of him.

It isn’t until Race sets the record straight that Albert’s dad begins to trust him to take care of Al moving forward.

Albert is the only person Jack trusts with Race for a long time as Race had a history with bullies all growing up and never really wanted any other friends.

Albert becomes like another little brother to Jack and Jack teaches him some street smarts to get him by after Race runs away.

Albert helps take care of Jack after his career ending injury

Albert eventually becomes a forensic scientist and ends up working for the FBI

Jack Kelly (Henry Spencer)

A trouble maker when he was young, the only child of his father, James Francis Kelly Sr. and first born of his mother

When Jack is fifteen his father dies, murdered by a criminal who’d been out on a killing spree.

His father had always wanted Jack to follow in his footsteps and become an officer so, to honor him, Jack does

When Jack was twelve, his mother had had another baby. Jack did not know a lot about this, but after his father died, became very curious.

When asked about the baby, his mother got defensive, so he tracked the kid down on his own, finding him in a neglective home and immediately falling in love with the kid and wanting to protect him.

Although he often shows Race tough love, he genuinely makes it his life goal to keep the boy safe and protected

He renamed Anthony Higgins, Tyler James Kelly, because Anthony was originally named after his father, the man who almost never acknowledged that the kid existed and Jack didn’t want him walking around with that.

Even after Race starts introducing himself as Anthony again, he still calls Race Tyler and Tyler James and his little Tyler James because that’s still Race’s legal name

Jack is a bit of a troubled kid growing up.

He has ADHD

His father helped him channel that into being hyper observant and alert

His mother was a bit of a deadbeat, but Jack still loved her up until she died from lung cancer. He didn’t trust her to look after Race once, instead hiring experienced babysitters and sometimes even taking Race into work with him and having another officer watch him

When he first meets Race, he quickly picks up on the fact that the kid is special and had extraordinary talents and he wants to help Race use them in the best way

Jack is a very protective person, though he normally comes off as slightly intimidating stand-off-ish. He is genuinely friendly and actually is the inspiration behind Race’s sense of humor

Jack raises Race to be the perfect detective, believing he was doing this for Race’s own good as Jack himself is terrified of losing someone else, especially his baby boy who he finds he loves more than anyone else in the world.

While Jack was a bit of a prankster and a fighter growing up, his father explained to him that this was a good thing and would help Jack in the future as he knew how criminals could think

Jack is an artist and loves to paint and draw. It’s his most peaceful activity

He once arrested Race when he was fifteen for “borrowing” a car to impress a girl with Race later reveals he only did to keep the football team from finding out that he was gay

He moves up in the police force quickly, becoming the youngest head detective the department had

He is partnered with David Jacobs who quickly becomes his best friend and eventually replaced Jack as the head detective.

When Race runs away Jack is extremely hurt and goes through a small depression that ultimately makes him lose his focus and gets him into a bad car crash, ending his career as a detective

His knee is shattered and he can’t run as easily as he used to be able to.

Refuses help most of the time and locks himself away from the world until Albert comes knocking on his door

He lets the kid help him out

It is eventually revealed that Jack put a gps tracker in the dog tags that had been his father’s. He’d given them to Race because he convinced the kid they’d keep him safe. He knows where Race is at all times

This is why he’s not surprised when Race is back in town and this is how Jack continues to be able to find Race when Race is in trouble.

When Race is shot and kidnapped, his drops the dog tags and Jack panics because he’s never not been able to find Race and when he does eventually find him, he puts the dog tags back around his neck and yells at Race to never take them off again

That’s when Race finds out what Jack did

Jack is Race’s biggest critic and biggest supporter all rolled up into one

While he never truly approves of what Race is doing, he still does his best to help him and protect him as best he can and is always proud of him no matter what he does.

During his time in recovery, Jack sells paints and works on commission, starting his own arti website and becoming a fairly famous artist

When the Yin Yang killer returns to New York, it is revealed that Jack worked the case before but had not been the target of the serial killer.

He is kidnapped by Yang who knows somehow that he’d be unable to run and slightly traumatized him, placing him in a car at a drive in movie with a bomb in his lap

Though he tries to convince everyone that he’s not scared, Race ends up staying with him to comfort him through the nightmares.

After Yin and Yang strikes again, making it even clearer that it’s Racer he’s messing with, Jack accepts a job from the chief of police as a police liaison in attempts to keep Race safe

A few years later, another old case of his comes up and he realizes that the cops who trained him and worked with him were dirty and tampered with his evidence.

He is later shot point blank by one of his old partners and left for dead, but Race, who had followed him, manages to take him to a hospital, saving his life though it was a very close call

After all of this, Jack eventually retires from the police department, no longer respecting the badge as he’d used to and becomes a professor of criminology at the same college Albert attended where he meets Katherine, his future wife

Spot Conlon (Juliet O’Hara)

Sean “Spot” Conlon grew up being around cops a lot.

His father was a crook.

While he knew his father loved him, he also knew that his father was a conman and what he did was wrong.

Growing up, Spot would wake up to receive little gifts on his nightstand and eventually he figured out that his father had been breaking in to leave them for him, taking the window apart and putting it back together without a trace.

Spot loves his father but moves on and grows up to become a cop to stop people like his father from taking advantage of others

He has one older brother, Hot Shot, who is also a criminal, though he is a criminal in the name of the Army which he was trying to protect

Spot does have to arrest his brother but is not shocked to find that his brother escaped

Spot does have a younger brother, Charlie or Crutchie as he’s called by his brother, who he loves very much and tries to preserve as the kid is the only member of his family who is remotely innocent.

Crutchie eventually moves from Brooklyn to Manhattan to be closer to Spot and meets Spot’s friends who he adores.

Charlie is the one who reveals that Jack was one of Spot’s idols. Spot looked up to Jack because Jack was one of the youngest head detectives in the country and was an overall brilliant detective

Spot first meets Race while undercover. The conversation only lasts a few minutes before Race deducts that he is in fact a cop about to make a jump on someone.

Wary of Race at first, Spot keeps his distance. He is skeptical of Race’s “gift” buy after observing him behind to believe his abilities may be real

Upon his transfer to Manhattan to become a detective, Spot is partnered up with Jack Kelly’s old partner David, who is very stand-off-ish and mean at first

Spot and David begin to build a relationship based on trust and become like brothers after a long while

Originally, Spot is not taken very seriously as he’s very young and cares about how he looks. Many of the other cops make fun of him, calling him “pretty boy” and other derogatory names because they all know that he’s gay

David often sticks up for him but doesn’t let Spot thank him.

Spot eventually starts calling Race “pretty boy” as a means to give the words good meaning again

Spot is very good at going undercover for jobs and enjoys getting to be placed in different roles.

Race often tells him that if he hadn’t been a coo he would’ve been a hell of an actor but Spot doesn’t like that because he fears he’s becoming too much like his father

Spot is desperate to succeed in his work and often goes to Jack for advice (I know, they like each other in this one. It’s crazy)

Spot is very competitive and likes to be right.

He often brags about solving cases before others but does not put others down, necessarily, in the process

Though Spot is a bit on the shorter side, he makes up for it with muscle and strength.

When he gets angry, people back off, afraid of what he might do if he decides to take his anger out on them.

Spot is fluent in Spanish, just like Jack, and after Race and he start dating, they often have conversations about Race right in front of him.

After getting kidnapped by Yin, Spot is traumatized to the point of being unable to stay at the station.

He develops a paralyzing fear of heights that’s Race helps him through

Eventually, Spot becomes the head detective in Brooklyn when the chief is transferred there.

David Jacobs (Lassie Face)

David had always had a difficult time with trust

He grew up with a twin sister and a little brother.

His father cheated on their mother and his mother cheated on his father

His sister grew up and left without telling anyone.

His ex wife had cheated on him and left him

Suffice to say that trust didn’t come easy to him.

Growing up, Davey likes the rules and he likes enforcing them. He likes being in charge and he’s good at it.

David loves his younger brother a lot. Les is going to school for film and he loves getting insight about what police actually do. He likes to make documentaries

When David is partnered with the head detective, he’s shocked to find he actually likes Jack

Jack is the first person he truly trusts in a long long time

Jack becomes his best friend and only confidant

As he’s close with Jack, he does meet Race a few times, but when he questions Race about his tips under his old name, he doesn’t know why Race looks so familiar

It isn’t until David sees Race with Jack that he remembers.

Jack lies to David and tells him that Race is a psychic and found out when he was fifteen and that’s why he left even though he knows Davey won’t believe him

David understands and respects that Jack puts his little brother first

But the kid still annoys him

Despite not necessarily getting along with Race, David does everything he can to protect him as a ways to pay Jack back for all the times he’d saved his life

When Jack gets in his accident, David refuses another partner, nervous about not living up to Jack’s reputation.

His first new partner ends up being a girlfriend of his during his separation from his wife. Race outs the affair on accident and the woman is transferred

David and Spot don’t get along at first but Spot quickly shows David that he’s not any junior detective and is really good at what he does

He ends up really liking the kid

After Jack’s accident, David has a hard time going to see him, feeling as though he’d failed the other man somehow.

Eventually, he takes Jack out for a drink where Jack apologizes for screwing up and they have a bonding moment

Eventually, David finds himself infatuated with a suspect in a case he’s working

Though the girl is ultimately guilty, he visits her in prison and eventually marries her

His whole life all he’d wanted was to be the chief of police

Eventually, after Chief Larkin is transferred, his dream comes true.

He and Race manage to become friends and, after receiving a video message from Race, confessing to the fact that he’s not a psychic, he tears the disc out and breaks it, never needing to know how Race did what he did

I absolutely love this one, so if ya’ll wanna see any scenes from it, just let me know!

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[goldinavonlea]

What if Ant Jo offers to pay for Gilbert's schooling after he turns down the chance of going to Paris via marriage to Winnie?

Honestly? I think for Gilbert the whole Sorbonne dream is to his career what Winifred is to his heart.

The way I’m seeing all of this panning out, we have an eighteen year old who lost his father (and the entire rest of his family—we know he said they were a large family once which he is now the last of, and we’ve no idea how biologically or emotionally close to that family he was—we just know they’re all gone), then managed to find a new family he loved desperately only for that new family to be ripped open once again. Following that loss he decides he doesn’t want to be a Simple Country Doctor because he’s come to see it as helplessly standing by—having to watch yet more people die while he’s unable to do anything to stop it. He also becomes increasingly involved with Winifred, which has only stepped up since he’s met her parents and been provided with a possible path to the Sorbonne.

I think Winifred and the whole idealised future working in medical research in Paris are very much intertwined, and very much coming from the same root place, which is a blinding terror of getting his heart crushed again. He’s clinging onto the options which seem safer and easier, but they feel safer and easier because he wants them less and therefore there isn’t the same crushing fear of potentially losing them. He clearly likes Winifred but he doesn’t love her, and if there’s no love then there’s no potential for a tragical romance: if it all goes wrong it’s not going to destroy him. And if he goes into medical research—if he commits to a life of academic work instead of direct medical practice—he can help without having to bear the pain of watching his patients die. If the people around him that he loves keep dying then subliminally if he moves half way around the world they’re safe, right?

I think since John’s death he’s been scrabbling a bit, and having to experience another loss just when it all seemed to be coming back together has basically left him a raw nerve, and the choices he’s making at the moment are motivated by fear rather than passion. There’s that whole thing I read somewhere probably on here, talking about how people’s greatest strengths and weaknesses tend to be opposing sides of the same coin, and Gilbert’s greatest strength is that he truly, deeply cares about people—especially those who are marginalised or othered. That’s an incredibly powerful thing, but the flip side of it is that it makes you incredibly vulnerable to things like loss and rejection: if you take people right into your heart that means if anything happens, it hits you right in the centre and hurts like hell. Another one of Gilbert’s great strengths is that he seems to find it very easy to get along with people, people like him, feel easy with him, to my mind because he’s (generally, we’ll come back to this point) very perceptive in his interactions with people—he can read them easily, which means it’s easy for him to be what people want from him. The flip side of that, of course, is that it’s great for everyone else but not great for him: if you’re used to being what everyone around you wants you to be, it becomes very tricky to know exactly what you want for and from yourself.

So all this together, Gilbert has two paths: one is prestigious, low risk, with little potential to cause him great pain, but it comes at the price of cutting himself off from what fundamentally makes him special—his deep care for people, his ability and willingness to challenge the status quo in terms of who is perceived as being valuable in the world, the fact that he consistently shows that he’s happier and more at ease around people who are, in whatever way, Different. The second path is emotionally risky and challenging, but with the potential for much greater fulfilment, and surrounded by people he loves deeply but is scared to death of losing. The first path is the flat road; the second is the roller coaster, paying for the highs with the lows.

Now obviously this is my personal reading, my take, and this show loves to prove me wrong, but I just can’t imagine, in the end, Gilbert being able to walk away from his family, his people, when having that sense of family and community has always seemed to me to be his primary motivation. He ran from Avonlea as soon as he could after his father’s death I think more than anything because he just couldn’t bear to be alone—as evidenced by the fact that he was only willing to return after a) Bash agreed to come with him and b) he received in Anne’s letter evidence that there was at least one person in Avonlea who cared about him. And on the topic of Anne, coming back to what I said I’d come back to before: Anne is just about the absolute embodiment of the second path. As I said he seems generally to find it easy to get on with everyone else, can always say and do the Right Thing to keep things peaceful, but that falls apart with Anne all the time. I know a lot of us have stressed about the amount they’ve seemed to fall out, but I think part of that comes from the fact that she seems to render him incapable of being Whoever Is Convenient To The Situation and forces him to just be Gilbert (the same I think is true of Bash, who we also saw him have a falling out with last season—yes the issue there came from Gilbert getting tunnel visioned onto his own path and not thinking through what that meant for Bash, but the very fact that he was solid enough to be selfish with Bash eventually forced the resolution of the issue in a way that made Gilbert actually figure out what he really wanted, which again was to be with his family). The issue with Anne for him though is in that very fact: he can’t just make himself be whatever he figures she wants, and he has no reason to believe what she wants is him. That’s another potential pitfall of caring deeply about other people: he admires and respects Anne precisely for her worldview, the way she sees things and people, and if he really opens up and puts it all on the table for her and that worldview he so admires finds him unworthy, then that’s completely soul-destroying. If it could work with her then it would be his absolute dream come true, but if it doesn’t—if it went wrong in any of the myriad ways it could, if she turned him down or if she didn’t and then he lost her, it’d utterly ruin him. I think she scares the living shit out of him, and honestly I think he scares the living shit out of her too, she just has less of an instinct for self-preservation but anyway that’s another whole conversation.

I know I’ve wandered about a million miles from your question but anyway. ANYWAY. What I’m saying is that as lovely in theory as Aunt Jo sweeping in to save the day once again might be, I really don’t think Paris and the Sorbonne is actually what Gilbert wants or needs. I think he wants and needs to have the direct interaction of working directly with patients, and the emotional support of people he loves deeply around him in order to cope with the pains of that direct involvement (though I’m not saying he shouldn’t enter into any academia at all by any stretch, I think there’s a lot that he could gain from areas of that under the right circumstances, not to mention if you think I’m hopeless for the idea of the Doctors Blythe, Anne and Gilbert academic power couple of the university of toronto, you would be absolutely right). I think what he needs to realise is that no branch of medicine makes you a wizard, and that what really matters—the part in which he could truly shine and excell, is giving a shit. Is, as Anne said, caring deeply. That is what would make him a fantastic doctor. And that’s the other thing about Anne: she’s recklessness where he’s caution, and in both cases to a degree that they sometimes do themselves damage with it. But Gilbert makes Anne more considered, and Anne makes Gilbert brave. When they’re on the same page they’re absolute gold dust, and the potential they both bring out in each other is fantastic: he just needs to get past the fear that’s currently motivating him and let himself take a chance on the terrifying vulnerability of hope.

So. Hope that answers your question :p

[lostgirlrewatch]

1x06 - Food For Thought

Written by: Pamela Pinch

Directed by: John Fawcett

Original Air Date: October 24, 2010

Food for thought, indeed. I love this episode a lot. I think this is also the only episode written by Pamela Pinch in the entire series. Sad. Anyway, let’s begin.

Bo and Kenzi follow Lauren to make a house call for a Fae with food poisoning. Kenzi contracts the same illness--a fatal supernatural disease that will kill her within a day. The others do whatever they can to save her.

Side note.

I swear, I could make an entire blog just out of complaining about Lauren. But I will suppress my instincts. And I will not.

Kenzi hates Lauren for seemingly no reason (or at least, we can only guess at what the reason might be), and Bo tries to tell her that Lauren is more interesting than she seems. Is she?

“Just TRY not to break anything.” At what point have Lauren and Kenzi ever interacted enough such that Kenzi has revealed to her a propensity for breaking stuff and that Lauren is valid in being annoyed about? At WHAT POINT? Lauren is literally just saying this out of NOWHERE to be rude.

This is one of my favorite episodes in the first season. Not much moves in terms of the overarching plot, but character-wise, a couple things are happening. One, Kenzi’s family dynamic with other characters like Dyson and Trick becomes more solidified. Two, Bo and Lauren team up and deepen their bond. If you’ve read literally any of my previous posts it should not be hard to guess which of those things I care more about. (It’s the former.)

The premise of the episode is simple, which I like, if kinda gross. Kenzi gets sick, and the others must find a way to save her. Bo is the hero type, the kind of person who desperately needs to take action to solve her problems rather than be passive. As the protagonist, her actions need to move the story forward (or at least, the overarching story, though she needn’t be the protagonist of every individual episode). As the main character, the show often dictates that she be at the center of the action. As such, she immediately hits the pavement on a quest for the cure to Kenzi’s illness. 

Joining her in this quest is Lauren, whose science-y knowledge proves crucial to breaking into a facility and obtaining an antidote. Lauren is instrumental in helping Bo save her closest friend, and appears to do so selflessly, with no ulterior motives. As a result, Bo is deeply touched. They tag team, they go on a mission together, and they bond. Bo trusts her a bit more now. On top of that, Bo is finally able to stop from killing a human in the middle of one of her feeds, thanks in no small part to Lauren’s treatments. Since Lauren has been on that journey of recovery with her, they also bond a little more over that. All of this is a build up to show us that Bo and Lauren have established a bond of trust by this point, and to show us that Bo now has several compelling reasons to care about and be grateful to Lauren. This is build-up that will have a payoff several episodes down the line, and we’ll see about that when we get there.

But because Bo is the hero, the Fixer, the action-taker, the one stricken with main character syndrome…while she’s out desperately trying to find a way to save Kenzi, sick Kenzi is left without her and someone else needs to take care of her while she’s…you know…scared, suffering, and dying.

Dyson primarily fulfills this role. In previous episodes, we have seen Dyson and Kenzi slowly build a friendship. When we begin the show, Kenzi is totally alone. She has virtually no relationship with her biological family and no friends of note. In the first episode, she chooses Bo as her family, accepts her into her circle of caring. Next, expanding outwards from this, naturally, comes Dyson, Bo’s love interest. Kenzi accepts him because Bo accepts him. Then, in her mind, Dyson betrays her trust by hurting Bo, but Dyson proves to Kenzi that he is a friend to both her AND Bo, so they make up and are cool after all. That’s where we leave them off when we start episode 1x06.

Do I think it was wrong of Bo to abandon Kenzi’s bedside to go off and find the antidote? No, not at all. Obviously, the antidote was necessary to save Kenzi’s life, which ultimately takes precedence over her immediate emotional needs. And saving Kenzi’s life is what Bo cares the most about. But I do find it incredibly interesting that this happened, because it sort of establishes a pattern in their relationship. A deliciously not super fun one. When the chips are down, Bo will always go to the ends of the earth to make sure Kenzi is physically okay. But in Kenzi’s most vulnerable, desperate emotional moments, is Bo always there to comfort her? Is she even often there to comfort her? I’m excited to keep watching and find out.

The good thing is that Dyson and Kenzi get a fantastic opportunity to deepen their bond instead. We even get this little moment with Trick, where we use an earlier scene to establish that Trick has this ancient artifact that is more valuable to him than almost anything in his possession, only to later show us that he is instantly willing to give it up just for the chance to prolong Kenzi’s life by a few hours.

I think the gravity of this is easily overlooked, given how forgettable those Trick scenes are by themselves. But let’s remember that Trick is like this gajillion year old Fae grandpa in a universe where humans are viewed on the same level as like…pet fish…and he was willing to give up one of his most valuable possessions to barely prolong the life of a human girl he hasn’t even known for that long. Trick, also, proves in this episode that Kenzi means something to him, and it’s pretty cute because we see that Kenzi cares about him too. 

You often get the sense that while Kenzi cares deeply about the people around her, she isn’t sure if they return her feelings. There’s a vague mistrust. She’s a bit baffled by Trick’s caring about her as much as she is touched by it.

Kenzi is traumatized. Well, obviously. Specifically, she has trauma relating to hospitals, illness, and death. We don’t know why, at least not at this point. The show doesn’t bother giving us any flashbacks or tidbits of backstory as a way of explaining why Kenzi is freaked out by hospitals or why graveyards make her feel calm. I find this rather unique and refreshing. We don’t really need to know the details, at least not right now. What’s much more important is that we see the trauma that series Kenzi lives with in the present, and moreover, how she deals with it.

Her discomfort being in a hospital gradually turns to fear as she becomes trapped there herself, and we see her latch on to Dyson as the only beacon of safety and familiarity there. When she wakes up, she not only finds herself alone (the one thing that terrifies her the most), she witnesses a woman die before her eyes. 

This is clearly very triggering for her and culminates in a panic attack. Kenzi reverts to survival mode at this point. 

I find it poignant that she is aware that leaving the hospital may shorten the time she has left, but that she would literally rather die alone on the street than stay another second in there. Alone. Kenzi. Would rather die. Alone. She even says so. “I’d rather die in a ditch.” She’s that desperate to get out of there. What exactly did happen to her in a hospital way back when?

The graveyard scene is phenomenal. How does Dyson know to find her there, anyway? Did I miss that part, or just forget? It’s been some time between rewatching this episode and writing this, so maybe. 

Kenzi doesn’t say much about herself, as usual, just that she used to come here a lot when she was a kid because “sometimes you just need a place to think, you know?” Graveyards are usually quiet and, depending on how you feel about them, peaceful. Maybe Kenzi grew up in a large, hectic household. An abusive, loud, stressful household. Maybe she has dead family members and friends that meant more to her than the ones she was living with. Who knows? I like that Dyson just sits and listens to her. He doesn’t try to pry, he doesn’t try to tell her what to do or strongarm her back to the hospital. Instead, he offers her a safe alternative and leaves the decision up to her. Kenzi agrees and asks if they can stay there a while first, because it’s nice. “Unless,” she says, “you have somewhere to be?”

There’s no resentment or maliciousness in that question. It’s genuine. She’s kinda used to people having somewhere else to be and something better to be doing.

Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anywhere else to be but there with her, supporting her. It’s a great character and relationship moment for them both.

I don’t have much else to say about this episode, though that was quite a lot.

Back to the beginning, as far as why Lauren and Kenzi don’t like each other, I have a few ideas. Mainly, I think they don’t like each other because the other doesn’t like them. Though, of course, that brings up a chicken and egg scenario, and I’m sure they’d both assert that the other disliked them first. 

But beyond that, I think there’s something about Lauren’s air, her attitude, and her STEM academic background that doesn’t sit right with Kenzi. That and, of course, her general mistrust of doctors, which this episode establishes. Kenzi sniffs out Lauren’s elitism right away and it offends her to the core, since she grew up on the street and has no education except for the one she got there. In Kenzi’s defense, she has valid evidence for feeling this way about Lauren. If I remember correctly, “Just try not to break anything,” isn’t the first passive aggressive insult Lauren has lobbed at Kenzi’s intelligence, much less Bo’s, and it won’t be the last. Lauren’s dislike of Kenzi might be similarly rooted, if on the opposite end of the spectrum. Lauren is a careful, methodical person. Perhaps Kenzi’s seemingly off-the-hook, carefree attitude rubs her the wrong way for whatever reason. Or, gasp…maybe Lauren is bitter that Kenzi, a fellow human, enjoys such a relatively free existence and more equitable relationship with her Fae friends, while Lauren is, you know, no heavy spoilers, but, forced to bow to the whims of her Fae masters.

Love this episode. Next time, we have “ArachoFaebia,” another Andras episode, which I love slightly less, and probably won’t have much to say about.

[maywoodrpg]

ALL ABOUT HYUNTAE

— Gender/Pronouns: Demiboy, He/They — Date of Birth: February 20th, 1994 — Place of Birth: Incheon, South Korea — Current Residence: Downtown  — Occupation: Surgical intern — Faceclaim: Kim Seokwoo

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warnings: Terminal Illness, Death

INCHEON, SOUTH KOREA

Echoes of sounds bounce off the walls of the chapel, filling the empty aisles and seeping into the crevices, into every corner that they can find. Screams can be heard from somewhere close to the podium, a young woman with more to lose than she ever anticipated. Feeling doesn’t come easily to her, and neither does attachment, but the baby she’s currently bringing into the world still feels like everything to her. Even under these circumstances. Even stranded in the church that she’s forced to come to, with only the help of her baby’s father and the priest who saves souls here.

Henry is born at the altar, crying and cold, and his mother takes him into her arms and holds him to her chest, snuggling him in against any bare part of her skin that she can find.

Time passes. Henry lives in a world of dreams, a whimsical sort of child, curious and imaginative and outspoken. He skips through the hallways of his childhood home, traverses the large gardens and gets lost amongst the flora. His mother calls to him from the patio, sometimes drawing him from his own head into the real world, and he goes to her with smiles and warmth.

Father isn’t around very much. Mother tells him it’s because he’s working hard to help them keep their big house and their gardens and all of their nice things, but Henry doesn’t understand that as well as she thinks that he does. Moreover, he doesn’t see why that means Father can’t be here to tell him goodnight or wish him a good morning, and he finds himself wondering as he grows older whether the man cares about him at all. Aside from birthdays and holidays, it’s a rare occurrence that he gets to spend time with him, and even then it feels brief and estranged.

Henry misses him fiercely.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, USA

Henry is ten years old when they move for Father’s work. He cries about it at first, struggles against it, begs for them to not make him leave his friends, his family behind. He claims he’ll miss Grandmother too much if they leave her in Korea, and Mother tells him that they’re going to take care of her no matter what, and they’ll come back to visit her, too. Henry is forced to accept this, as he is far too young to make these decisions on his own, and somewhere inside of him he knows it, too.

Father starts being gone for longer hours, if that is even possible, and when he comes home, his brow is too often knit with consternation. His shoulders become more and more withdrawn, like they’re being weighted down with something, and Henry begins to worry as well, picking up with the vibes in his household more effectively than he would have if they were words spoken aloud. Mother seems oblivious, or at least she pretends to be — she’s the perfect homemaker, just like she always has been, and that’s something. It’s some sort of stability, especially when he’s entering his preteen years feeling so off-kilter, having to learn a new language and adjusts to a new private school.

Age thirteen is the first year they begin to integrate themselves into the social group that they will spend almost as long as Henry can remember among. Cannes the year after that is the first time he falls in love, or so he thinks.

Boy on the beach, boy in the garden, boy passing him in the halls at night with the cheeky smile and the wild light in his eyes — Henry thinks he’ll never breathe again, all those times that the oxygen gets pushed from his lings, hitched in his throat. Of course, he couldn’t possibly tell him that, if only because it’s far too terrifying, and because he’s too young and naive at this point to understand that he doesn’t stand a chance. That he never stood a chance when most of these families had already been coming here since long before his was even thought of, and perhaps they’re more on the outs than he had originally anticipated.

Father works now more than ever, not coming home sometimes until the early hours of the morning. Mother and Henry pretend to not see the weariness that he displays, though most of the worry has long since hardened into determined resolve. His company has blossomed, flourished in the international economy. They want for nothing in their mansion, at least three times as large as their old home, and mother starts staying in her room more when they hire housekeepers, cooks.

Henry goes to her every day after school. Sometimes she even rolls over to look at him.

LONDON, ENGLAND, THE UK

Henry is fifteen when father’s business evolves with yet another expansion. They purchase a third home, this time in London, and Henry is thrust into a whole new environment with a whole new dialect to learn. Mother still takes to her room just like she has for the last couple of years, and he still goes to her, watching her deteriorating health. Now it’s broken up by expensive doctor’s visits that he isn’t allowed to attend with her, though he tries his damnedest to do just that, and father begins frowning more again.

At sixteen, he finds out why father is so stressed all the time, and then he finds out that there’s more to it than he ever imagined. The darkest side of the business that he’s in becomes apparent one night when he overhears a hushed conversation on the phone, stood outside of Father’s office with the intention of demanding answers from him regarding Mother’s health, only he gets different answers than he’d ever imagined. Shady dealings going on behind the scenes between his father and other men of power could be the death of anybody who were to find out, and when he’s caught listening in, he finds for the first time in his life that he’s actually afraid of the man who has raised him.

I do this for all of us, Father tells him fiercely, and Henry nods like he understands, like it all makes sense to him, and tries to ignore the way Father nervously runs his hands through his hair and casts his gaze towards his and Mother’s bedroom.

On Henry’s seventeenth birthday, when Mother is going about making the same cake that she’s made for him every year for as long as he can remember, she collapses. Henry calls 999 without a second thought, and he holds her head in his lap and kisses her forehead until the paramedics show up and take her away in the ambulance. He races through the streets of London, calling Father over and over again, and when he makes it to the hospital, he’s forced to sit in the waiting room alone for hours before the man shows up to be with him.

This is the day that Henry learns Mother is going to die.

INCHEON, SOUTH KOREA

Taking care of Mother becomes more his choice than his lot in life. He makes sure to spend every moment with her that he can, and as per her request, they even move back to their home in Korea to make her most comfortable during the last months of her life. As time passes, Henry becomes more and more withdrawn, quieter and less bright, less curious, less imaginative. Father works just as much as ever, and he begins to resent him to a degree that he hadn’t though was possible until it began to happen.

This is when he begins to become a social media presence, throwing himself into the digital world as a form of escapism. He gains followers so quickly he practically doesn’t even understand the significance of it all, and he updates his Instagram and Twitter feeds with pretty pictures of a pretty life that almost doesn’t belong to him, ignoring his trials and tribulations and all of his hurts in favor of living in a fantasy.

Henry is seventeen when his mother passes away. This is, by far, the hardest year of his life. Father is somehow around even less in the aftermath, traveling between London and LA and leaving Henry to study. He doesn’t forgive him for it, just like he doesn’t forgive him for anything else; he practically blames him, in fact, for all of the stress that caused Mother to deteriorate further in those early days.

MAYWOOD, MAINE, USA

Early admission into a university in Maine is as difficult a thing as it seems, and Henry manages it not based entirely on money, but on academic capability as well. He knows that his mother would be proud of him, if she were around to see it, and on top of that, it presents an opportunity to be away from Father, which he’s only all too willing to jump at.

Studying pre-med is one of the only things that he’s ever dreamt about and known he was going to for sure do, and the fact he’s managed it all but on his own only gives him more satisfaction, making it easy for him to continue building that resentment towards Father when he knows that he doesn’t really need him in the long run.

Years pass, and he earns a degree, only deciding to stay in Maywood for that time because of connections that he’s made and people that he’s come to know. When Henry finishes school, he has a long trail of personal messiness strewn out behind him, and he tries not to look back because that’s always gotten him into trouble in the past.

What ends up continuing to keep him there, however, is something else entirely.

A baby is born. His baby. It comes as a shock, like being dunked suddenly into a pool of cold water, and just as suddenly as he’s holding her in his arms, he becomes a father.

From this point forward, Henry vows to never make his child feel the way that he felt, vows to always be there for birthdays, for holidays, for anything and for everything. Even when he starts his new job as surgical intern and becomes busier than ever, he still makes time for his child and he never stays away from her for than a day’s work at a time.

HYUNTAE CHOI is currently played by Hazel.

[theflenser]

DEATH AND DISPLACEMENT

Sometimes I wonder how many hours, in total, I've spent working at degrading low level jobs that mean absolutely nothing to me or my life. Thousands, certainly. Hundreds of thousands? Perhaps.  

Every night around 7PM I park my piece of shit van about eight blocks from my piece of shit job and walk beneath the I-35 overpass, dragging my feet along the sidewalk as I hear the din from the nightclubs grow louder, the slurring roar of inebriation and weak-willed lust trickling into my head like a toxic gas, reminding me that although I've been sober for over seven years, my life still doesn't amount to much more than a sad, tired, pathetic joke. A grimy quarter marinating at the bottom of a plastic cup half full of stale, cheap beer. Before I reach the overpass, on the corner of Holly Street and San Marcos Street, there is a telephone pole covered with rusted staples and nail heads that were once used to hold up posters and signs, long since forgotten and weathered away. Whenever I pass this telephone pole, I always stop and say a little mantra to myself that helps me to feel a little less anxious and brings a moment of peaceful awareness to my mind. After I finish the mantra I knock three times on the telephone poll and then continue walking. It's an unusual habit, but I've been doing it for years, and the few times where I've forgotten to do it I feel like I later paid some kind of inner emotional toll for the oversight. As such, I try to never forget.  

I tell people I'm a "bouncer" because it sounds slightly more romantic and dangerous than the truth. The truth is that I'm a door jockey...greeting, carding, and granting entry to a neverending onslaught of shamelessly entitled little bags of piss and puke that frequent the strip where I work. Rainey Street...once a neglected row of condemned houses and crack dens, now since converted into an upscale alcoholic playland for inbred oil money academics and closeted country club racists. I've lost count of how many times I've fantasized about hurting these people...about killing these people....but instead I just keep showing up, clocking in, and cleaning up after them. Ten dollars an hour and a lifetime supply of resentment and self loathing. I realize that I'm no better than them. In fact, I know that I am much worse. I choose to be here, wallowing in my bile of regret, disappointment, and disgust. I don't deserve to live any more than they do. But unlike them, I have no illusions as to what I am.  

One Sunday night, around 3:30 AM, I clock out and start walking the eight blocks back to my van. There aren't many people out at this hour, save for other sevice industry losers like myself, the occasional gaggle of die hard street drunks, and the faceless unfortunates who have no homes to return to. As I near the overpass, I see a woman in a car parked along the feeder road lean her head out the drivers side window and spew vomit down the side of her car door and over the curb. I hear her start the engine and watch as she pulls out into the road and speeds off without bothering to turn her headlights on. I shake my head as I cross the street and step beneath the overpass, which is well lit and lined on either side with tents and makeshift cardboard shelters. There is no movement and no sound audible above the ambient white hum of intermittent traffic passing by above me. As I am about to step beneath the overhead gap that separates the north and southbound lanes, I hear a sound...no, I feel a sound unlike anything I have ever experienced before or since. The only way I can describe it is to say that it sounded as though the sky were being torn open, as though something great and unimaginable was trying to claw its way into our reality from some unknown dimension. It is absolutely terrifying, and my first instinct is to turn around and start running, even though I have no idea what's happening. I only make it a few paces before I return to my senses, and as the sound becomes less deafening I hear it morph from an immense cacophony into something more recognizable, the sound of metal on metal, the crunching of steel and broken glass. I turn around and look up through the gap between the lanes of the highway and see that the night sky has been partially blotted out by rectangular paneling. I see the shape of a wheel spinning freely in the air, connected to the paneling, but disconnected from it's purpose. I smell smoke and gasoline and realize that I am looking up at the back end of an overturned semi truck.

I stand there for a moment, looking up in disbelief. I hear some cursing and grunting from within one or more of the makeshift shelters and then everything is silent. I continue on, heading towards the other side of the overpass to where my van is parked. When I reach the other side of the interstate I turn around and look up. I can see the wreckage of the semi and at least one other vehicle. There is dark smoke curling upwards into the sky. All of a sudden I hear the faint sound of a baby crying.  

Without thinking about it, I sprint up the side of the gravel embankment and pull myself over the guard rail and onto the shoulder of the highway where the wreck is. The semi truck is both completely jackknifed and toppled over, the rear portion of the tractor trailer stretching horizontally across the space between the two lanes. There is no discernible movement from within the cab. The other vehicle is practically unrecognizable, though it appears to have been some sort of luxury sedan. The back half of it has been completely crushed and the front end is a tangle of impossible angles and certain death. The windshield, somehow still intact, is now a nearly opaque white map of cracks and serpentine splintering, the drivers side half of it folded outwards like a partially open book. The vehicle is filled with blackish smoke, and it's clear that the sound of the crying is coming from within what is left of the car. About ten feet away, lying amid the rubble of glass and debris, is the shape of a man lying on his side. My heart freezes as I see movement and realize that he is still alive. I walk towards him and I can see that he is desperately trying to crawl back towards the vehicle and the sound of the crying baby. It's at this moment that I become aware of something incredibly strange. I look north towards the direction of downtown, and then turn my head in the opposite direction, looking southward to where the highway stretches away from the city. Looking in both directions I can see that there are no vehicles approaching from either direction. The highway is completely deserted. Even at this hour that seems impossible, especially this close to downtown. It's as though the world has fallen asleep, and the only things left awake are me, this man, and the baby crying from within the automobile behind me. As soon as this thought enters my mind I hear the crying suddenly choke up and cease. Everything is silent again. I look down at the man and see his face is covered with blood. One of his legs appears to be completely destroyed, the pant leg a flattened mound of blood and sinew. There is a bone jutting out through the front of his shirt near his throat, possibly a rib or a collarbone. I'm no doctor so I can't say for sure which. The man appears to have no awareness of what is happening, yet he continues to try and crawl towards the vehicle, pulling himself an inch at a time with one arm, his ruined leg and torso leaving a trail of blood behind him. All at once I recognize the man. He's a regular at the bar where I work. I've seen him there many times over the years, sometimes with his wife, sometimes with other women, and sometimes alone. When he's there alone he always stands in the same spot, drink clutched in his hand, scanning the room for available females like a hawk surveying a field for hapless mice and squirrels. He's just one of countless others who follow this same pattern. That's the nature of the environment.  

I kneel down next to him and lean in close to his ear. I can smell a mixture of blood and booze wafting up from his open mouth. One of his eyes is swollen shut and there are shards of glass stuck into his cheek and forehead.

"Stop it. Stop it right now." I speak directly into his ear. "It's over. Your baby is dead, and so are you." I don't feel pity for this man, or contempt. I don't feel anything at all. "What were you doing driving around drunk at four in the morning with your baby in the car?"  

It's clear that he can't hear me. He stretches out his arm again to try and pull himself closer to the wreckage and I put my foot down on his hand.  

"I said stop it, motherfucker."  

Suddenly his upper body lurches forward and a mixture of blood and yellow fluid dribbles out of his mouth onto the concrete. There is a gargling sound coming from his throat. I slide my boot under his shoulder and flip him over onto his back. The gargling sound intensifies. From the corner of my eye I see the blue and red strobing of police cruisers heading towards us on the feeder road from the direction of the courthouse on 7th street. The world appears to have woken back up. I look down at the man's face and take a deep breath. The gargling has stopped and he appears to breathing again. I realize that it's possible he might actually live.  

In one rapid, fluid motion I raise up my boot about knee high and bring it back down as hard as I can against his throat. I feel it collapse between my heel and the pavement. Blood and fluid shoot up from his mouth directly into my face and across the lens of my glasses. I lick my lips and taste gin and iron. I take one last look at the cab of the semi and what's left of the sedan. No movement. No sound. I turn around and dart back down the embankment towards Holly street where my van is parked. When I get to the corner of Holly and San Marcos I stop at the telephone pole and clean my glasses with my shirt. I look up towards the moon and recite the mantra:

"I love you God. Thank you for everything. Please keep me sober for the rest of my life. Until Death, God, keep me sober. I love you God. Thank you for everything."

I knock three times on the telephone pole, walk the rest of the way to my van and drive straight home, where I sleep more soundly than I have in years.  

[novantinuum]

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D 

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.  

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.  

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

[jamesginortonblog]

The moment James Norton decided he might actually want to be an actor was during his appearance as Gwen Stefani in the school miming competition, when he was 11.

Most people chose songs by a boyband, or Coolio, but Norton picked Stefani, because he loved No Doubt. It was a boys’ school and the female costume department wasn’t very well-equipped – one pencil skirt and a blonde wig between them, whether you were Cleopatra or Courtney Love – so everyone assuming a female role looked rather similar, with very badly applied lipstick. ‘Really young weird drag queens is what we looked like,’ remembers Norton.

A video exists of this debut. ‘And in the first verse I was clearly terrified. But then I remember feeling the audience and being fuelled by them.’ By the second verse he starts to strut, out of nowhere, and the connection was made. ‘F— yeah!’ thought Norton. ‘This is it!’

Here we are 20 years later and Norton is having the time of his life. In what has become a varied career curriculum – a pop star (Gwen Stefani), a padre (Sidney Chambers in Grantchester), a prince (Andrei in War & Peace) and a psychopath (Tommy Lee Royce in Happy Valley), not to mention his theatre roles – Norton has managed to escape the sort of typecasting that could have defined him.

He is a good-looking, fairly posh, highly accomplished and intelligent actor, who in a short time has become very famous indeed.

When we meet he is rehearsing a role in Belleville (which has now just opened) at the Donmar Warehouse in London, and his reputation is set to soar with his new television role – as a young hedge-fund manager in McMafia, the BBC’s eight-part exploration of financial corruption and global organised crime.

Inspired by Misha Glenny’s book of the same name, the series was written by Hossein Amini (who wrote the 2011 film Drive) and James Watkins, who also directed it.

It was shot over eight months in London, Croatia, Moscow and Tel Aviv, with an international cast, including David Strathairn and Faye Marsay. Norton plays Alex Godman, the son of Russian exiles with mafia connections, who has been working to distance himself from his family’s reputation.

Glenny’s book is a masterful piece of investigative journalism and has quite a reputation with both law enforcers and gangsters.

‘Actors can be brilliant at what they do but they don’t necessarily engage in the issues or environment beyond their role,’ says Glenny, who acted as an adviser on the series. ‘James gets the character, and the environment and the issues. He has an extraordinary ability, which enables him to make this very subtle 180-degree turn over the eight episodes.’

It’s a Michael Corleone type role. When Norton was cast, the director told him that what they were hoping for in Alex Godman was part Sidney, part Tommy – somewhere between the vicar and the psychopath. Norton believes McMafia has a valid, topical message, what with the Paradise Papers and the climate of tax evasion, Russian interference and widespread corruption.

‘There’s such an appetite for it now; everyone wants to see what state-level corruption looks like. It’s a catalyst for a conversation, and hopefully we can use it to mobilise something – because of the way that financial institutions are structured, it’s impossible to police that grey area where legality ends and criminality begins.’  

If I ever turned up in a convertible my family would just laugh We meet for breakfast in the Covent Garden Hotel on a cold November morning, before Norton’s rehearsal at the Donmar.

He is chatty and engaging and it is not long before we get on to the subject of his 92-year-old Great Aunt Grania (most interviews with Norton mention James Bond and his Great Aunt Grania), known for her confidence-boosting prowess. He tells me about the time when she looked at him quizzically over dinner and said, ‘I can’t understand why you look so good on the screen James, when you look so bland in real life.’

I don’t like to contradict a 92-year-old, but I beg to differ with Great Aunt Grania. Norton is much better looking in real life than on television. His face is full of light; so is his voice – and he laughs a lot and is ready to be amused at all times. He seems curious, well balanced and up for anything. I imagine he comes from a very happy family.  ‘I do,’ he says. They are, he says, his great leveller.

‘And you do need that constant reminder of who you were before the madness started. I am lucky to have such a normal, grounded family who are really supportive. They enjoy it all through me and I enjoy their enjoyment of it, but they’re never going to be seduced by it. Which means that hopefully I won’t get seduced by it either. If I ever turned up in a convertible my family would just laugh. The person I was at 25 is exactly the same person I am at 32.’  

Norton was born in London but grew up in Malton, North Yorkshire. Both his parents worked full-time – unusual, he says, at that time for where they lived.

His father was a university lecturer and his mother started off as a nurse. ‘She didn’t come on holiday with us for several years because she was doing a PhD in her spare time. She’s a strong woman and an amazing example to us.’ His younger sister is a doctor.

Norton went to the local primary school and had a thick Yorkshire accent (not dissimilar to that of Tommy Lee Royce) then went to the public school Ampleforth College.

‘I didn’t love school. They were not the happiest five years of my life. I didn’t fit in. I hit puberty quite late, which made quite a big difference. I loved theatre and music, which wasn’t as cool as liking rugby and smoking. Also I really enjoyed the academic side and worked really hard; school set me up in a way because I wasn’t popular so had more time to work.’

He doesn’t come from a religious family, but Ampleforth was a strong Catholic school. ‘It was extraordinary. It’s stunning, set in this big valley which was often bathed in morning mist. And you have prayers three times a day, so it was really quite a magical, mystical place.’

Because he was unhappy at school – he was bullied a bit, but not badly – Norton made friends with the chaplain, Father Peter, who became a sort of therapist. A relationship with faith developed ‘but it was more of a fascination and a comfort than a belief’.

After school, ‘I sort of let rip. I went off on an eight-month wander around South Asia on my own and I went a bit crazy. I finally felt comfortable in my own skin – there’s so much contention in that small, pressure-cooker environment of school so when I found people I loved and who loved me it was an amazing relief.’

He spent three months teaching in Nepal then went to India (with a tiny battered little Nokia - no smartphones back then) and had a wild, eye-opening time.

The theatricality of faith in Nepal really appealed to him. ‘Every day seems to be some sort of religious festival; it’s so imbued in their culture and their daily lives.’

When he went to Cambridge he read theology, ‘but I’m not religious; I’m intrigued. And I studied mostly Hinduism or Buddhism, not much Christian theology at all, which was really awkward when people would come up to me on the set of Grantchester and say, “You know – from Corinthians, Chapter Two” and I hadn’t a clue what they were on about.’

He got a first from Cambridge, but still managed to fit in a lot of theatre and alcohol while he was there, and had a relationship with a girl who directed him in several theatre productions; he still wears a bracelet she gave him today. It reminds him, he says, of the second time when he suddenly felt he could be an actor.

‘It was probably the moment it turned from a dream into a reality,’ he says. By the time he left university he already had a place at Rada. ‘It’s such a great feeling when someone asks you what you want to do with your life and you can reply “I’m an actor” – rather than, “I want to act.”’

To support himself, he worked as a children’s party entertainer in the holidays.  Norton graduated from Rada six months early, having secured an agent and made a brief appearance in An Education in 2009. His first major theatrical role was in Laura Wade’s play Posh at the Royal Court in 2010, about the Riot Club, a fictionalised version of The Bullingdon Club at Oxford.

‘There were 10 guys in the cast and every evening, after the play, we’d spend all our wages on booze. It was like a sports team.’  In 2011 he appeared in a revival of Journey's End at the Duke of York theatre, to this day one of his favourite roles.

A solid two years of theatre followed. ‘There were endless conversations with my agent about trying to nail a film role – and then suddenly you break through and your schedule changes – especially if you get a recurring series like Grantchester or Happy Valley – and you have no time left for theatre.’

He then went four years without doing a play at all – until last year’s Bug at the Soho Theatre, and now Belleville at the Donmar. Belleville is a punchy piece of writing by Amy Herzog about a young couple who’ve graduated from Yale and decide to move to Paris. Norton plays a doctor; Imogen Poots is out of work his actor wife. They’re living the American dream, but they have a certain sense of entitlement, and, inevitably, everything falls apart.

Norton didn’t know Poots before they were cast, but they were soon rehearsing sex scenes together. ‘I had only met her two weeks before. You have to just trust, and let yourself be vulnerable.

'Of course it has a brilliant side to it – you get to know someone so quickly and intimately, and you build fantastic relationships; similarly with the director.  I think the definition of an extrovert is someone whose energy is fuelled by other people, which I think I am – so a rehearsal room is a joy.’

Norton appeared in the TV series Death Comes to Pemberley (2013) and Life in Squares (2015), but it was three roles in fairly quick succession that made him a household name: firstly, as the 1950s cleric Reverend Sidney Chambers in Grantchester (2014-17), which had three series.

This, he says now, is the most fun he has ever had on set, mainly because of his friendship with Robson Green, who plays Inspector Geordie Keating. (At one point Green was ordered off set by the director because they were laughing so much.)

He also played Prince Andrei Bolkonsky in Andrew Davies’ revered six-part adaptation of War and Peace (2016), and Tommy Lee Royce in Sally Wainwright’s brilliant BBC police drama Happy Valley (2014-16), which won a Bafta, and saved him, he says, from a life sentence of period drama.

Wainwright, the gifted writer of Last Tango in Halifax and Scott & Bailey, had seen Norton on stage in Journey’s End, but he was still pretty unknown when the call went out to audition for the part of Tommy Lee Royce, the psychopathic killer who becomes Sgt Catherine Cawood’s nemesis in a small town in West Yorkshire.

Norton already had the right accent from growing up in Malton. He was sent the script while he was in South Africa doing a ‘rather ropey’ film about Vikings, and he recorded his audition on video. He was very impressed by the screenplay, but didn’t really think he’d get the part. So, he says, he had nothing to lose, and went for it.

‘The character was so rich… my [audition] scene was the most incredible piece of writing, where a man is so sad and damaged that the most loving act he can think of to do for his eight-year-old son is to kill him.’ Not long after, he got a call from his agent to tell him that the part was his. ‘Being offered Tommy changed my life because it’s opened so many doors. It showed that I could play the baddie.’

And he did it memorably. As Tommy Lee Royce he was horribly convincing – so much so that once when he was in a queue, the girl in front of him turned round and saw him, screamed and ran away.

Last year, he was tipped to be the next James Bond, and became the bookies’ favourite. He gets asked about it constantly, but there's not much to say.

‘It would come with incredible challenges, but beyond that I haven’t thought about it at length because it’s so speculative and silly. I’m flattered that people would even consider me. But I’m also a huge fan of Daniel Craig, so would want him to do a few more films.’  

Happy Valley, which won a Bafta, saved him, he says, from a life sentence of period drama Norton is permanently busy. He has just filmed the remake of the ’90s classic Flatliners; today he is rehearsing for Belleville and then recording voiceovers for McMafia, this evening he is attending a ball in aid of JDRF (Junior Diabetic Research Fund).

He has type 1 diabetes, having developed it when he was 22. His mother and his sister are also diabetic. He injects himself several times a day, but has incorporated it into his life and doesn’t let it deter him. ‘So for example, the kedgeree is about to arrive and I’ll have an injection to counter the carbs; it’s just about having a level of awareness about what you’re eating.

‘It’s interesting being on stage or on set because your body is full of adrenalin and that screws up your sugar, especially when I’m on stage for a full hour and a half. I have to anticipate it at the beginning of the show and make sure my sugar levels are going up or are at least stable. In period plays, I’ve had to stitch little pockets in my costume for sugar tablets.’

A few years ago, during a performance of Journey’s End, Norton was shaking a bit, and sweating from the adrenalin because the play was going well, but one of the other actors thought he was hypoing and told the stage manager.

‘Pandemonium broke loose. The next thing I know, they’re improvising and offering me Lucozade in a teacup, saying, “Cup of tea, sir?” and putting biscuits all over the dugout. So there have been moments where diabetes and theatre have collided.’ But since he started talking about it, he’s realised that he can have a positive influence on young diabetics and demonstrate that it’s a manageable condition.

What else? He lives in Peckham, in a house full of vintage clothes left over from when he used to run a clothes stall in Nunhead, and firmly refuses to talk about his love life, despite what I thought was some rather persuasive questioning on my part.

‘Let’s leave that one vague. Just say that at that point I started tucking into my kedgeree…’ He smiles broadly, disarmingly, but he is steely. Somewhere between a vicar and a psychopath.

[sweetpollyolliver]

I started writing comments on this post and then got so carried away that I decided to write it all down. I hope you don’t mind @winepresswrath​ - I was inspired!

In brief:

Wei Wuxian - an engineer with an interest in how to control interior environments for example how to make a biodome (think like the Eden Project from 0:50)

Jiang Yanli - cognitive therapist specialising in young people

Jiang Cheng - wedding planner :)

Wen Qing - GP/family doctor

Wen Ning - works with artificial intelligence

Lan Wangji - environmental scientist

Lan Xichen - ethics and philosophy lecturer/professor/academic

Nie Mingjue - retired young from an impressive military career - not sure what to do next

Nie Huaisang - the business mind behind a start up involving artists and music - a bit scary tbh if lovely

Here are the ramby details because I don’t think it was straightforward for any of them. I also speculate about potential mental and physical health conditions because they are strangely linked to the careers we are likely to take in my head:

Jiang Cheng – starts out in medicine at university, becomes a wedding planner. His parents are both disappointed at different stages. He is wildly successful and terrifying with exquisite taste. Winepresswrath has put this so much better than I could so I won’t expand but I love it.

Wei Wuxian – an engineer? Something in STEM that is very creative – involves building and making and achieving the impossible. I do imagine though that he had a dip during/after uni where he did not do engineering at all and did something like being a handyman and Deliveroo driver on the side.

I also like to think that he didn’t realise he had ADHD until he was in his mid-late twenties – when he is living with Wen Qing and Wen Ning and learning about neurodivergence from them both and estranged from the Jiangs. It probably made a lot of things make sense for him in retrospect.

Maybe he is also not ever successful during the story even though he may become successful in the future? He has so much potential but is not currently realising it – he is, however, falling in love with lwj and doing his best. I feel that success in your career is not always the measure of success in a person and that it would be important for wwx to feel that too.

Jiang Yanli – Something a bit tougher like cognitive therapy although she likes to use art therapy a lot. As someone who understands chronic pain intimately and feels compelled to help others where she has found help. (I realise that cognitive therapy does not involve chronic pain - I think I am getting caught between her wanting to help her brothers and wanting to help herself - tricky).

Maybe she is one of those people who starts off with an arts degree and then gets a second degree/masters in some tangent of medicine (nursing/therapy etc)

I headcanon Yangli as having some kind of auto-immune disease that means she has dips in energy that made her brief, fledgling arts career intolerable – I associate that kind of career with the requirements to attend parties into the night and work 12-14 hours at a time on coffee just because that’s how you make it through the industry.

She took a break, learnt more about her health and how to help maintain her energy levels. Then, when she began to think of having a career again, she felt more inspired by therapy and preventative medicine than she did by her original career path and ended up doing a second degree. She works with troubled young adults and is very, very good at it.

Wen Qing – a doctor, of course, but specialising in what? She was skilled enough to have done anything and may have been heading towards something high profile like surgery, or research but she ends up deciding to become a GP. She likes working with children and the elderly and people with chronic diseases. It makes her smiley and sweet. The effect is devastating.

Wen Ning – I struggled here for a while because Wen Ning is very gentle and obviously easily bullied which makes me think that he might struggle to find a career. But then I thought, what if he has autism (or is at least on the spectrum)? and that helped surprisingly. There is a stereotype about autistic people ending up working in programming or AI for a reason and now I want him to be fantastically successful in AI in his quiet, unassuming way.

I want him to build robots or advise in the sensory department of something huge like NASA? This is perhaps how he got to know wwx? There m ust have been overlapping classes.

I also like to think that he has done many odd jobs on the way and has spent at least some time as a mental health support assistant? Or a support worker for people with learning difficulties. Like he spent years funding himself through university working on the bank shift at a local mental health hospital for example. He seems like he would have acquired great wisdom by trying many things.

Lan Wangji – environmental scientist. He is a genius mathematician and musician too, but I like to think he wanted to go where the need was greatest and decided that environmental science was it. Picture him wondering the globe in khakis for research somehow looking spectacular in a way that no one else is capable of.

I have a vague image of him working somewhere like Kew Gardens or the Eden Project (maybe with wwx – creating a biodome?)

I do also wonder if lwj could be autistic but if he is, he is so high functioning that it wasn’t diagnosed. Xichen suspects it. I think Xichen also suspects that Qiren has autism too. It doesn’t really change much.

Lan Xichen – an academic and lecturer in philosophy and ethics – much more in keeping with his family background as the Lans are academics and teachers - lwj is the rebel. He works somewhere very prestigious. He is a very good teacher. He is also a very talented musician – he gave flute lessons to make some extra money and for the pleasure of it.

Nie Mingjue – like with the Lans, the obvious answer is that he has a decorated career in the military and has done at least one tour of Afghanistan or Iraq. He went to university first, funded by the military, and started out as an officer in his first tour.

I would like it if he left the military and did something else – it is hard to imagine what as he doesn’t live long enough to show his other attributes in canon. But perhaps that is where he is at – a retired veteran who does not know what to do with himself and is quietly thinking through how not to let others repeat his mistakes while avoiding recruitment from intelligence agencies/the military.

The implied effects of more than one tour in the military are well documented but I don’t have the heart to get into it. nmj makes me very sad sometimes.

Nie Huaisang – an arts career similar to Yanli’s first one. Photography maybe or fine art?

He likes the parties involved and is actually pretty good at the networking. Has definitely done some outrageous things at university and beyond and has friends all over the world that he met in the art scene. He took a job as a life model at uni when asked to show some initiative. I like to think he and jc and wwx were flatmates in the first year of university and a beautiful friendship was born.

I don’t think he takes his work or himself as an artist particularly seriously until it becomes apparent that his brother might need him to support them financially.

May end up running a business as part of a collective – being the business mind behind bunch of artists, musicians and art-adjacent activities that makes it lucrative. Is spectacular at the social media side.

What kind of careers/life styles do you enjoy seeing for the mzds characters in modern aus? jiang siblings especially

I'm not picky! It's really more about how they behave in whatever context they're placed in than the specific job for me, and I like when they're all astronauts or marine biologists or race car drivers or whatever and so the idea that they're all kind of operating within the same professional circles stays intact. That being said, it's also nice to let Huaisang just chill out being an eternal art student sometimes, and I have a soft spot for modern aus where Jiang Cheng fucks off to do something he actually enjoys. When you remove the dynastic/reconstruction responsibilities that's much less out of character, and a big part of the draw of modern aus for me is a setting where it's easier for the characters to be a) alive and b) happy. Jiang Cheng the wedding planner remains my absolute favourite, as an opportunity for him to go full proxy bridezilla and mount intricate logistical campaigns to his heart's content while judging other people for their inferior aesthetic taste. I have seen people suggest that wedding planning is too soft for him and I'm just going to go ahead and assume those people have never met a wedding planner.

I'm fond of WWX as an engineer, as he strikes me as a STEM baby to his core and it gives him a good outlet for his mad scientist tendencies.

I feel a little bad giving Yanli the most obvious two professions of chef and therapist, though I do think she'd be very good at both of those things. She's actually one of the relatively few characters besides Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao I can see just straight up getting her MBA or JD for family expectation reasons, and I honestly think she'd be pretty straightforwardly competent at most jobs that require a lot of interpersonal skills.

[ceiaofsilence]

Zombiezuku, Ch.1

Because I’m secretly a sucker for those Izuku-has-a-Quirk fics

People are born unequal. Izuku knows this.

Sometimes he’s bitter over it. But All Might always smiles on the screen of the computer, and it makes Izuku feel like everything will be all right. So he can smile, too.

“You don’t even have a Quirk!” Kacchan shouts, and his friends (Izuku’s friends, once upon a time) laugh obnoxiously, Kacchan basking in their admiration.

“B-but the doctor s-said-“ Izuku begins, voice wobbly, snot and tears muffling it, “-My toe joint is f-fine so-“

“You’re just quirkless trash!” Friend-on-the-right shouts, and immediately looks to Kacchan for approval but only gets a menacing scowl. It doesn’t stop him from adding, “Even if you got a Quirk, if it doesn’t show, then it’s worthless! You’ll never reach our level!”

Izuku winces. Bad choice of words there. Poor Friend-on-the-right.

“Hah?” Kacchan growls, as Izuku knew would happen. “Ya think you’re on my level?! You’re just a fucking extra!” Explosions go off on his palms, loud and scary and bright, and so so beautiful. Izuku could watch Kacchan use his Quirk forever.

Friend-on-the-right does not think that way and runs away. Friend -on-the-left starts sniffling. “I’m telling Kaa-chan you used a bad word!” he whimpers.

More explosions. There’s a big word to describe how they look to him, Izuku tries to remember it. Hyp-no-tah-zing. Something like that. Kacchan would know the word, he’s way smarter than anyone else even at age six. “The fuck you will,” Kacchan tells Friend-on-the-left, who starts nodding frantically.

“I gotta see someone bye!” And with those words, Friend-on-the-left runs away as well. This leaves Izuku alone with Kacchan, which is both great and terrifying. Mostly great, though. Kacchan’s hands are still sparking.

“Fucking coward,” Kacchan sneers after the running boy.

“U-Uhm, Kacchan?” Izuku speaks up timidly. “Your pants are on fire.”

“The fuck’re you saying, shitty Deku?” Kacchan growls. “Those shitheads were right, y’know? You’re fuckin’ worthless!”

“But your pants are really on fire,” Izuku repeats. Indeed, Kacchan’s sparking hands had set his clothing on fire.

Kacchan squawks and starts petting at the flames. They’re small, much less bright than his explosions, but they seem to scare him. Izuku jumps forward - it’s up to him to save his friend! Except Kacchan doesn’t really like getting tackled to the ground by Izuku and punches him in the face, and they end up rolling in the dirt, Izuku frantically trying to smother the flames while Kacchan attempts to violently get rid of him.

Izuku does back off when the pants aren’t aflame anymore.

“This shit was supposed to be fire-resistant,” Kacchan complains, glaring balefully at the charred holes in his pants. “Stupid Mom got ripped off.”

“Oh no,” Izuku mumbles. “What if that happens again, what if that’s normal, what if heroes can’t rely on the labels of their clothing, that would be terrible, hero outfits rely on materials so much, if a fireproof suit isn’t fireproof than there’s no telling what might happen-“

“They’ll burn, obviously,” Kacchan sneers. “You’re so- holy fuck, Deku.”

“Huh?” Izuku asks.

“Your face,” Kacchan says, staring blankly. “Holy shit, you have a Quirk.”

Now Izuku is the one staring. “I have a Quirk?” He starts patting at his face for anything - scales, maybe, or horns? “I have a Quirk?!” He stares at Kacchan who holds the answer to the question that he’s asked himself his whole life. “What is it, where is it, what do I do, is it something amazing like yours, is it maybe like All Might’s but no, that would be too great for someone like me, Kacchan, do I really have a Quirk?”

“Would I lie about this?” Kacchan demands, jumping forward and grabbing Izuku’s wrists, dragging them away from his face. “Stop pawing your face, you idiot, I gotta see this!”

“But what is it?” Izuku whines.

“Shut up!” Kacchan pokes his cheek, turns Izuku’s head this way and that while examining his face. His eyes are gleaming, and Izuku remembers that Kacchan is just as interested in cool powers as Izuku is. “This is some sick shit,” he says.

“But what does it do?” Izuku asks desperately. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan grabs Izuku’s hands and turns them over. There are blisters on his palms from when he’d tried to smother the flames on Kacchan’s clothes. And as he watches, the blisters just - sink into his skin and disappear. It itches, he notices. His face itches, too. He wants to scratch himself, but that would mean moving his hands, and he’s too busy marvelling at the miracle - he has a Quirk.

“Mom, mom! I have a Quirk!” Izuku barrels into his home, his mother whirling around, completely startled.

“Izuku?” she asks. “What was that?”

He throws his arms around her, bouncing up and down. “I have a Quirk, mom! See, we were playing and then Kacchan’s pants caught on fire, and then I got blisters and stuff trying to put it out-“

“Oh no!” his mother exclaims, “I’ll get the first-aid kit, then we’ll go to the doctor-“

“No, look!” Izuku beams as he holds out his hands. “No blisters! They all healed, isn’t that great? Mom,” he breathes. “I have a Quirk.”

Tears fill his mom’s eyes. “Oh Izuku,” she breathes. “That’s - that’s wonderful, I’m so happy for you!” Her arms wrap around him.

All is well in Izuku’s world.

Self-healing. That’s Izuku’s Quirk. All of a sudden, most of his problems - if they could be called that, it’s not a problem if everything is fine, Izuku thinks - disappear. No more pitying looks or mocking whispers follow him around. Kacchan is nice again, for some interpretations of the word. He doesn’t push Izuku away so much, and he’s almost as interested in Izuku’s Quirk as Izuku himself.

Kacchan is also the one who stops him when he tries to test his Quirk by hurting himself. That’s just fucking dumb, he yells at Izuku and calls him some awful things. He’s right, Kacchan is always right, and when he doesn’t talk to Izuku for a whole week - he never did that before, no matter what he’s never outright ignored Izuku - Izuku can’t stand it. He never tries to test his Quirk that way again.

The Quirk counsellor tells him his is a passive Quirk - a Quirk that activates when a certain set of circumstances is met, without the user having to do anything. Izuku know that already, the hero Aegis has a passive Quirk that makes a force field appear around him when he’s in danger.

Sometimes Izuku is a little sad that his Quirk isn’t flashy, that there’s nothing for him to train there, nothing he can do to improve it because it’ll mean getting hurt and Kacchan will get met again if Izuku hurts himself, intentionally or not.

But then Izuku thinks about how blessed he is that he has a Quirk at all, thinks about how much he likes the thought that he won’t ever come home to Mom while covered in bruises and scrapes that make her sad, that he doesn’t have to be scared of getting hurt anymore. He’s glad, then, that this is the Quirk he received.

Izuku is much happier at school now. No longer an outsider, no longer the target of jokes and mockery. Teachers suddenly praise him again, students ask him for tips in studying. He can go to Kacchan’s house again without getting in trouble later, and sometimes Kacchan will even come home with him to eat his Mom’s cooking together and do group projects and homework - even Kacchan has to admit that Izuku is the only one who can come close in matching his academic scores.

Life is good.

Sometimes, all those good things feel empty, though. Izuku never tells anyone that he has nightmares of losing his Quirk, and with it all those good changes to his life. That sometimes he feels he’s only worth something because he has a Quirk.

To be honest, he doesn’t feel different from Quirkless Izuku, whom nobody but his mother could look at without sneers or pity.

(He’s living a lie, isn’t he?)

(What’s so great about a Quirk, anyway? He’s still Izuku.)

He blocks those thoughts out. Better to fit in, better to be happy and smile. Mom is happy, Kacchan accepts him (sort of, anyway), Izuku’s no longer useless. He’s got a group to hang out with. They’re not always nice, and a lot of the things they say Izuku doesn’t agree with, but it’s fine. It’s still a group he can fit into and that accepts him.

(What does it matter if it feels like a lie sometimes?)

Self-healing.

When Izuku is ten, he realises that it’s not exactly that wonderful. And that it goes a little beyond simple healing.

He and Kacchan have taken to seeking out hero fights. They’re both aiming to become heroes, after all, and learning from professional heroes’ examples makes sense. Izuku has filled eight notebooks with data and observations so far.

Ironically, they’re not at the site of a fight when it happens. Rather, they’re on the way to one. Some villain has issued a challenge of some sort and taken a few people hostage. Izuku and Kacchan are on the train, hoping to make it in time to see the heroes’ response.

The train rolls on - and there’s no warning at all. No villain, no sign of disaster. Later, Izuku will find out that there was something on the rails, remnants of a hero fight far away that had been blasted up and carried by the wind. But in this moment, all he knows is the horrible screeching noise as the train slips off the rails, the screams of the passengers, the lurch in his stomach when the train slams into some kind of hindrance and begins tipping over and then falls on its side completely, the windows shattering, people screaming and falling and Izuku along with them. He’s distantly aware of Kacchan blasting a hole in the floor-now-wall and others following his example, yelling to get people out of the still rapidly sliding train. But Izuku has just seen a little girl about to be buried under a large man falling over, and his body moves on its own. He lunges forward and scoops the girl up, then runs for the hole Kacchan made. They’ve got to get out of the train, if it collides with a building-

He jumps, curling his body around the girl so she won’t get hurt. The impact with the ground is harsh, pain explodes along his side when it hits the asphalt. They roll and tumble, and Izuku shields his charge as best as he can. It hurts, he knows it’s bad, something cracks every time he hits the ground. He can’t move when they come to a stop. The girl is sobbing and screaming, tiny fingers clenching in his shirt. Izuku can’t check if she’s hurt, his eyes are pressed shut and he doesn’t know how to open them anymore. Doesn’t know how to move at all, in fact. Everything hurts. Warmth drips down his head, his arms, and he can’t feel his legs.

“You should have died,” Kacchan tells him later, when Izuku is back from the hospital and finally allowed outside from under his mother’s teary eyes.

Izuku flinches. “K-Kacchan, that’s a terrible thing to say-“

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Kacchan demands. “I didn’t fucking mean that I wanted you to die, I meant that you should have fucking died. Your head was half splattered across the damn street, your side was crushed, and I don’t even know what the fuck was up with your legs.”

“Oh,” Izuku says weakly. He doesn’t remember too much of the incident, it’s all a haze. The doctors hadn’t been able to even tell all that was wrong with him because he’d started regenerating (regenerating, not healing, he needs to update the information in the Quirk register) even before the ambulance came. All they did after was pump him full of sugar solutions to give his body and Quirk energy to work with.

“Oh? That’s all you have to fucking say?!” Kacchan snaps. “Are you making fun of me, Deku? You’re a fucking Zombie! You were dead!” He punches Izuku’s shoulder, except the fist stops before it connects, his fingers instead curling in Izuku’s shirt. “You died,” he says, and his voice is wobbly - but that’s impossible, this is Kacchan, Kacchan is always so strong, he never cries. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“Okay,” Izuku says in a small voice. “Sorry, Kacchan.”

“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry!”

There is the matter of the little girl Izuku saved. Her name is Nami, she’s three years old. After the disaster with the train, she’s become an orphan.

Now she lives with him and Mom, because she’d clung to Izuku in the ambulance and his mom had later managed to calm her down and she’d started screaming and crying the moment someone tried to separate them. Mom had seemed to need someone to fuss over while the doctors were taking care of Izuku.

She’s clingy, the moment Izuku is nearby she’ll grab onto his clothes and hide her face in them. At night she’ll sneak into his room and sleep in his bed, her little body burrowing into his.

He doesn’t mind. She’s a sweet kid, and she needs someone. His mother likes her. The thought of sending her to an orphanage is enough to make him nauseous.

Nami is also quirkless. The doctors had mentioned noticing the double toe joint when they examined her after the disaster.

Izuku knows that there’s little chance of anyone ever adopting a quirkless girl. She has no other relatives, either. The Midoriya family is all she has. When his mom shows him the adoption papers, he is honestly surprised that it took so long.

And thus, Izuku gains a little sister.

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to figure out that his not-death triggered something in his Quirk.

In PE, he throws the ball well over a hundred meters. His grip strength is off the charts. He jumps further than anyone else. Of course he gets sent to the principal for using his Quirk in a test, but there’s nothing anybody can do about it - passive Quirks can’t exactly be consciously controlled. So Izuku has to sit out PE in the future.

It doesn’t make him popular in his class, of course. They laugh at him for not being able to control his Quirk. The mocking stops pretty quickly when Kacchan blows up at them and tells everyone to shut their fucking traps.

Kacchan has gotten clingy. He sticks to Izuku’s side and snaps at everyone who so much as looks at him wrong. It’s weird, and in a way it makes Izuku happy, but it also makes him feel weak. Like even Kacchan doesn’t trust him not to be useless anymore.

His mom makes him go to Quirk counselling again, which is usually reserved for kids. It’s kind of useless, but Izuku likes the group sessions - he knows a lot about Quirks and can help the kids with theirs, giving advice and ideas. It’s fun, feeling appreciated. He can also talk to the more problematic children, the ones who’s Quirks are dangerous - Izuku doesn’t fear them, doesn’t flinch, it’s not like he’ll get hurt permanently - and it helps them immensely to talk to someone who accepts them as they are.

It the hero thing doesn’t pan out, he could become a Quirk counsellor, he thinks. Maybe he can do that after he retires.

(If he even manages to become a hero. But he will. He will.)

“It’s - you know how the brain has safety switches?” Izuku tries to explain. “I think my Quirk , when I g-got injured, it turned them off.” He swallows dryly.

His reflection in the mirror offers no commentary. He’s pretty sure that he won’t manage to tell Kacchan this. Izuku’s one and only friend gets angry whenever the incident is mentioned.

Izuku hasn’t even managed to tell him about the second incident.

(Sirens, the villain’s Quirk going out of control, the hero trying to stop it and being swallowed up in the noxious fumes, Izuku’s heart hammering in his chest as he jumps in to get the hero out, the burn in his lungs, the weakness in his legs, the protest of his muscles when he drags the far too still form of Kamui Woods out, later collapsing in an alley on his own unable to simply breathe-)

He knows why Mom made him go see a therapist now.

Izuku’s Quirk is scary.

You look tired, Izu-nii, Nami signs.

She doesn’t talk most days. The Midoriya family all learned signing to communicate for the times when spoken words are beyond her.

(So did Kacchan, though he claims it’s just because it’s a useful hero skill, not anything to do with Izuku’s quirkless little sister. Yeah right.)

It’s my aesthetic, Izuku signs back, tickling her. She giggles.

Tell me about All Might again, Nami requests, brown eyes gazing at him imploringly. Izuku smiles at her and opens his notebook on the right page, the drawing of his favourite hero, his inspiration, grinning up at them.

All Might is the Number One hero in the world. He debuted in a natural disaster, saving hundreds of lives in a matter of minutes with a smile on his face and the announcement that he’d make everything all right… Do you want to watch the video?

“Teach, don’t lump me in with these extras!” Kacchan’s laugh is loud and confident. Izuku wishes he were the same. Alas, his laughs come rarely these days, and even his smiles have been called creepy. It’s because of the dark shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. Izuku never seems to tan in the sun. And even after a good night’s sleep, the eye bags won’t vanish.

Not that he gets much sleep these days. Izuku just seems to attract trouble, and he can never help jumping in when he sees someone in need. It drives Kacchan insane, except it also gives him opportunities to fight assholes, so while he yells about Izuku’s stupidity, he never does try to stop Izuku anymore.

Besides, Izuku’s not half-bad at fighting anymore. Sparring with Kacchan is one of the few joys in his life, rare opportunities for Izuku to truly feel alive.

It’s hard to find life meaningful when he just can’t seem able to die, after all. Kacchan once asked him if he was fucking dead inside. Pretty much, yeah, Izuku had answered after a few minutes of consideration. That was the beginning of the sparring sessions because his answer had pissed Kacchan off.

“Kacchan, don’t be mean,” he says in the blandest voice he can muster. “You’ll hurt our fragile feelings.”

“Shut up, Deku!” Kacchan rounds on him. “You’re all just fucking stepping stones for me!”

Izuku pokes Kacchan’s nose, which is scrunched up in the oddest manner. Explosions go off near Izuku’s face. “Temper, temper,” he drawls.

“Just fuck off! I’ll kill you, you braindead zombie!”

“Promises, promises.”

The teacher laughs nervously. “Oh yes, Bakugou-kun is aiming for U.A. High, isn’t he?”

Excited whispers break out among the class. “Seriously?” Izuku deadpans. “Do you have to do that every time this is mentioned? He’s literally said it every day since he was four. I’d know, I was there. Every. Day.” He yawns. Kacchan’s hand leaves a burning print on his desk as he starts yelling at him again, Izuku simply ignores it. “By the way, I’m going to U.A., too.”

That makes half the class laugh at him. Izuku’s grades are only average since he doesn’t do a lot for school tests anymore. Why should he? As far as he’s concerned, he’ll study for high school entrance exams and everything before that is kind of meaningless. Other than that, he’s known as the creepy hero and Quirk nerd. His reputation is kind of terrible.

“You all shut up!” Kacchan shouts. “You wanna fucking start something, huh?”

Good ol’ Kacchan, always reliable.

Whoops, he said that out loud.

“Just jump off the damn roof and hope you’re reborn with a brain! Stupid Deku!”

Izuku shoots a considering look to the window. Hm. Better leave his notebook upstairs with Kacchan, if he hits the pond on the way down it’ll become illegible.

Kacchan’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. “Fucking don’t,” he forces out between grinding teeth.

“Okay, Kacchan.” He pats the hand on his shoulder easily. Smoke is coming up for it. Izuku doesn’t feel much of anything though, his pain receptors have been kind of messed up after the poison gas incident. “I won’t jump off the roof because you told me to.”

“You piss me off! I’ll kill the shit out of you, you brainless shitstain and feed your corpse to the-“

“I love you, too.” Kacchan rears back. “Alas, you married my little sister last Sunday-“

“You bloody-“

“And I cannot get between your love. She’d kill me.” Nami-chan had started taking martial arts classes along with Izuku. Who ever knew his little sister was that scary? They grow up so fast.

‘t was such an adorable ceremony, too. Auntie Mitsuki had insisted on being priest and even made Kacchan dress up. Nami-chan herself had been utterly cute in her white sundress. So had Izuku in his pink bridesmaid dress.

(Kacchan wishes all the photographic evidence got destroyed, but their mothers are evil geniuses and the moment Kacchan wants to get married for real Izuku will show all the pictures to his intended.)

“Uh, Midoriya-kun,” the teacher interjects. “Not to discourage your… ambitious dream, but you may want to look at alternative options for your further education.”

“I actually have no choice,” Izuku confesses.

“He’s gonna fucking do it, and if it’s the last thing he does!” Kacchan’s just about breathing fire. If anyone can develop a second Quirk just by being angry, it’d be Kacchan.

“See?”

On the way home, Izuku looks at the news feed on his phone and curses.

“What,” Kacchan grunts.

“All Might caught some thief two streets away and we missed it,” Izuku whines.

“Fuck.”

“But he’s been showing up in the area a lot, lately,” Izuku adds and slams a fist into his palm. “Eventually, we will meet him.” Long-coveted All Might autograph, here he comes.

“Whatever.”

“So Nami-chan wanted to go shopping,” Izuku changes the subject. “And I’m supposed to convince you to come with. Because apparently I have no fashion sense.”

Kacchan gives him a look that speaks volumes, if Izuku could be bothered to decipher it. “What’s the brat want?”

“Sweaters. She gets chilly so easily. I gave her my old unicorn sweater, but for some reason-“

“Shut up, I’ll go.”

“We’re home!” Izuku shouts at the top of his lungs. Nami-chan appears and barrels toward them, completely ignoring him and glomping Kacchan. Izuku snaps a picture at just the right tiny split moment in which Kacchan’s murder-face softens and he pats Nami-chan’s head. At seven years old her cuteness is too high for Kacchan’s Kacchan-ness to defend against.

“Brat,” Kacchan says.

“Kacchan-nii.” Nami’s voice is muffled and tiny, but she’s talking today. That’s a good thing.

Izuku is actually pretty sure that she talks to Kacchan more than anybody else, for whatever reason. Just goes to show that Kacchan is amazing, really.

“Kick any ass today?” Kacchan asks.

She shakes her head. “Sleeping.”

“Always a good use of time,” Izuku says sagely, ruffling her adorable green curls. She’d dyed them last week ‘as a surprise’.

“Your brother’s a fucking idiot,” Kacchan tells her.

“I know,” she mumbles. Then she signs, But at least I’ve got you, and Kacchan just about melts. So does Izuku, for that matter. His sister is adorable.

His mom comes bustling in at this moment, immediately hauling them off to eat and chattering about the day.

It’s a good day.

“The fuck is this,” Kacchan says flatly.

“I present to you!” Izuku imitates one of Present Mic’s dramatic gestures. “Our new training ground! Since you got us kicked out of the gym. The third gym we tried, may I add.”

“It’s a fucking junkyard,” Kacchan states incredulously.

“I know, isn’t it amazing?” Izuku beams at him. “It’s actually public space, and nobody’s here who can kick us out! You can blow up stuff to your heart’s desire.”

“It’s ass o’ clock in the fucking morning. You climbed into my room through my fucking window.” Kacchan gives Izuku the Bakugou Death Glare™. Lovely explosions go off in his hands. “I’ll start by blowing up you!”

…Izuku may have miscalculated.

Ah well. There are worse ways to start his morning.

This is terrible. And awkward. Terribly awkward. Awkwardly terrible.

Izuku is frozen, which is already quite out of the ordinary ever since he realised that he has few things to fear. Kacchan is also frozen, this is almost completely unheard of in non-Izuku related incidents.

All Might is standing before them on the roof of a trashed SUV, the sun going up behind him and also in Izuku’s heart. Izuku has died and gone to heaven, clearly. Except Kacchan is next to him, and he’s been called a demon on occasion, so it might not be heaven after all.

(Though Kacchan is actually a cinnamon roll. Just a little awkward, that’s all.)

“Hahaha! All is well. For I am here!” All Might sounds exactly like he does on television. Izuku could cry. “But, may I know what two youths are doing here in his place at this hour?”

“A-All Might,” Izuku whispers reverently. “Oh my god, you’re All Might.”

“Haha! That I am, young man!” He gets a thumbs-up from the All Might. Izuku can die in peace now. Except one thing is still missing from his having lived an accomplished life.

“W-will you sign my notebook, please?” he asks, pulling out the item in question. A gust of wind and a blur of yellow, and it is done. “Oh wow,” Izuku breathes.

Now he can die in peace. Well, he’s got to become a hero first. Kacchan will kill him otherwise. Wait, there’s a mistake somewhere in that train of thought.

“Now, what are you two doing here?” All Might looks upon them, Izuku with his notebook, the petrified Kacchan. Around them the shreds of metal, the trash in varying states of damage due to Kacchan’s Quirk practice.

Yeah, Izuku’s got no defence and he’d like to sink into the floor now, please.

“Cleaning,” Kacchan grunts. “Got a fucking problem with it?”

“Cleaning?” All Might brightens. It’s blinding. The light of inspiration shines down on Kacchan and Izuku. “Wonderful! I misinterpreted the situation when I heard explosions. My bad!” He laughs.

“That’s my Quirk,” Kacchan growls, raising a hand and demonstrating. “It’s a fucking amazing Quirk and I’m gonna take you down with it!”

Just kill Izuku now. Kacchan is mouthing off to All Might. His heart is torn between helping Kacchan, his best and only friend, and throwing himself at his idol’s mercy.

“We’re gonna be heroes,” he says,which he hopes does both.

All Might gives them a thumbs-up. “Wonderful!” And then he holds a speech about how being a hero starts with small things like cleaning and how what they’re doing is an inspiration and will also be great training, and Izuku’s brain is just about short-circuited.

Then All Might is gone, the sun has come out, and he and Kacchan just stand there.

“So,” Izuku says numbly. “You do realise we have clean all this now.”

Kacchan explodes. “And we’re gonna fucking do it, this place is gonna be fucking spotless once we’re done! You fucking shitstain Deku, if you slow me down I’ll rip you into fucking pieces!”

Kacchan complains about cleaning the entire time. Izuku is pretty sure he thought they’d be done within a day. But no, the days drag on, months pass. Come rain, come snow, they go to the junkyard and carry tires, fridges, drag trashed cars away (after raiding them for parts to sell because come on - free money.)

In between they improvise fitness workouts. Izuku bench presses SUVs. Kacchan does chin-ups with a car tire hooked to his feet.

It feels good, doing these things together. The strain of muscles to the utmost limit, the competition. The unspoken camaraderie.

Early mornings they do homework together and last-minute cramming for tests. Then afterwards they’re in school, trying not to fall asleep and to take in as much lesson content as possible. Afternoons and a good part of the night are for training and cleaning at the junkyard, with interruptions to spend time with their respective families and mandatory rest days that neither of them respect.

There are days when they don’t talk to each other at all. Just push themselves to their limits next to each other.

Few things make Izuku feel truly alive anymore. Sparring with Kacchan is one of them. Pushing himself until even his messed-up body aches is another. Reaching beyond his limit.

(Plus Ultra.)

(He’s gonna be a hero.)

Next Chapter >>

[merlivystories]

THE IMPORTANCE OF TV REPRESENTATION: REASONS AND EXAMPLES.

Being a pretty experienced viewer, I often find myself thinking about the significance of tv-representation. The process of shaping into the person I am today would never have the same result without countless tv-series, shows and movies I stumbled upon on the way. Media space is a place that can be not only entertaining, but also educational. By educational here I don’t necessarily mean academic knowledge, I’m talking about every day-life skills and widening world perception. Learning how to live in peace with ourselves and with other people is a true secret of a happy life. That’s why it is important use media with a purpose to remind people about the past, educate about today and show possible consequences in the future.

I tried to highlight the reasons why I believe TV-representation has significant relevance nowadays. Firstly, watching TV or videos happens to be the most common way of spending leisure time among kids, teenagers and youngsters. Since it requires minimum activity it is the easiest possible way to relax and stay entertained at once. Secondly, TV has the biggest potential to turn boring topics into something relatable and exciting by creating interesting characters, breath-taking plots, using popular audio-tracks and eye-catching sceneries. The last but not the least important reason is being able to change people’s world-views or opinions towards the represented issue or make people feel accepted and okay with themselves by relatable content.

In my opinion, such theme should only be discussed and explained via examples of tv-representation. Here I’m going to display only a few series that I either found to be great representatives of particular social issues or social groups or breaking irrelevant and toxic stereotypes.

(SPOILER ALLERT! + Everything I state below is exclusively my own perception of those series and everyone is completely free to agree or disagree.)

 1. GREY’S ANATOMY (2005- )

I’ve been a huge fan of this medical show since 2014 and the there are quite a few issues represented throughout 16 seasons that aired in a period from 2005 to this year. In my opinion, the most important part of the show is representation of feminism. Development of the main character – Meredith Grey is fascinating. She has turned from an insecure intern into a surgeon with a world-known name and a head of general surgery in the Grey-Sloan hospital in Seattle. Alongside with Meredith there are plenty of amazing women working as surgeons and heads of departments in GSH. Moreover, the chief of surgery currently is also a woman! In this show both men and women not only dream big, but also have an opportunity to turn their dreams into reality. Grey’s Anatomy has a huge impact on young girls and boys all over the world as it inspires them to become doctors. Every day is a beautiful day to save lives, I believe.

 2. TOY BOY (2019 - )

This show is my recent but no less valuable discovery. Dictionary defines «toy boy» as a young man who is having a sexual relationship with an older woman – used humorously. The main character of this show, Hugo, has been put in prison for the crime he did not commit. After 7 years in prison he is determined to prove his innocence with a help of a young lawyer – Triana while getting back to his work as a stripper in a bar alongside with his best friends: Ivan, German and Jairo. While watching this show I pointed out a few topics that the attention of viewers is clearly supposed to be drawn to. Firstly, male stripping and prostitution. It is important to remember that not only women choose to do this professionally and that it is completely fine as long as you enjoy it and stay mentally in a good place. Every job has its struggles and we can see the ups and downs of being a male-stripper on this show. Secondly, thanks-thanks-thanks a lot to writers for representing a disabled person. One of the key-characters – Jairo is mute. And he receives nothing but support and appreciation for being who he is, never being treated differently by his friends. It doesn’t in any way diminish him as a person. I consider Jairo to be the most loving, accepting and understanding character that makes him truly likable to the viewers. His relationships with Andrea, who was raped as a child and grew up to be really introverted and shy, is the most precious thing to be seen on this show. The way Jairo and Andrea were able to bond over their struggles and the way they found comfort in each other is a great example of something beautiful coming out of something dark and uncomfortable. The other important topic is domestic violence and rape. The phenomena of being sexually assaulted is horrible on its own, while being sexually assaulted by your relative, by your ankle is terrifying. Andrea represents all those kids and teenagers whose mental health was completely destroyed by people who were supposed to care for them. I’m glad that «Toy Boy» found a way to show how it can get better even when it seems like it never will.

 3. HOUSE OF FLOWERS (2018 – 2020)

The time has come to talk about traditional values clashing with being who you are and feeling good as a person. This show is a story about a dysfunctional upper-class Mexican family that own a prestigious floristry shop and a struggling cabaret, both called «The House of Flowers». The story features plenty of amazing LGBTQ+ characters such as María José Riquelme Torres – transgender woman, Diego Olvera – gay man, Julián de la Mora – bisexual man, Paulina de la Mora – pansexual woman (not straightforwardly stated in the series, but I clocked her as one) and Patricio "Pato" Lascuráin – gay man. Firstly, I like how gracefully and accurately the line between gender and sexuality was treated on this show. When Maria Hose comes out as a trans woman she doesn’t stop loving her wife. She doesn’t change, she just gets closer to looking the way she has felt for a long time, if not her whole life. That’s it with trans people, I believe, coming out and the transitioning process is never actually about changing, it’s about getting the outside to match the inside that has always been there. I also adore how Paulina loved Maria Hose for the personality and not for the gender. Hands down vote for them together as the best couple on the show. Secondly, I would very much like to comment on conversion therapy part featuring Diego and Patricio being a victim of horrible hate crime. Conversion therapy is the pseudoscientific practice of trying to change an individual's sexual orientation from homosexual or bisexual to heterosexual using psychological, physical, or spiritual interventions. Sadly, it is still being practiced these day even though various jurisdictions around the world have passed laws against conversion therapy. Diego, a gay man, wants to have a kid so much and also earn the acceptance of his homophobic parents, he agrees on being put in a place where it is promised to turn him straight. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t change his sexual orientation but makes him suffer through the whole experience. In the end, he stands up to his parents and faces them alongside with his fiancé, Julian. He realizes that loving himself and being happy is more important than being accepted by someone who doesn’t really care about his well-being. Also, family is about people loving and supporting each other and never about following «traditional» gender-roles. Conversion therapy has no proof to be helpful in the sense of changing sexuality, but is totally effective at making people mentally unstable and self-hating so they are unable to develop any healthy relationships in the future. Talking about hating yourself, another closeted character - Agustín Corcuera is a great example. He grew up with his head filled with toxic stereotypes and fully dependent on social opinion. That’s why his desire for a loving, outgoing and open about his sexuality Patricio had horrible consequences. A hate crime is defined as a prejudice-motivated crime which occurs when a perpetrator targets a victim because of their membership (or perceived membership) of a certain social group or race. Agustin was clearly mesmerized by the way Patricio couldn’t care less about what people around him had to say, but he was also scared of that. It made me upset that Patricio loved Agustin a little to much to notice how much the guy hated even the thought of people considering him to be anything other than straight. One night at the New Year party in 1970 Patricio was beaten to death by Agustin himself and his homophobic friends - that’s how much Agustin was scared of accepting himself and admitting he had feelings for Patricio in front of his friends, just enough to take away another person’s right to live. The last words Patricio said to Agustin before receiving that one last punch was «I love you», which makes the scene even more terrifying than it could have been.  The absurdity of love facing hate like that, the horror of murdering love with hate, hate not only directed towards the victim, but also towards Augustin himself. Self-hate happens to be extremely dangerous not only to the particular person, but also to their surroundings. This is the example of what the self-oppression and the lack of ability to love yourself in the first place can lead to and it is awful.

 4. HOLLYWOOD (2020)

The show that rewrote the history and we were all completely there for it! The show about people being brave and following their dreams despite it being truly dangerous. This story is inspiring for all people cause the most important thing to learn from this show is that it doesn’t matter where you come from, what you background is, no matter what color your skin is or what your sexuality is – it should never stop you from dreaming. All those things should never make you feel like you don’t stand a chance, that you’re not worth it, that you’re less valuable. What actually means a lot is your personality, your talent and determination to go all the way. I was blown away by literally every single character in this show. I admire Raymond Ainsley for not giving up on representation in his movie. I admire Camille Washington for not giving up her right to be treated the same as other actresses. I admire Archie Coleman for being brave and showing that true success never depends on anything but talent. I admire Richard Samuels for always staying unbiased and finding the courage to be himself truly. I admire Avis Amberg for standing up for the right values and using her power is the most honorable way there was. I didn’t mention all of the characters, but every single one of them has their own story and something to teach the viewer.

 5. COMMUNITY (2009-2015)

Now I would like to introduce you to the show about diversity and true friendship. It teaches viewer that your friends are your chosen family, nobody is perfect but when you decide to stick together – you stick for all ups and downs, for the best and for the worst. All of the main characters are different: they have different backgrounds, different world-perceptions and different behavior-patterns. Anyway, those differences ultimately should never stay on the way of true kindness and compassion. «Community» explores topics that might seem offensive at times, but the conclusion is always the same – people need to accept each other for who they are. Moreover, the significant lesson in this show is that if you have a problem with someone, you should first try to find a problem within yourself.

[kyshiwarrior]

storytime

at thanksgiving, my dad went off doing this thing where he over-compliments me in a way that’s uncomfortable. Let me elaborate: we were in the kitchen with my cousin and the conversation stemmed from the topic of me graduating. I made a joke about a true story of my first graduation, in which my teacher told my mom that I “would be the smartest girl in prison.” This was because I was a very restless kid and restless kids tend to be too much for people, too troublesome, and I wasn’t getting help. My dad was very proud of the fact that he never got me help because shame on all the teachers who suggested I go on medication. To be fair, it wasn’t their place. It’s something they can be aware of, but they are not prescribers. He went on to say that the educational system failed me because I had a beautiful mind that expanded outside of the curriculum and putting me on drugs would kill that. He loved how “creative” I was, even though I was struggling like hell in a class where I felt out of place, had trouble making friends, and hated myself for not being able to keep up with everyone’s pace.

My cousin opened up about how she had attention difficulties and took medication in later high school and into college and also her time as a teacher when she recognized that some students might have been better on medication. They went back and forth on this, talking about me in third person until I finally interrupted and crushed my father’s entire view of me.

It’s nice to think I have a beautiful mind, that he saw me as this happy, energetic kid growing up being creative and shooting rainbows out of my ass. Okay. But he refused to see the dark side. This Thanksgiving, I finally told my dad what the world was like through my eyes. How the happiest people , how people who seem to have their life together, can be some of the saddest. It’s a disorder that needs to be acknowledged, not romanticized in a limited way.

I was in a room with a man who probably needed to be seen by a psychologist but would never admit to needing help/medication and a cousin who was diagnosed with attention difficulties / anxiety. I told them that medication saved my life, not just my academics.

My dad was so confident in his speech about me, thinking he complimented me to my core when I found myself nothing but insulted by it. So I laid out the facts. I let them both know what they weren’t able to see. My cousin doesn’t know me that well ; my dad just refused to accept it. I told them how the world felt beautiful sometimes, but other times and most times it felt like hell. 

My cousin asked me if I ever had a panic attack like it was this one big event. I looked her in the eyes and told her I get them frequently. That sometimes I ride a panic attack that stretches out for days, panic attacks that come out of no where for no reason, how I’m afraid of having them at any time. I told them what it felt like to be bipolar -- it’s their worst and best moment, all the time. Imagine a bad breakup, a death, a tragedy ; imagine feeling like you have superpowers or falling in love. I don’t need events, I just need an imbalance to experience that. I grew up my whole life wanting to die so I could get rid of all the emotions plaguing my body and mind. I told them that it’s hard to think what I was like before I was on medication because it was terrifying. I looked my dad in the eyes and told him that I went in saw a doctor because I was manic and it was terrifying. How manic can be the part of the creative side to me, but includes racing thoughts, impulsivity, hypersensitivity, and more. When asked when I went on medication, I said it was in college when I found I could see a doctor. No one could stop me, and I needed to stop myself and get help. I told them that I needed help because I was dangerous to myself and others. I’m on the highest dose for bipolar medication, and it still slips up from time to time. But it’s better than before.

I brought a lot into light with that discussion. I let them be scared of me, to pity me, to finally see me because I was not going to stand there and let my dad be proud he didn’t help me. I have a lot of willpower and it saved my life. I own the title of crazy as much as I own my mistakes and redemption. I can finally speak out and be understood now. Like when my brother now recognizes that motion in front of my eyes triggers a reaction where I flinch and my eyes can’t stop twitching ( PTSD from being hit with a baseball bat ). He struggles now realizing what an idiot he is when he pisses me off, because I can’t just even brush simple things off and it takes a lot of restraint to not act violently. It’s too much emotions at too high of intensity, and this senseless need to validate them. ( * 99% sure I have borderline, too, that I’m working on diagnosing while being dependent on bipolar medication ) 

The word “trigger” has become a meme to people, and I corrected him after an incident where things almost got out of hand because of his ignorance. His mockery towards my anger was shut down by a simple point to my head and saying “No. I am triggered, I’m not okay.” 

I’m not okay.          true words I bit back for a long time, too long.

And they still don’t know the extent of it. And maybe I don’t know the extent of theirs, either.

Mental illness deserves acknowledgement and validation, and the people effected need help. Period.

Quit brushing it under the rug, and do not romanticize it.

The worst part is I’m still seeking help that I should have gotten years ago. I’m still investigating what’s going on and how I can help myself. Not all my symptoms match up with the bipolar I’m being treated with, but are also symptoms of what could be borderline ( which makes a lot of sense and I very much qualify for ). These disorders aren’t covered like they should in the media. Maybe if they were, I would be able to pick up on things faster. When these disorders are present, they are portrayed at their worst or most dramatic. Find a way to have respectable representation. We need it.

 Awareness is key to progress.

[readfelice-blog]

Moominland Chronicles Siebzehn: infatuation is not a gift

Blog guide: all italics are my wednesday edits.

Before we begin:

Anyone who suddenly might be unexpectedly flush, my crowdfunding campaign has less than 24 hours left

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/acht-ocho#/

Well then, hello, no more letters lets return to moominland.

You might remember in my last chronicle that my bloody tale of woe was still in action, after many pills and spending time with a really wonderful gynaecologist who spoke about death with me - following my lead, (she didn't open an appointment with a death chat, I don’t think doctors are normally allowed to even think the word) it was finally determined I have chlamydia.

Surprise!

What fun eh?

I’m on antibiotics now, it should be gone by this weekend, and the bleeding stopped about 2 weeks ago after I started a combination of blood clotting pills and the contraceptive pill. My suspicions are it was stress, hormones and chlamydia that caused the gushing of blood, it would be an act of suicide on chlamydias part to deprive itself of so much iron, which it needs to survive.

So as inferred previously, the NHS would of caught this sti months ago, I would not of cost my insurance company thousands of euros or been subject to various ultrasound spy dildos and gleeful practitioners telling me I was pregnant rubbing their hands together in anticipation of jumping into my vagina, or surgeons hysterically clutching scalpels, so overjoyed to be operating again.

BUT, if I had dealt with my insurance issue diligently, and gotten a proper gynaecologist much earlier and done my research carefully, AND LEARNT GERMAN, this would also not have happened, so I can't deny my own responsibility in all of this either. I still retain my idiot abroad status, which I need to work on to be a proper functioning expat.

So, I’m lying in bed a bit nervous because I’m printing my first copies of my publication tomorrow to fly them to italy at the weekend: it’s Tuesday as I type this horizontal on my phone. As I'm away and just embarking on the next chapter of my project, the making it really real bit, I thought it best to get this log drafted and up before I go.

They’re done, some of the pages are wonky, but they look great actually.

Follow the diary of this project here:

https://felicezhukov.net/bocem-diary

(Because death lurks round every corner, it’s best not to have any unfinished business.)

It’s been quiet, I’ve been napping a lot and taking pills and cutting down salt, my social life has utterly ground to a halt aside from the occasional quick drink and my trips to the studio to practise the live element of this project, which has been revealing itself to me and making me consider myself in a new light, somewhere between a musical performer, a stand up comedian and just all out weirdo, but I’ll refine this at a later date.

What I want to talk about this week are the letters to Nicolás Jaar, but not as a letter to him. As thoughts directed into the macrocosm of the internet.

Because I finished ‘I love Dick’, at first I wrote a very clumsy synopsis and realised many of the critical details had passed me by, academic references sifting out of my mind like flour and swirling away into the air. It has made me realise I need to study what I read, but again that's a thought to refine later.

Still, I was left with a very strong impression which fermented inside me like kimchi and whilst sat in my kitchen earlier between courses, my eyes resting on candlelight, it struck me, the protagonist of the book, Chris, was bullying dick, suddenly it was crystal clear that her infatuation was never weathered by Dicks resistance, that Dick could be curious and still also be anxious about her attention, that victims make mistakes to. But she ploughed on, regardless of his protests, for a long time.

Now, my letters to Nicolás Jaar only lasted a matter of months in comparison, and did not include any colluders, but they were still deeply personal and troubled. Week after week I decried the suffering in my life, the cruelties I was facing, the emotional carnage of my break up and my alcoholism, addressing them to someone I’d formed an infatuation about solely on the impressions of his public persona and his music.

When I was 15 I was obsessed with the doomed relationship of courtney love and kurt cobain, as a the eternal odd one out with nowhere to go in the countryside I entertained myself by creating a character called enigma, who lived in New York. I drew hundreds of drawings of her in different attire that looked more like fashion illustrations than anything descriptive, my mum used to get frustrated at this waste of talent bound to repetition, and enigmas neck was always to long.

Enigma had a lover, called jake, chiselled jawline, a genius musician with a tortured soul, he seduced and slept with all of New York’s cultural elite, but he loved enigma. Though they stayed plural and their relationship was often fraught, they were absolutely bound together, forever destined to explode and then reassemble.

Jake didn’t kill himself.

That fantasy has taken new form, enigma looks like me now, but it is the foundation of every infatuation I develop.

Nicolás Jaar was in the middle of a grueling international tour, I mangled what I read about him into some kind of twisted connection between us, he was travelling the world to the backdrop of me destroying every last vestige of my life,in all senses of the word, selling and trashing my life’s work and possessions, leaving my husband, leaving my home of over 10 years.

Then In its closing chapters I retold and fictionalised a very unsettling story about murder and submersion, the whole thing taking an unsavoury twist with me paralleling beauty and the beast, what if the beast had killed beauty?

I was the beast.

But aren't we all the beast sometimes?

I can only imagine how tiring and unsatisfying months of touring can be for someone creative who wants to innovate and explore in their work, it would be my personal hell, that rotation of groupies, hangers on and gargantuan crowds, barely a moment to breathe and personal space so diminished that you stop knowing who you are any more. In the midst of this to be receiving unsolicited attention from a mentally damaged stranger on twitter, sometimes 2 or 3 times a week, could only serve to heighten the stress you're already experiencing and cause you to disassociate yourself from your inner core even more.

In my mind I was pleading to be saved by devoting all my attention to him, in my unhinged state I felt like by baring everything to a man I’d never met he’d be so disarmed he'd surely empathise, find solace in my garbled stories of misadventure and anxiety.

But now I see how selfish it was, to project on to another human, after all dick was just a human to, with all his own baggage to cope with, though infatuation can amplify its object the reality is noone is really built to cope with that kind of attention, not Dick, not Nicolás Jaar.

Though it was an interesting exercise in some way and will always be part of my oeuvre, probably more definitively so because it exists on the internet, so if the walls don’t come crashing down it is relatively protected, it wasn't kind. I was not trying to help Nicolás Jaar, or create something nourishing, it was selfish. Infatuation is, at its core, selfish, the object is merely that because there is no connection, or at least in this example. There was never any exchange between us, just me pouring all my illness into him blindly.

And I know this well because I have suffered with others becoming infatuated by me on more than one occasion, it’s not pleasant.

In Turin, on stage, he seemed so broken and at odds with himself during his set, he appeared to be really unhappy, my most noble act in this whole enterprise has been to stop writing him letters and focus on myself. I do feel angry with the former me though there is no use regretting what has already passed and life moves on as surely as the sun and moon pass each other in the sky.

In the end i cant punish myself, to err is humane, to forgive divine, I must forgive myself as well.

I’m glad im returning to Turin a more advanced and thoughtful person, I’m going to order in a restaurant this time (well, maybe, but I’m definitely going to buy chocolate) and have a nap before I go out on saturday, I’m going to go to Italy this time, not to stand wretchedly at the feet of a man who owes me nothing and asks for nothing from me. Because as someone grappling with their own fears about performing: this kind of incident is one of the key aspects of what I am terrified to illicite, so i say to you my readers, that I'm sorry to Nicolás Jaar and I will never repeat this journey with any future influences in my life.

I wonder if Chris Kraus has ever apologised to Dick, I’m going to give it a google now I think then try to get some sleep.

Goodnight all, next week I’ll regale you with my Italian trip and who knows what else.

Should ever our paths cross, I don't think I could be like chris, I feel like I’m done exposing him, so it may very well be that whatever ending this story could have, this here will be the end in terms of its written account, I might never type the words Nicolás Jaar on tumblr again.

And by the way, I’ve already uploaded my album, because actually I detest exclusivity, it’s free to download and publically available on 2 of my music based accounts, it’s not hard to find, trust me.

[wellthatwasterrifying]

100 questions with 100 answers

One time in 2012 I answered all of these questions and I wanted to redo them because it felt fun to see what all had changed 

http://wellthatwasterrifying.tumblr.com/post/24306127834/100-answers-to-100-questions

The old one. ^^^^

The new one vvvv

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

  Honestly I don’t use iTunes very much anymore. I use a lot of spotify but here’s iTunes

“Who’d have known”- Lilly Allen

“Forever” - Youngblood Hawke

“A Poetice Retelling Of An Unfortunate Seduction“ - Bright Eyes

“Shot of Love” - AC/DC

“Something in the Way You Are” Kimbra

This feels silly because I haven’t listened to most of these in years

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

  I’ll keep it with Brendon Urie. /shrug

3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

  “Like Gansey, he had studied the ley lines for years”

4) What do you think about most?

Lately I think a lot about the future and what I want from it. Are the choices now leading to the future I have imagined or will what I’ve imagined change drastically in the next few years? Are the decisions I’m making now good enough? Of course they are.  

5) What does your latest text message from someone else say?

 Oh it’s much less academic than what I had in 2012, almost shamefully so. 

“I can ask him tomorrow but we are good with pretty much anytime Friday”

6) Do you sleep with ____ or without ______  on?

  I sleep with music on or without the TV backlight on.

7) What’s your strangest talent?

  Honest to god I can’t think of one. But I think that speaks more to my lack of being able to think on the spot than my lack of a strange talent. 

8) Girls…. (finish the sentence); Boys…. (finish the sentence)

 Girls are hurricanes; boys are sea shores. 

9) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

 Yeah I have. Good times.

10) When is the last time you played the air guitar?

 Probably the last time I answered this. LIE. It was when I was thinking of ideas for a bar.

11) Do you have any strange phobias?

I still don’t think I have anything that I’d call a phobia, but I’m not fond of speaking in front of large groups.

12) Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

 Most likely

13) What’s your religion?

 I’m a Christian. Baptist. Southern Baptist. Only in the sense that I was raised that way, it doesn’t really impact my life or sway any decision that I make anymore. I don’t believe that there is some omnipotent being controlling or judging every decision we make. 

14) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

  Lately it has been studying because there’s a super nice little court yard area outside of the pharmacy building that I really enjoying sitting at

15) Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

 I prefer to be behind the camera. Forever behind the camera.

16) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

  I don’t have a specific favorite anymore. I’d still probably say Say Anything out of reflexive habit, but overall I don’t listen to any one particular artist anymore.

17) What was the last lie you told?

  "It was only 3 scoops.“

18) Do you believe in karma?

 Yeah. Yeah I do.

19) What does your URL mean?

  There was one time my tumblr post started getting posted on my twitter account which my mom followed. So she sent me this text message about how my account must have been hacked because it was not a “teresa’s daughter” post. That was a terrifying moment. 

20) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

 I’d say my greatest weakness is my inability to believe in myself sometimes, I put myself down instead of realizing that I am actually pretty amazing. My greatest strength though is realizing other peoples strengths and pushing them to utilize them to their greatest potential.

21) Who is your celebrity crush?

 BREEENDON URIE [told you he would be back again][and again]

22) Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

  shhhhhhh

23) How do you vent your anger?

  I don’t have a great way to vent my anger anymore.  I used to write it down, but now I just internalize it until it bubbles over. Like I said not a great way. I’m working on changing it into “talking” about  my feelings.

24) Do you have a collection of anything?

 A collection? Not unless the sheer amount of books I’m trying to amass is considered a collection.  lmao I’m still collecting books. 

25) Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

 I prefer talking on the phone

26) Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

  I am really happy with the person I’ve become. I do still have a lot of things to work on but it would be boring if I weren’t a work in progress.

27) What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

 I haaaaaate the sound of Jenny doing flea bites. Drives me crazy. I love sleepy voice.

28) What’s your biggest "what if”?

 What if I had realized I was holding onto the wrong thing sooner

29) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

  It’s possible

30) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

  Both touched the arm of the chair. Because I’m in an arm chair.

31) Smell the air. What do you smell?

   The smell of some vaguely gross carpet that is in the process of being fixed. 

32) What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

 The farm my sister was on all those years ago. Still true. 

33) Choose East Coast or West Coast?

 East Coast, but I’ve never been on West Coast.

34) Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

 BRENDON URIE [and again]

35) To you, what is the meaning of life?

 I think the meaning of life is to find as many of the moments that make you feel like exploding from happiness, that bubble up from the inside and pour over. 

36) Define Art.

 Emotional outlet for those who can express themselves through a medium. Damn. I was smart in 2012. What happened!

37) Do you believe in luck?

  A lot of where I am now feels like luck

38) What’s the weather like right now?

 I wanna say overcast and maybe drizzling

39) What time is it?

  11:02pm

40) Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

  I do drive and yes I’ve crashed. whoop whoop.

41) What was the last book you read?

  The Raven King, again.

42) Do you like the smell of gasoline?

  Not very much but I do like the smell of it on someones clothes after they’ve been messing with a car or something. 

43) Do you have any nicknames?

  I do. The kids at work call me Aims and sadly the people at school call me Boose because I was trying to tell them my last name is said like rice but I shorted out and told them it sounds like juice. So I’m forever known as Boose.

44) What was the last movie you saw?

  Venom

45) What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

 I accidently cut my hand on a pocket knife and had to receive stitches. I was only like 6 though, so that’s no big deal. Still the worst

46) Have you ever caught a butterfly?

 Are there people who haven’t done this? Like not having caught a firefly, sure, but a butterfly??

47) Do you have any obsessions right now?

 BOTW

48) What’s your sexual orientation?

 Straight. Honestly probably Bi.

49) Ever had a rumor spread about you?

   Yeah but I can’t remember what it was anymore

50) Do you believe in magic?

Only in a young girls heart.

51) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Not intentionally. I seem to have gained some unhealthy habits from my parents and may have accidentally gained their ability to have a hard time letting things go. But not for everything. Right?????

52) What is your astrological sign?

 Sagittarius! I’d hope this was the same, except there was that scare where they talked about adding another sign and that would have changed mine.

53) Do you save money or spend it?

 Save it. Mostly.

54) What’s the last thing you purchased?

 It has been a few days since I’ve bought anything…gas?

55)  Love or lust?

 Sometimes I think lust would be more fun, but love is more worthwhile.

56) In a relationship?

yeeeeeees (but I want to know who I was dating in 2012??? Zach??? noooo Matt????)(was that you matt???)

57) How many relationships have you had?

7?

58) Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

 No. No I cannot.

59) Where were you yesterday?

I went to my parents for family day/jackson’s birthday.

60) Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

  Gummy worms

61) Are you wearing socks right now?

 yesh

62) What’s your favorite animal?

 Dogs. I really think they might be my favorite. I feel so guilty not changing this to cats because blueberry is the light of my liiiiiife. 

63) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

  I notice little things about them

64) Where is your best friend?

  At her home.

65) Spit or swallow?(;

 HA. Wouldn’t you like to know!

66) What is your heritage?

 Dutch on my dads side and Irish on my moms. (supposedly)

67) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

Laying in bed debating whether or not I should sleep.

68) What do you think is Satan’s last name?

[                                      ]  Did I even type anything here in 2012?? I tried to copy and paste and now I’m thinking I was playing a trick on myself.

69) Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

This is like the butterfly question. Hasn’t everyone?

70) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

 Sometimes, but I also know I’m a bit odd.

71) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

LMFAO. I wish you knew my boss now. I’d save the dog. Thomas can suck it.

72) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

A) I wouldn’t make it public but I would tell my core.

B) I’d spend as much time as I could with the people I love because that’s what this is about for me.

C) yes

73) You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

 Trust.

74) What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Stonewallin’ by Jane Decker(?)

75) What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

 2259. This wasn’t true in 2012. What was I doing???

76) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

 I think it’s communication and trust. Knowing that they’re there for you and vice versa. 

77) How can I win your heart?

 Listen to what I have to say

78) Can insanity bring on more creativity?

 Depends on how insane you are

79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

 To go after what I want and not look back. I will climb this damn mountain. 

80) What size shoes do you wear?

8.5 I think…

81) What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

 “She was…”----this is actually still fine because right now all i can think is “She tried...”

82) What is your favorite word?

  incorrigible

83) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

 felt

84) What is a saying you say a lot?

 This is true. Awwwww man. 6 years later and I still say this a lot. How do people put up with that?!

85) What’s the last song you listened to?

  Them Dirty Bones - Mike Waters

86) Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors?

 Red!

87) What is your current desktop picture?

  Hipster shit.

88) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

 There isn’t anyone I would kill…

89) What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

 Why

90) One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

SCREAM my head off. Or panic and have a heart attack. 

91) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

   Teleportation without having to have visited the place before.

92) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

  That one.

93) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

 blogger. or that one time in the parking lot at UGA where I felt like the world was falling apart again.

94) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

 BRENDON URIE [again again]

95) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

  Iceland

96) Do you have any relatives in jail?

 Yes

97) Have you ever thrown up in the car?

No, but I almost did once instead I threw up in a CVS parking lot which felt fitting

98) Ever been on a plane?

 YES

99) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

  get a grip

100) Give me your top 5 favorite blogs on Tumblr.

sheissuffering

Cooncomic

thatoneismine

burgertv

done

I don’t know. I’d say I only have two favorites